The Complete Groupie Trilogy (81 page)

They all laughed, and then Graham wanted to get down to business. “Gwen tells me that you have an idea for a new reality show. Tell me about it.”

“I started my career working as a production assistant for Dixie, the talk show host,” she began, clarifying as if she needed to – though Dixie’s name was recognizable all on its own. “I wasn’t too confident in my abilities because I had been fooled into believing only a certain kind of woman deserved the limelight. Women like me, like Gwen,” she referred to the zaftig woman at her side, “were delegated to the shadows in supporting roles. With a few notable exceptions, like Dixie for instance, most women who fight and claw their way to the top fit a certain mold – and girls like us don’t fit in.”

Graham nodded. He was aware of how the business demanded a certain type of perfection from women that it did not demand from men. It was one of the reason he found women who accepted their so-called imperfec
tions so attractive, like Andy.

“So I was thinking the only thing people like to see more than an unknown reaching for the stars is the opportunity to champion the underdog. I found this out personally during
Love Plus One
, when I was certain that I’d be skewered by the audience for being so different, only to find they were rooting for me to ‘win.’”

Gwen nodded. “The average American woman is a size 14, so seeing people like Shannon and Dixie represented in the media affirms their value outside the accepted norm in the media – which is nowhere near the ‘norm’ for anyone else.”

“So the idea is to open up Reality TV to something ‘real?’”

Both Gwen and Shannon nodded, grateful that he got it. Gwen suspected he might, given his affection for Andy. He could have had any woman he wanted, and probably had, but he was willing to die for someone society generally disdained thanks to some arbitrary dress size. Shannon was passionate as she went on. “I want a show to embrace the inner diva of any girl with a dream, who has the chops to make it happen. I don’t want her plucked and prodded and crowbarred into some paint-by-numbers pop model that fits some passing fad of the moment. I want to give the audience someone to root for, someone they can truly idolize as a role model, even beyond a TV finale.”

“We want to call it
Fierce
,” Gwen added, and somehow he got the feeling the magical publicist had a hand in the title.

“And it’s open up to all kinds of contestants, not just one specific type,” Shannon clarified. “We’re not exalting any one group over any other, because we feel that’s just prejudice working in reverse. Male, female, gay, straight, fat, thin, able-bodied or challenged, we want everyone watching to feel represented. This is about talent – and owning who you are as an individual. As long as you are unafraid to sing your butt off, you can compete on our show.”

He nodded. It was a positive direction that dared to put talent over image, and in the pre-packaged, homogenized environment of Los Angeles it was a breath of fresh air, one not likely to be championed by entertainment types that bought into the traditional paper doll formula music had become since the advent of music video. “I like it,” Graham declared. “What do you need from me?”

“Your branding,” Gwen answered. “Shannon and Dixie can produce a talent show, but they want to give the winner, or really any of the contestants who earn your support, a true career in the business. That can happen with your label behind them.”

He noticed that Maggie had slipped in the room unnoticed. She had gotten used to being stealth since they had returned to the office. He gave her a wink of acknowledgement as she sat. “We’re always looking for that next superstar,” he said. “I would love to be a part of it.”

Gwen smiled. “There’s more. And this is the exciting part. Because this show is so progressive and inclusive, it’ll be a positive publicity boost for anyone who gets involved with it. We’d like Vanni to be one of the judges.”

Graham sat back in his chair, his hand to his chin. “How long of a commitment are we talking about?”

“We have been in network talks to run a summer season from May to September. We’d like the preliminary, off-camera judging to start in March. He’d be there from the beginning all the way to the finale.”

Graham nodded. It sounded perfect.

“He’s got a bit of a bad boy image, where he’s a sex hound who dates a certain type of woman…Lourdes, Kat, Holly. This would soften him up a bit – expand his appeal to those in his fan base who think they could never get a guy like him. It’ll show he values women beyond just the little sex kitten on his arm.”

He chuckled. If only they knew.

“But,” Gwen cautioned, “This means he’d have to keep his nose clean.” It was her hidden agenda to recommend Vanni, to force him to behave like a good boy so she didn’t have to keep cleaning up his messes. He had the recognizable name that could work for Shannon’s purposes, but frankly Gwen wanted a break from prostitutes and highly publicized breakups and controversy.

Shannon nodded. “We’re hoping to make a difference with this show. Make a statement. It’s not going to be a train wreck just for ratings. I don’t want any part of anything like that, and neither does Dixie.”

“I understand,” he said. “I’ll approach him about it. We talked earlier today about opportunities that kept him local for the foreseeable future, and he did mention that he would like a project that he could be proud of. I really think this could be it.”

When they presented the financial compensation they were willing to offer, Graham’s eyes widened. There was no way Vanni could walk away from an eight-figure payday.

They all stood and he walked them to the door. “It was such a pleasure meeting you, Shannon,” he said as he warmly shook her hand. “Thank you for thinking of my label for this project.”

She smiled. “We always seek out the best,” she said. “And you’re the best in the biz.”

He gave Gwen another hug before he shut the door behind them and turned back to Maggie. She was already on her feet to help him back to his chair. It had been a tiring day and he was showing definite signs of fatigue – signs he’d successfully hidden from the women who had just left his office.

He only showed his weaknesses to Maggie.

“Sounds like a great project,” she said as she stretched out his legs. “Think he’ll go for it?”

Graham shrugged. “I don’t know what to make of Vanni these days. He might just surprise us all.”

