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When "That's OK! the premier entertainment weekly, asked me, Max Dryden, to interview Vanessa Gardner I thought I would die. Nobody in ages has been able to get her to talk about her dark past. With the DVD release of one of her old cult films, the time had come for someone to dig dirt and that someone was me. I spent a long weekend at Vanessa's rental home in Cheviot Hills. I was there just to do the magazine interview, but we wound up bonding. I met some of her darling family members like her niece, Alana. There are no men in the picture. It seems after Chas Childs disappeared or died 40 years ago, depending on which story you believe, Vanessa gave up on ever finding true love. After just one really long weekend, I wound up with way too much material for a magazine interview. I had no choice but to stay longer. The next thing you know out spat this book. Maybe it has something to do with my natural abilities to reinterpret her real-life Hollywood events with such dramatic flair. Or, maybe it's because during all this we developed a true friendship. One that goes far beyond the smoke and mirror illusions Tinseltown makes of its progeny.

I hereby declare Vanessa Gardner to be a model of solidsteel strength, resilience and grace. Most of all, she is a wonderful friend to whom I dedicate this book. M. Dryden - Nyack, NY 2013

I flew in to LAX one very hot and super-sunny Saturday afternoon in early September a few years ago. It was very exciting for me, even though I have been through Los Angeles on several occasions. Sometimes for business, but most always for some kind of pleasure. Coming from Nyack, New York, one does not necessarily think very highly of Los Angeles. It wants to be something when it grows up, but it is still going through a somewhat awkward, post-adolescent phase. I dont frown upon this little hamlet; I simply wouldnt ever call it home. I was picked up by Vanessa Gardners niece, Alana. Alana struck me as pretty plain. She was pretty, but in a non-descript way. It seemed odd for a celebritys niece to be strikingly ordinary. She fit perfectly in skinny jeans and her hair extensions looked expensive even though they were a light brown shade with barely any highlights. She had on one hell of a pair of what looked - in the awful lighting at Uniteds baggage claim - like Louboutins. Later she revealed to me that they were actually knockoffs she had bought at a Ross shop near the house she lives in with her aunt, the very famous Vanessa Gardner. To most people, Vanessa Gardner is not that famous. If, like me, you are under the age of thirty-five, it is possible you have no idea who in the blazes she is, unless, like me, you

happen to have all the episodes of Peggy Powell on DVD or you download them off of Netflix. Her sister was the big star of that old television show and cute little Vanessa had a few walkons on it. Eventually, she became famous as the star of that counter-culture sensation movie, Children of Now. In it, she looked amazing with white knee-length boots and a crocheted miniskirt. She set off an entire Seventeen magazine trend with her long, straight hair and poker straight bangs falling over her big expressive, know-it-all eyes. That is the best I can do to introduce you to Vanessa as she was when she was a fiery starlet with the Hollywood world on a string. Usually, I am not star-struck with people since I interview all kinds of People for a living. That, and I help out at my boyfriends gallery part time. Ernest - my boyfriend - knows the distinctions between good work and amateur art. Its nice to have him pay me to take smoking breaks and window shop for four-hour weekend shifts. It helps a lot to get out of the house and away from the boring, lonely tedium that comprises non-stop transcribing and writing. My aunt says we should stop and pick up some sushi. Alana grabs my bags and tosses them into the trunk of her crossover. Obviously she works out or at least is good about fitting in some weights a few times a week. She click-clacks

over to me and raises her sunglasses, What was your name again? Max? Ive been known to answer to dumb-dumb on occasion. Hah! I act really stupid when I am nervous. While Alana did not make me feel particularly uneasy, the thought of being about one hour away from meeting Vanessa was turning me into a bumble-head. You are cool with sushi, then. Yes. Any kind. I fumbled with my cigarettes. Sorry. I cant have anyone smoke in here. It upsets my aunt. Step out and have one before we go. Alana pointed to some busy street past those multi-colored, lighted LAX columns. I shook my head. I didnt need to take another fifteen minutes off of my life. So, off we went. We chatted about nothing big. Then, I waited what seemed like forever while she stopped in to get sushi at a place that looked as non-descript as she did. I have to say it wound up being the most phenomenal sushi I ever tasted. Who knew strip-malls were full of magic? I guess I underestimate Los Angeles sometimes. I never underestimated Vanessa, however.

