What nerve, I thought to myself. If he didn’t know me then he’s just playing with a random fan in a way that could make her think there was some connection when there wasn’t.
And if he did know who I was then he was just playing with me, and that’s just wrong. He hadn’t contacted me since I left in December. He had been perfectly willing to leave things as they were.
If he thought that I was going to fall back into my arms like a lovesick groupie then he had another thing coming.
My mood soured after a quick costume change. He reemerged in his leather pants and abandoned any shirt entirely. The band brought out their heavier, sexier material which had him playing the audience like a finely tuned instrument. Girls squealed and screamed from all around me every time he stalked to the edge of the stage like a sexy, muscular cheetah on the hunt.
If only they knew he belonged to someone else.
But why didn’t they know? I certainly made that information accessible to anyone with an Internet connection.
Maybe they knew they just didn’t care.
It didn’t seem to matter while he was on that stage. Onstage he belonged to all of us, not just one person. He thrust his groin suggestively with the music and winked and smirked at the women who responded enthusiastically to his primal movements and salacious lyrics.
Thankfully there were no cover tunes to remind me of how this whole crazy mess started, but Dreaming in Blue had a few new songs extolling the virtues of lovemaking, and the female body, to fill the void.
“I’m gonna fill you from the inside – OUT,” he wailed while Yael shredded his guitar at a breakneck speed. “Can’t wait to hear you – SHOUT,” he sang in a call and response way that had the entire audience on their feet and no doubt doing unmentionable things in their underwear.
Had it not been a more formal affair I wouldn’t have been surprised to see bras sail across the stage.
It was all I could take to grit through a new song called “Baby, Say My Name,” which reminded me all too well of his mouth on my skin as he uttered a similar sexy command. The fans were in a frenzy screaming “Giovanni!” as loud as they could to be heard above the din.
I wanted to get up and run away but there would be no explaining that to Iris or Jacob without going into embarrassing detail. Plus Vanni would see that I couldn’t take it and I just couldn’t handle that final humiliation.
So I crossed my arms and stared daggers at him whenever he tried to do his “rock star” thing to me.
This customer wasn’t buying it. He had burned every bridge there was to burn getting into my panties.
The concert lasted about an hour and a half overall, with one big encore song at the end which would no doubt be the second single released from the album. It was a major hit with the hungry crowd who just couldn’t get enough, and the anthem type “Make it Happen” had almost everyone in the crowd believing they could have anything they wanted if they just wanted it bad enough. Ha, I thought to myself. Not quite everything.
The band came out for a bow, and I busied myself with gathering my purse rather than risk looking into his eyes again. I didn’t look up until they had all run offstage. By then Iris had leaned across Jacob to ask me, “Wasn’t that fantastic? Can I pick ‘em or what?”
I had to smile at my friend. I couldn’t begrudge her obvious success. She had worked so hard to make her mark and this band was going to do it. She picked a winner and even got in good with the likes of Jasper Carrington thanks to her innate instinct over what made someone a star.
She had been one of my dearest friends from the time I was in grade school, and as close to me as my blood kin, of which there was one. So I would never rain on her parade just because the main float happened to include an asshole.
This was the entertainment industry. They were all assholes to some degree or another.
Plus she had gone so out of her way for me and helped make a few of my own dreams come true. There was no way I’d pop her balloon by being a petulant brat. “You were right, Iris,” I said with a sincere smile.
We waited until most of the crowd had cleared out before we stole away to a reserved limo. We arrived within minutes at the midtown restaurant where the after party was booked. TVs around the multi-level building all played raw footage of the concert that had been recorded for release with the album.
Jasper didn’t plan to leave any stone unturned.
Some of the fans who had won coveted spots at the after party were already there, mingling with some of the executives who had arrived early. All the stars, including the band, were due to arrive late and make a grand entrance.
I went immediately to the bar on the upper level and ordered a double whiskey neat. I needed something with a little more kick to get me through this hurdle. I rubbed my temple as I tried to ignore the huge thumping beat of the music.
Jacob cornered me before I could head back down to our table on the mid-level. “Okay, you. What gives?”
I didn’t look him in the eye. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I saw those claws come out while you were watching Vanni onstage. I know you’re hiding something from me. You might as well tell me because I always figure everything out anyway.”
I stole a look his direction. With one gulp I drained the glass and signaled for another one. “It’s nothing. Really. Absolutely nothing.”
“Um-hum. If this is nothing I’d sure hate to see what it would look like if it was something.”
I sighed deeply and then glanced down at our table, where Alana and Iris chatted and laughed. The words finally tumbled out. “Fine. It was something. But only, as it turns out, for one of us.” His eyebrow rose as he listened to me finally confess my big secret. “It started in Philadelphia. He acted like he was interested, like really interested.”
Jacob leaned against the bar on one elbow. He knew who I meant. There was no judgment. Not even curiosity. Just concern.
“I guess that’s his M.O. Make the fans think they can have something they can’t have.”
“To a degree,” Jacob conceded.
“Nothing happened. I left early, and he contacted me. We emailed and talked on the phone. He wanted me to come to New York. Made it seem like when I got here…” I couldn’t even finish. The idea seemed so ludicrous now.
