Chapter 18

As we talked, Liz had shifted on the couch until she sat facing me with one foot tucked under the opposite knee. I had put my hand on her soft (and hairless) calf almost without thinking about it.

Periodically, she had reached out to touch my hand or my arm as she told me about one facet of her young professional life or another. She had hung her head as she confessed her youthful sins of hubris, envy and avarice.

I knew I had covered wrath, sloth and gluttony pretty well during my pro days and after those days had come to an end so I couldn’t very well look at her with disapproval. I gave her lower leg a reassuring rub then pulled my hand away quickly when it came into contact with the fabric of her shorts just below the crotch.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Typical boy,” Liz replied, smiling at me. It was part of one of her songs but I had used up my only knowledge of the rest of the lyrics the day before. “I’m baring my soul and you want me to bare the rest.”

“I wasn’t...” I protested.

“I know,” Liz cut in. She changed positions until both of her knees were on the couch. She leaned in and kissed me softly on the cheek. “I was just goofing around with you. I made peace with most of my decisions a few years ago. I know I screwed up my priorities. I know that I got too big for my britches. But I had so many people around me telling me just how great I was. I started to believe it.”

“Been there, done that,” I said.

“Got the T-shirt,” Liz added. “I wanted to give you a little bit of an explanation for why your friends might not look at things with overwhelming joy. I also don’t want to start anything when you don’t know the real story. Yeah, you can get on the Internet and find someone else’s version of my life story. Some are sanitized because the person that wrote it thinks more highly of me than I deserve. Others are harsher than the truth because the writer had an agenda of his or her own. Both have kernels of truth. I think about seven or eight years ago I finally understood who I was, what I was doing and where I wanted to go. Let me backtrack for a minute.

“There is something else that your friends are going to worry about.”

She had returned to her previous manner of sitting. I had put my hand on her knee this time and she had put her hand atop mine. Liz lifted her hand away and began rubbing at an invisible mark on the side of her face. Her mouth was set in a frown and her eyebrows had narrowed in the middle as she concentrated.

“This can wait,” I said.

“No,” Liz said quickly. “I want you to understand. There is too much ... information ... out there and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to explain it to your friends very soon.”

“I’ll tell them to stay out of my personal business,” I noted.

Liz shifted her eyes to me and stopped rubbing her temple. She offered a wan smile.

“Yeah, I see that working,” she said. She took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. I was waiting for her to tell me that she had once robbed an orphanage’s donation box.

“For many years I was what I like to refer to as ‘a serial dater, ‘“ she said.

“Uh, OK,” I said with a shrug. “So was I, I suppose. My mother simply calls me a ‘man-whore.’”

Liz chuckled and shook her head. But at least her face relaxed.

“I loved the attention that I had started to garner from the male of the species,” she said. “When I first got ... famous, I would flit from one guy to the next. I made sure all of them were high-profile and handsome. I would date them once or twice and then move on to the next. After a year or two of that, I decided that I would like a serious relationship ... with a guy that was high-profile and handsome. Well, and wealthy, too. That became important. I dated the son of a famous Hollywood actress for a few months. Then he dumped me for someone else. I went out with a male model for a while. Then he dumped me for someone else. I dated musicians, actors, models, athletes, a politician’s son. We would make it a month or maybe two and then they would drop me. I ... I got really bitter about the fact I couldn’t develop any sort of relationship. My music turned ... harsh ... at that point. That’s when I wrote ‘Typical Boy.’ I didn’t understand that I was the problem. I thought all guys were assholes.”

“Well, guys are assholes,” I said.

“Some are,” Liz agreed. “I ... I guess I can blame this on my ego again. The truth is, I felt like I was a teenager again. I felt that I was ... unwanted. So I decided I would make guys want me. I went out with 60 guys over the course of about 18 months. It went back to my earlier days. I would date them once or twice and then find the next victim. That’s why I use the term ‘serial dater.’ But I could use the term ‘serial fucker.’ I had sex with almost all the guys at least once.”

“Oh,” I said. I had dated different girls in college and as a young professional athlete. I had slept with many of them. I didn’t come anywhere near 60 girls in my life, let along in a year and half.