When we arrived at her house, which is not really hers, (but that is another chapter) I really had to pee. I was so nervous I didnt dare bring it up to Alana. Like I said, we did talk a little, but not about anything big. We had yet to click at that point. I kept the sushi take out on my lap, and tried hard not to squish it. The car went up a really steep driveway and stopped in front of a garage that was stuck next to a pretty Leave-itto-Beaver-looking house. Alana shut the motor off and went around the back for my bags. Is this the tape recorder Aunt Vanessa mentioned that you use? She arm-curled the bag that did, in fact, hold my oldfashioned tape machine. I nodded and tried hard not to think about how I should have gone to the bathroom at LAX, no matter how disgusting public restrooms are to me. I tried even harder not to think how I would manage not fainting when entering that quaint house and making the acquaintance of the Vanessa Gardner. Alana and I walked inside the house. It was dim in there, despite how sunny it was outside. It seemed like a nice place, but somehow stuck in a different era. The furniture seemed new, and even a little on the expensive side. Yet, all of it had hints of retro from where I was standing.

Hang on to the sushi. Ill be right back, she said. Her voice trailed off as she click-clacked down a hallway. Im just putting your things in the creepy room. I had no time to call after her to ask what, in fact, constituted a creepy room. That is because something, or someone, began grabbing at the sushi I was holding. I looked and there stood Vanessa Gardner, tugging at the take out bag in my hands. She was a little shorter than I imagined, but was as thin as a woman her age could be. She was wearing sunglasses and a floppy black hat. Her hair was pulled up under the hat, so it was impossible to tell what color it was. I would have passed out or at least have had my voice escape me were it not for the very first thing she uttered to me. Are you gay? (Oh, yes she did.) Silence dragged for what seemed like eternity itself. After a few more hellaciously long seconds she made a face at me. Well? She asked, dangling the sushi bag from her neatly manicured fingers and grinning wickedly. Do I -- look gay?

The grin on her face grew bigger. Another eternal moment passed. My stomach felt like it did after the time I ate a box of Mexican jumping beans when I was six: Do I sound gay? Her grin cracked into a giant smile, but she remained silent. Oh, for Christs sake, I hope I dont act gay. And with that, Vanessa Gardner, broke into a loud giggle of a laugh, reminiscent of something that would come from a teenager. I like you, she said. A lot. She took me by my arm. Lets eat this sushi quick. Alana can be a pig, so we need to get in while the getting is good. Could I trouble you to to Use the bathroom? Hang a left. Its the first door open. Just come out back this way, she pointed, and well dine together in the sunshine. I cant believe that one of the first things I asked one of my idols was if I could use her bathroom. Still, I managed to meet her and not faint or wet my pants. Things were looking auspicious. After I got myself situated, I found my way out to

the back of the house, where we shared a seat on a white-washed iron patio bench. We ate together with a little bit of a fervor. She must have been serious about Alana, and I wasnt about to miss out on my share of the most delicious sushi I ever had in my life. Plus, I could not believe I was actually sitting in THE backyard of THE home of THE Vanessa Gardner with THE Vanessa Gardner. I almost forgot all about the creepy room. All I wanted to do was post copious, play-by-play details on Facebook or text Ernest a hundred times over, but I couldnt. I had to pretend to act calm. After dinner, Vanessa had Alana show me to my room. It happened to be the one she called the creepy room. She thinks it will provide you with inspiration, Alana announced. I followed her inside to what looked like a set designed and furnished to mimic mid-century Colonial revival a la Jacqueline Kennedy. The focal point of the room was a gargantuan piece of furniture with four legs. It sat smack in front of a beautiful bay window that overlooked the yard in which I had just finished sitting and supping with Vanessa. The piece of furniture I refer to was not a table, however. It was what once was considered to be a television set.

Whats so creepy about this room? I had to wonder out loud. I put your stuff over there, Alana said, pointing to a wall of built-in bookshelves which flanked a chair and desk on which a Princess phone rested. Does it work? I made a gesture with my hand as if making a call on a cell phone. The phone works. Just dont expect to DVR anything on that thing. I actually find this room charming. Its a step back in time. To each his own, Alana said and headed for the doorway. The bathroom is set up for you across the hall here. Thanks, I already found my way there. Bet I will get a lot of work done here, I laughed for absolutely no reason at all. There I was, embarrassing myself like a danged fool. Alana didnt seem to care or notice. Still, I cut my laugh short, and regained my pride with a swift, confident walk over to the desk. I saw that, on one wall, there were two framed, painted portraits of two little girls silhouettes one Angela Gardner and one Vanessa Gardner. I imagined that since they were so

