The Complete Groupie Trilogy (99 page)

They experimented with different positions to accommodate her growing belly, and she found herself amazed how much new pleasure they could discover. That night was no different. It was hours before they finally collapsed against each other, sated and exhausted. They cuddled together as
they drifted into a deep sleep.

Only this time it was Vanni who had the nightmare. Instead of Andy leaving him for another man, he could clearly see her opening the door of their beach house to find a gun-wielding Donny Wilke on their doorstep. He tried to scream for her but he couldn’t make a sound. Instead he watched a gun fire a bullet straight throug
h her extremely pregnant belly.

Screams were strangled deep in his throat as Vanni lunged for her. Blood had spilled everywhere and was all over his hands as he grabbed Andy to him. He could clearly see into her womb, where the bullet had lodged in their child. He gave a muted wail just as he heard another gunshot and with a start he shot right up in bed, covered in a cold sweat.

Andy had roused from his moans and jerks. She touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

He looked down at her where she lay on the bed next to him. The moon shined upon her ivory skin, and the covers had slid down her full, pregnant, healthy body. There were tears in his eyes as he lay back down and took her into a fierce embrace. It took her a minute to realize his body shuddered with silent sobs.

“Vanni?” she said as she held him tight. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t speak. All he could do was thank God it was only a nightmare and she was still healthy and alive in his arms.

He swore he’d give his last breath to make sure he’d never have to live one moment without her.

He could not bring himself to go back to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was his beloved Andy in a pool of blood. She dozed long before he did, and he treasured the weight of her body against his own. He stroked her hair as he stared out of the window opposite the bed. He didn’t know how he would keep her safe, but he’d have to find a way.

The first step was constructing a safe room in their new home. The sale had finally closed that past weekend and was theirs to move into, but there were certain modifications they wanted to have made before they moved in. Most of it had to do with security, and it was his idea to include a “panic room” just in case anything were to happen to her when he couldn’t be there – like if he was touring. She indulged the suggestion, mostly because she wasn’t quite ready to worry about moving in. There was so much to do with the show that decorating a house seemed like a superfluous waste of energy. And with the security cameras at the beach house, Andy had begun to feel safe again. She knew that the gated community would only feel more so. But it was important to Vanni so she said nothing about the plans. They put off delivery for most of their furniture until mid-May and focused all their energy on the show.

Each judge had advanced certain contestants to the live round, which would be judged by all three judges. In this quarterfinal round, these performances and the judges’ critiques were taped for broadcast during the first couple of weeks of the series. These days often ran long, with all three judges in and out of makeup and wardrobe.

Some of the contestants were no-brainers. These were the ones that all three judges had pushed through, so they only had to sing one song with accompaniment to get the green light to head to the live shows. Jolene Anderson was one of these early favorites, whose country twang and perfect blond beauty made her a diva in the making. All the judges were goners from her amiable, “Hi, I’m Jo, from Texas. Sorry my hair’s a bit deflated. It’s hot back stage!”

Then there was Milo Singer, who was openly gay and absolutely fabulous. He was only 17 with a shock of red hair, but he had no insecurities as he opened his mouth and belted out a flawless rendition of a Broadway classic.

Each contestant was fiercer than the last, and on the end of that first day Vanni was thrilled to see Jordi Hemphill take the stage. She didn’t try to hide her size-20 figure under layers of boring black. She wore a deep purple halter with flashy sequins, with black leggings with lace down either side. Her face was framed by chunky purple glasses with square lenses, and she wore her hair up in a faux-hawk that had a deep violet-streaked braid down one side. This was a girl unafraid to be seen. She gave the judges a big smile. “My name is Jordi Hemphill. I’m from a small town in Iowa you’ve probably never heard of. And I’m here because I’m fierce.”

It was a bold declaration that left no room for argument. Vanni gave her a big smile and a wink as she paused before the music was cued to start.

Instead of using accompaniment, she motioned to the band to stay silent. She looked down at the floor and gathered the character she wished to portray, in a challenging song from a 1980s musical, in which a young girl sang of painfully unrequited love. The loneliness in her tone filled the auditorium like a thick cloud. Bit by bit the band joined in as she motioned to each musician, sweeping the entire production into a powerful crescendo. Just as dramatically she brought all the music to a stop with a raised hand. When her voice cracked with emotion as she brought it to a close, Vanni actually had tears in his eyes.

He began to clap and then stood on his feet. This gi
rl was a star.

Allison also stood for her performance, and Ryder, considered her thoughtfully before he, too, rose to his feet.

After she departed the stage, the cameras caught the judges comparing notes about this unusual contestant.

“Now that is a star,” Vanni said. “We were all putty in her hands and she knew it. That girl’s fearless and she brings true meaning to the name of the show.”

Allison pursed her lips as she weighed the pros and cons. “She’s great,” she agreed. “And I know we’re trying to get away from the image-based pop culture that would normally eat her up and spit her out. But what is she? Eighteen? She’s a baby still. It’s easy to have confidence on that first step of the ladder of success. But this isn’t some small town in Iowa. The whole world will be watching. What’s going to happen to that confidence if the audience doesn’t like her? Or worse… if they’re cruel to her?”

“You think she’s not used to people being cruel?” Vanni said. “Look at her. She goes out of her way to draw attention to herself. And you know how high school can be. No audience is going to be worse than some clique of teenage girls who are jealous because she’s got more potential for greatness in her little finger than some do in their entire bodies. You should know that.”

“Yes, I do know that,” she replied. “I’m also a mama, and I can tell you that y’all don’t know what it does to a woman’s self-esteem to be torn into day after day because she doesn’t ‘fit in.’ It’s just not the same for men.”

