Just Between Us

by Mario Lopez

  Eva Longoria is a storybook example of a star I’ve had the joy of watching come from nowhere to the top and not change in the least. I should probably state that we are the best of friends. A question I hear from fans all the time is “How come you’ve never gone out with Eva Longoria? You guys would be perfect together. You two could be the Latino Kennedys!”

  That’s a funny question, because I’ve known her for so many years now and the friendship has always been platonic. I met Eva when she first pulled into LA in her little Ford Escort, straight outta San Antonio. She and I are roughly the same age, we’re both Mexican, and we share a similar understanding about the ways of the world. We just hit it off. Whether it was timing or the fact that I felt she was more like a sister than a potential love interest, we never pushed the romantic thing. That said, she was always a rock star to me—pretty, smart, passionate, and sexy. We’ve joked that she is my female equivalent: she has the same energy, drive, focus, and, best of all, the same sense of humor. We crack up together all the time.

  As Eva grew in Hollywood stature, from aspiring actress to one of the leads of Desperate Housewives to producer and star to mover and shaker, she didn’t change her values or her priorities—she’s still the funny, cool woman I met with the little Ford hatchback. Eva cares about her culture and her community and has become such a strong voice in it; her activism makes me truly proud to call her a friend.

  In the past, fans used to assume that when we appeared in pictures together—in a bunch of tabloids—we were, in fact, a couple. But that has never been the case. We used to call each other and laugh hysterically about the rumors we could make up. Let that be a lesson not to trust what you read in the tabloids. On occasion, we’ve worked together—including cohosting the ALMA Awards one year—and we are always looking for opportunities to do more together.

  Indeed, hosting has helped me claim a platform for doing more to spur opportunity for Latinos in the entertainment industry and I have to credit Eva’s leadership, as well as the support from others. Not just because we share a family name, but I happen to have a lot of respect for George Lopez and Jennifer Lopez, who are true leaders in the cause. J.Lo, a superstar on every level, and I work on NUVO, an English-language entertainment TV network for the modern American Latino. English speaking but with a Latin flair. There’s a whole new generation out there and they want hip programming and media outlets.

  George Lopez and I have worked together both on his show and on other projects. He’s a great guy and fiercely talented as a comic. In the last season of X Factor, I was able to chaperone George’s daughter on set and she is now my best friend—probably because she was able to get pictures taken with One Direction when they were on the show. Anything George or Jennifer asks me to do, I’ll be there for them. And when I’ve asked them, they’ve been there for me.

  Can we make a difference together in creating opportunities that continue to be closed to our peers from Latino backgrounds? Well, I absolutely believe we can.

  • • •

  If you were to ask me what I love most of all about being the host of Extra and about hosting in general, I would say that it’s the chance to learn and grow every single day. That’s why whenever I’m asked if I miss being in front of the camera as an actor—even though I don’t rule out saying yes to acting or performing roles that come along—I point out that there’s so much more I need to learn before I realize my ambition of being the Latino Dick Clark.

  Recently I was asked if I’m ever tempted to pursue opportunities that take me out of my comfort zone, much like my role in A Chorus Line. The answer is that I’m always open to possibilities that will let me continue my journey in the entertainment world. But just how far out of my comfort zone I should go is a question to consider. When I was younger, I had the opportunity, for example, to take a shot in the music business as part of a boy band, complete with Auto-Tuning and dancing and megatours. But as exciting as that sounded, I turned it down because I happen to agree with Clint Eastwood, who once said, “A man’s got to know his limitations.” Diversity as a performer in show business has been unbelievably rewarding for me, but I also try to stay in my lane. Anyway, I sort of fulfilled living out the music thing by playing the drums back in the day. When the offers arose, my instincts told me to focus on my acting and not be distracted by musical ambitions. Some actors can move seamlessly into music, and some recording artists do well as actors. But those who can command respect in those different arenas tend to be few and far between.

