Real Girl Next Door

by Denise Richards

  As we explored the city, which I loved, I noticed people were staring at me. Not just glancing the way you do when you think you recognize someone; they were checking me out. At first I thought it was my imagination, but whether Pat and I were in a café, walking along the river, or strolling in and out of Left Bank shops, I saw people looking at me. It made me a little self-conscious. What the hell were they looking at?

  Then, one afternoon, we walked into the Virgin Megastore and Pat and I saw enormous posters of Neve and me from Wild Things on the walls. It had been retitled Sex Crimes. Oh my God, I was that girl and it was called Sex Crimes, which for some reason embarrassed me a little bit. Afterward, I started noticing the poster all around the city—in stores, subways, everywhere, and people started coming up asking for my autograph and a picture with me. I still get shy when people ask me to take a picture. I always think people walking by are looking at me taking a photo with someone and going, “Who the hell is that?” Same with the paparazzi, I feel so stupid when there are quite a few of them snapping away and people wondering who the heck I am. But that was a tiny prelude to the scrutiny that came my way.

  When The World Is Not Enough opened in November 1999, my life became all about promoting the movie. I attended nearly thirty premieres around the world, starting in L.A., though the month before that was filled with meetings, fittings, photoshoots, and preparation for interviews. I did a huge spread for Vanity Fair. Annie Leibovitz shot every Bond girl. What a shoot that was! I was thrilled to be doing my first world tour for a movie. I had a blast. I went to so many different countries. The hair and makeup artist who did all my press shoots, whom I had become good friends with, came with me. We had fun! We flew to Ireland for our first stop, and Pierce and I presented an MTV award to Britney Spears. After the awards show, we all went to a private after-party where Bono and Iggy Pop performed. It was an unforgettable night. From there we went to the London premiere of Bond, and then it was Belgium, Berlin, Paris, Madrid, Finland, and Amsterdam. I saw so many beautiful places and met the most incredible people. That to me was the biggest gift I got from doing the movie. I was so blessed to travel and see the world and it was a whirlwind. As soon as we landed in each country I went straight into hair and makeup, pulled a dress out of my trunk that was packed by a stylist, did a press conference, press junket, premiere, party, bed, and off to the next place in the morning. Unfortunately, the reviews I got made it hard to suck it up during my interviews. Except for Roger Ebert, reviewers followed the harsh route of the Chicago Tribune’s Michael Wilmington, who wrote, “There’s the script—and that’s the problem.” Actually, most were meaner, and I felt I was unduly singled out. “How could she play a scientist in hot pants and a halter top?” critics asked. The barbs were so bad that Michael Apted told Entertainment Weekly, “I hope I didn’t hang her out to dry.”

  I knew you had to have thick skin in this business, but this was my first time receiving criticism, and it stung. It was so public. Talk about being stripped naked. Right before going on MTV’s Total Request Live before heading to Europe, I found a USA Today review of the movie in the dressing room. I’d been taught to avoid reviews for this very reason. This one slammed the movie, and me! How was I going to go out on live TV and put on a happy face about the movie? How the hell was I going to do nearly four weeks of press across Europe knowing people thought the movie sucked and I was a terrible actress? Devastated, I called home. Both of my parents got on the phone and provided the support and common sense I needed to move forward.

  “It’s only other people’s opinions, it’s just a review,” my dad said. “It’s not who you are.”

  “Denise,” my mom said, “just hold your head up high. Let people see the real you. They’ll know the difference. You have a lot of fun ahead of you.”

  She was right. But I was depressed about it. I had a horrible pit in my stomach and I was embarrassed doing my interviews, feeling as if every journalist were making fun of my performance. Whether or not it was true, it was how I felt. For the record, years later EW named me the worst Bond girl, so I was right. Some were making fun of my performance, but, hey, I was a Bond girl! The European tour more than compensated for the criticism. Before the London premiere, the producers gave Sophie and me each a lavish thank-you gift—a diamond and sapphire bracelet. Later, I gave it to my mom. My business had lots of perks, but none came close to the gift of being able to go home to my family. There were probably some movies I shouldn’t have done along the way that weren’t best for my career, but they did allow me to buy a home for my parents and I bought a new truck for my dad’s fiftieth birthday; it meant a lot that I was able to do that for my family.

