CHAPTER TEN
When Bobby’s flight landed at LaGuardia Airport, hundreds of girls awaited him. It took a phalanx of police officers to get him and his manager to Stronzo’s car. Four officers on motorcycles accompanied them to the Leonettis’ house, where hundreds of additional young women surrounded the eight-foot chain-link fence. A police officer with a
bullhorn ordered them off the driveway so that Stronzo could drive in.
“This is incredible,” Bobby exclaimed.
“Didn’t I tell you to stick with me?”
“You sure did, Mr. Stronzo! I’ll never doubt you again.”
When Bobby got out of the car, the girls went wild. He gaped at the spectacle.
Stronzo nudged him. “Wave to them, Bobby.”
He did. The young women screamed.
“Now, go sign some autographs.”
With Stronzo in the background, Bobby spent the next half-hour passing autographs through the fence. Finally, the two of them went in the house.
Bobby collapsed into a chair. “I caused all that?”
“What did I tell you? The formula works.”
When Allison got home from the supermarket, she shouted obscenities at Bobby’s fans until the police got them away from her car and the driveway. In the house, Maria thrust a small paper rectangle into her face.
“What the hell...?”
“It’s Bobby’s advance check. Look how much it’s for!”
Vince danced around the living. “We can pay off the mortgage and buy a Cadillac!”
“And,” said Bobby, “I can get that groovy ten-speed Schwinn with the handlebar radio!”
Allison looked at the check. “What the hell took them so long?”
Her brother said, “Cloaca was afraid to sign me because I was a new artist. Before they gave me any money, they wanted to make sure I wouldn’t stiff.”
“Well, you’re not stiffing commercially. Artistically, well, that’s another story.”
Vince sighed. “Again with the goddamned negativeness. Ain’t you never satisfied with nothing?”
“Sorry, dad. I just don’t believe in unearned success.”
Bobby demanded, “What do you mean, unearned?”
Rather than start another fight, Allison went upstairs and flicked on the radio. She lit a cigarette, collapsed onto the bed, and exhaled smoke toward the ceiling as Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On?” filled her grateful ears.
“Take Good Care Of My Baby” had a short but dramatic chart life. During its seven weeks on Billboard magazine’s “Hot 100” chart, the single moved thusly: 73-29-18-7-7-22-91. No sooner did “Take Good Care Of My Baby” leave the top ten then Cloaca released a new single, “Cotton Candy Love,” which climbed to number two and spent four months on the charts. (It tickled Allison that the song that kept her brother’s song from hitting number one was a soul record, “Lean On Me” by Bill Withers.) Meanwhile, Bobby’s debut album remained on that chart for six months, peaking at number twelve and earning him a platinum record. With his new star in great demand for personal appearances, Stronzo booked a thirty-city tour.
Each concert was sold out. The only audience members over age fifteen were the parents of the girls who had cajoled them into taking them to see this month’s dreamboat. In Milwaukee, an amused Stronzo overheard a disgusted mother telling her daughter, “He’s lip-synching, for god’ sake! Perry Como and Dinah Shore never lip-synched.”
At each concert, the souvenir stand hawked Bobby Dreamland buttons, earrings, lunchboxes, records, and fan club memberships, as well as a paperback entitled The Secret of Bobby Dreamland, whose cover ostentatiously proclaimed, “All about BOBBY from the day he was born right up till today!!!”
Stronzo also had two batches of pins made up. One read, “I LOVE BOBBY DREAMLAND.” The other read, “I HATE BOBBY DREAMLAND.” Both sold equally well.
The tour ended in Los Angeles with Bobby’s second appearance on “The Kenny Kendall Show.” For the second time, Kendall tried to convince Stronzo to get Bobby to go to bed with him. For the second time, Stronzo politely but steadfastly refused.
In his dressing room after the performance, somebody knocked on the door. Expecting it to either be Kendall or Stronzo, he called out, “It’s open.”
To Bobby’s surprise, it was neither Kendall nor Stronzo, but a rather well-proportioned girl with gorgeous blue eyes and long, curled blonde hair.
“Oh my god,” she squealed, “it’s really you!” The girl ran up to Bobby, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard on the mouth. “I love you, Bobby!”
Gasping for breath Bobby asked, “Who-who are you?”
“I’m Ginger, and I’m your biggest fan.”
“How’d you get backstage?”
“Wiggled my ass for the security guard. Works every time. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you still a virgin?”
Bobby became defensive. “What’s it to you?”
“Because I want to be the girl who deflowered Bobby Dreamland.” Ginger dropped to her knees and unzipped Bobby’s pants.
Once she had left, Bobby, dressed only in a terrycloth robe and smiling giddily, relaxed on the couch. The young man took a slug from a bottle of Pepsi, threw his head back and shouted, “God, I love being a rock star!”