The Complete Groupie Trilogy (9 page)

“Who is your favorite person in the whole world?” she ch
irped gaily in my ear.

“You are,” I muttered. “I think.”

“I know you had another late night so I’ve reduced your day to a couple of hours in the afternoon, maximum.”

“I don’t want to go to the studio,” I told her. I already had all the interviews with the band. The only thing left was my interview with Lourdes to find out how wonderfully glorious her new romance was with the man of my dreams.

I was perfectly okay postponing that as far off as possible, thank you very much.

Iris, however, had other plans.

“Nothing so strenuous,” she assured. “You’re meeting Vanni and Lourdes for lunch to complete your interviews.”

I nearly choke
d. It was worse than I thought.

“Both of them? That sounds complic
ated for all involved,” I said.

“Everyone has to eat,” she replied.

“She eats?” I quipped, which was met with brief silence on the other line.

“Are you okay, Andy?” she asked, and I coul
d tell her concern was sincere.

“Another headache,” I dismissed truthfully. “Too much champagne.”

She seemed to buy my excuse, or at the very least didn’t call bullshit on it. She proceeded to give me the details of when and where to meet the new lovebirds so I could dictate in black and white how fabulously in love they were.

I was thrilled. Truly.

I ended up wearing more makeup than I was used to; it was necessary to mask the dark shadows under my eyes and the blotchy complexion. Once I started applying the mask I couldn’t stop, and ended up looking more like a girl than I really intended.

It wasn’t to compete with her, but to show Vanni that I was perfectly fine about our aborted lovemaking. I dressed in warm layers, hiding the cleavage I was no longer sure he deserved to see – not that it would have made much difference anyway. He made his choice the minute he moved in with a South American goddess so pretty I ceased to be a female in her presence.

Then I thought about how he held me, how he kissed me. I remembered the look in his eyes as he whispered that he had dreamed about us being together. I remembered the contours of his body, which showed undeniable, rock-solid proof he found me desirable. Until I threw him out he was ready to ignore the call of said goddess to be with me.

It still didn’t make sense, not in my fevered little brain. He’d made me feel more needed and more desired than I’d ever felt before in my life. He made me feel pretty, and feminine, and sexy. So how could he go from her to me or me back to her?

It was the unsolvable riddle that drove me midtown to meet them at a hip new fusion restaurant everyone that was anyone went to be seen. I convinced myself I had to know the truth so I could put it all behind me when I returned to the “real world.” It was either that or I must have taken up masochism sometime in the past few days.

I got there early because I didn’t trust my legs to carry me if I saw them cuddle together in one of the back booths. I gathered my questions, none of which that addressed my real curiosity, and patiently waited. The waiter brought me a wine list but I decided there had been enough alcohol for one trip. I asked for water.

The minute they rounded the corner, led to the table by the buxom hostess in a snug fitting black dress, I immediately steeled my spine and tried to wipe all emotion from my face.

I didn’t stand up to greet them; I just reached out a hand to welcome Lourdes. I barely spared Vanni a glance as he bent toward me and gave m
e a friendly peck on the cheek.

I hated him for that.

“It’s good to see you again,” Lourdes purred, deliberately omitting my name. My guess was she didn’t remember it.

“Likewise,” I said with a sweet phony smile that mirrored hers. I briefly stole a look at Vanni, whose dark eyes seemed to speak volumes in a language I was not familiar. I didn’t speak Cheating Dirt Bag, nor did I wish to learn.

The waiter came to our table and took our order. Lourdes predictably ordered a small vegetable dish, whereas Vanni got a more robust meal that included beef. Evidently he hadn’t subscribed the vegetarian/vegan lifestyle of some of his band mates. This Philly boy no doubt still ordered cheesesteak that nearly came out of the bottom of a greasy bag. As a lover of food myself that made me feel slightly more compatible, and a little more superior.

Since someone else was footing the tab I wasn’t going to waste free food on a sala
d. I ordered the seafood.

Both Vanni and Lourdes canoodled on one side of the booth, his arm draped casually around her like a second coat. They sipped their wine and I cleared my throat. There was no point dragging things out, I jumped in with both feet.

“So how did you two meet?” I asked, more to her than to him.

She gave him a sexy smile. “You tell her, honey.”

My gut tightened as I looked over at him expectantly.

“It was one of Jasper’s parties, of course,” he said with an unreadable expression on his face. “I was the musical talent.”

“I was just eye candy,” she murmured with a coy grin.

He glanced down at her. “I saw her in the front row and thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I knew I had to meet her, so I stalked her backstage after the gig was over.”

Stalked
, I thought to myself. Such an appropriate word. Like a wild cat on the Serengeti. I hoped the disgust didn’t show on my face.

She wound her fingers in his. “He took me home that night in a hansom cab. He sang to me as we rode through the streets of New York. When the cab stopped he sweetly asked for permission to kiss me, and of course I couldn’t say no.”

“Of course,” I eked out through clenched teeth. If either of them caught the catch in my voice, neither one indicated as much.