famous long ago some artist or another was commissioned by the family to render them. The portraits themselves did seem a little creepy. They were each signed by an unintelligible artist in, as far as I could make out the painted black scrawl, the year 66. Youre leaving on Monday, right? Alana peeked back in the doorway. My flight leaves on Monday at eleven. I swiped my hands across my pants pockets to get rid of some perspiration. A.M. Alana had already headed off calling after Vanessa as she clicked down the hall, Am I supposed to drive your friend back to the airport, too? Wow. Feeling so welcomed, suddenly. Thats also when I realized that the creepy room had no sign of a bed. Just a very ancient, but well-kept patterned upholstered sofa which was centered smack in front of that old television. Next to the sofa was an ashtray-garbage bin combo embossed with a black faux-iron eagle. I decided I would discuss the accommodations with Vanessa after showing what a wonderful house guest I could be. There had to be somewhere else in the house to sleep. I went to take out my equipment and also my toothbrush. I hate forgetting to bring a toothbrush whenever I travel. Unfortunately, its a common

thing so, the sooner I discover I need to run out for one, the better. Getting comfy? EEEY-AHHH! I shrieked. I didnt mean to startle you. Vanessa giggled, and walked into the room and eyed my tape machine. Were a match made in heaven. You like old shit, too. I did have a thing for my old tape machine. Vanessa had a thing for her old television set. She faced me, wearing a green face mask. Her hair was dark. For a woman her age, she must, of course, color it. It was still hard for me to tell since she had it pulled back in a tight bun. I guess we are - sort of - a match. Sorry for staring at you. Dont apologize, she blotted at her face with her fingertips. I havent had the pleasure of meeting many young people who like old stuff. Will you kill me if I touch your machine? She helped herself to pressing a few buttons and stole the microphone from my grasp. I felt nervous. I should not have to tell you, dear reader, why it is so momentous to actually meet a

person like Vanessa Gardner. But, when shes an idol of yours, no explanation is needed. This girl is on fiyahhhh, she sang into the microphone while looking right at me, By the way, Max, my diaries are on those shelves. You might find its easier to just read them and then summarize whatever you like. I dont really think I have much to talk about these days. Besides, what happened happened. Come to think of it, it was getting even creepier in that room. I looked at the floor-to-ceiling shelves. They were all full. Seriously? Nice machine. I get up early. Force of habit. If you hear a lot of banging around at five, its me, Vanessa yawned. Then she stretched and kissed me smack dab on my forehead before walking out of the room. It was then I realized the creepy room had no door. It was a living room, more so than a bedroom. I had no privacy issue about the lack of a door to the room I was sleeping in. But, by around three that morning it became clear that the lack of a door made for an issue or two concerning noise.

I could hear Alana yelling through the walls. Her voice was what woke me up. I heard her voice getting louder as it travelled down the hallway into the bathroom where I then could hear the loud bang of a toilet lid smacking against the tank. A few moments later, there was the sound of a flush, then a faucet running followed by someone else cueing music from another room. It sounded like Credence Clearwater Revival. I do know from hippy music being from my neck of the woods, where I have been graced by Richie Havens and so forth at the Turning Point in Piermont, but that is neither here nor there. No one cares about a stupid message board! There went Alanas voice again, this time very clear. It got a little louder as the bathroom door swung open. What century are you in? I thought I started to detect the faint odor of marijuana entering the creepy room. Then came the distinct sound of Vanessas voice: I care about my fans. Get a life, I heard Alana mutter just as she shut another door in the house. So there I was with the faint stirs of classic rock hits to lull me back to sleep along with some delightful puffs of medicinal pot wafting around. I actually could not get back to sleep and after some time I decided to crack open one of

Vanessas diaries. But, just as I was on my feet there was Vanessa standing there in the doorway. I am sooooo sorry, she whispered loudly. Please. Dont apologize, I whispered back. Alanas a pain in my butt, Vanessa whispered again, this time coming to sit on the sofa. She had a sleep mask pushed up across her forehead. It made her hair beautifully messed up. What do you feel like doing now? You are joking, right? I kept whispering. Of course. I am just waiting for my Ambien to kick in. Want one? Im fine. I sat back down on the sofa next to her. Youre jetlagged and Ive gone and made a disaster of your first nights sleep. Youre not fine. I feel fine, I said as she began working to tuck me in. I hope I dont drive you nuts. I drive Alana nuts, but I am sorry. I am computer challenged. I only know so much about them interwebs. There are a lot of people out there that want to know more, especially about Chas. Did he off himself, just disappear or did he die of heat exposure? What the hell do I

really know? If people want to know more, I will tell them more. As long as there is an audience for it That was about when I felt myself getting drowsy, but I wanted to hear more. She was right. There was still an audience for this stuff. I actually wanted to turn my tape machine on there and then. It sounded like I was capable of capturing something stellar. Then, Vanessa abruptly clammed up. I gotta go before I wind up in the kitchen eating sticks of butter. The expression on my face begged further explanation. This medicine. Its known for making people sleep eat. I, personally, refuse to get to that point and so, off to bed I go. She pushed the sleep mask down a little and left. The next morning was remarkably foggy outside. The house was empty. I discovered this after waking up with a ridiculous backache from sleeping on that couch. When I called out for Alana or Vanessa to ask if they had any aspirin around, there was no answer. I was never one to pry around peoples things and even with my back hurting I resisted the temptation to take a clichd scan of the medicine cabinet. I did, however, sneak into the kitchen

