Once Upon a Star - Celebrity kiss and tell stories

by Peggy Trentini

  “You guys are really on your way now!” I have that moment frozen in my mind and set upon a shelf of memories that I cherish dearly.

  The lights on set were hot and bright, and the dressing rooms were in a flurry of anticipation. The crowd started to pour in, and we all got into our famous bikinis. I started to think of Johnny, and everything he had taught me to calm my nerves. We started doing breathing exercises and all the girls followed me. It was so surreal to be the one with a handle on the situation, and, in my mind, I thanked Johnny a million times for the wisdom he’d passed to me as a young girl.

  The episode was called The Gas Station, because Al had taken out a bad loan and was forced to work at a gas station with Bud to pay it back. They were out there in their coveralls and, as we pulled up in a convertible, we said,

  “Hi, we’re the Swedish Bikini Team! Hop in and enjoy us as we drive down the bumpy road!” Then we all smiled, flung our hair to the side, and perked up our chests even perkier than they were before, if that was possible.

  Bud jumped in our car and we speed away, leaving Al standing in the dust at the gas station with that perfectly disappointed face he always used. A moment later, a VW pulled up full of ladies that looked more like men, and they said,

  “We’re the Chicago bowling team and we want to buy you a beer.” Al gave one of those famous looks to the camera that suggested a shudder, and yet, simultaneously, a surrender to the situation. He hopped in their car and they sped down the same road. It went perfectly, and to hear the roll of laughter through the crowd was overwhelming. They loved us, and we all hugged each other, feeling closer than ever, our dreams within reach.

  I hung around the rest of the day to watch the episode finish and try to pick up advice and pointers anywhere I could find them. I felt like I was a part of the team, and, at the end of the day, I was sad to go and to see the week come to an end. I took a moment to pause and soak it all in before leaving, to remember that this was real, and that I was here. Everything was happening for me.

  It was the day after we finished taping, and I was relaxing in Vince’s Malibu home where we spent most of our time in those first weeks we were dating. I was lying on a large white sofa with the sun from the ocean bouncing through the windows, and reading Valley of The Dolls for the second time. He came through the room on the phone with a drink in his hand, and I overheard him say to whoever was on the line,

  “No, I’m just going to stay home and relax with my lady today,” before trailing off into the next room and out of ear shot. I set my book down to soak in the sun and his words for a moment.

  Being with Vince was unlike being with anyone I had ever dated before. Never had I been with someone who was so proud to be with me. I was his in every aspect of his life, and there was no area of gray. We were always, all the time: in the media, in public, at parties, in private, with his friends, and his family. I was sure I was the luckiest girl in the whole world, now. We would joke about it sometimes, how funny the world was to just throw two people together like us. I could never get enough of him. I was determined to make this work and I wanted to be everything he needed. I wanted to be that rock in his uncertain ocean. His next tour was right around the corner, and this meant that there would be a whole catalogue of questions and challenges we had to face.

  The time leading up to his tour was heavenly. We spent all our days and nights at the house in Malibu, and had a perfect mixing of lifestyles. Some days, we would have mimosas in the morning and friends over all day to lie in the sun. His private chef would fix us anything we wanted, and sometimes those days would last well into the evenings and late nights. He truly partied like the rock star he was, and surrounded himself with some of the most beautiful people I have ever seen up close. I fit perfectly into his life, a seamless transition; as if everyone thought I had been there the entire time.

  Our nights of raging were equally balanced with casual nights at home with his two-year-old daughter, Skylar. Skylar was the light of Vince’s life. After seeing him with her, I knew what he looked like at his happiest. I took a mental photograph to be sure to recognize it whenever it came along. Skylar was just about the cutest kid to walk this earth, I was sure.

  Vince spoiled her to high heavens, but she was the sweetest thing ever. Her room rivalled any princess’ on the planet, with every toy and doll a kid could dream of. Every time she came to the house, Vince and I would go in her room and arrange all her toys as if they were waiting to greet her, as well. He shared custody with his ex-wife, Sara. The funny thing was that Sara and I already knew each other through party friends, and it gave me a different view on the situation I sometimes wished I didn’t have. A bit after Vince and I started dating, she pulled me into the corner at a party and tried to warn me of Vince’s cheating ways, but I wouldn’t hear it, and she reeked of vodka martinis.

  It was a sweltering afternoon; I had my hair pulled back and shirt tied up, the radio blasting in my apartment, when the phone rang. I was checking out the calendar and counting how long Vince would be gone. He was leaving the next morning, and we had left a lot of questions unanswered, afraid of what we both might say.

  Vince picked me up on his Harley. I loved the Harley. I loved the roar of the engine and the exhilaration of flying down the streets. No one could tell who we were, and no one stared at us, only the bike. It felt like the only relief from the heat. The hot air was whipping past us as we went winding through the canyon. We arrived in Sagebrush Hills at Sage Brush Cafe to meet Rob Lowe and his wife, Cheryl. I remember her hair sparkling in the sun, and how the heat seemingly didn’t faze her as we sat out on the patio and ordered round after round of margaritas.