  PART FOUR

  Good Time

  Charlie

  1

  AFTER FILMING BOND, I bought a Tuscan-style house in the Pacific Palisades and a dog (I couldn’t wait to own a home with a yard to finally get a dog), a Boston terrier that I named Lucy, so when I came back from Europe I returned to my house. It was an incredible feeling to unlock the door and walk into my home, then wake up the next morning next to the beach, pad around in my T-shirt and pajama bottoms, make coffee, and think about building my life. I wanted to get married and start a family. As Pat and I had gone our separate ways, I did not let being single stop me from going after the things I wanted. I decorated my house and continued working. I filmed Undercover Brother (on location in Toronto), Empire with John Leguizamo in New York, and a few other projects, and I brought Lucy along. I went out with friends and stayed busy. My life felt full. Sure, at times, I wished I had a special someone with whom I could curl up at night and talk about the day or plan my tomorrows, but I didn’t stress about it, relying on friends to keep me from feeling lonely, and keeping the faith that I’d find the right guy. I believed my soul mate was out there and that fate would lead us to each other when the time was right.

  A part of me enjoyed the freedom of being single. I didn’t have to worry about answering to anyone other than me. I lived in the moment, and loved it. I didn’t want to be with someone just to be with him. It had to be right, even if it was “right” for only a short time. It had to feel good.

  Soon that status changed—and so did everything else, forever—when I accepted a four-episode arc on the hit ABC series Spin City and renewed my acquaintance with that show’s star Charlie Sheen. We’d worked together the previous summer on the movie Good Advice, a romantic comedy about an investment banker who loses everything only to discover what’s really important in life. After I took the movie, Charlie called to talk about the project, and we ended up on the phone for two hours, discussing it and a thousand other topics, most of which had nothing to do with the movie. I was still with Pat at the time and wasn’t romantically interested in Charlie. But we had chemistry right away, and I thought this would be a fun project and he’d be cool to work with.

  When I showed up on the Spin City set, we hugged and spent a few minutes catching up. I reminded him that when I last saw him on the movie, he’d just signed on to replace Michael J. Fox on Spin City, and I’d predicted he’d do an awesome job. “And guess what?” I told him. “I was right.”

  My guest stint as campaign strategist Jennifer Duncan was part of a larger casting stunt for sweeps that also saw Michael return to the show, along with additional guest stars Farrah Fawcett, Queen Latifah, and Olivia d’Abo. I shot two episodes back-to-back, and Charlie and I flirted the whole time. The chemistry was undeniable. As we said good-bye at the end of the second episode, Charlie suggested we get together outside the show. When I said that would be nice, he promised to call, and a couple days later, he did.

  We arranged dinner, but then the day before our date, Charlie called to tell me the World Series was on. He was an obsessive baseball fan and was in a bit of a dilemma. He wanted to go out to dinner, but didn’t want to miss watching the game.

  I understood. I didn’t want him to miss the game either. From working with Charlie on the movie and two episodes
of Spin City, I knew he was a little superstitious, and I would’ve felt terrible if he missed an important game because he was out with me. He may have taken it as a sign or something, and as I told him, it wasn’t a big deal to me. I really did understand.

  “You’re telling the truth?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “We can go out to dinner another time. Don’t worry about it.”

  Charlie was silent. I could hear the wheels spinning in his head. He asked if I’d consider watching the game with him at his condo, and he promised to take me out to dinner another night. I said sure, why not? I didn’t see a downside. I saw two fun occasions. Only my dad didn’t think it was a good idea for me to go to Charlie’s house. He advised me to wait until I knew him better. In my dad’s eyes I was still his little girl, and he worried about me. I didn’t listen to him.

