You Have No Idea: A Famous Daughter, Her No-Nonsense Mother, and How They Survived Pageants, Hollywood, Love, Loss (25 page)

I recently spoke at a Catholic girls’ school in Manhattan. After the talk (about overcoming obstacles), a young girl approached me.

“My dad built your house,” she said.

I told the girl to say hi to her dad for me. I also told her to tell her father that my father had died. Later that week, I received a lovely note from him saying how sorry he was to hear about my dad’s sudden passing. “Your dad was a great man,” Joe wrote.

CHAPTER

20

Vanessa’s man is out there somewhere—she just hasn’t found him yet. Or she doesn’t recognize him yet. But one of these days, she will. Or I will—and I’ll have to give her a nudge!

—HELEN WILLIAMS

I
t is hard for me to date. I have had serious relationships since I was sixteen. I was with Joe for a year, Bruce for four years, and then I was with Ramon for twelve years and ten months. I love being with a partner and in a committed relationship.

I don’t get asked out on dates that much. Actually it rarely happens. People just assume that I’m leading this really glamorous life and dating all these handsome, interesting men, but usually I’m working or at home with the kids. When I do venture out, it’s with my girlfriends or my gay friends or even my priest friend. I tease Father Edward, “When I asked God for the perfect man, I should have been more specific!”

But I love being in a serious relationship. I love taking care of someone and having someone take care of me—sharing meals, sharing stories, sharing dreams. I love being desired and feeling
connected to someone. My mom would say I’m a hopeless romantic. What’s wrong with that?

The summer after Ramon and I separated, I was cast as Calypso in
The Odyssey
, an NBC miniseries starring Armand Assante, Greta Scacchi, and Isabella Rossellini. The shoot was in Ölüdeniz, a beautiful resort village on the Aegean Sea in Turkey.

It was my first time away as a single woman. The kids stayed for the first week of rehearsals and sightseeing. Then when it was time to shoot, they headed back to New York with Kathi.

Once we started shooting, our day would end at sundown. I’d head downstairs to the bar with Kate Best, my makeup pal, and Oscar James, my hair buddy. We’d order drinks and eat hot cheese. I felt young again—not like a mother of three.

Chris Solimine, who wrote the teleplay, was a confident, dark, and handsome Italian guy from Westfield, New Jersey, who loved Irish pubs, the Yankees, and a good argument. He had come up to me at the welcome party and asked if the kids and I needed a drink. He says I blew him off, but I was in “mommy” mode. The celebrity thing can be intimidating to men, but Chris scored big points with me right away because he just came right on up.

Chris mentioned he went to Syracuse University at the same time I did. We were even in the same year but didn’t know each other. I was down at the theater at Syracuse Stage Complex—he was up on the hill, where the main campus was located. We instantly hit it off because of our shared past. We got each other’s jokes and references. It was comfortable as well as hot and heavy. He became my first as a single woman.

We watched classic movies together. He traveled with me on the road when I toured with Luther Vandross (he was my band’s favorite boyfriend; they still ask about him). He gave great notes while I was shooting
Soul Food
in Chicago. He became a love of my life. Chris was deep, sensitive, joyful, and complex.

We were together when I moved back into my home. Although
he loved my newly renovated house, he sighed, “I could never give you this.” But I didn’t want that from him. I already had the house. I just wanted him. That was enough.

We were together for two years—from Turkey to Chicago to Malibu to New York to a tour bus—filled with excitement, passion, and frustration. I don’t know why we were constantly breaking up and getting back together.

One afternoon, Chris, an avid movie enthusiast, had taken me to see Spike Lee’s
He Got Game.
Little did we know that nearly a year later, I would wind up marrying one of its stars, Rick Fox. (My first image of him was in a hot tub surrounded by naked blondes—an image that would come to haunt me.)

“There’s this guy—a forward—for the Lakers who is gorgeous and you’d make a beautiful couple,” said Lynne, my interior designer, when she was working on the house. Lynne was a huge Los Angeles Lakers fan and was obsessed with this new team member.

“What? I’ve got Chris. I’m not interested in some guy from the Lakers,” I told her. “Plus, I’m a Knicks fan, and I don’t date athletes.”

Lynne smiled knowingly. “You haven’t seen him yet.”

That February, I was invited to a book signing for my dear friend Sam Fine, a celebrity makeup artist. I was so proud of Sam—he was blowing up. So Chris and I went and we took Lynne along since she was in town helping with the house. We were seated in a booth upstairs in the VIP area. Ramon was there, too—downstairs at the bar. Isaiah Thomas sat with us, and Chris and Lynne were all over him since they were huge fans. I’d met Isaiah when he and Magic Johnson had seen me years ago in O
ne Man Band
off-Broadway.

Tyra Banks crossed into the VIP section followed by a huge hunk of a man. We said our usual “Hey, girl.” Then she introduced this hunk to our table.

“Nice to meet you,” he said politely.

Our eyes locked for a quick second and Lynne kicked me under the table. When he left, she blurted out: “That’s who I was talking about. That’s Rick Fox.”

Oooh, now I get it. He’s gorgeous.

Rick had been in New York for the all-star game, but was heading back to Los Angeles.

When’s my next trip to L.A?
I wondered, as Chris sat next to me and Ramon was downstairs at the bar.

Past, present, and future all at the same time at a New York City spot called Metronome.