  Maybe I’ve seen too much from the big chair, but I know that sometimes you can undervalue what you have and reach out for something else, yet it’s like reaching out for the trapeze bar and missing—only there’s no net. Once you fall, you fall hard. And that’s it.

  All of that said, if I had to do it all over again knowing what I do now, I would have pushed myself out of my comfort zone even more and dared to reach for dreams that would have let me soar farther as a daring young man on a high-flying trapeze. Most of what held me back was worrying about what would happen if I failed and what this or that person would think of me. Would I have been fearless if I could do it again? No, I wouldn’t be fearless. But I would try to fear less. Fear is the thing that keeps you from living true to who you really are. Advice to self: Fear not what others think of you. Fear not bad outcomes. Move forward in life with aplomb.

  The fact is, I love what I do and where I am. My life is a dream come true—so amazing that I have to pinch myself frequently. But what I do isn’t what makes me happy. My happiness has to do with the love that surrounds me, the people who love me, and those I love. They’re the reason I do all of this.

  Guess what. Those are the stories coming up next. I’ve saved the best for last.

  CHAPTER 8

  MAZZA

  Not long before I left the cast of A Chorus Line, a new cast member—or so I thought—arrived just in time to change my life forever. Even though neither one of us had any clue of that when we first met.

  Let me set the stage for that moment. Literally—as I happened to actually be standing backstage left, warming up before that evening’s performance. As you may recall, this was the summer of 2008 and my run with the show was drawing to a close. By this point, my focus was on juggling not just my time on Broadway but also my crazy bicoastal hosting schedule with MTV’s ABDC and with making inroads as a host on Extra—all-consuming.

  At thirty-five years old, I finally felt I knew who I was and what I wanted—and it wasn’t to hit the clubs and be in the scene. It had been a few weeks since the tragedy of losing my cousin and godson Chico, whose life had been so tough, and I’d been thinking about doing more to cherish the life in front of me. Down the road, I could see myself making space to share it with someone else—someone who shared values and interests with me, along with passion. In that reflective state, I was starting to think I was ready, maybe for the first time ever, for that kind of relationship. Something real and lasting.

  Even so, that was not the priority. And that’s why it wasn’t a big deal in the middle of my stage left warm-up when I heard our stage manager say he wanted to introduce me to an actress who would be joining the cast as part of the ensemble—both in the chorus and on swing, doing several of the smaller roles, all of which entailed nonstop dancing, singing, and acting. As I finished stretching out my legs, I looked up and saw a strikingly beautiful woman standing in front of me—big brown eyes, long dark hair. She was curvy, athletic, with a dancer’s body.

  Just then a bell went off in my head. For a few weeks I’d been hearing about some girl who was going to be joining the show. According to fellow cast member Nick Adams, a gifted Broadway triple threat who played the role of my character’s assistant in the show, “You’re going to really like this new girl. She’s just your type. Gorgeous, Italian, exotic. You’re going to love her.” But he hadn’t mentioned a name.

  As I smiled and stood to
greet her, I figured this must be the girl Nick had mentioned. Hand outstretched and dimpled smile blazing, I said, “Nice to meet you. I’m Mario.”

  She reached out her hand to shake mine and said, matter-of-factly, “Hi, Mario, my name is Courtney.”

  Hmm. I thought if she was Italian she would have some exotic name like Francesca or Isabella.

  So I said, “Courtney? That’s it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” She shrugged.

  “Well, I thought you were going have some Italian name.” I laughed, wondering if Nick had misinformed me. “You are Italian, right?”

  Yes, she confirmed that she was, telling me her last name: “Mazza.”

  To which I replied, “Why Courtney?”

  “What do you want from me? I was born in the eighties,” she shot back.

  Wow, she was sassy. She was also clearly not impressed by my poor attempt at engaging her in conversation and appeared to not really be paying attention to me at all. So, not able to think quickly enough of anything else, I went for small talk as I returned to my warm-up stretches, needing to sweat out some of the previous night’s alcohol intake.