  Indeed, dinner out became dinner in. Instead of the sexy dress that I planned to wear to the restaurant, I threw on a pair of jeans and a cute top and went to Charlie’s swanky bachelor pad to watch the game with him. He greeted me warmly; he was relaxed and showed me a spot on the sofa in front of the big-screen TV. As much as I like a fancy night on the town, it was actually nice to be at his place—just the two of us, getting to know each other privately.

  And Charlie and I did just that. Rather than order in food—looking back, this is kind of ridiculous and very L.A.—I brought over the plastic-wrapped, portion-controlled meal I had delivered to my house, and he heated up a portion-controlled meal of his own from a similar delivery service. I picked up our favorite flavors of Häagen-Dazs, chocolate for Charlie and mint chip for me. I know—low-cal meals and ice cream? Unlike most guys I’ve been around during a game, he kept the volume low enough for us to talk, which I liked. Afterward, we watched a movie that his mom had recommended, and when I got up to leave, we had an awkward little moment by the door. I thought, is he going to kiss me? Do I make a move first? Do we not kiss at all? When he hesitated, I thought, screw it. I’ll be bold and make the first move—and so I planted one on him.

  It was spectacular. Definitely butterflies. Then I went home. By the way, the game was great! And his team won!

  Few things are as exciting as meeting someone you like. Life is just that much better. It pushes the boring stuff into the background and fills every moment with excitement, especially the beginning. The newness is just wonderful. You think about a million different things, all involving that new person. Well, at least I do. No matter the time of year, every day smells fresh and springlike, ripe with possibilities: nothing is as intoxicating as love. A few days later, he kept to his word and took me out on a dinner date. I got my makeup on and did my hair. A friend came over to help me pick out something to wear. That was fun. We decided I should look cute, but sexy, without trying to look sexy. We came up with black Theory pants and a sexy top with Jimmy Choo heels. If only he knew how many outfits I tried on before he got to my place.

  Oh, another thing that impressed me: Charlie picked me up! I know it’s a small favor, but it doesn’t happen as often as you’d think because L.A. is so spread out. Ordinarily, when you live thirty or forty minutes from each other, as Charlie and I did, you meet at the restaurant or a guy will send a car to pick you up. Given that Charlie had a bit of a schlep, I thought he was quite the gentleman to pick me up (now, having been married to him, knowing he hated to drive, this was a big deal). My dad was also impressed.

  He took me to the restaurant at the Hotel Bel-Air, one of my favorites. It’s secluded and stunning. We strolled through the lush gardens, across a bridge where we stopped to look at the swans nesting beside the pond. Even at night, it was gorgeous and romantic, as was the restaurant, where we were seated at a corner table. Conversation with Charlie was effortless and I enjoyed talking to him. Aside from his being incredibly handsome and sexy, I loved his openness. He was confident without being cocky, and self-deprecating. Believe it or not, I also saw an endearingly shy, sensitive part of Charlie.

  He made no attempt to avoid his issues with his three years of sobriety, which had been, as he noted, chronicled in the press. I had no experience with addiction, and in hindsight I was quite ignorant about it, but I admired his strength in getting sober, his determination to stay sober, and the effort he made to work on himself. Getting through all of that and being so humble about it impressed me.

  As dinner progressed, I liked Charlie more and more. People have said that I’m attracted to so-called “bad boys,” and I’ve done a lot of thinking on that subject. In fact, I have gotten defensive in the past. The truth is, I don’t like “bad boys.” I like calm and stability. I grew up in that kind of stable and traditional home, with that kind of father. My dad was home for dinner at six every night. When it comes to men, I’m attracted to a guy who has lived and enjoys life, someone who is strong. He’s not surprised or overwhelmed by life; he appreciates the good times and digs in when the going gets tough, and he doesn’t run when difficult issues come up. Doesn’t that sound better than a “bad boy”?