to see if I could get myself a drink of water. I foraged for a glass, ran the faucet and noticed a giant note on the fridge penned in black Sharpie. I stepped closer to read it to the sound of the running tap: Dearest Max, Had to dash out for an appt. Help yourself to anything/everything. If you need a computer, the library is around the block and across the bridge. Open to 5. Will bring home delish dinner, Love, Van P.S. Alana says hi I checked the time. It was eight-thirty. So, the flat-leavers had me on my own the whole day. Hows that for hospitality? I gulped down some tap water, gagged, spit it into the sink and realized two things. One, I had the opportunity to read the diaries. Two, I just drank LA tap water. ***************************************************** Something interrupted me as I was spitting into the sink. It was the faint sound of a digitalized disco hit. My cell phone! I ran into my temporary living room quarters and tore through my bags. It was down to the last ring. Things were getting desperate.

Ernest! I shouted at long last into the phone. A wayward sock flew into my face before falling to the floor. Well? So? How are things, Max? Fabulous. Im getting down to some serious work today. She wants me to read her diaries! Wow, sounds pretty serious. I miss you, Ernest. Which is why you called the moment you landed. I was ridiculously distracted. Forget it. The important thing is you are doing something that really means something to you. Thank you for saying that. You left half of your Vanessa Gardner DVD collection all over the parlor. I had to clean things up fast when Shawn and Elaine came by last evening. Hope you dont mind, but I stashed everything under the bed. Shawn and Elaine came by? Just Shawn and Elaine? Just Shawn and Elaine. Why? Ernests laugh sounded annoyed. Because, silly. We didnt feel like ending the gallery party. His new work is

really something else. It was a madhouse. I could have really used your help. I dont know what you want me to say to that. How about something like I promise to start getting serious about life? Ernest, come on. Look, I have the patience of Job, but sometimes you have your head in the clouds. I am working towards building us a future and me a career. This is where I start to get flustered during each and every conversation with Ernest. I am going to do more than just transcribe interviews for blogs and magazines, Ernest. I am going to be a serious artist in my own way. How? By discovering that Chas Childs offed himself? Did Professor Plum help by clocking him over the head with the candlestick? I cant run a world class gallery without a partner I can count on. Theres Elaine at the door. Shes filling in for you for the next few days. Thats fine.

Have fun, but try to keep your young little head on straight for me, okay? Mwah, mwah, mwah. Whatever you say, Daddy, I said to the sound of the call disconnecting. I often go around saying I am 26. I am really 33. Ernest is 49. After that call, it could not have been a more opportune time to trek to the local library with a few of Vanessas diaries and a heap load of my own ambition. It was time to get down to biznatch. The walk to the library allowed me to see more of Vanessas tranquil, somewhat average suburban neighborhood. It happens to be fancy enough, with BMWs and a Lexus or three parked in just about every driveway, but somehow it registered as so-so for me. The sound of leaf blowers buzzed through the silence as landscapers performed their work for the day. Several automatic sprinkler systems spat water onto lush, green lawns that seemed dotted with the same kind of arrangement of flowers. There were a ton of roses blooming in just about every color imaginable. Red? Yes. Pink? Sure. Lavender? Peach? I could go on. There was a quiet corner at the end of the street which looped around to a foot bridge. It really was pretty darned

quiet, except now I could hear traffic from the legendary 405 freeway whooshing to and fro in the distance. I wondered where Vanessa went off to, but, unlike the rest of her life, that was really none of my business. I jest, because of course, it is partly my business. When I crossed the foot bridge, I was excited to see the library ahead. I could not wait to get in there, sit down and start reading the diaries that I had taken for my first official day on the job. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I took a seat at a table where a placard informed me that I would need to scoot somewhere else at 3pm due to tutoring sessions. I placed the diaries onto the table and took a deep breath. Christmas 1966 to January 1968 read the cover of a standard-issue composition book. It looked like the earliest dated specimen, so I opened the cover and Who ordered the pepperoni pizza? A librarian called out. Other patrons looked about as shocked as me, and turned to look at one another hoping to find the culprit. I looked down at the first page and began reading Vanessas bubbly, loopy schoolgirl handwritten words.

