by Alex Marcoux
David smiled. “You learned from the best. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Are you talking about yourself or Michael?”
Sidney scratched a line through her first milestone on her “Anastasia objectives list.” She had successfully resolved the contract issues with Global. David had agreed to generously support Anastasia’s efforts and would release her next album when commercially ready. She was reviewing her objectives list when her receptionist buzzed her. “Yes, Michelle?”
“Jennifer Warren is returning your call. She’s on line three.”
“Thank you, Michelle.” She referred to her list and circled the second task. Then she greeted the caller. “Hi counselor, what are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”
“You had my secretary block out my calendar from ten to three o’clock tomorrow. I’m hoping you can tell me what we’re doing for lunch.”
“Are you upset with me?” Sidney laughed.
“No, I got used to your unconventional methods years ago,” Jennifer answered.
“Is tomorrow okay?”
Jennifer rearranged her schedule to spend the time with Sidney.
As the Mercedes entered the Lincoln Tunnel, Jennifer asked Sidney, “We’re going to New Jersey? When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“We’re going to a little Italian restaurant outside of Newark. It’s supposed to be pretty good.”
Jennifer was skeptical. “At ten o’clock in the morning?”
“Of course not. Oh, I didn’t tell you? I have a meeting with the New Jersey Gazette at eleven. Then we can have lunch.”
Jennifer was trying to get some clarification. “Am I going to this meeting at the Gazette? And if so, am I representing you?”
“You’re going to the meeting. You’re my friend…who just happens to be an attorney.”
Sidney quickly filled Jennifer in on her new client and her problems with the Gazette. She was still preparing Jennifer as they walked into the building. “Jennifer, when I give you this sign,” she put her notepad in her inside jacket pocket, “I want you to excuse yourself from the meeting.” She handed Jennifer her cellular phone. “Use my phone; call Natalie at my office and say hello. Okay?”
“What are you getting me into? Never mind, I don’t want to know.” The lawyer took the phone and stuffed it into her purse. Jennifer was in her late 40s. She was the picture of professionalism. Her long auburn hair was pulled away from her face in a bun and she wore a business suit that concealed her full figure.
“Sidney Marcum to see James Palermo,” she informed the receptionist. Both Sidney and Jennifer were escorted to the office of the newspaper’s general manager, editor and principal owner. The receptionist opened the door to the office and a large man rose from his desk, frowning.
Sidney firmly shook the man’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Palermo.” Jennifer also offered a warm handshake.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” the man appeared confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t know why we’re meeting. My secretary didn’t know how or why you got on my calendar.”
Sidney pulled out her pocket notebook and offered the man her business card. “MPI Artist Management.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned to Jennifer. “Are you with MPI also?”
“No, Mr. Palermo.” She offered her card, which got his attention.
“Jennifer Warren, Attorney at Law,” he read aloud. “Well, ladies, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asked insincerely.
“Well, James, may I call you James?” Sidney asked.
The man nodded.
“James, I’ve recently taken on a new client who has had a string of bad luck. Recently your paper printed something about her that is bordering on…well, let’s just say slander.”
“And your client just happens to be?” Palermo asked.
“Anastasia.”
Palermo’s voice rose. “That wasn’t slander; that was a good piece of investigative reporting.”
“It was reckless disregard of the truth,” Sidney challenged.
“She’s a lesbian, and freedom of speech gives me the right to print it.”
“But if you knew the report was false, and you published it anyway, that would be reckless, wouldn’t it?”
Palermo’s neck and face reddened. “Where are you going with this?”
“If you publish something and you know it’s false, then it would be reckless, right?”
He would not answer.
“What was your reporter doing at a gay bar? Is she gay?”
Palermo was irritated. “Absolutely not.”
“Then what was she doing there? How did she know that Anastasia was going to be there?”
Again, he did not answer.
Sidney took a flyer from her notebook and slammed it in front of Palermo. The flyer advertised Anastasia’s special appearance at the club. “This is how your reporter knew Anastasia would be at Alternatives that night.”
“So. What if it was?”
“This says that Anastasia is to perform at a lesbian bar. You published that ‘Anastasia frequents lesbian bar.’ Anastasia didn’t go there because she’s a lesbian or to socialize. She went to the club to perform. Where in your article did it say that she performed?”
“That’s your case?” He laughed, and looked over at Jennifer who was just listening to the conversation. “Thin. Very thin.” He stretched his legs on top of his desk, clasped his fingers together to support his neck and leaned back in his chair.
Sidney leaned over him. “Maybe thin, but certainly not frivolous, and I can show some pretty substantial damages that directly relate to your article.”
“So? You wouldn’t dare sue me, you’d lose.”
“Maybe I would lose, but the publicity would be good for Anastasia. She can afford the legal costs. Can you?”
Sidney turned away from Palermo and put her leather-bound notebook back in her pocket.
Jennifer interrupted the conversation. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” She left the room.
The discussion of money brought Palermo back to a conversation he had had that morning with his bank officer. He had been trying to refinance a loan that had a substantial balloon payment due later in the year. Although the newspaper had been doing business with Federal Union for twenty years, the bank denied refinancing of his loan.