“I called Jasper the next day and asked for her number. At first he didn’t want to give it to me, convinced I was up to absolutely no good, but then I admitted I had found my muse.”

My eyebrow rose.

She cuddled against him. “He wrote a song just for me. It’s the first track they’re releasing off of the album.”

“Which one?” I asked, partly because I had to know for the article. It would be great to include that in the press kits to generate interest. But mostly I wanted to hold out hope it was any other song but the one I instantly knew that it had to be.

“’Wanting Her’,” she answered.

“
Seeing her, wanting her
,” he sang softly, which drew the attention of a nearby table. “
What I’d give for just one kiss
.” He punctuated the song with a soft peck on her lips, and I had to drag my eyes away.

Had I really entertained th
e thought that song was for me?

“She’s going to be in the video,” he said and she preened at the idea. “We’re flying to the Caribbe
an to record it in the spring.”

“Jasper insisted,” she said. “I’ve never acted before, so it will be a new challenge for me.”

I said nothing as I scribbled the answer in my notebook. How hard could it be to act like a woman in love? Especially with Vanni…

The food arrived but as good as it was it settled like wet cardboard in the pit of my stomach. As they lingered over a shared dessert I asked, “So when did you two move in together?”

Her startled eyes met mine. “How did you know that we had?”

Shit
, I thought.
This is what I get for going off the cuff
. “Lucky hunch,” I said. “You both seem so in love,” I added with a pointed look at Vanni. “Like you belong together.”

He looked down at her instead. “You tell her, babe.”

“It was my birthday gift,” she admitted.

“The gift that keeps on giving,” he quietly finished for her. Was it my imagination or was he actually contrite to admit it?

“I see,” I said softly. “Is this something you want to be printed in the article?” I had to ask, since the question was not officially one of the ones I had chosen for print.

“Of course,” she said instantly. “We have no secrets.” She glanced back up at him like an adoring puppy. “Do we, babe?”

His eyes darted toward mine. “None at all.”

“Well,” I said as I gathered my notes, “I think I know all I need to know. I’ll get something over to Jasper this afternoon. I can send you both a copy if you’d like.”

“No need,” Lourdes said with a sunny smile. “We trust you. Don’t we, Vanni?”

He hopped out of the booth to stand while I got up, almost convincingly disguised as a gentleman. “Absolutely,” he said with just enough emphasis for me to hear it but for her not to detect anything. He opened his arms for a hug and I briefly stepped into the embrace that was still emblazoned on my body from the night before. “See you tonight?” he asked softly as he p
ulled away.

Another gig. Another command performance. “Of course,” I answered with as phony a smile as his girlfriend wore.

At ten o’clock that evening I was on a plane bound for Nashville. I emailed the copy to Jasper so I didn’t have to keep face in front of my new friend Jacob by going by the office, and told Iris that a paying gig came up back home and I had to cut my “vacation” short.

She was disappointed but she understood. “There will be other opportunities,” she assured me.

As I soared above a darkened countryside “Wanting Her” played for the last time on my MP3 player. I deleted that and every other Dreaming in Blue song from my playlist and uncharacteristically prayed the band would not be a success so that I would never have to see Giovanni Carnevale again.

I realized too late I hitched myself to the wrong wagon.

~Andy~

As it turned out my self-defeating prayer did not come true. Dreaming in Blue was poised to become one of the hottest tickets in music by the end of the year, courtesy of a huge media push that included much of my own pro bono work. The first couple of months all the way to Valentine’s Day I tried my level best to go on a Giovanni-free diet, which worked in the real world much more so than with my besties based in New York. Nashville still remained largely on Planet Normal, and no one I ran into had even heard of the band or the lead singer beyond some casual mention with Lourdes in the tabloids. Even then it was a name that rang a bell but no one could put a face to it.

Meanwhile my blissfully ignorant friends from New York, who chatted with me via text, phone and Internet at least three times a week, all kept me in the loop of the latest developments. Jasper had flown the band to
the Bahamas on Valentine’s Day to record the video for “Wanting Her,” which was now starting to get airplay in some of the major markets. There was even some talk of it being used for a romantic comedy starring one of the female titans of the box office, but no deals had actually been hammered out yet.

I listened to their updates, and tried to stifle any eagerness to learn what was happening between Vanni and Lourdes. Mercifully none of my friends thought it was important enough to indulge, so the topic barely came up. Instead I’d hear about the new music they were writing, their tentative tour schedule and gigs, as well as some of the funny anecdotes in the lives of musicians and celebrities. That was almost enough in and of itself to help me wean myself off of my celebrity crush.

I was able to step back and gain some perspective on why I behaved like I did. It was a quick crash and burn crush that had more to do with my ego than Vanni. A sexy, important man wanted me, and that boosted my ego enough to want to take it to its natural end.

After all was said and done, I was actually glad we hadn’t slept together. Every now and then I’d have a heated dream but I couldn’t help the residual memories tuck
ed away in my unconscious mind.

What I could control were my conscious actions. With all I knew, and all I didn’t want to know, I felt confident that I would never cav
e to his womanizing ways again.

And after four months I felt ready t
o put that resolve to the test.