  “Oh, man,” I said, grinning. “I think I had a rougher night than I thought.” She didn’t say a word, other than to glance at me blankly, so I blundered on. “Yeah, I don’t know how tonight’s gonna be. Could be a rough one for me.” Lame as that was, I had to break the ice somehow. All I could do was repeat that it was nice to meet her and to say, “Welcome aboard.”

  I knew Courtney Mazza had to have a real edge when she looked up at me, raised an eyebrow, and correctively said, “Oh, I’ve been on this show before. You didn’t know? You’re the one who should get the ‘welcome aboard.’” And then she walked away without looking back.

  Oh, snap!

  Yep, before I arrived Courtney had apparently been in this production but had left to do another show called Cry-Baby. And now that she was back, I didn’t have much time to win her over.

  Why I was so intrigued, I don’t know exactly. There was something about her. Watching her in the show, I was definitely impressed. Only in her midtwenties, she was wildly talented and did it all—dancing, singing, and making different characters come to life with the acting chops of a true pro.

  As the days passed, I continued to try to talk to her. I’d try chitchat or idle banter or being sweet and thoughtful or newsworthy—just anything to hit on a topic of conversation that would engage her. She was cool and didn’t act like she minded so much, as her focus wasn’t on me. But I pressed on, attempting not to be so obvious as to be a total loser.

  To be honest, I began to suspect that she was ignoring me on purpose. My ego wouldn’t let me believe she didn’t like me, so I convinced myself that her snarky attitude was only a ploy—that the whole “I’m not interested in you” was part of her strategy for winning the hearts of men. After all, when she turned me down for going out for a cup of coffee, she literally said she was not interested in me. Ploy or genuine disinterest, it didn’t matter. But her aloof attitude worked, because I became even more intrigued. On the few occasions when I managed to grab her attention and talk to her, she was always very quick-witted.

  Like, one day I arrived at the theater feeling very jet-lagged and passed her as we headed toward the dressing rooms. “Oh, man,” I said. “I’m feeling kind of rough today.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not checking you out.” Delivered with a twinkle in her eye, and total deadpan.

  Courtney was killing me. I couldn’t believe that, on top of all the other things I liked about her, she was funny too. If a girl is funny, to me that’s incredibly sexy. Usually I end up being the comedian in a relationship. Not that we had a relationship, but I was loving that she was smart and quick and funny and sassy—the four food groups of a perfect woman.

  One afternoon as a group of us were leaving the theater after a matinee, I happened to be walking next to her and, being myself, I teasingly said, “You know what? Courtney is not working for me. You need a name that matches you—you know, Italian, exotic.” Since I called most of my friends by their last names or gave them nicknames, I told her, “How ’bout I call you by your last name? I’m going to call you Mazza.”

  “Screw you,” she said, but with a laugh. “Just so you know, I don’t like Mario.”

  Zing!

  Well, you know what they say in comedy: if it works once, you milk it until you can’t anymore. The next time I sidled up to her, I told her, of course, Courtney was a beautiful name, but not like a name that rolled easily off the tongue—like maybe it was too Caucasian. She shook her head and tried to refrain from smiling. Not that I was even thinking about falling in love or having a real relationship at that point, but if we were ever going to get past “No, I’m not interested,” I actually had trouble seeing myself dating a Courtney. But Mazza worked for me and, lo and behold, she laughed at her new nickname.

  Progress! We had advanced to joking around. And if I had any reservations about my interest in her, as soon as she made me laugh, I was hooked. She owned me. But there was that minor detail that she wouldn’t go out with me. I asked her out so often that that too became a running joke. Every day at work, I’d say, “Come on, when are you going to go out with me?” She had a boyfriend; of course she did. Why wouldn’t she? She was incredible.

