There Was a Little Girl: The Real Story of My Mother and Me

by Brooke Shields

  His perception should have sent up a red flag, but alas, I was on a path I would not want to or be able to get off of for five years.

  After the scene I had to shoot was completed, Andre flew me out to Las Vegas in his very own plane, where he’d grown up and still lived. I spent a very chaste first weekend with him in his gated community house on a golf course. All the houses looked alike and there was a Stepford-wives sensibility to the community. It was quiet and clean and surreal. This whole existence represented the antithesis of every aesthetic I had ever known and loved in New York City. It felt alien and wonderfully homogenized.

  We drank champagne and talked endlessly about the similarities between our upbringings and about the crush of fame. We had both reached stardom at very young ages and had demonstrative parents. We were both highly publicized figures and were struggling with the demands of being in the public eye as well as dealing with the pressure of trying to grow up under the scrutiny of the press. We understood one another. We complained about how deeply dissatisfied we both were with our careers. His was from a lack of love for it and mine from a seemingly unrequited love from it. The air in Vegas at the beginning of fall was still and the temperature perfect. The sky was like a pastel watercolor and Andre exuded respect.

  I expected nothing from him, and in this environment I felt safe. And for some reason, I was not considering my mom’s feelings in any of it. He was a very gentle soul and seemingly calm and devoid of unnecessary drama. I actually felt more settled than I had in years. I thought we were becoming special to each other in a very unique way. It was not clouded by passion or fear but fueled by respect and fresh perspective. It felt like a safe respite from a life that had been beating me down. I felt like I’d finally found a relationship in which I felt totally understood. Even though we were actually just kids, we both possessed a level of self-awareness. We were somehow grounded and individually intent on self-improvement. Andre and I wanted to thrive, not just survive.

  I also had a foot surgery planned and was not sure I would ever be able to dance the same again. After years of being in excruciating pain, I decided to get both bunions on my feet removed. The surgery was the next week and I knew that I’d be out of commission for a least three months. I hoped we would keep in touch but had no expectations. I did not anticipate more than the probable reversion back to the fax machine, but I was in for the shock of my life.

  Andre knew when my surgery was and asked if I minded his coming to New York to visit. I had nothing to lose and said yes. It was the first time I had ever had major surgery and was actually a bit nervous. It was elective but so necessary to alleviate the chronic pain.

  Mom was supposed to take me but got drunk the night before and I couldn’t count on her. She got angry when she realized that Andre was going to visit. I can’t remember if he brought me to surgery, but I do remember transferring my need to be taken care of onto Andre almost immediately when I realized Mom was drunk. It was a perfect position for both of us. I needed to be cared for and he needed to caretake. He did it sublimely.

  After the operation, he and his trainer and close friend Gil Reyes loaded me up in the back of an SUV for the drive back to New Jersey. Once home they carried me and got me settled into my hospital bed that had been set up in the first-floor sunroom. It would be easier and quieter there than in New York City. I was groggy and exhausted and in no pain . . . yet. I could tell that Mom was deeply unsettled that Andre was around and that his main focus was caring for me. I knew she was thrown but I honestly was too exhausted and drugged up to address any of it. Nobody had ever shown me such interest and seeming commitment, and I am sure she felt threatened. I could tell she liked him because she didn’t whisper behind his back to me but I could tell this was all getting a bit too close for her comfort. She seemed awkward and uncomfortable. Mom tried to regain control and kept insisting that Andre sleep in the guest room, but he kept refusing, saying that he would rather stay near me. He put the sofa cushions on the floor by my bed and he refused to leave. Mom was getting visibly angry and did not like anybody not doing as she said.

  “Oh, you’re that kind,” she scoffed, and went into the kitchen.

  I went in and out of sleep all through the night. If I shifted and a foot fell of its elevated position, Andre would jump up to right it. This vigilant attention left me in a daze. Nobody had ever taken care of me like this. Honestly it felt too good to be true but I did not fight it. I guess it was his version of strapping me to his chest and it felt good. The irony was that Mom chalked it up to control issues on Andre’s part, and the competition for my loyalty began. I knew Mom would ultimately have been capable of tending to me, but I also knew she would be drinking throughout. I also had Lisa a few streets away. I was extremely vulnerable and scared and the pain was mounting.

  At one point, Lisa came to visit and I found myself trying to make light of the fact that she and my mother were in the kitchen getting drunk on Zima while I lay incapacitated and defenseless. Andre was appalled. I was broken and he was going to fix me. More writing on the wall that I should have seen, but the solid support felt intoxicating and I signed up with every ounce of my soul.

  For the first time in my life, somebody stood up for what was best for me without any regard for, or disrespect of, my mother. Other boyfriends in the past either tried to ally me against my mother or were so threatened by her that they shrunk a bit around her. Those who thought they were going to be the ones to stand up to my mother and defend me were in over their heads, while the other, more intimidated ones lost my respect. There never seemed to be a loving happy medium. I couldn’t strike it myself and needed somebody to help balance me.

