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The explosive kiss from a young guitarist that helped convince Cher it was all over for her and Sonny, as revealed in the megastar's breathtakingly candid new memoir
Standing barefoot on the balcony of our suite at the Sahara hotel in Las Vegas, I stared down, dizzy with loneliness as I saw how easy it would be to step over the edge and simply disappear.
When we met in an LA coffee shop, in November 1962, I was a 16-year-old acting student with no money and no prospects and Sonny was working as a promoter, schmoozing DJs into playing the latest releases while going through a divorce from his wife Donna. One night, the black screen that followed the end of TV programming at midnight gave me a panic attack for some reason and Sonny told me to get into bed with him, pulling the covers over me before he rolled towards the wall. Sonny knew he had to find me the perfect song and he never stopped writing even if that meant staying up all night – the time when he was at his most creative.So hyped up that he couldn’t sleep, he’d sit at the piano or the kitchen table scribbling away.
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