I love him. I dont care if Daddy says hes married. He seems to love me right back. EEEEEEEEEE! This is better than the day we got George Harrisons autograph! Jason? Is this your lunch? the librarian hollered. I lifted my eyes from the page I was reading. The librarian ushered the pizza guy over to the check out desk. Ill be back in half an hour, this Jason announced. Help yourself to a slice, Betty. Can a library-goer get some quiet? Apparently not, for a gaggle of pre-school kids who were showing up for 11 am story hour quickly trampled in, drowning out the pizza delivery melodrama. Yee gods! Story HOUR. Just then my pocket started buzzing. Its not what you think, dear reader. It was a call coming in from Ernest again. I let it go and quickly tapped out a text informing him that I could not be interrupted as I was in the thick of working. Bling! A chat message bubble interrupted me. ARTHUR B.: Need code for credit card swiper. ME: Busy, here. ARTHUR B.: Have buyer standing here for the Mitchell Moan-Eh piece. Where is it?

ME: In my head. ARTHUR B.: ??! ME: 4455001111222223 I turned the phone off and tried ignoring the crying and whimpering from the kids who were terrified, apparently, of anything by Maurice Sendak. Back to reading I went. Vanessa was dating Chas when he was married. By the date on the notebook, she would have been 14-years old. I turned to the next page. Angela gets all the good parts and all the attention. What a drag. Taking the bus tomorrow to No. Hollywood. Ill make it there. People dont care about how you look. They only care about how you act. Ill show them. Im really kind of new at all this Hollywood business stuff, but if I am not mistaken, I believe Vanessa would have been indicating a trip to where they make porn. I needed to find out more, so I signed up for computer time. It made me feel like a fourth grader, signing my name on a sheet with a golf-score pencil. Thats a public library for you. Once logged in, I got distracted by the usual temptations: checking Facebook, checking my horoscope, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I often used to bide my online time by looking up all

the details I could on every single thing Vanessa Gardner ever did in her professional acting career. Besides my favorite cult movie, she did a lot of small parts in some very popular pictures of the day as well as television. Before she quit acting altogether at the ripe old age of seventeen, she was a veritable Rita Tushingham. She was ubiquitous. The fascination I had with her began a long time ago. I was a fourth grader, in fact. I got made fun of a lot. I was a confused kid, just leave it at that. When I discovered Vanessa Gardner, I was home with a made-up flu watching cable. This was back in the days when there were buttons a person actually had to press on a little box thingy that was attached to the television by a cord in order to watch anything. There she was in a movie called Children of Now, a grainy 60s picture with a mono soundtrack and a B-movie look. She was dressed up in a suit with a Little Boy Blue cap and knee high white kick boots. She was supposed to be a rebel of the youth gangs of the day, dressed to be neither really a girl or a boy, but something in between. In the story, it was because this supposed youth gang did not believe in passing any judgment. If you were male or female, you were equal. Black or white same thing. I was immediately hooked. She was so confident and

such a heroine to me. What guts for a girl like that to let herself be such a powerful character. I would have loved to be able to go to school dressed as either a boy or a girl and not give a crap, to be honest. But, such things are made for movies like the one I first watched Vanessa star in. Of course, the version I was looking at did not show the scene where she goes topless. That movie is one reason why I started getting into Vanessa in the first place. In the second place, the topless scene was of particular interest to me after reading that passage in her diary about heading up to North Hollywood. Perhaps she was relegated to some degree of porn because shortly after that picture was released, her career went sideways. I am sure it had something to do with getting caught up with Chas Childs. Chas Childs appeared in every hot rod movie there was in the early 1960s. He was cool in the movies, but in real life, he was a bad ass. All the girls went Eeeeeeeee! over Chas Childs. Personally, I think Vanessa would have been better off having never crossed paths with him. Bling! Intercepted by a chat bubble, once again. ARTHUR B: Still alone at Library?

ME: Yes. ARTHUR B: WTF? ME: What? ARTHUR B: Where is your movie star friend? ME: |. I have no idea why Ernest would ask that nor why he would care, except to burst my Vanessa bubble. ARTHUR B: Did she just desert you? Take hint!