“Can you?” Sidney persisted.
“Can I what?” he barked.
“The way I see it is-Anastasia has nothing to lose to file suit against you. The legal costs and expert fees alone to litigate a case like this would be in the six figures. That’s a drop in the bucket for her, how about you? Can this paper afford that? James, do you have a good insurance policy?”
Palermo appeared uneasy and removed his legs from his desk. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
“A complete retraction and apology.”
“You’ll never get it,” Palermo said.
The two were interrupted by his secretary’s intercom page. Palermo picked up the phone and angrily said, “Not now.” But his secretary said something that captured his attention. “No. I’ll take the call.” He turned to Sidney. “This will be a minute.”
His tone changed when he greeted the caller. “Hi Henry, how’s the wife?” There was a long pause, and then he became visibly upset; his forehead started to perspire. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Specifically which article did you find offensive?” Palermo looked up at Sidney, and continued the conversation. “Well, I hope we can do business again, someday.” He hung up.
“That was our second largest advertiser; he apparently didn’t like our report on Anastasia. He’s ceasing business with the Gazette. I got a call yesterday from our third largest advertiser; they pulled their account. I suppose you had nothing to do with this.”
“Well, you know James, I know some very influential people who might be able to get your business back, or perhaps make up for your losses.”
“Federal Union. Are you responsible for my loan rejection?” he asked.
Sidney shook her head. “James, that would be blackmail. I do know some mortgage companies that may be able to help you out though. Help me out, and I’ll see what I can do about helping you out. Okay?”
The man sat at his desk, defeated. “What do you want me to say … in this retraction?”
Sidney pulled out a paper and placed it in front of him. “I’ve already written it for you. I want it on Sunday’s front page, just like the original article. It can’t deviate one word from what’s written here.”
There was a knock at the door, and Jennifer entered. “Oh, we were just finishing,” Sidney said, and turned to James. “Run this. We’ll talk on Monday. Okay?”
Sidney toasted her friend over lunch. “Thank you for being there when I need you.”
“I don’t know what just happened,” Jennifer admitted, “and I don’t want to know.” The two women laughed.
Although Jennifer and Sidney had been friends for about ten years, they had not seen each other in over a year. The women spent their lunch catching up on old times.
“The only time I see you is when you’re in trouble or need help. Do you think we can change that?” Jennifer smiled as she complained.
Sidney smiled back. “I’ll try to stay out of trouble, and I’ll call you in a couple of weeks to do lunch again. How’s that?”
Jennifer laughed, then became serious. “Has Michael given you any trouble lately?”
“No, actually he’s been on good behavior.”
“Good.” Jennifer gestured toward a young couple that was having a romantic lunch. “Anyone special in your life these days?”
“No. I really don’t have the time, right now.” Sidney avoided eye contact with her friend.
Jennifer reached over the table and placed her hand on Sidney’s. “Charlie is not coming back, Sidney. You should get on with your life.”
“I have gotten on with my life. Really. My priorities have just changed,” she tried to assure her friend.
Chapter 7
That Sunday morning, as Sidney sipped her first cup of coffee, she was pleased to read the Gazette’s retraction. The article ran on the front page of the newspaper, unedited from her draft. She experienced a sense of accomplishment as she drew a line through her second objective on her list.
The following morning, her coworkers applauded her as she entered her office. “How’d you do it?” Natalie asked as she closed Sidney’s office door behind her.
“The usual way. I just asked him nicely.”
“Right. Anastasia’s photo shoot is scheduled for Wednesday morning, nine o’clock at Gilgo State Park. It’s just east of Jones Beach and west of Fire Island. Will that work?”
Sidney marked her calendar. “I’ll plan on it.”
That day, the media bombarded MPI. They demanded comments on the Gazette’s retraction. As usual, Sidney wanted to be prepared and spent the majority of the day writing a press release.
The following day, Sidney focused on calling agents she frequently worked with. The timing seemed perfect. Between her press release the previous evening and the newspaper’s retraction, most agents seemed eager to discuss booking the fallen superstar.
As Sidney drove out to Gilgo State Park the following morning, she realized she was getting excited about promoting Anastasia. Everything seemed to be falling in place: Global had agreed to release her next album; the Gazette had printed the retraction; and now, the agents were working with her.
It was going on ten o’clock by the time she arrived at the shoot location. Stephanie was in the parking lot chatting with what appeared to be groupies. A crowd had formed outside of the roped-off photo area. The bystanders were trying to watch the action on the beach, about eighty yards away. One of Antoine s security assistants recognized Sidney and opened a roped section, permitting her to pass. The majority of the crew was standing about halfway between the parking lot area and the water.
It was the week before Memorial Day, and the weather was perfect. The low eighties seemed appropriate for the beach shoot.
As Sidney approached the small group, she noticed that the photographer, Antoine, was upset. “That bitch won’t take her fucking sunglasses off,” he yelled at Sidney.