“Yeah,” Liz said. “And ... that was the second time I’d gone that route. When I first hit it big, I did the same thing. I don’t really have a count but I would guess I slept with 40 or 50 guys from the time I was 17 until I was 19. I slept with 12 guys from 20 to 21. I know all of those. Then 50 or so from 21 to 24. I have put my total number of sexual partners at almost 150.”

I blinked and fought the urge to move my hand away from Liz’s knee. Instead, I just gulped and nodded.

“Almost every one of those came before I turned 25,” Liz said, clearly embarrassed. “Since I sort of got my head on straight I have been more selective. I went almost two years without dating anyone – or screwing anyone. Then I went out with Stanton Edwards for almost two years. When we broke up, I didn’t go out with anyone for six or seven months. I did, however, have a couple of hookups with former partners. The thing is ... I enjoy sex.”

I nodded again. It was pretty much a universal feeling, I thought.

“Not just the physical act,” Liz clarified. “I mean, yeah, I like that, too, maybe a little too much. But I like the intimacy involved. My wild years were just ... sex to get laid. Once I grew up a little bit I finally understood the difference between rutting around on a bed with just anyone and having relations with someone special. I came to see that the guys I was using were using me just as much. They wanted to have my name on their bedpost as much as I wanted theirs on mine. Stanton was really the first true relationship I had. I ... I loved him and I think he loved me. We had ... at least on the surface ... talked about marriage.”

“What happened?” I asked. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my initial assessment of Liz’s sex life had been correct. She had been as active as most porn stars ... and with probably a larger variety of guys. This seemed like a subject that might take my mind away from her sexual proclivities.

“Time, distance,” she said with a shrug. “Fame, insecurity. They all played a part. Do you know who he is?”

“Yeah,” I said. Stanton Edwards was an actor famous for starring in high-budget action films.

“He was on the set for months at a time,” Liz said. “I was on tour for months at a time. I’d fly to Hollywood or Monaco to see him. He’d fly to Detroit or Miami to see me. The tabloids loved it. We’d spend a day or two in New York or Los Angeles when we both had time. Then ... he cheated on me with one of his costars. Uh ... there is an unwritten rule with the ... uh ... famous people. You don’t talk about who you’ve fucked. You don’t name names. You know and your friends know but you keep it quiet from the viewing public. You certainly don’t let the paparazzi catch you making out on the balcony of a hotel with someone else’s wife when you’ve got a famous girlfriend, too.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “I remember that. He got caught with Emma Jenkins. I didn’t know that you were dating him. I mean, I don’t follow ... fame ... very closely. I don’t really care about anyone’s personal life. I guess I should clarify that. I saw the pictures of Caley Cross on the boat. I saw the pictures of every actress that’s gotten out of a car without wearing underwear. But I don’t track the dating habits of celebrities any more than I track the migration patterns of birds. I remember reading about the scandal. Her husband filed for divorce. That’s what I remember most about it.”

“He filed for divorce and I went into hiding in Spain,” Liz said.

“I can’t even recall who she was married to,” I confessed.

“Colton LeMay,” Liz provided.

“Captain Allenson?” I asked, referencing the character he had played in a movie.

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed. “He had a ton of sci-fi fans. I had a ton of music fans. At the time, we were probably two of the most famous people in the world as far as name recognition goes. And his wife was banging my boyfriend. They both got death threats!”

I nodded unconsciously.

“Stanton and I had a huge fight ... in public,” Liz said. “That didn’t help him any. He had a big movie coming out in the summer. His people knew it would bomb without my fans and Colton’s fans so they made the mistake of trying to go on the offensive. They leaked a story that I had been cheating on him – with Svetlana. I guess they figured my fans would see me as some sort of lesbo and drop off the bandwagon.

“Svetlana is really a nice person. She and I are really friends. We actually enjoy spending time together. She had a boyfriend at the time and she was personally hurt by the accusation. She took to the Internet to deny that story. She had credibility. I mean, uh, half the models you’ll meet are straight up homo. There is no stigma to it. The funny thing is ... well, not funny ‘ha-ha’ but funny ‘weird’...”

She stopped again and sighed heavily.

“I promised to be honest,” she said to herself before looking over to me again. “Svetlana is the only of one of my ‘model friends’ that I haven’t had sex with. Jersey Williams and I even tried it once when we were ... drinking. It put a real strain on our friendship, too. Caley, Emelda, Anastasia and Jersey are the only women I’ve been with. I’m not ... bi. Well, I mean, I’m not a practicing bisexual. It seemed like a fun thing to do at the time so we did it. That’s the story behind a lot of stupid things I’ve done. Anyway, let me get back to that in a minute.