Pop. No more bubble. ME: Researching. Talk later! I decided to just let the chat hang whether Ernest replied or not. Come to think of it, it was getting late in the day. I decided to generously give my remaining ten minutes of computer time to someone else and read some more diaries instead. It was nearing three oclock when I finished with half of the first diary. She did a lot of drawing, I must tell you. Hearts, bubbles, balloons, rainbows and smiley faces. She was in love with life and everyone in it. Hold up. That is a somewhat of a lie. From what I could read in diary number one, she did not love everyone. She hated her twin

sister, Angela, who, by all accounts, was a much more successful kid actress than Vanessa ever could be. She was on network television for years on a highly rated show. I packed up my things and headed back to the house. I had to wonder what the significance was of Alana living with Vanessa instead of her own mother, who would be Angela. How in the world could Ernest not understand how excruciatingly important this project was to me? I caught back up with Vanessa and Alana later on when we all headed off to this neat-o restaurant for dinner called Home. Vanessa made Alana drive and made me sit in the back seat with her. No one said anything to me about their whereabouts for the day. I figured it was none of my business, so I didnt bother asking. If only I knew then where Vanessa went off to for hours and hours at a time some days, but I will tell you more about that later on. If I told you now, I would have to end the story right --Here. How was work today, Max? Fine. Details, details! Vanessa implored.

Some stupid, noisy and totally rude librarians ordered a pizza before noon and went on and on about it. I got distracted by a bunch of kids attending story hour and, well, its a small miracle that I was able to read your entire first diary. Alana hit the brakes just then. They squealed. Vanessa and I were thrust forward. No one said anything for a moment. That was when I noticed how pink and orange the sky was getting. I never thought of Los Angeles as being scenic, and most areas did nothing to change my opinion. At that moment, though coming off whichever freeway it was into a cement buildingblocked neighborhood, I could make out the grass on a hill or two. When a hill would merge with the setting sun, it made the silhouettes of all the palm trees more noticeable. It made me feel mellow. Is this your first California sunset, Max? Huh? Yes. It kind of is. Hear that Alana? We get to be with him during his first time. Hardy har har, said Alana as she hit the gas. Look at that stupid idiot trying to pass me. You fu--- Never been out this way not ever, Max? A lay over en route to San Francisco, but...

Alana and Vanessa shared a look in the rearview mirror, then lifted their arms up and sang: Go to San-fra-ahn-ciscoh-oh! I got Alana into Zappa years ago. Know what, Max? You are about to have your mind expanded here, Vanessa warned me with a shake of her index finger. If ever a New Yorker needed a mind expansion, LA is the place to have it done. Can I get a butt implant at the same time? Outwardly, I made it appear as if I were humoring things. Inside, I really couldnt believe how Vanessa Gardner was so much like the Vanessa Gardner I saw in my favorite movies. Isnt he a hoot, Alana? So, what did you think of my first diary? Now here is where I suddenly made another discovery during my jaunt to Los Angeles. A person like Vanessa probably wanted me to say Oooh or Aaah over all the details of her private life. As if someone like her, with some exposure and notoriety has a leg up in life experiences simply because she is a Someone of sorts. It was -- I dragged it out for dramatic effect.

A real mind expander! The best you ever read! Go on, its not like I dont know how great I am, she grinned. It was ---pretty good. Prettygood? Alana parked us along the street. We got out to continue our discussion on the way to Home, where Alana decided we would ask to be seated outside since it was such a nice evening. We sat down and Vanessa took off her sunglasses and hat. Then she looked at me with a serious expression. You are going to start using that old tape machine on me right? Yes, I need to eventually. I need something to transcribe. I dont want to mess up any details. I wouldnt mind if you messed up any details. As long as the story flows, what the heck do I care about accuracy? There she went and grinned again. You dont mind, then, if I make stuff up? Im saying if something needs embellishing or sprucing up, embellish it and spruce it up. The sun had completely disappeared by the time our drink order arrived at the table. Strings of lights were turned on,

dotting the potted shrubs surrounding our table with the magic of holiday glitter even though it was the middle of the year. Look. You offered to tell us your story, so whatever you want to do I can agree to doing. After all, I just transcribe stuff. No. You dont just do anything. When interviewing is done, I usually spend more time transcribing. Then, and only then, comes the writing part. Sounds like a sucky job, Alana murmured. Alana, mind your macaroni and cheese. Max, dont put yourself down like that. I wish you could have a talk with my boyfriend, Ernest. He thinks I waste my time. I dont make a lot of money, thats for sure. Hed rather I quit this hobby as he calls it and work for him full time. Vanessa sipped at her iced tea and then smiled at me. It looked sincere. Then she asked, What did you really think of my first diary? Your work has inspired me and changed my life. How could I not love your diary? I sighed at my iced tea.

