Once Upon a Star - Celebrity kiss and tell stories

by Peggy Trentini

  I looked around between Jennavieve's laughter, the heavy smoke, and the whiskey buzz, at everyone, and where we were. It was crazy, the forces of life that would bring us all together in that moment for that night. We would never all be here again, and I had an overwhelming appreciation for this adventure. There was nothing in the entire world like this. We heard the guys take the stage, and Jennavieve grabbed my hand, whispering,

  “This is the best part.” We wiggled our little selves up to the side stage and watched Vince blow the whole crowd away. We were both beaming, and I knew in that moment, I was made for this life.

  The Tragedy

  I was on cloud nine coming back to L.A. from tour; nothing in the world could bring me down. I had spent countless nights with Vince across the country, pinned to the walls of hotel rooms, and back stage, sipping bourbon. I had come to know many of the people he travelled with in that circus, and thought a few times of never going home at all. However, I had a life to attend to, and after a while, I knew I needed to get back. The phone calls were piling up, and I was missing auditions. I couldn’t put my career on the back burner just because I had found the greatest guy in the world. I mean, this was everything I had worked for.

  Once I was back in L.A., the work just started pouring in. I think people could see my happiness. I was literally glowing. The Bikini team was everywhere! We had appearances, movie deals, posters, commercials, and I felt that it was just getting started. Life became a constant swirl of to-do lists, and I completely lost myself in my work.

  I was so busy, I didn’t really have time to notice when the calls from Vince started to fall few and farther between. I was busy, he was busy, and I felt that our time together had left us on the same page. I had the faith most musicians' girlfriends could only dream of, or fake. I had it all, but one day I started to wonder, where was Vince?

  Once, I noticed it had been almost a week since his last call. Time seemed to come to a standstill. Every breath was labored, and every job seemed to last an eternity. All I wanted to do was sit by the phone. I had to drag myself up by the bootstraps and tell myself it was okay, he loved me, we were just busy. But looking at myself in the mirror while I said these words only made me feel like a liar.

  It was only a few days later when the phone rang and it was Vince. I sat on the floor with the chord wrapped around my arm, trying to read the rhythm of his breath to see what kind of conversation this was going to be.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t called you,” he said, but he sounded broken and beaten.

  “It’s okay, I know how it is; I’ve been there. It can be crazy, and I’ve been so busy, I just thought I missed your calls.” I heard myself saying these things, but the words sounded cheap and rehearsed, and my careless attitude felt transparent against his heavy tone. So finally I asked, “What’s really going on right now?”

  There was a long silence, and then he said, “Its Skylar,” my heart dropped to the floor, and the world stopped moving. “She has a brain tumor.”

  I heard him cry on the other end; I heard his world break in half, the core spilling out across his hotel room floor.

  “How bad is it?” I asked, barely able to breathe.

  Between tears and heavy breaths he said, “It’s not good.”

  He could hardly speak, and promised he would call soon before quickly hanging up. I sat on the floor of my apartment with the receiver hanging out of my palm. I was unable to speak, to breathe, and to move. I couldn’t even cry. I was in complete shock. I ached for Vince. I wanted to be with him, to fly to his side, but he hadn’t asked me to, and I didn’t even know where he was. I wanted to be there for him, but I felt a world had been pushed between us. Then I hated myself for feeling selfish, and for wondering if this would be the end of us. I wanted life to get back to the way it was, and I wanted Skylar to be smiling and happy.

  I sat there for what felt like forever, trying to make sense of everything. The more I thought about it, though, the less it made sense. How could a child so full of life have a brain tumor? How could that make sense? How could I be here in L.A., with whole world happening, and be so unhappy? How could I have given my entire heart to a man I just watched leave? How did anything make sense ever? I unwillingly felt the pages of my life turn that night. I knew deep down that nothing would ever be the same.

  I waited and waited for Vince to call again, to hear about Skylar, to hear his voice, to see if he was all right. The more time that passed, the fewer and fewer his phone calls became, and the less he would share with me. Nothing seemed to change aside from his location, and I could hear a labor in his voice that I’d never heard before. I started to build up that old wall I had torn down for him because I felt him moving further and further from me. Thankfully, as fate would have it, work was pouring in at every angle, and I took every single job I could get just to stay busy.

  I called his hotels nightly to try and reach him through aliases, but the funny thing about dating a celebrity is that, for how well known you are, if you don’t want to be found, it’s pretty easy to drop off the earth.

  Weeks went by with no word from Vince, and I had started to understand what was going on here. I started to hear rumors around town of Vince on the road, abusing drugs and alcohol, and womanizing. I kept a stone cold face in light of these conversations from friends who truly cared about me. I denied everything and told the world they were just rumors, because I didn’t want them to be true. But I think deep down, even though I wouldn’t admit it, I knew they were all right.