Anastasia was pacing rigidly in ankle-deep water, alone, about thirty yards from the camera crew. She was dressed in a bathing suit and had a towel draped around her shoulder, concealing most of her torso.
Sidney walked over to Natalie. “Is there a good reason why she’s not cooperating?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Natalie added, “She wouldn’t let Andrea do her make-up, and she says it’s ridiculous to shoot a beach scene without sunglasses on. Antoine, being equally stubborn, is demanding that she take them off.”
Antoine was pacing and cursing about losing time, and rain was in the forecast. As Sidney walked down to the water, she could see threatening clouds in the distance. She removed her sandals and carried them as she walked into the cold water, approaching Anastasia.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Sidney asked calmly.
“I already told them; it’s absurd to shoot a beach scene without sunglasses.”
“You’re right,” Sidney agreed as she studied the photo props that dressed the beach. “We also need beach umbrellas, a couple of beach balls, some of those blow-up floating devices and some beach blankets.” Eyeing the beach towel cloaked over Anastasia’s shoulder, she approached her and tried to remove it, “Here, let me use your towel-“
“No,” Anastasia objected and tugged the towel back onto her shoulder.
Anastasia’s reluctance heightened Sidney’s curiosity. She approached her and tried to look into her eyes, but could not penetrate the dark glasses. Slowly, Sidney reached for the towel and removed it. But this time there was no resistance. Severe bruising was noticeable on Anastasia’s right side and a nasty gash marred her upper arm. Calmly, Sidney circled Anastasia to see the bruises extend to her back. As Sidney looked toward the camera crew, she realized they were too far for the others to see her injuries. Without saying a word, Sidney draped the towel back over Anastasia’s shoulder, once again concealing the injuries. Then slowly, she removed the sunglasses from Anastasia’s face, revealing a black eye. Sidney calmly replaced the glasses.
Turning toward the parking lot, Sidney abruptly bolted, leaving Anastasia. Anastasia attempted to follow Sidney, but she was too fast.
“Sidney, stop,” she cried. But Sidney continued her flight. Anastasia’s cry got the group’s attention; they soon noticed Anastasia chasing after Sidney.
Natalie was able to intercept her friend before she reached the parking lot. She bolted in front of Sidney. “What’s going on?” Natalie saw Sidney was upset; her jaw was clenched shut, and her face was deep red. “Sid, are you okay?”
Sidney ignored the question and continued walking toward the parking lot. Natalie turned back toward Anastasia and was able to discern that she was injured. Anastasia was tightly holding her side and appeared to be wincing from pain.
“You’ve got to stop her,” Anastasia yelled at Natalie.
Reconsidering her next step, Natalie chased after Sidney and tugged on her arm until she stopped.
Sidney turned back toward her friend. “Leave me alone, Nat.”
Natalie saw the anger in Sidney’s eyes. “Who did it? Stephanie?” Sidney remained silent. “What are you planning to do?” Again, Sidney ignored the question, then Natalie asked, “How can I help?”
Sidney could see that Anastasia was approaching. “Can you keep her on the beach?” she asked.
“And what are you going to do?” Natalie asked.
“I’m just going to talk to Stephanie.”
“I wouldn’t mess with her, Sid; I think she’s bad news.”
“I’m just going to talk to her.”
Natalie hesitated, then turned back toward Anastasia. She was able to
quickly stop Anastasia by turning her away from the parking lot and directing her back toward the water.
“You’ve got to stop her,” Anastasia cried.
“It’s okay.” Natalie made a feeble attempt to comfort her.
“No, it isn’t okay. She’s sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Anastasia tried to turn back but she was no match for Natalie. “She’s just going to make things worse. God, Steph’s gonna be so pissed off.” Then, as if defeated, she sank to her knees on the beach sand.
Natalie sat next to Anastasia. “Even if I wanted to stop her, Anastasia, I don’t think I could.”
Sidney soon reached the parking lot, put her sandals back on, then searched for Stephanie. The groupies were still there and Stephanie was still talking to them. When she reached the group, she asked, “Stephanie, may I have a word with you?”
Stephanie hesitated, then followed Sidney away from the crowd and through some parked cars. The hot sun beat down on the asphalt and added to the discomfort of the situation. Stephanie was the first to break the silence. “What’s up?”
Sidney continued her pace and stared ahead. “I just saw Anastasia. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“No,” Stephanie answered.
Sidney turned around to meet Stephanie’s eyes. Then she calmly spoke. “I’m going to say this once, and only once. If you ever hit Anastasia again, you’ll never work in this business again. You’ll never be allowed in any of her sets, shoots, tours, anything. Do you understand me?”
Stephanie’s neck reddened and then her anger erupted. “Who the hell do you think you are?” She yelled, “This is none of your goddamn business. This is between Anastasia and me.” Her anger escalated and instinctively she raised a fist.
Sidney ignored the threat. “That’s where you’re wrong; this is my business. We have a photographer and crew over there that can’t do their job because of you. We still have to pay them for the day. Any time you mess with the business, you’re messing with me, and I don’t like it, and I won’t put up with it.”