Kiss and Tell (15 page)

BATHING SUIT PHOTOS - THEN AND NOW (24 YEARS’ DIFFERENCE)

I guested on a lot of television shows—
Frasier, Married With Children, Wings
—all the big sitcoms. But still nothing happened; I never broke out in a big way. Odd things happened, too. On
Married With Children,
I played myself. I kept asking them, “Are you sure about this?” On another show they were going to use my name for my character, but I thought of a better name, a really trampy porn-star name, so they went with that. Sometimes the writers would see the humor about my level of fame, but I wasn’t sure that my fame was quite as wide as they thought, and I wasn’t sure anyone would get the joke. They would want to do a joke about the movie sequels
Night Eyes 3, 4, 5, 6
and
7.
I thought it was too obscure; that if they hadn’t seen the first straight-to-video films, people wouldn’t get it. But the
Night Eyes
sequels turned out to be very successful for their time.

It’s all on a bigger scale now. Everything in the business has evolved. The quality of straight-to-video (or DVD) is better. The crap is crappier, big hits are bigger, and sex is sexier. Characters are humping and giving blow jobs every week on
Sex and the City.
That was absolutely unheard-of on television in the eighties. At that time, my simulated sex scenes in straight-to-video movies were considered very trampy. When I see my old movies now, they’re boring! But they were so risqué at the time—not porn, but very titillating. These movies had enough of a plotline so late-nighters wouldn’t get too bored, and enough sex to keep them watching. I just tried to rise above the material and make it better. I knew that the “A” list writers wouldn’t be writing material for me anytime soon, so I had to do the best I could with what I had.

I have a small fan base, so I always know when one of my projects is on television. A lot of times, though, people will come up to me and say, “Don’t I know you from somewhere…I just can’t place you.” That’s the kind of fame I’ve always had. They can’t think of my name, or where they saw me, but they know my face. I’ve always been a little under the radar. It’s been good, though; very good. I’m just glad to be working at all.

Chapter Ten

Nicholas

I
think in life it is better to be the one who is adored rather than the one who is doing the adoring. Everyone’s mother says, “Make sure he loves you more than you love him,” for a reason. It’s a good rule of thumb, and it doesn’t even necessarily have to be true, as long as you believe it. If you really believe that he loves you more than you love him, you’re on the right track. And if he really believes that you love him more than he loves you, then you’re both in a really good position. Both sides are happy when they have that feeling. And Gene and I both have that feeling…always have.

There is one area where I will not compromise in a relationship, and I know Gene wouldn’t either, if he should ever get into another one. Which he won’t—I’ll make sure of that. That place is being completely honest, not playing games.

And he was honest. Gene had a spiel (that I’ve now proved to be at least half untrue). He always said very adamantly, “I do not want to have children, ever. It is not something I think I would be good at or wish to do. And I never, never want to get married.”

The first two years Gene and I spent together were so great, so joyous and just so much fun. I had never been treated so well in my life by anyone. He said he was happy too. Of course the topic of marriage and children came up, but most guys say they don’t want them. I took it with a grain of salt. There aren’t too many men out there saying, “I can’t wait to get married and have a child.” Sometimes, of course, I’d ponder my situation. I’d think,
What, I’m going to spend 20 years with this guy and then wake up one day and be 50, and I won’t be able to get another guy, and I still won’t be married? It can’t happen to me!
And here it is, 22 years later: I’m nearing 50, and I’m still not married, but it doesn’t feel like it. And I mean that in a good way—a very good way.

After a couple years together Gene told me definitively that he wasn’t going to marry me. As I said, that was nothing new; every guy I ever knew told me that, but I always thought marriage was a given. Like so many little girls, I was raised watching Disney movies in which the heroine marries the prince. My mom had a wonderful marriage until shit happened. All my friends, men and women both, were getting married, some for the second time. I loved Gene, and I knew he loved me. I just felt like, “Hey, wait, when do I get the party, the celebration, the wedding?” It’s never been a deal breaker, though. I’m not laying down an ultimatum that I can’t live up to. I’m not leaving if Gene doesn’t propose, which puts me in a peculiar catch-22.