  A month later, almost to the day from the first rumors I’d heard, I got another call from Vince. He was drunk on the other line, I could tell by the tone he was using toward me. He sounded sad, but sure, and far away, but maybe just in another room. It was the strangest feeling, because I wanted to feel the same way about him when I heard his voice, but there was an undeniable break, a riff between us, that he and life had made.

  “I love you, you have to know that. But I can’t deal with any of this right now. I need to just be alone,” he said, and, without a word more, he hung up the phone. I was left sitting in my apartment again, receiver in hand, completely floored by this man. I don’t know what I had expected. I knew what was happening, and, yet, I still felt that I deserved more of an explanation more than even he could give me.

  I was angry that he would cast me aside rather than pull me in during a time of need. It made me feel like everything we had shared had been in vain. I felt like the world had turned against me. At the same time, I tried to have empathy for what he was going through, and to understand that there really was no way I could ever understand what was happening to him.

  I let myself hurt for a little while, but I had to get back to reality. I hung the memory of Vince up on the wall with some pride and dignity for the time we did share. I prayed nightly that Skylar would get better, and that Vince would find his way back to life, and maybe even back to me.

  Unfortunately, that was not the case.

  I found out soon after that Skylar had passed away. My heart broke for Vince, for his wife, for Skylar. I knew better than to try to contact Vince, so I simply sent him my love and my prayers. He had become a complete stranger to me, as well as to most of his family and friends. It was an incredibly dark time, and those months of my life will be forever colored by those memories. All I could do was go on with my life. I knew that if he ever needed me, I would be there for him in a second. I was heartbroken, but it was unlike anything I had ever known before. Life had broken us, not Vince. I never harbored anything but love for that man, and still do. My hopes of having a life with him were gone, but I held dearly the time we did have together. It took a very long time for me to make sense of the way everything transpired, but eventually I came to a good place with it. I buried myself in my work, coming up for air only when necessary. I spent time healing, and I knew that eventually I would put it all back together.

  Chapter 4

  Billy Idol

  More, More
, More

  Months had fallen away from the calendar hanging in the kitchen since Vince and I had broken up. Time was just passing by because it didn’t know what else to do, and I was just waiting for it to heal the gaping wounds the way everyone had always said it would. Well, the truth is that nothing can suture you back together besides yourself, and I had spent too much time being lonely and feeling sorry for the sad way things always seemed to turn out. I was sick of wearing that failure around every day, so I hung it up in the back of my closet and decided I would give this whole thing another whirl. I had received an invitation from the club promoter of Bar One for dinner and drinks with a bevy of my most beautiful girlfriends. The night promised to be brimming with possibilities and celebrities. It was an invite that, even at my most broken, I would have had a hard time turning down.

  I spent my usual two hours getting ready like a religious ritual to Aphrodite, herself. I teased my hair, watched my walk from every angle affordable in my apartment’s full length mirrors, glossed my lips, and felt life and happiness rejoin every cell in my body. I was beginning to feel alive again; I was beginning to feel like me again. Reborn and more beautiful than ever, I knew any man I set my eyes on that night stood little to no chance, and I liked that. I liked feeling on top of my game, on top of L.A., and on top of the world, again, finally.

  While I was, at the time, climbing out of a relationship pitfall, I was already climbing a huge hill in my career. Everything felt right in that department, like the stars had finally aligned. I had been cast in Tales of the Crypt Demon Knight, produced by John Lucas and Steven Spielberg. Tales of the Crypt was a major hit TV series, and we all knew this movie was going to be big. Everything was picking up steam, and I felt really in charge of my career. I was determined to discover the same sense of assurance in my personal life, as well. I felt it was the one thing in my life I had on track, and, in these dark times of my love life, it served as a northern star.

  It was a warm winter night that gave the evening a personality all its own. I felt that the world was standing on edge. Upon arrival, I could see that the promoter was right. The club was stocked with beautiful women and celebrities. We were ushered past the entrance and those velvety ropes designed to keep people out. I loved the rumblings from those lonely patrons waiting in the line. I carried their disgust in my change purse for later when I wanted to feel better about myself.

  We were seated at a prime booth across from the bar where we could both see and be seen by all of our viable options over the course of the evening. We order gourmet meals that we barely ate, sipped bottles of Crystal, and gossiped about each other, or this week's newest scoop. Never a boring moment with these girls, and, to be honest, we could have been anywhere in the world, and would have had just as much fun. But we weren’t anywhere in the world, we were in L.A., and only in L.A. do the celebrities seem to pour out of the walls the way they were that night at Bar One.

  My girlfriends and I would take turns doing laps around the bar to scope everyone out, and then return with a list of possible candidates. I didn’t have to move. I noticed him the second he came through those doors in his full rocker regalia and glory. There may as well have been trumpets upon his arrival, because, in my mind, his entrance deafened the music blasting through the club, as well as the chatter of my girlfriends. I love that point in the evening where you go from wandering through options to a full out sprint with direction and a purpose.