  With Andre I instantly felt a vicarious thrill. To me it seemed that he was never rude but simply forthright and steadfast. I could learn from him in how he dealt with things. He seemed straightforward and loving yet honest. There was no fight. He had come to support me and that was what he was going to do. It was a pretty funny sight—Tennis Boy from Vegas sleeping on the floor on three square floral chintz pillows lined up vertically next to a hospital bed holding a girl whose both feet were broken and held together by pins, while her mother and best friend were getting hammered on shitty malt liquor in the nearby kitchen. Oh, the glamour. Andre and I actually had such a laugh that I never wanted him to leave my side. I was going to be safe. I was no longer alone.

  In a few days Andre had to return home. But he had made his mark on my heart and I planned to visit him as soon as I could.

  • • •

  I healed rather quickly, as did Andre from a wrist surgery, and he began a first comeback in tennis. I started spending as much time with him as I could, which usually meant I would follow him around the country to watch him play tennis. I did my rehabilitation alongside him in his training sessions and we both soul-searched and trained our bodies and our minds. It was an evolution and a security I had never experienced.

  I had the space to expand my thinking about my life and about my career. Andre supported my every dream and helped me see how I could make them actualities. I was away from my mother and living a totally new and different existence. I talked to Andre at length about my mother and her drinking and my staled career. I bared my insecurities to him and put my absolute, unfettered trust in him to guide me through. He said things like “I want your dreams to become my reality.”

  “What!”

  “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You would really love what you see.”

  Oh, good Lord Jesus, where had this guy materialized from? He was too good to be real. And he would do incredibly thoughtful things like getting the LA house tented for termites when he heard we had a problem. He gave me books by Marianne Williamson and C. S. Lewis to read and thought Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus was a great way for the sexes to grow together. I did not question a thing he suggested. I just wanted to keep breathing in the fresh air of contentm
ent.

  I bared my heart about wanting to be an actress and feeling like a joke and a failure. I was out of shape and rejected and I didn’t know how to turn my career around. He said that if I was serious about being an actress, I should be out in Los Angeles and I should get an agent. In order to do so I’d have to scale down propertywise and consolidate my finances. I’d have to sell and buy myself time to forge a new path and not be forced to take jobs just for the cash. And, most important, I’d have to leave my mother as my manager and establish myself financially and professionally separate from her and the debts. That last part I had come to know but hearing somebody else say it hit me like a Mack truck. I knew it was true, but the reality terrified me. It would kill her.

  Andre said he would help, and I could use his office and lawyers to ease the transition. His manager and best friend since childhood, Perry Rogers, was controlling his life at this point. Perry had basically facilitated Andre’s breakaway from his own father. I figured that since he had guided Andre through a similar disengagement, he must have all the answers. Plus, Agassi Enterprises was a huge operation with many on its payroll. There were trainers, doctors, massage therapists, secretaries, pilots, assistants, lawyers, ex-girlfriends, all being subsidized in one way or another. I was property-rich but had both an entangled relationship with a drunk business partner and a depleted cash flow. I was in no position to say no to the possibility of reclaiming my future. I felt empowered and scared but knew I needed to cause a huge shift in my life.

  Andre helped me believe in myself and in my talent and in the possibility of future success. There were concrete steps that could and should be taken, and both Andre and Perry presented me with a game plan. I had never before understood any of the financial aspects of my life. Mom handled it all with an accountant and I never paid attention. These two guys, who were five years my junior, tried to educate me on what needed to happen financially and professionally, which aided personal growth as well. Andre was never as emotionally connected to his father as I was to my mom. I deeply loved my mom, whereas he remained ambivalent toward his dad and all he stood for. My emotional separation was going to be tougher for me than his was but the goal was the same. Andre suggested I investigate the possibility of obtaining an agent from an important agency in LA.

  • • •

  I went alone out to visit my mother in Haworth to tell her that I had thought a great deal about it and I had decided that I wanted to go out on my own as an actress and that if I failed, I wanted to fail on my own. I planned on trying to go back to William Morris and working once again with my old agent. I wanted to try my hand at a career my way and with a vetted professional team.

  I explained to Mom that I felt we were becoming polarized as people because of her drinking and expressed my dissatisfaction with the way my career was going. I said I wanted to try to salvage the mother-daughter part of our lives. I told her the only way I thought that could happen would be for me to separate from her professionally. It was all too confused and becoming toxic. I added that I really wished she would quit drinking for once in her life.

  “Don’t you worry about my drinking. Have you talked to a lawyer?”

  “No. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  It was true that I had not told our lawyers yet. I wanted to keep to my word about this being a personal decision and I wanted to show her respect by coming to her in person, and first. I was a bit hurt that she thought I had already contacted an actual lawyer but felt clean knowing I had not. The idea had not come from Perry or Andre—they were just helping with practical elements.

  “Well then, do whatcha gotta do.”