  The afternoon felt as if it could last forever as the sun slowly crept across the high sky. We shouted over the metal bands playing on the patio to make each other laugh. Summer love and tequila drunk, I leaned over to kiss Vince, and he whispered in my ear,

  “Perfect day, isn’t it?” I smiled, beaming from the sun and his love, and looked around at everyone, hoping I would never forget it, hoping even more that he wouldn’t forget it, either.

  The bass pounding through my chest, and the margaritas magically refilling themselves, I eventually had to tell Vince that we had better slow down, unless we wanted to tow the bike behind a taxi. He loved that I was a strong enough woman to speak up when the time was right. He was prone to excess, and I think it made him feel safe that he could trust me to drag him back to reality, sometimes.

  I held on for dear life as Vince went winding through the canyon and back toward the beach house. The wind whipped through our golden hair as the sun started to find the edge of the earth. When we got home, we walked down to the water for the sunset, and I thought about how far away he would be, and how, if I could hold onto this day forever, I would do just that.

  “You know twilight is the perfect piece of time. It falls untouched between the darkness and the light,” Vince said, and he kissed me slowly with one strong arm slung around my waist. I wanted to stop time. I was worried that things would never be the same. The taxi was coming in less than ten hours, and off he would go with Van Halen.

  When the sun finally disappeared, and the moon was dancing on the water, we made our way back to the house and spent the entire night rolling around in his big bed with all the windows open. I could hear the waves crashing below between my own heavy breaths. I don’t think Vince slept a wink. When we would drift off, I could still feel him holding me close, and every time I would wake up, he was there, brushing my back softly until I fell asleep again. I wanted to stay awake the whole night and soak in every moment we had together. But I had come to know a peace I hadn’t felt in many moons.

  Down near the water in that small slice of twilight, we finally opened the chest of questions we had both been avoiding all this time. I told him all my reservations of him leaving, and how the last thing I wanted was to be left a fool this entire time. I told him I understood if he felt he couldn’t stay with me, and that I
wouldn’t ask him to do that. To my relief, when I was done letting out all the fears and torture I had built up in my mind, he looked me in the eyes and brushed my hair out of my face.

  “I love you. I will call you every day. It’s not even a question,” he said. I fell into his arms, exhausted by my own emotions.

  I woke up to the bright sunrise coming through the open windows, and Vince gathering his final things before the taxi came. Despite our incredible night and his assuring words, I could feel a space already forming from the moment I opened my eyes. I knew the struggle began here. He put a few more things in a backpack and paused every few moments for a deep breath. He knew how this went. He knew this story. There was a certain defence he had built up to deal with this part of his life. Despite how he felt and what his eyes told me, he physically forced himself into the distance. It was in his energy more than anything, something I had learned to read very well. He kissed me endlessly and assured me everything would be okay, but there was a vacancy in his smile and his words fell flat against the sheets. A part of me wondered truly if I would ever see him again.

  I cried the whole way home speeding through the canyon and down Sunset. I was never really a religious person, but I found myself praying to some higher order that this journey would somehow bring us closer together. I prayed for a sign that this was right, and to help Vince stay connected to me, to help us miss each other, and bridge this seemingly impossible gap that life had put between us.

  Days crept by like weeks. I tried filling my time with more exercise, friends I hadn’t caught up with, and new work. I even tried taking up painting, but nothing kept me from looking at the calendar. I found myself staring at the phone and wondering how long I had been standing there. I waited daily for him to call, and when he would call, I practically melted to the floor at the sound of his voice. I would pick up the receiver every now and then just to be sure the line hadn’t gone dead by some unfortunate coincidence.

  A few days passed with no word from him, and I began to feel my hopes turn to splinters in my heart. Then, as I was sipping on a glass of pinot noir, pretending all was cool and calm, the phone rang. The wine went everywhere, and I practically flew like Peter Pan to answer it. Trying to sound collected, I said,

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” Vince said, soft and slow through the receiver. I wondered if he could hear my smile. “I miss you. I miss you like you wouldn’t believe, like I can hardly believe. Are you busy in the next few days?” He asked.

  I tried not to answer too quickly, like I had to really think of my schedule and not sound so desperate, but I was practically jumping through the line.

  “Nothing that can’t be rearranged,” I said, surprised by how cool my own voice came out.

  “If you’d like, I already arranged for a car to come pick you up in the morning and a flight to come here,” he said.

  I covered the receiver and jumped up and down, thrashing my hair around like a metal band before responding, “That sounds like exactly what I need, I can hardly wait to kiss you!” I said.

  I couldn’t sleep that night. It felt like Christmas. I packed my bags, carefully calculating what I would wear almost every minute of the day, while being careful not to pack too much. The prospect of seeing him on tour came with more happiness than I could possibly contain.