I couldn’t change his views on the marriage issue. We were happy, we were in love, no one was going anywhere; but he was not getting married. So we decided to draw up legal papers that spelled out our living arrangement. I have to admit it was rather devastating at the time, but I was working my ass off, making lots of money, and soon enough I just had to say, “What do I care?” On the other hand, it was also kind of comforting, because he took the trouble to write it down, to make sure I was taken care of no matter what happened. He loved me more than I thought, more than I hoped. It proves once again that love and marriage are not the same thing.

The big issue with Gene and marriage, I believe, goes back to his father leaving his mother, and her not knowing what to do, and being poor. But you know what? His mother did fine, and so did mine. I don’t know why he is so adamant about not getting married; it borders on “Methinks thou dost protest too much.” My God, whenever anyone mentions the word marriage the man goes off on a rant. We all know how he feels; he wrote a whole book about it. But how long do I have to be called
my girlfriend, mother of my children, my lover?
Aren’t all of these things the same as “my wife?”

I faced the fact there is not another guy on earth who wants to avoid marriage as much as Gene does, at least from a financial standpoint. Look, I think most men who could have everything exactly the same as it was in their lives—the sex, the companionship, and the children—without getting married, would probably choose not to marry. Gene was absolutely not going to budge. One person had to give up something in our situation, so I gave up my dream of finding a conventional Prince Charming and getting married. I learned that Prince Charming apparently has several different looks, and Gene learned I wasn’t giving up on motherhood.

One thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to have children. I had known from our first few months together. I didn’t know when or how it would happen, but I knew I had to change Gene’s mind about having a family. Because Gene was “it.” And if Gene was “it,” then they were going to be his children. I had already compromised on the marriage part, but there was no way I was giving up on having children. At some point I knew we were going to have to discuss it.

As usual, Gene was the one doing all the discussing. He was the one saying loud and clear, over and over, “I don’t want children. I don’t want to be a father. I don’t want…I don’t want…” So I asked, “Well, what do you want? What do you want out of me, of this, of us?” And he told me, “I want what we have. Isn’t it good like it is now?”

I reminded him, “You didn’t even want that. You weren’t looking for a relationship when we met. I don’t think you know what you want. I’m going to
tell
you what it is you want!”

Around the five-year mark I felt a little restless, like “Somebody’s got to make a move.” We needed to clear all of this up. We’d had The Discussion at the two-year mark, when we signed the papers concerning our living arrangements, but I could still not quite wrap my mind around the idea that I wouldn’t be able to change his mind about having a family. Until I could accept this idea, I had a little nagging feeling in the back of my mind:
I really love him, but, but, but
…The
little tick-tock of my clock was starting. I knew I wanted children someday, and I was sad because I thought it might not be with Gene. I was giving the relationship my all, but it was never going to be enough for me without kids. I was happy and not happy. It was bittersweet.

Given all that, it was still a complete surprise when I discovered I was pregnant. Gene had returned home after being on the road for a long time, and we’d had a very passionate reunion on the bathroom floor, rug burns and all. I had a funny little feeling the next morning that something had changed. A fleeting thought went through my mind, but I pushed it away:
Nah, it can’t be.
I certainly had not planned it physically. There would have come a time, as I got older, when I would have put my foot down about having children, but I wasn’t at that point. I was on the pill, I was using contraceptive sponges, and so to say it was a shock when I confirmed that I was pregnant would be an understatement. What were the odds, I wondered, if you had sex every day for five years…?

I told my sister Tracy, who was very excited. My own feelings were more mixed.
Will he be angry? Will he think I’m trying to trap him?
I had two options. One, I could get rid of the baby and keep the guy, or keep the baby and the guy would leave…
maybe.
I decided I was keeping my baby. I had never known another man like Gene; every other guy I had ever been with was a drinker, a druggie, or just emotionally unavailable. I had never even wanted anyone else’s children, and there were a few millionaires I could easily have tricked if that kind of behavior was in my makeup. It came down to this: I was 33 years old and I wasn’t getting married anytime soon, but I was going to have this baby. I had already had one abortion. I started counting backwards. That baby would have been 15 years old. It didn’t take much thinking before I decided I was not going to do that again. All these thoughts were running through my mind, and I just decided, “I’m keeping it. I’m working, I can manage if he doesn’t want anything to do with it.”

I held that thought firmly, and I got ready to break the news, but I just couldn’t seem to find the right time. One evening we went to a big charity event at the Santa Monica racetrack. The news was burning a hole in my heart. We were standing around with Sherry Lansing, the head of Paramount Pictures; Joyce Bogart, whose charity event were attending; and several other people. I was so petrified, I couldn’t understand a word of what anyone was saying; it was all just background noise. All of a sudden I blurted out, “I have something to tell you.”