Five months later I made it to Los Angeles for the press junket and premiere of
Dance with Me
, the ballroom dance movie I starred in with Chayanne, the Puerto Rican mega–pop singer and total hunk. Chris didn’t want to come out for the premiere.

Lynne, who lived in Los Angeles, called and said, “There’s a birthday party for Rick Fox at Century Club? Want to go?”

A: I don’t know him. B: I’m going salsa dancing with my girls. C: I don’t crash birthday parties.

Or do I?

Gena Avery, my assistant, got the address of the club and we pulled up in our rental. I chickened out. “Let’s just drive around the block and then go in for a minute,” Gena said.

“Okay, we’ll go in for a minute,” I agreed. After all, Chris and I were taking a break, even though I didn’t want to.

Rick’s twenty-ninth birthday party was packed with friends, family, and fans. Gena and I were ushered through by security to Rick. He was so happy we made it. He gave us each a glass of champagne and we toasted his birthday. He introduced me to his sisters, Jeanene and Sarah, and his brother, Aaron. His family was stunning. Then Gena and I began to head out to go salsa dancing.

“If you want to come to my premiere tomorrow, Gena will arrange a ticket for you,” I told Rick on the way to the door.

“Sure, I’d love that.”

Gena and I left, headed to El Floridita, and danced. Salsa dancing is really my favorite way to spend an evening. When the dancing is good, I’m completely drenched in sweat. It’s the best workout in the world. Whenever we traveled for a movie or a tour, Gena would always go online and do some research and find the hottest salsa club in whatever city, town, or village. We’d show up and scout out the best dancers. It’s not about finding the hottest guy. It’s about looking for the best dancer who will give you the best workout—the guy who knows what he’s doing.

Liz Curtis, who trained me for
Dance with Me
, was an eleven-time World Latin champ, but it was her sizzle on the salsa floor that fascinated me about this redhead from outside Boston. I met Liz during my run in
Kiss of the Spider Woman.
Her husband, Colton, joined me onstage as an inmate eight times a week, and Liz and Colton would salsa dance at cast parties. I would marvel at the ease, fluidity, and sensuality she brought to the dance floor.

So I couldn’t wait to learn a new form of ballroom and Latin dance when I was cast as the female lead in
Dance with Me
after Sandra Bullock pulled out. And I got the offer. Liz Curtis had watched me dancing onstage on Broadway, so she knew I could learn the choreography of a ballroom instructor.

While training for the film, we would go to the clubs at night to practice the moves and combinations I was learning in the studio during the day. I was hooked and still am to this day.

Rick showed up late for the
Dance with Me
premiere, but stayed for the after-party and saw me in my glory—dancing all night and being passed around from dancer to dancer. I spun and twirled so much I’m surprised I didn’t get a headache. I saw Rick from across the floor as I caught my breath in between dances and I thanked him for coming.

The next day I walked into my hotel room—there were three dozen pink and white roses.

I opened the note.

Thanks for inviting me to the premiere. —Rick.

That was nice, but off to New York I went.

I didn’t need another relationship. He was handsome, but I needed some “me” time. Besides, I had told myself years ago that I’d never ever date a professional athlete. They were nothing but trouble. And Rick was six years younger than I was. Did I really want to be that woman with the younger man?

As luck would have it, Rick was filming a movie in New York (
Resurrection
) during the NBA lockout that ran into the 1998–1999 season. Rick was calling, Chris was wavering, and I was cautiously open.

I was in New York. Rick was in New York. There was time to date.

I got the full-court press from Rick. We went to dinner. He met my kids when he came to Chappaqua. He was unrelenting. A blind item ran in the local press after we were seen eating at a restaurant across from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

“Former beauty queen dines with pro NBA player formerly from UNC.”

It was thrilling and in some ways it was an escape—I was thirty-five years old, divorced, and a mom with three kids. Rick reminded me that I could still be young. Rick was twenty-nine and had never been married.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas were all spent together at my house. In some ways, it was almost too perfect; everyone seemed to get along really well—the children and the adults. Ramon, who was raised in Los Angeles, was a fan of the Lakers. That was easy—a pro athlete from his favorite team available for basketball discussion. And they seemed to genuinely like each other. It was a really smooth transition. Ramon was happy I’d found someone who made me happy. Devin and Kyle, Rick’s son from a previous relationship, hit it off immediately and soon became like brothers.

And Mom?

Believe it or not, she seemed to really like the idea of Rick… at first.

But I wasn’t going to get serious. Once the lockout ended, Rick would head back to Los Angeles, where he’d have to remain for nine months of the year. That was no way to have a relationship. And there was no way I would be moving my family back to Los Angeles! The kids had had enough transition in their young lives.

In November, Rick whisked me away to his hometown of Nassau in the Bahamas for the weekend, and I could feel myself relaxing and letting my guard down. We romped in our room, took long walks on the beach, and ate delicious meals. I met his recently divorced parents. Rick and I shared stories, went deep-sea fishing. I told him how painful it was to be estranged from my dad. Rick understood that not being close to my dad was hell for me. He suggested I write my dad a letter. I took his advice.

By the end of the weekend, I thought to myself,
This feels good.

Heading to sound check in the back of the limo with Chris

In the midst of the rumba with Rick Valenzuela for a
DANCE WITH ME
competition scene