I threw back another drink and then signaled for another. Jacob put his hand over the glass and shook his head at the bartender. “And when you got there, you found out about Lourdes.”
I nodded with a pout I could no longer hide. “But he still acted like he was interested. Acted like the thing with Lourdes was no big deal. He was attentive. Sexy. Sweet. So on his birthday we left early. Together. Went on a hansom cab ride through the city.” Jacob groaned but I forged on. “Ended up at my hotel. Went up to my room.”
Jacob changed his tune and signaled for the bartender again. He indicated I needed another drink, and this time ordered one for himself. He glanced back at me. “You didn’t.” It was more of a hopeful plea than a statement.
I shook my head. “He got a very timely call from his new roommate.”
“Oh, honey,” he crooned. Jacob put his arms around me for a hug four months overdue, and I held onto him for a long, painful moment. I hiccupped back a sob when we pulled apart. “I’m sorry, Andy,” he said. “I wish I would have known.”
“I couldn’t tell anyone,” I said. “Both Iris and Alana told me not to get involved. And then, once I knew he was dating someone, there was no alternative. I knew it was wrong to try and make something happen. I don’t know. I guess I felt entitled.” I dabbed at my eye with the corner of a cocktail napkin. “The clincher was the interview with the two of them. When I heard he wrote ‘Wanting Her’ for her Lourdes I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave.”
Jacob chuckled, which surprised me.
“What?”
“He didn’t write that song for her,” Jacob told me in a hushed whisper. “They had that song from the moment
they hit the studio. June? July, maybe? It was still summer, that much I know. Lourdes didn’t come into play until after that.”
“Labor Day,” I supplied, because I had memorized every damn detail of that relationship even though I hadn’t wanted to.
“Remember when I told you that people who have something to sell are all about marketing an image?” I nodded. “Jasper is trying to sell Dreaming in Blue. What better way to create buzz about a single than to have some juicy backstory?”
I didn’t know what to say. It bubbled up in my fuzzy brain that if he wrote the song in the summer, it still could have been about me.
It was a crazy, nutty, completely self-serving thought – but it made me instantly giddy.
“So Lourdes and Vanni…”
Jacob glanced down at the mid-level. Jasper had arrived with Athena and Lourdes. He glanced up toward our area and Jacob pulled us back away from the edge. “Are crazy, madly in love. On the record.”
He gave me a meaningful look and I nodded. I instantly understood.
It also made sense why Vanni had been so eager to be with me, despite her moving into his apartment. If they didn’t have a real relationship, he was free to pursue anyone he wanted.
And he had wanted me.
Jacob hugged me again. “Thank you for telling me,” he whispered against my ear.
“No, thank you,” I said. He had definitely given me food for thought.
But Jacob wasn’t done. He took both my hands in his. “Andy, I love you and I want to see you happy. I’m not convinced that involves this crazy life or a man like Vanni. You’re a good person. Decent. Honest. This world will chew you up and spit you out again if you’re not careful. The rules are different here. So be careful. Okay?”
I nodded. It was the same advice that Iris and Alana had given. Vanni was limited in what he could give. Apparently the trick was not wanting any more than that.
When I looked down at the mid-level where he and the band entered the club, I had to wonder if that was even possible anymore. My heart leapt just seeing his face. And I could tell he was scanning the room to find someone in particular.
It did not escape my notice that his eyes lit upon Lourdes, and kept right on going.
He spent some time with the fans who had been invited as V.I.P. guests. As I watched from the upper level I could tell that he had grown quite proficient making each one of those swooning fans feel like they were the only person on the planet when he talked to them. He looked them in the eye, didn’t look around for an escape, he was completely in the moment. He’d openly touch them, lean in close to them, give them direct eye contact – all those things that made one feel valued and accepted.
I leaned my elbows on the rail and watched him. He gave big, full-bodied hugs to each one, even an older woman who was in no way a sexual conquest. But his smile and the touch of his hand on her arm made her blush nonetheless. As the band moved on after spending a generous chunk of time interacting with them, those fans felt as though they had made a new friend.
I was still smiling when he glanced up in my direction. My bright hair was a dead giveaway. For a moment the entire room between us ground to an abrupt halt, or at least felt that way. A moment later he disappeared in the crowd and before I knew it I heard his voice call my name from just a few feet behind me like magic.
I turned to face him, uncertain if it would have the same potent effect that it had prior to the last time we spoke. Just one look in those eyes, and feeling the heat of his body from three feet away, and I knew I was in serious trouble.
Everything I thought I had buried came bubbling up to the surface. Especially when he reached for a bear hug like the ones he had given to his new fans. Only mine was longer, as if he was trying to make up for lost time.
“Thank you for coming,” he said against my hair. “I didn’t think you would.”
We pulled apart. “I’m a professional,” I said. “It’s just business.”
His face fell somewhat. “We need to talk, Andy,” he said. “There are things you need to know.”
“It doesn’t matter, Vanni.”
“Yes, it does,” he corrected. “It matters to me.”
