was few. Shari sent up
a silent prayer of thanks since that meant she would be able to talk to Nick
without being overheard or interrupted.
They strolled along in a comfortable
silence for a few minutes, enjoying the relaxing sound of the water cascading
over the rocks. Shari paused to take a few shots with her camera for her own
collection while Nick waited patiently, surprisingly for him. He seemed as
relaxed as when they were watching the fountains at Bellagio and she fervently
hoped that no one would intrude on this time.
“There’s a bench a little further along
where we can sit and talk,” Nick informed her.
The bench was in a cozy spot overlooking
the river. It was sheltered by some trees, giving it privacy. It felt a little
too intimate for her liking, but she made no protest. After all, it wasn’t as
if Nick was going to try anything.
"I'm going to record our
conversation rather than rely on my memory, OK?"
"Good. Then there should be no
inaccuracies." Shari didn't comment. Nick took every opportunity to make
it quite clear how he felt about reporters.
"Why exactly are you so opposed to
reporters?"
"How much time do you have?"
He asked sardonically. "Since we have to get back for the concert in an
hour or so, I'll give you the short version. They print lies and whatever will
sell papers or magazines and they don't care who gets hurt in the process.”
She was almost sorry she had asked
because some of the peace that the river had induced in him was lost as he
responded to her question. However, having started down that trail, the
journalist in her had to continue until she got the answer she was looking for.
"This is from personal experience,
I take it?"
"Yeah, but I also know a lot of
people in the business whose lives have been messed up by the media."
He focused on the river, apparently lost
in thought. She waited patiently, hoping that the charge on her recorder would
last. The sound of the river rolling over the stones was soothing, but she
wasn’t here to make a Nature’s Sounds CD.
"My first wife and I got married
quite young. I was about twenty-four and she was twenty. She's from the
hometown I grew up in, Sonora. I was just starting out and beginning to get
noticed in the bigger cities nearby. We'd been married for about three years
when I got signed by my current record label and things really began to take
off. My first tour was an unbelievable experience! I couldn't have dreamed it
up. The crowds were amazing, the parties were wild and the women were easy. It
went straight to my head.
"At first I resisted, but by the
time the tour was halfway through it was getting harder and harder. Then one
night, after too many drinks, I slept with another woman. I don't even know her
name. She came on to me at a party and the rest is history. Pictures of us
leaving the party were in the press the next day and my wife saw them. As if
that wasn’t bad enough the media started hounding her, asking all kinds of
stupid questions. She was trying to get away from a particularly persistent
reporter when she crashed her car. She was two months pregnant and I didn’t
even know. She was planning to tell me when I came home at the next break. She
lost the baby.” He drew in a shaky breath and looked out over the river.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Shari
said quietly, turning off the recorder. This was too intimate to record.
“Not many people do. I left the tour and
flew home but it was too late. If I hadn’t been living such a wild life, it
never would have happened. I couldn’t even deny the story when she asked me
about it. Not only did she lose the baby but I permanently damaged our
relationship and it was too much for her. I didn't fight it when she filed for
divorce.”
"I can understand why you hate the
media but they weren’t the only cause of your marriage failing,” she pointed
out fairly.
"No. You're right. I started it,
they just put the nails in the coffin. But I was really
a silent prayer of thanks since that meant she would be able to talk to Nick
without being overheard or interrupted.
They strolled along in a comfortable
silence for a few minutes, enjoying the relaxing sound of the water cascading
over the rocks. Shari paused to take a few shots with her camera for her own
collection while Nick waited patiently, surprisingly for him. He seemed as
relaxed as when they were watching the fountains at Bellagio and she fervently
hoped that no one would intrude on this time.
“There’s a bench a little further along
where we can sit and talk,” Nick informed her.
The bench was in a cozy spot overlooking
the river. It was sheltered by some trees, giving it privacy. It felt a little
too intimate for her liking, but she made no protest. After all, it wasn’t as
if Nick was going to try anything.
"I'm going to record our
conversation rather than rely on my memory, OK?"
"Good. Then there should be no
inaccuracies." Shari didn't comment. Nick took every opportunity to make
it quite clear how he felt about reporters.
"Why exactly are you so opposed to
reporters?"
"How much time do you have?"
He asked sardonically. "Since we have to get back for the concert in an
hour or so, I'll give you the short version. They print lies and whatever will
sell papers or magazines and they don't care who gets hurt in the process.”
She was almost sorry she had asked
because some of the peace that the river had induced in him was lost as he
responded to her question. However, having started down that trail, the
journalist in her had to continue until she got the answer she was looking for.
"This is from personal experience,
I take it?"
"Yeah, but I also know a lot of
people in the business whose lives have been messed up by the media."
He focused on the river, apparently lost
in thought. She waited patiently, hoping that the charge on her recorder would
last. The sound of the river rolling over the stones was soothing, but she
wasn’t here to make a Nature’s Sounds CD.
"My first wife and I got married
quite young. I was about twenty-four and she was twenty. She's from the
hometown I grew up in, Sonora. I was just starting out and beginning to get
noticed in the bigger cities nearby. We'd been married for about three years
when I got signed by my current record label and things really began to take
off. My first tour was an unbelievable experience! I couldn't have dreamed it
up. The crowds were amazing, the parties were wild and the women were easy. It
went straight to my head.
"At first I resisted, but by the
time the tour was halfway through it was getting harder and harder. Then one
night, after too many drinks, I slept with another woman. I don't even know her
name. She came on to me at a party and the rest is history. Pictures of us
leaving the party were in the press the next day and my wife saw them. As if
that wasn’t bad enough the media started hounding her, asking all kinds of
stupid questions. She was trying to get away from a particularly persistent
reporter when she crashed her car. She was two months pregnant and I didn’t
even know. She was planning to tell me when I came home at the next break. She
lost the baby.” He drew in a shaky breath and looked out over the river.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Shari
said quietly, turning off the recorder. This was too intimate to record.
“Not many people do. I left the tour and
flew home but it was too late. If I hadn’t been living such a wild life, it
never would have happened. I couldn’t even deny the story when she asked me
about it. Not only did she lose the baby but I permanently damaged our
relationship and it was too much for her. I didn't fight it when she filed for
divorce.”
"I can understand why you hate the
media but they weren’t the only cause of your marriage failing,” she pointed
out fairly.
"No. You're right. I started it,
they just put the nails in the coffin. But I was really
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