  I enlisted Nick, who knew her outside of the show, to get the scoop on Mazza and find out more and whether there was any hope to get her to go out with me. Ah, the irony. The same Nick who played my assistant in the show, and who first told me about her, was now tasked with assisting me in cracking the code to get a date with Mazza. So he had to help! Next thing I knew, we were in the midst of a Shakespearean comedy of errors—or a plot from an old Saved by the Bell—with Nick as the go-between and all kinds of strategies backfiring on me. Each time Nick told her I wanted to go out, she wouldn’t budge. He did find out that she had been with the same boyfriend for years—maybe ten years—and as I understood it, their relationship had probably become more habit than love.

  I kept chipping away at the Mazza stone. I don’t know if she and her boyfriend had a fight or whatever, but finally she succumbed. I like to think it was my charm and devilish good looks, but it was probably my pressure—a pressure that bordered on stalking. Not quite, of course, but still, that kind of campaigning is no way to get a date. However, it may have just been what got her to say yes to going out with me.

  You would think that I would have cleared my calendar on the day we planned to get together, but I had a business meeting just before Courtney Mazza and I had arranged to meet. It wasn’t just any meeting: I was to be sitting down with Katie Couric. Katie and I were laughing and having a great time, and I lost track of the hour. When I realized the time, I excused myself and called Mazza.

  “I am so sorry—I can’t get out of this meeting. Please forgive me—I’m going to be a little bit late for our date.”

  “Forget it,” she said. She blew me off.

  I emphatically apologized and then, after a week or so, she cooled off and agreed to give me another shot. This time I was early. I was waiting for her. As she approached, she looked incredible, but I could also see she wasn’t alone. She’d brought Nick. He is gay, so he’d be no competition on our first date night. Smart move. I wasn’t planning on making any moves or anything, so we all went out and had a good time, all three of us.

  The more I got to know Mazza, the more I liked her. After our first date, she finally let her guard down a little bit. We started to hang out more and more. But she was also dealing with the dissolution of the long-term relationship she’d been in. And for my part, at this point I had only five weeks or so before I had to leave New York for LA for good.

  The last thing I wanted with Courtney Mazza was to begin something and then try to maintain a long-distance relationship after I left. I’d been down that road and I knew it would
n’t work. Instead, I chose to live in the moment and just enjoy this really wonderful girl’s company. We decided we were going to have fun as long as she wanted to hang out, and then we’d go our separate ways.

  We’d grab a bite here, go for drinks after our show there, spend our day off at a museum or get takeout and stay at my place, where we seemed to find lots to do to entertain each other. Pretty soon we were together every day and I felt so comfortable that I gave her a key to my Times Square condo. When I gave it to her, I almost admitted that she already had the key to my heart. But I didn’t want to spoil the simplicity of what we had.

  As the time came closer for me to leave, I could only feel thankful for what a nice, wholesome time she and I had shared, so different from the first part of the run, when I was partying and going out and feeling a bit lost and lonely. How lucky I was to have met Mazza and that, thanks to Nick as well as to my own persistence, we had gotten to connect in such a deep, real way. The fact that it was going to end when I returned to LA—and we both knew it—couldn’t dampen the precious time we spent together. Romantic though I am, I had enough life experience at this stage to know the difference between what is meant to be forever and what is futile. I wasn’t going to delude myself into thinking our time together could be a forever thing.

  Logistics alone made anything else unfeasible. After my six-month run was up, I had to get back to Los Angeles. And after Mazza had fulfilled her commitment to A Chorus Line, she would go right into another show on Broadway. Wow. She was going from one show to another, three shows back to back to back. When it was time to say good-bye, we didn’t get overly dramatic; we just wished each other well. Mazza wasn’t necessarily thrilled about her new gig, though, because it was Disney’s The Little Mermaid and I think she wanted something a bit more edgy. Still, that was a coup for anyone and I reminded her, “Are you kidding me? This is what you’ve worked for all your life—you’re on Broadway working at the top of the field.” No, it wasn’t Shakespeare, but . . . my God! I went on, “There are people who would give anything to be working like you.”