Maggie wasn’t convinced, especially that evening when Graham perused through the DVD of auditions Shannon had left behind for his consideration. They weren’t kidding; some of these contestants did fit outside the traditional pop mold. But they could definitely sing their butt off, specifically a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old girl from Iowa named Jordi Hemphill. She was short and stout with a smile that wouldn’t quit and a voice that practically blew both Graham and Maggie off of the sofa. She sang the National Anthem, and her near-flawless five-octave range had “diva-in-training” written all over it.

Her skin was alabaster, but her voice was pure soul.

Graham was especially impressed by her confidence. She moved her larger body around with fluid grace, one that did not apologize for her size or shrink from the limelight. In fact, her attitude was one of, “Sit back and let me show you what I can do.” He had a feeling she had more than a few doors slammed in her face, but she seemed to know if she opened her mouth and let that first note fly, she’d make a believer out of anyone.

He was an immediate fan.

He sent the DVDs over to Vanni’s house the following day after they had a brief video-conference about the show. Vanni wasn’t comp
letely sold at first.

“A judge? I don’t know. Sounds a bit like a tombstone for my career, like I’m admitting the best is behind me as a performer.”

“Not necessarily,” Graham said. He ticked off notable exceptions from recent memory. “You can’t tour and this keeps you in the immediate memory of all your fans through the duration. Not to mention it introduces you to a whole new audience that gets to know you based on who you are as a person, not just a front-man for a rock band.” He left out any kind of slam that might hurt more than it helped. He wasn’t entirely convinced that Vanni could keep up the charm for five months. His only proof there was anything of any value there at all was the fact Andy still loved him after all this time. She wasn’t a dumb girl; she had to be hanging in there for more than some long hair and six-pack abs.

“Besides, they’re willing to offer you ten million dollars to do it. In fact, several sponsors are holding off endorsement until they know you’re attached. It’s a win-win for everyone involved, especially the people who could get their big break because of it. You’ve been there. You can offer that perspective.”

Vanni nodded, that part had appealed to him. It took seeing the DVD to convince him. He and Andy watched them together, in awe of the diverse landscape of possible contestants for the show. The most “normal” was a contestant from Texas who had earned beauty titles as a Rodeo Queen. Jolene Anderson was as talented as she was beautiful, but, like Graham, Vanni was blown away by Jordi’s audition. She was a standout in more ways than one.

These singers needed a break, and he needed a job.

What could be better than paying the universe back for all the breaks he’d been given?

For the first time in a while, he finally felt like things were turning around. He would have taken Andy out to celebrate but instead he cooked a light meal they shared in front of the fireplace. They made love in the glow of the fire and, though he didn’t say it out loud, he fantasized about the day he’d m
ake her his bride.

With a ten million dollar payday he could afford a nicer wedding than s
ome quickie elopement in Vegas.

And Andy deserved the best he could offer.

He didn’t voice these plans as he held her close. After all they had been through, words were insufficient now. He was going to spend the rest of his life proving to her that he was the man she already believed him to be. Instead he caressed her hair and talked to their little Bean, about how Daddy would be the host of a new hit show that helped people reach their dreams, and how he’d always help her reach hers. Andy was so contented by his state of mind she didn’t even bother to tease him that they could be having a boy. Instead she listened to him sing a lullaby as she cuddled into his strong embrace. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, nestled in a soft blanket on the floor of their living room.

CHAPTER SIX

Brooklyn, New York

February 13, 2011

Andy jerked awake suddenly from a nasty dream that left her emotionally raw. These had become an unwelcome but constant companion during her second trimester of pregnancy, and were horrible, recurring dreams where Vanni would walk away from her and the baby. Without apology he’d carelessly discard all the promises he had made to take care of them both. Instead he’d laugh as he turned his back on her, wrapping his arm instead around another woman whose body had not begun to take on a matronly shape.

After nineteen weeks, the firm mass in Andy’s belly was finally starting to make its presence known with a definite little pooch. She hadn’t bought any maternity clothes yet, thanks to the extra weight she carried her condition was still under wraps. But almost five months along, she knew they needed to figure out how they were going to handle things publicly sooner rather than later.

She caught her breath as she reoriented herself to her current surroundings, which were far different from their cozy little love nest on the sunny beach on an opposite coast. It took a minute to remember they had arrived at Vanni’s Brooklyn brownstone the night before, flying in from Nashville where they had finally broken the happy news to her grandmother.

Lydia Foster had been beside herself with joy. She knew that Vanni was the man for Andy even before they had figured it out for themselves, but she hadn’t expected them to give her a great-grandchild so quickly. She cooked enough food for an army, swearing that Andy looked too thin to have a healthy baby. With one glance over Andy’s figure she declared in no uncertain terms they were going to have a girl. She and Vanni had spent the rest of the evening picking out names for her great-granddaug
hter, much to Andy’s amusement.

The happy couple had even stayed in Lydia’s house that night, in the same bedroom no less. But Andy’s God-fearing grandmother let Vanni know if he didn’t make an honest woman of the mother of his child, there was a huntin’ rifle with his name written all over it. After Andy had gone up to the room, exhausted by their travels, Vanni stayed behind to reassure Lydia that he fully intended to marry her granddaughter – he was merely waiting for the right moment to pop the question.

“If you hear a baby cryin’,” her feisty grandma had said, “you waited too long.”

The next day they flew to Brooklyn for a Valentine’s Day celebration away from the prying eyes of the Los Angeles paparazzi. Vanni hated that Andy lived like a prisoner in her own home, and had even considered making a place for her in the production team of their new show. It would be a good excuse for their being together without her constantly worrying about being “outed” as the one who broke up his very public relationship with Holly.