  There was a hint of her thinking it bullshit that I wanted to save our personal relationship. I saw her smirk as if I were just using it as the excuse. She was a mix of hungover and still drinking, ingesting enough every time she left the room to have her senses dulled but her edges nicely sharpened. Most people soften their edges with alcohol. My mom’s protruded and hardened with booze. I started to feel a sense of panic rising in my gut, and the moment she drove off to rehab, I felt guilty and I wanted to try to make it better for her. I did not realize that I could never have gotten her approval for something that was going to destroy the very foundation of all she thought she had built. But I wanted her approval nonetheless. I wanted to help give her security in this moment, so I stupidly threw in that I’d just split everything we had together in half and she would be fine. It was never going to be that easy. I had no idea how difficult it would all be financially and legally.

  I left the house feeling vaguely concerned that it had all gone far too smoothly to be true. As it had been with rehab, I knew this was just the calm before the storm.

  I had made sure I had been clear and unapologetic. I knew I could not want her approval on something that would devastate her. But I told her I loved her and wanted to repair our relationship and that without the pressure of the career we could start anew. But I think we both knew that this was only part of my plan, and maybe Mom sensed what she thought was the falseness of my approach.

  I knew this is something I had to do. I desperately wanted a better relationship with her but was finally convinced that it was never going to happen as long as she was still drinking. The career part was true in the sense that I did want to learn independently from her. But I also knew I would have an agency at the ready. I did not want to eviscerate her, or undermine all she had done. I had a goal and I was not dishonest. I just tried not to be cruel in my delivery. I had to say I wanted to try on my own versus saying I was unhappy with the job she was doing. Both were true and I was leaving no matter what, so why not remain kind and generous in spirit? She was the one who would be left alone. I was not.

  But even though she’d seemed calm about it, she wasn’t buying any of it. I knew it. I got out of the house before I would want to backpedal and apologize and ask her to tell me it was all OK with her and that I was making the right decision, and that I would end up getting work, right? And that maybe she was correct and I should just stay with her and we would figure it out?

  Can you say ACOA?

  • • •

  I then called the William Morris Agency. I was humble and honest and said I had come to a place in my life where I needed a fresh start. I was separating from my manager-mother. Would I be able to sit and discuss the possibility of rejoining the agency?

  I was given a bit of a scorned response that I played right into. I might not have known the business of entertainment, but I did know the business of people. Wasn’t it all a game anyway? If my mother taught me anything, it was that it was all a game.

  Bargaining and posturing was how the business was run, right? The only problem was that Mom would not bargain and she didn’t consider her bravado false. But I’d learned from her mistakes as well. I had to find a way to make it their idea to represent me. I had to defer and slightly smooth their ego. After all, they had been scorned. I was sweet and humble, and even though I really was sincere, I played all the right cards on this call. After the agent seriously said his perfunctory “I’ll have to run it by my colleagues to see if there is interest” line, I once again had representation.

  • • •

  I think Mom believed it was just a bluff and that I was being manipulated and brainwashed by the Agassi team. I don’t think she believed I would follow through on any of it. She would come to hate Perry with such venom in her veins that she would never accept him. She reveled in the fact that even Andre eventually fired Perry. Mom would never come to believe that this was a good move for any of us.

  I explained the split to the lawyers Mom and I had been using for years, but I also informed them I would be using another team to handle the logistics. I couldn’t afford the legal fees but Andre said he would help detangle the mess and help me get back on my feet. I took the charity for the first time in my entire life. I had no idea that once reality hit her, my mo
ther would dig in her heels legally for quite some time and emotionally until her death.

  I was offered a role replacing Rosie O’Donnell in the Broadway revival of Grease as the Pink Ladies leader, Rizzo. Andre and Perry and my “new” agent all thought it was an amazing idea and hoped that the quickest way to Hollywood was via old Broadway.

  I was to go on tour for three weeks as a sort of break-in/rehearsal period with Grease so I could get used to the grueling schedule of doing eight shows a week and performing live in front of thousands of people. Right before I left I did something that I will never fully forgive myself for, but which was ultimately the only chance I had at survival. Soon there would be no turning back.

  I had visited my mother right before leaving for the Grease tour. I had personally told the three employees at Brooke Shields and Co. Incorporated in Norwood, New Jersey, that some changes were being made and they would all be taken care of, but that I was scaling down and that after Friday they would not need to go into the office. I asked for their respect in not talking to my mom so as to give her time. I did not tell anybody of the other part of my plan. My mother went to the office on a pleasant Friday morning as if it was business as usual. She had gotten into the routine of going to the office practically every day, and this Friday was no different from any others. I had told her good-bye and left for tour in Cincinnati to be put into the company. I was busy and avoided phoning home for fear I would break down from nerves and guilt.

  Perry had told me that the only way to have a clean break in a complicated relationship like ours was to be drastic. I had to take a stance and make everybody know I was serious. He was used to dealing with big corporations and a very discordant relationship like the one between Andre and his father. But Perry was insensitive to the layers of hurt that his tactics incited. He ruled by fear and by very false bravado and he loved reducing people in business so as to win.