  Billy Idol had always been hot. I mean, like really fucking hot. Dance around your bedroom, sing to yourself in the mirror, and imagine him undressing you, hot. He looked finer than ever, and his smoldering eyes focused on me while he steered his way toward the bar. He positioned himself right in front of our table, and tried to play coy, averting his gaze when I fearlessly met it. I could see his calculations, and I plotted my next move. Heather leaned over and whispered in my ear,

  “You look so hot tonight, go for it. You’re right up his alley.”

  “Way ahead of you,” I giggled.

  I could sense the other girls at the table trying to get his attention, but I knew his attention was on me; I could feel it. I played hard to get, but I could feel his stare melting me, and I couldn’t help myself. He was my MTV fantasy crush. I couldn’t tell you how many times I thought of being Mrs. Idol, waking up every day to that Elvis smirk and bad boy persona.

  I wondered what he would be like in the privacy of his life, with everything let down around him. I wanted to get behind his scene. Just as I was scheming my first move, he grabbed his beer off the bar and walked right past our table without throwing me a ‘follow me’ stare. I was dumbstruck, but I quickly gathered my resources and stayed calm. Heather urged me to follow him, but I was no girl who would be following or chasing anyone, especially not in this outfit. Twenty minutes passed, and I was sure I’d blown it.

  “I love that outfit,” a deep voice said in my ear, and stopped my heart. I held tightly to my drink just to be sure I was still in the room. It kept me grounded while he continued, “Can you come back to my table and model it for me?” Without a word, I got up and followed him. I imagine we were quite a sight of the era, drenched in our pride and matching leather attire.

  I couldn’t even tell you now who was at his table, because it didn’t matter then. I was pretty sure we were the only people in the entire club. He kept whispering in my ear, and every syllable sent shivers down my spine. I was going crazy in the booth, quivering in my leather skirt. He licked salt from the inside of my wrist when he ordered us tequila, and I went into full submission mode. He kissed me long and deep with the tequila lingering on his tongue, and I felt like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole and into his world.

  Goodbye reality, I thought, looking up at the dark ceiling and smiling from ear to ear. The tequila kisses evolved into a full make out session, high school-style in the back seat of your boyfriend’s Bronco. But this wasn’t high school, this was Billy Idol.

  “It’s time to go,” he said to me, pulling away only briefly for the words to travel in the small space between us.

  “Go where?” I asked, although I didn’t care, he could have taken me anywhere and I would have been happy.

  “Home, with me,” he said, and stood up, offering me his hand. We stopped by my table with all the girls on our way out, so they would know I was safe and very well taken care of. They all gave me the, “alright Peggy,” look that I had seen so many times over the years, and they bade us adieu.

  He introduced me to his right hand man, Anthony. The person that fills this role for celebrities had, in many times over the years, been my favorite people. Everyone had an Anthony, and it was often times the Anthonys of L.A. that drove us home, heard us cry, or held our hair back when we got sick. Anthony, a fellow Italian, took to me right away. Even still, he was very protective of Billy, and insisted on asking me personal questions the entire ride home.

  I tried to give him due respect, but I was so distracted sitting on Billy’s lap and watching life fly by outside the window. Billy and I kept making out like two teenagers, and he had his hand up my skirt. I kept trying to squirm away, because Anthony was trying to talk to me, but Billy was trying to pet me. I just bit my lip and giggled through the situation, jumping completely off his lap once his fingers found their way to somewhere surprising. The chemistry between us was seriously off the scale. His kisses alone could bring a girl to climax. I knew that I was acting a bit out of character, but I felt like this was exactly what my life needed, and I hadn’t had this much fun since I was with Vince. I didn’t care what this looked like. I was tired of being the good girlfriend, or the life changer. I was ready to get me mine, and I was starting here.

  His house was lavish, of course, big in all the places I had begun to expect houses like this to be big in. The entrance was white marble, and long hallways tangled away in every direction like a labyrinth. I was just interested in getting him alone. Anthony retired to the guesthouse, “call if you need anything.”
Billy led me to a room off the foyer full of smoking chairs and large floor-to-ceiling windows. There was massive fireplace that looked like it had never been used, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if we were the first people to ever come in this room, because, even though there appeared to be a fully stocked bar, he left the room to get me a drink.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I said, and I truly meant it. I could hold my own with the boys until the sun came up, and I wanted him to know that I was out for a good time. He didn’t really listen and came back with a glass of Chardonnay, while he stuck to tequila. I’ve always found it interesting when men project their idea of you onto the moment. Billy was all about what he wanted me to want, and I think, in that moment, I got to know him more than I really wanted to.

  “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home,” he said with a wink, and then slipped away for what felt like an eternity. When he came back, he was wearing a pair of navy blue silk pajama bottoms, and handed me a pair of six inch red stilettos. The contrast between the two almost made me laugh out loud. He looked so adorable, though, and the certainty in his voice melted away my apprehensions.