  Okay, confession: during our dinner I had a premonition that I was going to end up with Charlie. It was surreal. We were on our first real date, but to me it seemed like the start of a lifetime (shit, little did I know). I honestly pictured him as my husband. I can’t explain it further. I’d never had such a strong and clear premonition. It made me feel good. My mom always said, you’ll know when you know. After dinner, we strolled around the hotel grounds and shared a passionate kiss in front of the beautiful swans. It was a prelude to a wonderful, romantic night back at his condo.

  When I left the next morning, I was a teeny bit embarrassed to walk through Charlie’s lobby while wearing his T-shirt and carrying my high heels in my hand, but I knew it probably wasn’t the first time the security guards had seen a woman leaving Charlie’s place like that. And, hey, if every girl left with a shirt of his, he probably wouldn’t have had any left! I knew I was special.

  2

  AFTER OUR ROMANTIC rendezvous, it was time for me to return to Spin City and finish my remaining two episodes. Charlie and I decided to keep our new relationship under the radar. Let’s play it cool, we told each other. We were just friendly costars. But then there was reality. When I got to work, a magnificent arrangement of roses was waiting for me in my dressing room. The card read, “Welcome Back,” and it was signed, “Mr. Green,” Charlie’s alias at the time. After breathing in the sweet scent, I walked into makeup with a big smile on my face. As I said, I loved that feeling of my heart opening up to someone new and being full of anticipation of what was going to happen next. I was happy to be there again.

  Even though Charlie and I tried to play it cool on the set and keep our interactions appearing professional, I’m sure the cast and crew knew something was going on. We were emitting sparks whether we liked it or not; plus, during lunch, I snuck into his dressing room—and snuck out looking disheveled.

  C’est la vie.

  After my episodes were finished, Charlie and I continued our romance. Though we weren’t “out” publicly as a couple, we moved forward at high speed. I met his parents, Martin and Janet, who couldn’t have been nicer, his brothers and his sister, and also his then-sixteen-year-old daughter, Cassandra. My parents lived two hours away, and we hadn’t yet had time to make the drive down the coast to see them. Then, one morning, Ryan Seacrest interviewed Charlie for his morning radio show on KIIS FM, and he asked the usual personal questions, specifically, “Are you dating anyone?” Instead of skating around it, though, as is normal practice, Charlie said, yes, he was. Ryan asked who, and Charlie said, “Denise Richards.” It may sound like high school, but we hadn’t talked about our dating and keeping it quiet. Given people’s obsession with celebrity relationships, it was something we needed to discuss. Or maybe we didn’t need to. Maybe it was best that it happened just like the relationship itself, spontaneously. After the interview, Charlie called and told me that he’d “outed” us as a couple on the air and hoped I wasn’t upset. I
was taken aback by it, but, really, I was pleasantly surprised and happy that he was confident enough early in our relationship to do that. “No, I’m not upset,” I said. “I think it’s great.”

  We ate Thanksgiving dinner with our respective families and then met up later that night at his place. The next day we flew to Hawaii, our first trip together. You can tell a lot about a person when you travel with someone, especially whether you’re compatible. Charlie and I traveled well together. During the trip he gave me a present, a little blue box that was unmistakably Tiffany. I couldn’t believe it. Inside, was a heart-shaped diamond necklace. I was speechless—and touched that he didn’t just get me a beautiful gift, he actually went to the jewelry store and picked it out. He put thought into it, and that’s what meant so much.

  Later, we went to a luau at the hotel, and a personable young couple who explained they were newlyweds asked if they could take a picture with us. We said sure, and lo and behold, a few weeks later, those pictures showed up in Us magazine. The couple had removed themselves from the photo. It was really uncool, but we shrugged it off. You can’t go around not trusting people.