Gabrielle forced herself to stop tapping her fingers as she rode nervously along Sixth Avenue in the backseat of the Lincoln Town Car. Why had she agreed to appear on the MTV Video Music Awards? The last thing she wanted to do was get up in front of an audience of millions and present the award for best rap video. Especially when neither Bea nor Jack was available to coach her through it.
It’s not like you’ve never done a television show before, she reminded herself. True, but it’s the first time after that near-disastrous episode on “The Craig Arthur Show.”
That event three weeks ago had shaken her confidence and left her full of anxiety about future television appearances and uncertain of how much longer she could continue to keep her illiteracy hidden without losing her mind. Her public faux pas was also the reason she’d abruptly canceled her guest appearance on “All My Children.” The show’s producers, while not happy, seemed to take it in stride, quickly replacing Gabrielle with her friend and colleague Eva G., but the tabloids, particularly Star Diary, chose to rely on speculation and innuendo to write their stories.
As her car pulled up to the side entrance of Radio City Music Hall, Gabrielle exhaled loudly in an attempt to squelch her fears. Arming herself with the Donovan smile, she grabbed her evening bag, exited the limo, and walked toward the door in a hail of flashbulbs.
“Ms. Donovan, I’m Fred,” the guest-relations assistant greeted her at the door. “This way, please.”
Gabrielle followed Fred through several winding corridors and into the dressing room, where she found the makeup and hair people waiting. Just as they began to work on her, the producer, script in hand, popped in to greet her.
“Gabrielle, good to see you again.”
“You too, Alex. How’s it going?”
“You know how these things are—controlled chaos. In fact, I’ve got a little problem and need your help.”
“Oh?”
“Queen Latifah’s people just called. Her flight is delayed, and she’s not going to make it in time to do the first award presentation, so I need to move you into her spot with Gwyneth Paltrow.”
“But … I … I only know my lines,” Gabrielle pointed out. She could feel the panic begin to inch through her body, wrap around her diaphragm, and squeeze the air from her lungs. Why did this have to happen to her? Why couldn’t they choose someone else?
“Not to worry. Just read off the TelePrompTer. You’ve seen these award shows before. It’s the rare presenter that doesn’t read their lines—let alone read them well.”
“I think Gwyneth can handle it on her own, don’t you? You don’t need me.”
“But I do. Everything is set up for two presenters, so here’s the new script for you to look over. Trust me, it’s really not a big deal.”
Gabrielle took the paper and forced a “no problem” smile as the producer left, glad he could not hear the words that were screaming silently inside her. It is a big deal, goddamn it! It’s a humongous deal. Just read. Just read. So damn easy for you to say, but impossible for me to do. With a live audience of hundreds and a television audience of millions, Gabrielle knew that she couldn’t afford another public slipup. The press would start asking questions, and sooner or later she and all her lies would be exposed.
Gabrielle felt light-headed and closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. Instead of finding her equilibrium, she was bombarded with the terrifying image of standing mortified at the podium while the audience howled wildly as she stuttered through the unfamiliar lines. I can’t do it again. I can’t, Gabrielle thought as she tried to catch her breath.
“Are you okay?” the makeup girl asked, seeing the panic in her eyes.
“I only know my lines. I can’t do this again,” she repeated aloud as she bolted from the chair. Gabrielle ran to the exit, oblivious to the puzzled looks of the other celebrities and production crew. She felt the fiery heat of embarrassment creep up her face and stain her cheeks, reminding her of another time she’d run out on a job. In three years she’d come so incredibly far, but at this moment Gabrielle felt as if she hadn’t progressed at all. The public might perceive her as a top model at the height of her profession, but she still felt as insecure and unemployable as the teenager who’d run away from her job selling muffins.
Gabrielle burst through the exit door before stopping to catch her breath. Tears were flowing, blurring her vision as she searched up and down the street for her car and driver. After several fruitless minutes Gabrielle hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take her home. The cabdriver, alerted by the whimpers emanating from the backseat, stole a look at the famous face in his rearview mirror. Instead of the glamorous, confident supermodel he’d come to recognize, he saw the crumpled face of a frightened child wrapped up in her own arms, rocking pitifully to and fro.
Jack walked into the apartment and closed the front door behind him. The apartment was silent, signaling that Gabrielle was either still asleep or already up and out. He carried his overnight bag into the bedroom. The bed had not been slept in, leaving Jack to pause in wonderment and concern. He put his bag down and picked up the telephone.
“Morning,” Bea greeted him.
“Good morning, Bea. I just got back from L.A. and was wondering if you knew where my wife was.”
“Gabrielle spent the night here, Jack. In fact, she’s still asleep. She had a rough day yesterday, and since you were out of town, I suggested she camp out here.”
“Is she okay? What happened?”
“She had a panic attack just before the MTV Video Music Awards and walked out.”
“Panic attack over what? Does this have something to do with her dyslexia?”
“Yes, but I think maybe she should explain everything to you. Shall I wake her?”
“No, let her sleep. I’ll see her when she gets up.”
Jack hung up and immediately ran down to the newsstand and picked up several daily newspapers, including Star Diary. He stopped by the Greek deli for coffee before returning home to see just what he’d missed while in Los Angeles.
By the time he’d finished Page Six and Liz Smith’s column, he knew that Gabrielle had abruptly left Radio City Music Hall, reneging on her commitment to be a presenter, but he learned little else. It wasn’t until he read Star Diary that he got the full dish, with the usual side order of unconfirmed speculation by “sources close to Ms. Donovan.”
It appears that supercool supermodel Gabrielle Donovan is creating diva moments faster than McDonald’s can make french fries. You remember how she so rudely canceled her guest appearance on “All My Children” at the ninth hour, making her persona non grata in Pine Valley (not to worry, dear, fill-in Eva G. did a marvelous job). Now it appears that the model pulled another no-show at last night’s MTV Video Music Awards. My sources tell me that when asked to fill in for the delayed Queen Latifah, Gabrielle refused and left the building in a huge huff, insinuating to those within earshot that she had no desire to share the podium with actress Gwyneth Paltrow. Please, Ms. Donovan, isn’t it about time you checked your ego at the door?
Jack folded the tabloid in half as he thought about what he’d read. He knew instantly that this episode was not about his wife’s ego, but more about her lagging confidence. Perhaps it was time for Gabrielle to come clean with the public about her dyslexia. The secret wasn’t worth all the aggravation. Besides, he was here for her now and could support her through any fallout. She didn’t have to depend on the out-of-touch, albeit well-meaning advice of some senior citizen. Together, as husband and wife, they could turn her learning disability into a positive social statement—a statement that garnered them both lots of attention, placed them squarely among elite celebrity couples, and tightened the marital knot that bound them together. Jack smiled as he pictured the two of them hosting elaborate fundraisers and appearing in public-service campaigns produced by his agency. Yes, they could definitely use Gabrielle’s problem to their advantage. Just as soon as the time was right, when his wife got over this latest episode and regained her confidence, he was going to convince her as well.