Ryder nodded. “She’s got an amazing voice. But how do we market someone like this and keep her sane in the process?”

“Isn’t that the challenge?” Vanni asked them. “We’re here to find a star that defies definition and I’m telling you – we found one. I think there is an audience for someone that secure in herself and in her talent to say to hell with what the world thinks, she’s going to follow her dreams anyway.”

Shannon smiled as she watched the conversation from her spot in the front row in between Graham and an emotional Maggie, who was still sniffling from Jordi’s powerful performance. Shan handed her a tissue, knowing everyone who watched would be just as profoundly affected. That was exactly the kind of contestant she wanted to champion with
Fierce
. The people she touched would come to her defense as passionately as Vanni had. She was very impressed that someone like Vanni, who had a reputation for treating women like tissue paper, could see her value and fight for her right to perform on the show.

Shannon – and even Graham – knew he would win thousands of new fans the minute it aired, maybe even some who had dismissed him as an unrepentant playboy in the past.

It was exactly what they had hoped would happen when they picked him as a judge.

“I say yes,” Vanni voted. “Let’s get her to the live shows.”

Again Allison pursed her lips. She didn’t know if she could do that to that poor girl who was so young. But if she could win over someone like Vanni, surely there would be those willing to call in week after week to vote her through. “Okay. I have my reservations,” she clarified. “But you’re right. There’s something magical about her.”

They turned to Ryder. He wasn’t as easily convinced. “Put me down for a maybe.” Both Allison and Vanni said nothing as they gave him the same hard stare. “A strong maybe,” he clarified.

Vanni gave them a triumphant smile as he rose from his chair. He sent a salute to Graham and to Shannon who sat in the audience before he took the stage steps two at a time to head off to wardrobe.

“Women are going to love him,” Shannon said to Graham.

“Women already do love him,” he replied dryly.

“They’re going to love him more,” she said. “You just saw the ticket to our second season in that exchange.”

As much as Graham didn’t want to admit it, he knew she was right. “Looks like he’s finally growing up,” he said.

She gave Graham a big smile as she patted him on the arm. “Being a dad will do that to you,” she said before she gathered her notes and headed toward her office. She knew exactly which scenes she wanted to edit together for their debut, and there was a lot of work to do.

They had a show to put on. Thanks to Giovanni Carnevale and Jordi Hemphill, Shannon had a good feeling that it was going to be a huge hit.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Burbank, California

May 2, 2011

Shannon McKenna sat in a wardrobe chair as she chatted with the style consultant for
Fierce
, her dear friend – and fairy godfather – Jorge Navarro. He was slender but chiseled, with silky dark hair that fell slightly over his dark eyes. He wore eyeliner better than any woman, and though some might mistake him for effeminate, he managed to make lace and silk and Goth makeup masculine. He wore tattoos and piercings, with a beautiful face that looked sculpted out of stone. He was more beautiful than most women, and more attractive than many men, with an unapologetic androgyny that was so sensual it put most people off their game in the first moment he walked into a room.

His truest gift was sharing this magical gift with all those he styled. Stars loved him and he was the life of any Hollywood party. He had turned Shannon from a frumpy, forgettable production assistant to a Reality TV superstar who managed to make all her dreams come true.

When it came to picking a stylist for all her
Fierce
babies, she trusted no one more. She knew that he’d shine them all up like a brand new penny. One contestant, in particular, was why Shannon had hunted him down that particular morning.

“What are your plans for Jordi?” she asked as she sat in Jorge’s magic chair.

“One word,” he said with smile. “Defiant.”

“Need more words, please.”

He laughed. “That girl’s a tiger. She’s got a fearlessness I don’t usually see in 18-year-olds. Adolescence is an esteem killer, as I’m sure you remember. But she doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks about her. I can do so much with that.”

Shannon chuckled. “I can’t wait to see your magical transformation.”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t need a transformation. She needs guidance. She’s trying to fit into this mold that already exists. She needs to know she can break that mold. She can be sexy on her own terms.”

Shannon nodded. She liked the sound of that. And if anyone could do it, it’d be Jorge.

“Excuse me, Shannon?”

Both Jorge and Shannon turned to see who stood at the door of the wardrobe room. It was Maggie. “Have you seen Graham?”

Jorge stopped what he was doing and walked toward Maggie as if he’d seen the
Mona Lisa
for the first time. Maggie didn’t know what to make of this unusual man circling her, his hand to his chin, as he inspected her openly and boldly. He took it all in: the alabaster skin, the fiery red hair, the endlessly blue eyes – even the dusting of faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Turn around,” he instructed.

“What?” she asked.

Shannon laughed. “I suggest you do what he says.”

Maggie twirled awkwardly in her mom-jeans and her button down shirt. It was as nondescript as any anonymous lackey would hope to be, but Jorge seemed to see something more – like finding that first glint of a diamond in the heart of an unimpressive block of coal. He grabbed her hand and dragged her into the room, sitting her right down on his chair before he disappeared off into the racks and racks of clothing.

“What’s…?” Maggie tried to ask Shannon, but she just held up a hand.

Jorge re-emerged with a black dress with a rhinestone cuff at the neck. “Here,” he said. “Try this on.”

“But… I’m not part of the show…” Maggie tried to explain.

“So?” Jorge wanted to know.

She sent another helpless glance to Shannon, who wore a bemused smile. “You don’t question the master,” she said.

Maggie looked down at the dress. She’d never worn anything like it and felt rather silly trying it on. But for some reason she trusted the odd man who was standing to her side, arms crossed, expecting her to comply with his weird demand.