  The next day, I tried to keep my giddy novice in check when a limo picked me up and I was ushered into first class. I sat, sipping champagne and counting my blessings. It was all really incredible, and I recognized that, but, truth be told, all I wanted was him; I would have gotten in my little car and driven clear across the country for him.

  I couldn’t get to him fast enough. I felt like every step had three more steps added to it. Once the plane arrived, there was another limo, and once the limo arrived at the hotel, there was a manager. Once the manager greeted me, there was a bellhop. I wanted to tear through the hotel and find him, but I kept myself in check to be sure I was the gracious lady I wanted to be. Everyone was so sweet to me, and I felt more at ease in this life I had with him than ever. I felt less like an outsider, and believed truly that I belonged here, that he wanted me here. I had arrived.

  I walked calmly down the hallway toward his room, and before I could knock, the door flew open, as if he sensed me on the other side. He looked at me like I was a vision and that heart-stopping smile of his crept across his face. All he said to me was, “girl,” as he took me up in his arms by the waist, and kissed me with more love than I had ever known.

  While he made love to me, he kept looking into my eyes with love and a mix of disbelief, saying, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

  He held me and kissed me all over, and when we were finished, he took a deep breath and said,

  “Hey, girl, get dressed and get ready for this; we’re off in moment; this is the life.” And, with a half-hearted smile, and a quick jump, his jeans were on he was gathering his things.

  I don’t know what I expected, but deep down, I knew it would be like this. I knew he hadn’t flown me out for some romantic weekend, just romantic moments. It was all he had. I was determined to be the woman that could roll with this life. I was looking my best moments later, and was beating him to the door on our way out. I could tell he approved, and was impressed by my ability to adapt to the situation. From that moment on, it was literally non-stop.

  Once we arrived at the venue for sound check, it became very clear to me that this was a lot like TV. I called it the “hurry up and wait life.” When it was time for things to happen, it was all cylinders, full speed ahead, and then, just as quickly, it would all stop for a period of waiting for the next movement. Everyone worked together and functioned like a well-oiled machine, and I think, more than anything, I was surprised by how many people were employed to keep this circus running and to keep these men happy.

  It was all very exciting to me, but I could see moments in Vince’s eyes where it was wearing on him. He had seen this all before, heard these words, been with these faces, tasted these drinks, and lived all these moments. I’d catch him looking at me, and I could see his mind playing out times when we weren’t surrounded by such madness. Without a word, I would stroke his arm, and he would know that it was okay. Really, it was okay.

  During the waiting game, we spent some time on the tour bus, and he proudly introduced me to anyone that would listen, as his “lady.” He was just as boastful of me as I was of him, and I felt I had finally met my match. I found it funny, too, because he was the rock star, and I was just me. Vince had become really good friends with Eddie Van Halen, and meeting him was a pretty surreal experience. I had always been a huge fan. Vince left me with him to chat, as he had some more business to take care of.

  Eddie was a real gentleman, and it didn’t take long for me to feel I was in the company of friends. He showed me the utmost respect and made it very clear that his relationship with Vince meant the world to him.

  Eddie took me over to the soundboards as we walked through the venue and said, “Imagine this place filled with all those screaming people outside. The energy, man, that’s what’s insane about all this.”

  There was an incredible amount of security guards as fans began to show up, and the scope of the venue really blew me away. It was hard to imagine the place full of screaming fans, but I didn’t have to imagine for very long. There were so many girls there, just dying to be with him. I felt so proud and so lucky to be his. I knew that it wasn’t supposed to change the way I looked at him, but I think it’s only natural to want to want someone more when you see that the rest of the world wants them, too.

  As everyone else started to arrive, I noticed the ratio of men to women was seriously askew, but it was nothing I didn’t expect. A lot of the girls seemed to know each other, and I couldn’t tell offhand who was a wife, a girlfriend, or a groupie. My mother always told me that if I remembered someone, they would remember me. Many of the girls were nice, but the majority of them thought tha
t this was their place, and dismissed me with a vague indifference.

  It was in this time that I came across, for the very first, my very first, “city girlfriend.” Her name was Jennavieve. She was a dashing young girl with bright eyes, and was far nicer to me than the others. We sat in the corner and sipped whiskey on the rocks, Jennavieve's favorite drink, and she explained to me what this all meant to her.

  A city girlfriend was a musician’s girlfriend in that specific city. While they didn’t follow the men on tour, and they didn’t get flown out to other shows, they were very much in love with them. The girls waited faithfully and patiently for them to come back in town to be with them again. I remember her distinctly telling me,

  “It’s not even a question in my mind. When he calls, I come.” There was no ache, no remorse, and no sadness in her statement. She was proud to be there.

  Vince was off doing meet-and–greets, and signing everything from hats to boobs. He would pop in whenever he could to give me a kiss, and seemed pleased I had made a new friend.

  He truly loved having me around, as Jennavieve assured me. “He flew you here? You’re a real girlfriend, then. That’s the big league. Congrats!” We clinked our half-empty glasses together.