Whats the problem, then? Vanessa looked right into me. Instead of making me a nervous wreck, her intense gaze egged me on. I am sure that meeting Chas Childs for the very first time made you feel just like the day you felt when you met George Harrison. However, I would love to get more from you. I have the funny feeling as accurate as your diaries seem, theyre missing some details. Im missing some details. Im over sixty, Max. Its going to be very difficult to tell you things in detail. However Vanessa trailed off and turned to Alana. Tell Johnny to give us the back room for the rest of the night. Alana shoveled another forkful of macaroni and cheese into her mouth, doused it with a gulp of iced tea and then looked up to snap her fingers at some guy in the distance. Go get your tape machine from the car, Max. And with that, dear reader, I began the odyssey of learning the truth about Vanessa, Chas and what happened way back in time. I was gifted a pen and some paper from a kind soul at the bar when he saw me walk in with my machine. He had also seen me walk in with Vanessa Gardner moments before. It felt neat to get

recognized. Kind of recognized, but still! We worked until the wee hours of the morning, drinking pale ales and getting buzzed and tired. It was a good tired. Alana kept herself up with endless cups of sugar-free sweetened black coffee. For someone who was by all outward accounts slightly shallow, Alana was also pretty loyal and supportive to her aunt. I really should not end things like this with you, but I am afraid that I need to let Vanessas story take over from here. You wont miss me that much.

Jets constantly roar and whine over a stretch of vacant land fenced in along the coastline. They head to their destinations, peeling out over sand dunes and glistening ocean waves. Long ago, there were inhabitants on this now deserted, overgrown space. They built tract homes here complete with picket fences, driveways and yards. This is where the Gardner family set up a place they called home. That was before their house, and many others, were deliberately taken over and destroyed, leaving behind remnants and traces of this former inhabitation - a handful of staircases

that lead to nowhere, an occasional street lamp, a lone mailbox poking through a patch of ghostly weeds. In its heyday, this area was a thriving, ideal suburban neighborhood. The Gardners home was a lot like the ones around it with the exception of Mrs. Gardners rose garden. She liked to think her roses were the best on the block, mostly because she prided herself on her good English genes. Why a lovely woman from Liverpool would find herself betrothed to a gruff and husky, but well-meaning Bronx native like George Gardner had many people wondering throughout the years. They had a dutiful bond between them as well as a sense of humor and their two beautiful daughters, fraternal twins, Angela and Vanessa. George never wanted his kids to suffer the same difficulties in life growing up as he did so when he proved to himself that success was possible, he stopped at nothing to ensure the same fate would befall his two girls. He had started a career as a photographer for the New York Times. A few odd jobs turned into big advertising deals which paid well enough for George to head out west with his wife and infant daughters. There was gold out there in those hills, as far as George was concerned. It was in the form of a newfangled thing called network television.

He had a good eye for subjects, and quickly transferred his photography skills into casting skills. By the time his children were five years old, he had enough experience and enough contacts to start shopping them around town. He took headshots of the two girls himself, and made sure his wife Marjorie took them to all of their acting and ballet classes on time, every time - even if the kids had the sniffles. Marjorie was obedient, but never a pushover. There were one or two times she lied and told George she had taken the girls to Miss Liberties Dance Studio when, in fact, she had actually taken them to a doctors visit instead, fearing the sniffles would progress into something worse. She did her best to temper Georges increasing drive to succeed. Eventually, Georges efforts paid off. At least, they did for Angela. In 1963, at the ripe old age of 12, Angela was cast as the lead in The Peggy Powell Show. Vanessa was not. The show took off. Jealousy ensued. Georges ego grew. Marjorie had to work harder at keeping the family peace. Vanessa had to figure out how to be plain-old Vanessa in the bright shadow of her rising-star of a sister. It was during the height of the shows, and Angelas success, that the family attended a particular Christmas party where things changed for Vanessa forever. She had failed to pass

a Congesperin commercial audition earlier that week and was feeling particularly miserable. It was only the third audition her Dads agency had been able to nab her in six months, and it was the third one she had botched up. Why bother trying when theres a sister who is already doing spectacularly? Still, there was something compelling about being able to be on that magic box that people sat in front of by the millions. It seemed like it would be delicious to get the same kind of attention as her sister did, especially since Vanessa knew in her heart she could be so much better. If only she could pass an audition for something more dignified than a nauseating cold medicine commercial. On that fateful night in December 1966, George drove the family Impala to agent Grace Adams Christmas party like he was captain of the Santa Maria. The smoke from his Dutch Treat made Marjorie cough quietly to herself so as not to disrupt his keen focus on not just the road, but the business he was about to undertake. Grace recently partnered with George to form the AdamsGardner Talent Agency. At 50, she looked 35 and was ready to pass her natural-blond, artificially glamorous self off as a Hollywood maven. She could pick out the perfect person for any part child, middle-aged adult or canine. She was gaining

prestige in the casting world and George was succeeding by proxy. The girls bickered in the back seat as the car sailed past yards and palm trees decorated for the holiday season. Who cant pass a commercial audition? Angela taunted Vanessa. Your career is doomed. Girls, Marjorie scolded, Cant we just stop the fighting and admire the lovely decorations? Mrs. Adams has fabulous candy cane lights outside. Arent they gorgeous, George? The car slowed. George put it in reverse. GoddammmmmnHow the hell is anyone supposed to park here? Look at that XKE over there! Angela sighed. Daddy you were right, Chas Childs is here. Thats right, pumpkin dumpling. Hes bound to cast in a billion trillion dollar picture with me and Grace around. George whistled in amazement at his potential while backing the car into a tight spot. Youre driving into the curb, Vanessa noted. She opened her mirrored compact to inspect herself and frowned. Chas Childs is really gorgeous.