Gene was, and is, always great about giving me my own light. He would get out of the way when it was my turn for the spotlight or when someone wanted to interview me. If we were going down the line of paparazzi at a premiere and they asked me a question, he would stand out of the way or move entirely out of the picture frame. It was really sweet. So at this moment he was not noticing my panic. He got the usual expectant look on his face that said, “She’s going to speak, and it will be wonderful.” I felt sorry for him. I was going to drop a bomb on the man who had told me adamantly, so many times, that he would never have children or want them. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. There was safety in numbers; we were surrounded, and by women. So I said, “You’re going to be a dad.”

The blood drained from Gene’s face. I was glad we were in a public place. He couldn’t throw a fit or start screaming or do anything crazy, but I had absolutely no idea what kind of response I would get. The people with us slipped away silently, and Gene took my arm and led me a few feet away.

“I’m pregnant,” I clarified.

“Are you sure?” he said, when he could speak.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure,” I told him.

“Well, what are we going do about this?” he asked me.

“Well, I’m having a baby. I don’t know what you’re going to do, but that’s what I’m going to do.” The words were tough but I was shaking. I figured this was it; this was the end. I was prepared to hear, “Well, good-bye, have a nice baby and a nice life.” Although that kind of dumping would have been out of character for Gene, you never know how a cornered animal will react.

We drove home in the car together that night, and all he could say was, “Shannon. Shannon.” Repeating my name, over and over. I was trying to make light of it, saying, “Gene, Daddy?” But he was just stunned into silence. For once. He had a helpless, throw-your-hands-in-the-air look on his face for days. For the first time in his life he had no control over a situation, and he was angry, surprised, worried, and helpless, though I thought I could perceive a tiny glimmer of excitement.

I have to say that all the signs pointed to us not making it. He had been so clear about not wanting a family; I was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get past the feelings of anger and betrayal. I really wanted to make him understand that this wasn’t a con or a trap I had set to snag him. A few tense days later I laid it out in kind of a pathetic way. I told him, “I can live here and have the baby, or I can live by myself or with my sister and have the baby.” What I didn’t do was give Gene the option of not having a baby. It was A or B—I’ll have the baby here, or I’ll have the baby somewhere else,
but I’m having the baby.

He remained stunned. He didn’t like either choice; and he knew that suggesting I have an abortion would have been an extremely bad idea on his part. I wasn’t giving up this baby. With the genes of the only straight and intelligent man I’d ever really loved? I think not!

Even though I didn’t want him to feel in any way held captive by this, in essence he was trapped. He was going to have a child now, and although he would not have to deal with it physically if he didn’t want to, he would have deal with it emotionally. I felt sorry for him as he struggled with a situation he had not bargained for, even if I knew he would make a great father.

I steeled myself for anything, but I knew I would be fine on my own. I was not going to terminate my pregnancy if he left me. Women raise children on their own all the time. My mom had raised hers, and I had friends who’d done the same. I wasn’t particularly scared of the prospect; I was ready to be a mother. All I could do was go ahead, just live my life day to day, and wait to see what Gene would decide. At the time I was doing a movie with Bill Maher, and it was very wacky being pregnant on the set. I was strengthened by talks with Adrienne Barbeau, who’d been trying to get pregnant for a long time (she has since had twins) and so had a very sympathetic ear. She was supportive and comforting, as were my sister and other close friends.

Gene didn’t walk away. I had already planned to go visit him on KISS’s European tour that year, and even though I was three months pregnant, I didn’t change my plans. Gene was starting to warm up to the idea by the time he left for the tour, but there was still a hint of anger. He felt like he’d been had—the one thing he’d sworn over and over that he did not want. I sympathized, but not enough to give in.

I was happy with my decision, and even happier that he hadn’t just taken off immediately. I grew bigger and bigger and decided to have the amniocentesis testing. I thought when the results revealed more about our baby, maybe Gene would feel differently about everything. I had joined him on tour and we were in London when I got the call from the doctor, who told me it was a boy. I was absolutely thrilled, jumping up and down on the bed, and Gene all of a sudden got very excited. From that moment on he introduced me as, “This is Shannon. She is going to be the mother of my son.”

It was a 360-degree turn.