I sighed as I looked into his eyes. I knew then they would always be my downfall. “When?”
He glanced around. “Tonight’s out of the question,” he stated. “Can you meet me tomorrow? For lunch?”
I hesitated only briefly. If it was a public place I stood half a chance. “Where?”
He mentioned a pizza joint in Brooklyn. “Old haunt,” he admitted with a half-smirk. “Not as hip as this but private.”
“Okay,” I found myself saying.
He brightened immediately. He pulled me close for another hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly, then returned to his party down below.
I stayed long enough that Iris and Alana wouldn’t feel abandoned by my absence, and truthfully it was fun to hang out with the band again. It was like I lived two separate lives, and in this one I had more fun than I remembered having in my ordinary day to day. The boys were all cutups who kept me in stitches, even Yael, whose apathetic Goth exterior was actually a pretty good disguise for the sensitive, witty fellow underneath.
They were all actors in their own way, except for Felix – who was too enhanced by his questionable herbal supplements to be anything other than who he was: a stoner from California who had a passion for wringing every bit of life out of each and every moment. He coaxed me to dance one time before I finally convinced everyone that it was time for this Tennessee girl to get her beauty rest.
When I returned to the hotel I opened my computer and immediately downloaded “Wanting Her.” I needed to hear it again, this time armed with the knowledge that it actually wasn’t about a hot alien from the Planet Boobjob. The more I heard it, the more it fit with the Vanni I had seen behind closed doors. This was the one who wrote me naughty limericks and sang to me over the phone. This is the one who whispered how he had dreamed about me and had wanted to kiss me from the moment we met.
“Someday I’ll wake from this dream and hold my angel in my arms. And she’ll know all along I’ve wanted her.”
I trembled in spite of myself. I touched one of the silky petals of a rose tucked deep in the huge floral display on my desk. On impulse I pulled out the card. I sucked in a breath when I read, “Still dreaming of you. V.”
I decided to wear one of Iris’s contributions to my wardrobe for lunch the next day. It was casual but sexy, in keeping with the blue theme. It was a snug navy knit top that plunged low in front but was respectable for an afternoon lunch at a casual restaurant. I pulled on some well-worn jeans and sandals and hailed a cab for Brooklyn.
The brick building for Vanni’s favorite pizza joint looked like it was built in the early 20 century, with the decor inside to match. It felt more like you were going to visit your Italian aunt, the one who had actually immigrated from the Old World, rather than a commercial restaurant. The walls were brick and covered with old family photos different decades and generations. There were tables and intimate booths with tiny votive candles burning on each one. The smell of pepperoni and marinara filled the air. It was spicy, familiar, warm and inviting. I instantly fell in love with the place.
If I believed in past lives, I’d have easily believed I had been there before.
Vanni told me to just give them my name and they’d take care of me, and of course they did. They set me up in a booth in the back, brought out some wine and breadsticks, and even had his favorite pizza cooking in the oven for us to share.
When Vanni walked in he greeted everyone he encountered like an old friend. This was the side of him I hadn’t yet been able to see, the one that was casual, his performance mode “off,” comfortable in being just another kid from the neighborhood. He was dressed in black jeans and an old black concert T-shirt from a classic rock band. He wore his famous locks pulled back in a ponytail, and for the first time since I met him he wasn’t wear
ing heavy eyeliner. He was still anonymous enough to pull this off as a disguise for now, but those days were going to come quickly to an end.
He looked so happy, so serene, I was almost sad for him.
He smiled when he saw me, and wound his way through the crowded restaurant to our table. These were hearty regulars who didn’t give a rat’s ass if he was semi-famous or not. They had other things to discuss than who was on the top of the music charts that week.
He reached down to kiss my cheek as he sat. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said as he moved the napkin off the plate and into his lap. He referenced the restaurant. “What do you think? Pretty great, right?”
I nodded. If I lived in New York I’d be at this place at least twice a week. “Thanks for inviting me.”
The waiter brought our pizza as if on cue, which was dripping with ooey, gooey melted mozzarella. We laughed as we pulled the huge pieces to our mouths and had to wind up the never-ending strings just to tear them off. It tasted as heavenly as it smelled.
This was so my kinda place.
Two pieces in and we were able to lean back and actually talk, which was something I don’t think we had ever done. It had always been so flirty, with the purpose of ending up in bed. Here, now, it was like we were just two people. Maybe if we started out this way we could have even been friends by now.
He spoke lovingly about his neighborhood and how it had changed over the years. He pointed out some of the regulars and had a witty story or two about their particular quirks. He confessed how he used to work in the restaurant when he took care of his mom and his great aunt, and tried to fit gigs in between his obligations to his family. Thus, he confided, was the reason for his late start in the music biz, and the reason he had to work so hard now.
It was great info for an interview, but I wasn’t there for an interview. About twenty minutes in he stopped talking momentarily, as if he ran out of things to say that put off what he really needed to talk about.
“I needed to say I’m sorry about December,” he started. I started to protest, it had been such a lovely time I didn’t want to mar it with any rotten memories. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t blame you. What I did was shitty and you have every right to hate me.”
The Complete Groupie Trilogy Page 8