Hes going to be worth bazillions because of me, concluded George. Lets show these people how to get some work done. Grace greeted The Gardner family at the door. She immediately ushered Angela inside. The living room was buzzing with partygoers, caterers, recognizable actors, lighted Christmas decorations and a tree that bent over a few inches as it hit the ceiling. A slight hush came over the room as Angela was introduced. Everyone? This is Adams-Gardners most famous new client Angela. Star of the number-one rated Peggy Powell show. Grace gave George a knowing wink as the partygoers applauded and Angela curtsied. She then politely took Angelas sweater and indicated for Marjorie and Vanessa to follow her. Gee, Grace you are laying it on, thick. But, I like it. I like it, George grinned with his burnt-out cigar wedged between his teeth. A waiter with a tray of drinks nearly bumps into Vanessa. Got any bourbon? The waiter shook his head. Drats, said Vanessa and continued following Mrs. Adams into a room where coats and sweaters piled up on a spare bed.

You have a lovely tree up, Grace. Thank you for saying so, Marjorie. George busied himself by finding the nearest recognizable soul and a fresh tray of drinks. He had work to do. Angela was already busy working the party. She had work to do, too, showing off to the world that she was every bit as cute as she appeared to be on television. Vanessa? What happened at the audition? came Graces voice. She gently pulled Vanessa back towards the spare bedroom. That? I had my mind on other things that day. I dont think you were focusing. Grace read Vanessas guilty expression and quickly made the effort to save things. Who the hell wants anything to do with a second rate pain reliever, anyway? Well start fresh when the new year arrives. Remember, luck comes from persistence. Yes, okay, mumbled Vanessa. How about you go downstairs with the young people and grab some cake? I had it catered from the most famous cake place on the planet. Really? Vanessa wondered aloud with a good dose of feigned enthusiasm.

You know it! Grace feigned back to her. Just where is the most famous cake place on the planet, Ms. Adams? Im not telling, Grace joked as she led Vanessa to her downstairs den. She helped Vanessa get a slice of green-icing slathered wreath cake. It was speckled with silver confectioner balls which Vanessa decided were too gross to eat. While Vanessa picked at her cake, Grace trailed off back to where the business was being conducted with George and Angela. Vanessa was looking for a place to put her unwanted silver balls when her whole entire life changed. Thats a nice looking piece of cake. There before her stood Chas Childs. Vanessa looked around some more, unsure whether or not he was addressing her. I am talking to you. His voice was deep, but soft. He sipped at a Coors and grinned. He dressed impeccably in a v-neck sweater and khakis. His twinkled stare practically bore a hole into Vanessas heart. She swooned a little. Then he asked: Youre Angela Gardners sister?

Vanessa felt herself come apart inside. Must be tough. Its hard enough for me to do this all on my own, Chas mused softly, rescuing her without realizing it. I cant imagine having to compete with a sister. He reached for another beer from a cooler near the table, cracked off the tab and gulped half the can in one swallow. Feel like going for a ride? He asked, finishing the beer in another gulp. Vanessa didnt know what to do. Should she stop eating the cake? Where would she put her hands? Why was a hot-rod movie star like Chas Childs asking her to go for a ride? Chas winked at a few of the young kids in the den who were waving goodbye to him as they left Graces party. I cant. Parents. Upstairs. Vanessas response was coherent, but extraordinarily awkward. Chas didnt seem to care. No one will know. See? I have a guarantee, Chas leaned over to whisper in her hear, from a Voodoo priestess in New Orleans who makes any wish I have come true. If I want to take a pretty girl for a ride, her parents will neverever, find out. Vanessa was a goner by this point. She managed not to swoon as she followed Chas out a back door and down a walkway which

was railed off from a postage-stamp sized yard. As soon as she got into his XKE, her whole life went in a completely different direction and did so at nearly 90 miles per hour the night she met Chas Childs. As promised, he had her back at the party like nothing had happened. During the time she was out with him, he had showed her off at a hamburger joint to some friends and fans, introducing her as his new girlfriend.