“I was telling you about Stanton. His reps leaked the lesbian stories and, given the fact that I am often seen with them, they grew a bit of traction in the media. It was a salacious story and salacious sells ad space. The only problem was that it created a world of problems for Stanton. It was sort of twofold. Emma’s reps hinted that Colton had been physically abusive to her and that caused a ton of shit. Then Stanton’s people hinted that I had cheated on him first. Stanton sent me a text disavowing all knowledge ... but he didn’t step forward to deny the accusation either. The studio had sunk almost a quarter billion dollars into the movie they were shooting. It was a werewolf love story or some shit. He knew that it would bomb if my fans and Colton’s fans stayed away. It made something like $16 million the first week.”

“Is that good?” I asked. I didn’t think it sounded like an incredibly high number for a movie opening but I wasn’t certain.

“It’s terrible!” Liz said, smiling. “The studio lost its shirt. His next film bombed too and now he can’t get a job hawking used cars on television. Emma’s last role was as a topless dancer in a straight-to-video movie. Meanwhile, Colton just got chosen as the first black Spider-Man and I sold 4 million copies of my last disc. You see, that was the problem with Stanton and Emma. He was already famous when I started out. Emma was, too. They were used to being the top dog in every relationship. They couldn’t handle being with someone that was more popular than they were. He and I got together a few months ago. It was an accident. I was at a fundraiser and he was there with someone else. He explained what he’d figured out and why things happened like they did. I’m ... I’m thinking about seeing if he wants to be in the next video I shoot. I might see if Emma wants a part, too. I’m still thinking about it. Maybe if I step up and show everyone that things are forgiven they can go back to doing what they like.”

“Are they forgiven?” I asked.

Liz smiled and squeezed my hand.

“A week ago? Probably not,” she said. “Sitting here with you now? Yeah. Honestly, and please don’t think I’m a weirdo or something. But, right now, with you, I feel like I’m finally the person I’m supposed to be. I have a professional life that I know you’ll support and be a part of but I also have the prospect of a personal life that is actually personal.”

I sat quietly for a moment while I considered all the information that had landed on me in the previous few minutes.

“Well, you haven’t bolted for the hills yet so I guess that’s a good sign,” Liz said. I offered a game smile.

“It’s my house,” I said. “That limits the ability to run away.”

“Good point,” Liz replied. “I’m sorry I dumped all of this on you at one time. I planned to ... go slower. But, well, after Sarah today and the grilling I’m in for from her mother-in-law, I wanted it out there. I meant what I told you. I will be completely honest with you. All I ask is that you do the same for me. Is there anything I glossed over that you want a clearer explanation about?”

I shook my head. I had understood the conversation even if I hadn’t necessarily liked portions of it.

“Are you still interested in ... seeing where this might lead?” Liz asked tentatively.

“I really don’t want your fans showing up at my house and firebombing it if things don’t work out,” I said.

“That wasn’t about the breakup,” Liz said. “That was about him – or maybe his people – trying to put the blame on me. If we don’t work as ... lovers, I guess, we already know that we connect well as friends.”

I rolled my eyes.

“That’s not really how life works,” I noted. “You don’t get to be friends with your exes.”

“I guess I should mention a couple of other things,” Liz said. “During our travels, we will run into people that I’ve slept with. You told me that the hospital was incestuous. The music industry is just as bad. Some of them have monster egos and they’ll be obnoxious when they learn I’m with you.”

“Not after the first one lands on his ass, I’ll bet,” I noted.

“You can’t just beat the hell out of them,” Liz said. “First off, well, they all have a dozen security guards around them and you can bet they’ll be behind the biggest one when they run their mouths. The second reason is that they’ll have you arrested and prosecuted. I hope that you’ll let me deal with them. I mean, if we get to the point where it becomes an issue. I’ll deal with them or Ryan will deal with them. I ... I don’t want to sound like an arrogant bitch but I control a lot of things in the industry now. People have to step to my tune or they find themselves in a bit of a problem. Oh, sure, the hip-hop artists don’t have to be worried but if you want your song on a country station or a top 40 station, you can’t really afford to have me as an enemy.”