The Complete Groupie Trilogy (12 page)

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
th
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 wearing 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.”

“I don’t hate you, Vanni,” I said quietly. “I just don’t understand you.” He nodded. He had to be expecting some kind of negative reaction to his behavior. “Truly, I don’t even know you. We were just strangers who wanted to fuck.”

It was a harsh way of putting it, and I could tell it hit him between the eyes. “It was more than that,” he corrected softly. “At least for me.”

I sat back with my arms crossed and waited.

“At first, yes. I wanted to make love to you. You’re a beautiful woman with a body built for sex.” I had to laugh but he was serious. He didn’t even smirk. “I don’t think you know what your curves do to a man. Honestly I think that makes you even sexier.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Then we started talking. And I find out you’re smart. You’re funny. You turned me on in ways most women just don’t. And I found myself thinking about you all the time. It seeped into my dreams. It wormed its way into my music. It became something I knew I had to have or else it might drive me literally crazy. I had never felt like that before. And I didn’t know how to handle it.”

It all sounded genuine… and much too good to be true. “So you get another girlfriend?”

“It’s not like that,” he said, reinforcing what Jacob confided the night before. “Lourdes and I are not in a traditional relationship. It’s mutually beneficial for all the wrong reasons, but I’m not the one calling the shots anymore.”

“That’s silly, Vanni. You always control what happens in your own life.”

“Not when you’re a commodity,” he confided sadly. “I’m a product now, not a person. And this trajectory I’m on has certain consequences. One of which, I can’t be truly honest with people anymore. I’m playing a part. A sex god one minute, a knight in romantic shining armor the next. It’s all to reinforce my brand so we can sell music.”

“So why are you telling me this?”

“Because it matters to me what you think about me. I don’t want you to think I’m some philandering asshole who would sleep around on his girlfriend or find any pleasure in hurting someone as cruelly as I hurt you.”
He reached across the table for my hands, and God help me I relented. “I wanted to be with you because I wanted you. It wasn’t a game. I meant the things I said.”

I nodded. I tried
to pull away but he held fast.

“And you need to know that ‘Wanting Her’ was not written for Lourdes.” I held my breath. “I wrote it two days after we came back from Philadelphia.”

I sighed. “What are you doing to me? Why tell me that?”

“Because it’s the truth. And it feels good to finally say the truth for once.”

That was when he released me and sank back against his chair. “The bitch of it all is that I can’t offer you anything more than that. Like I said my life is not my own, and anything I give to you would be just a fraction of what you deserve. It would be nights like my birthday, where we could be together under the cloak of secrecy, and it could all blow up the minute my other life tried to get in the way.”

So that was it, then. He was telling me point-blank how limited he was and giving me the option to accept it on his terms, with no expectations. If I gave in to my feelings and desires, then I’d lose all rights to complain later if it wasn’t any more than the bare minimum he was offering.

And he was being so damn magnanimous about it I could hardly be mad at him for setting it down in black in white. That was the right thing to do – something that would have helped me make better decisions in the beginning.

“And if I walk out of here and never look back…?”

“Then you’ll at least know that for a brief moment in time, you were everything I wanted and a dream I couldn’t claim.”

I closed my eyes. That was not fair of him to use his lyrics against me. He reached back for my hands, and rubbed them slightly in his own. “And I will cherish every moment that we spent together.”

I nodded. “Thank you for telling me this,” I said. “It does help. I was really hurt in December – when I thought you were just using me and everything I thought we shared was nothing more than a lie.”

“I know,” he said, and he looked as though he were actually pained by the idea. After a pause, “So where do we go from here, Andy?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. It was only fair. “I wanted you as much as you wanted me, and I would have slept with you if she hadn’t have called you.” He nodded. “But in a way, I was glad she did. I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps around, and certainly not with the sole purpose of being another conquest.” He started to protest but I held up a hand. “It doesn’t really matter what was as much as what is. And you’ve told me what I can expect from you, which is much less than I’d normally require.”

“I wish I had met you a year ago,” he offered, but I just smiled and shook my head.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. You were destined for this. I guess you can walk away from this knowing that you made me feel like the sexiest woman on the planet for one very special night. And maybe that’s all I could ever ask for.”

He leaned across the table and gave me that same kiss on the nose, something I knew I would always associate with him now in a tender, sweet way. He rested his forehead on mine and looked into my eyes. “You deserve all that and more,” he whispered. “I just wish I could have been the one to give it to you.”

A tear hovered at the corner of my eye, which he caught on one fingertip. “Me too,” I said. When I stood he pulled me into a long, warm hug. There was no sexual desire, just genuine affection. It was the appropriate way to end our near-affair. A kiss would have been a painful reminder of what I couldn’t have, and he couldn’t give me.

He made it painfully clear that Lourdes was going to be an issue for the foreseeable future, and I wasn’t okay with just getting leftovers.

I’m not a clandestine kind of girl.

Later that afternoon I called Jacob and told him about my meeting with Vanni. He was impressed with how maturely we both handled the situation, and suggested that meant he really did care about me in a very real, significant way. But he agreed that I would probably never fit into that world. “You’re too real to be that fake,” he said. “You deserve better.”

I didn’t know about all that, but I knew that hanging onto any shreds of hope would just be a prescription for heartache. Quite frankly I was at my limit of what romantic disappointment I was willing to endure, even for Vanni.

As I flew home, however, I couldn’t help listening to “Wanting Her” with a bit of self- satisfaction.

For all those girls, including Lourdes, who wanted that song to be about them, it was about me. For one moment in time he was mine. I now had tangible proof that it had been as real as it was capable of being.

No one could take that way ever again.

~Andy~

Vanni’s confession had converted me back into a fan somewhat, and I began doing some local promotional work for the band that kept me fairly busy combined with my “real job.” Iris had set up a website which I helped moderate, filling in the blanks with gigs and news for the band. It wasn’t something that paid me any money for my services, but it helped get my name out there. I was essentially clinging to the tail of Dreaming in Blue’s comet as they started to rocket into national consci
ousness.

I made it work for my own purposes with musical publications in Nashville, and the band was all too happy to help me with new interviews and special articles and gossip I was allowed to sell independently. The money continued to roll in from all of Jasper’s connections, publications and websites, so I was exceptionally motivated to return the favor with some odd jobs where I worked as a volunteer only.

This was particularly tested as summer approached, and Jasper booked Dreaming in Blue for the big Sin City Rock Fest in Las Vegas. It was not only a charity event but also a way to expose Dreaming in Blue, or DIB as they preferred to brand their merch, to another segment of the country.

As their album was due to release in the summer, it was a great way to boost sale
s and get their name out there.

Iris had earned significant favor at her firm for the success she had with DIB, and as such already had a full workload. This included a European actor who had just hit it big in the US with a major movie role and cable TV series, which left her unable to take off and preside over the band’s
needs while they were in Vegas.