Somewhere along the line, I said, “This is bullshit.”
Daddy was startled. He’d never heard me cuss. Not one time in my life. But then he smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yep. Bullshit it is.”
All that summer, he and Mia and Mama and Jan and Myra patiently loved me back from the ledge. It sucked, but I couldn’t wallow in it. I pounded the pavement in New York, hoping to get a recording contract or dancing gigs or anything short of the Playboy spread people kept suggesting. At one meeting, after viewing my demo, the suit told me, “We really dig that Latina-Arabic vibe. We just signed a girl named Shakira.”
Contemplating a new direction for my life, I thought about what it took to get through that Oprah interview just days after Amiir’s death and realized I was a lot better actress than I ever gave myself credit for, but to make a living at that, I’d have to start a new life in LA, the one place that had always intimidated me.
??twelve
Right away, I accepted one hard fact about getting over my ex-husband: I would never get over him. All I could do was move on to the next thing. I hooked up an agent and started acting classes. I started forging a circle of good friends. Wade Robson asked me to choreograph a music video with Britney Spears, which was a lot of fun and got my name into circulation as someone who was still in the biz, good behind the camera, and making something of myself. I was still struggling emotionally, but I worked hard to stay in great shape, continue learning my craft, and keep my chin up. I wasn’t looking to meet anyone or get into another relationship, but Tommy Lee’s drum tech and longtime friend Viggy spotted me at a club one night and introduced us. Prince always said that if he ever had a real rock band, he’d want Tommy Lee and Dave Navarro to be in it, so it’s kind of hilarious that Carmen Electra ended up dating Tommy Lee and married to Dave Navarro, and I ended up dating Tommy after I moved to LA in 2001.
Tommy understood what it was like to marry—and unmarry—a pop culture icon. Neither one of us ever bad-mouthed the other person’s ex. On the contrary: he was in awe of Prince, and I thought Pamela Anderson was the bomb. I loved her attitude, her openness, and the fact that she’d given birth at home. I heard through the grapevine that Prince was unhappy about my seeing Tommy Lee. I guess he thought I’d see someone “normal” like an accountant or a software developer or, better yet, stay celibate the rest of my life.
But Tommy was the perfect rebound romance. He was unfailingly honest. Could not tell a lie. He was a great cook and consummate gardener, who loved picking flowers and knew the name of every plant under the sun. He was thoughtful and deeply considerate of others. When he met Mama for the first time, it was ninety degrees outside, but he wore long sleeves so she wouldn’t be confronted with all his tattoos.
We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for over a year, but in late August 2001, I was stunned by the news that Aaliyah had died in a plane crash, and then I saw the news that Prince’s father had died that same day. My heart ached for him, and I was surprised to find that the hard ball of rage in my gut had softened a bit. It had been about eighteen months since we last spoke, and I was almost ready to hear his voice again, so I left him a message.
“It’s me. I just want to say I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. I hope you were able to make peace with him before he passed. I hope… I hope you’re well.”
He called me as I was driving home after some MTV-related bash not long after that, and we talked for a long time as I drove through the LA traffic. We talked a bit about his father, and he seemed remarkably okay with it. Somehow, seeing his father’s life in its entirety now, he was able to keep the music and let the rest go.
He asked me a question about his taxes, and I reminded him that it wasn’t my problem anymore. He asked me if I’d been able to sell the house, and I said I was working on it. We talked about Aaliyah’s music and about the music he was working on at the time. That summer he previewed his album The Rainbow Children at a weeklong festival at Paisley Park. Musically, it’s Prince and therefore extraordinary, but the storyline is a thinly veiled parable about Jehovah’s Witnesses, and in that scenario, there’s a beautiful unbeliever who gets banished to a foreign land. Meanwhile, the “Wise One” hooks up with another woman conveniently sent to him by God. When I heard it, I fought the impulse to roll my eyes, but he didn’t ask me what I thought of it, and I didn’t volunteer an opinion. It felt so good driving along and talking with him, I didn’t want to say anything that would tip the mood in the wrong direction.