After about an hour, I was almost back in Woodland Hills, and the conversation was winding down. He said, “I should let you know… I’m going to marry Manuela.”
“What?” I almost rolled the car over. “No. Not her. Go ahead and marry anyone else in the world, but this—no. I do not bless this. You do not have my blessing.” I went off on him, and he hung up on me, which was jolting. He’d never cut me off like that before.
I don’t know why I was surprised. I was the “Banished One,” and she was part of the Bible study crowd, which was apparently God’s own Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. On New Year’s Eve, they were baptized together and got married in Hawaii. Again, I fought the eye roll. I fought it hard. I didn’t want to admit that the real reason it hurt so deeply was that I had assumed we’d eventually get back together. Like Mama and Daddy. As a little girl, I learned that marriage is forever, and divorce is just a bump in the road. It was tough for me to grow up and accept that we were over over.
On 9/11, I was in Laughlin, Nevada, with Tommy, visiting his dying father. I was trying to be there for him, but I was emotionally wrecked and drinking, which was very unusual for me. Through a haze of grief and alcohol, we stared at the TV in disbelief, like everyone else in the world, and then we flew home in a private plane. It was eerie; it felt like we were the only plane in the sky over LA. I was so grateful to have his strong hand in mine.
Not long after that, Tommy asked me to marry him. He proposed with a gummy bear ring with my parents sitting there and a cascade of silly string and applause. How was I going to say no? But the next morning we woke up, and had a mutual moment of Oh, God, what did we just do? The media picked up on it right away. I heard through the grapevine that Prince was distraught about it. He called one night and left a message when I didn’t pick up.
“Hello?” It was strange to hear his voice. And we never said “hello.” We always said, “Hi.” In our vocabulary, “Hello?” meant “WTF?”
“Hello?” he said again.
And after a brief silence, he said, “Hi.” And then he hung up.
Tommy and I worked at staying together for a few months, but we never talked about actually getting married. At the end of the day, Tommy and I were each exactly what the other person needed in the exact moment we needed each other, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. We had fun, and I was in serious need of some fun after what I’d been through in the previous two years. The same was true for him. During the two years I was with Tommy, he and Pamela were in a fairly gloves-off custody thing, but despite that, their kids—people, these kids were adorable, smart, good-hearted, grateful little people. Their mom had a pretty freakin’ great résumé there, because children don’t just fall off the plum tree like that, especially in Hollywood.
I loved those kids. Still do. But they had a terrific mom, who was not me, and ultimately, that was a problem for me. I still wanted to have a child of my own, and Tommy was good with the kids he already had. We were honest about it, with ourselves and with each other: it was a deal breaker. We parted with some sadness, but we remain good friends to this day. When Prince died, Tommy emailed me: Don’t know what to say. I am so sorry. I got a lovely note from his fiancée as well.
I didn’t speak with Prince again for several years. I saw him, of course. It was hard not to. I still loved his music, and so did the rest of the world, so I saw him on TV and heard him on the radio. We ran into each other one night at the Green Door, and he actually seemed happy to see me at first, but I was feeling spicy, so I said, “Hey, Prince. How’s it going, Prince?”
“Why are you calling me Prince?” he asked.
“Isn’t that your name now, Prince? Nice necklace, by the way.”
He quoted some scriptural teaching about covering one’s chest.
“Typical Gemini,” I said. “Bring your religion to the club.”
He was irritated by that and went off on a toot about how he wasn’t going to vote in the upcoming elections. I finally had to turn away and say to my friends, “We’re gonna need another bottle of champagne.”