You Only Get One Life (15 page)

He broke the ice doing the
Playboy
mansion scene. Naked girls were everywhere and all the boys had a tricky time concentrating on their jobs. I just wanted to get the scene
over with. Suddenly everyone started laughing and I thought even Tony would be really annoyed – he’s a nice guy, but when he’s working he’s deadly serious. I looked down and Eddie had glued a mirror to one of his shoes and caused hysteria by comically sliding his foot under the girls’ little dresses – mine too, grinning as he did a comic double-check of the situation below. He was just so brilliant at dissolving the tensions of life on set. ‘You see how you are?’ I said, pretending to tell him off. ‘And you’re supposed to be the star? Forget it!’

When we got to the firing range scene I used a real gun – that’s where I got my gun licence and I carried a little .22. I loved those times, different to
Red Sonja
but great to be a part of it. However, I was still aware that I was in some ways in competition with my own husband. I think he was okay with me doing films so long as there wasn’t a chance that I would do better than he did. I don’t know why he would think that – perhaps to save me, perhaps it was a power thing. I just had the feeling that I wasn’t free to do too much.

It was during our marriage that I finally got to realise another dream I’d held for as long as I could remember. A Spanish recording company, WEA International, asked me to record an album. Their stars included Amanda Lear, Bad English, Cheap Trick and The Three Degrees. How exactly I fitted into that roster I wasn’t entirely sure – but it didn’t matter. They also distributed widely in France and, most importantly, in Italy, where I had become a superstar. The record company thought my name would be good and
thought I should do a synth pop single – very ‘80s. It was the brief vogue that saw Yazoo and the Thompson Twins achieve fame and my attempt would hardly create anything more lasting. All I knew was that the project looked very exciting and it could open up yet another direction for me.

Sylvester was crazy about music. We used to sing together at home and when he was working on a movie he always insisted that he chose the soundtrack. He spent months picking out the right tracks, meeting with artists and repeatedly visiting the studio until he got just the feel he was looking for – he had a natural talent for it. You only have to think of the inspired choice of Survivor’s ‘Eye of the Tiger’ that defined
Rocky III
. Or James Brown’s ‘Living in America’ and ‘One Way Street’ by Go West.

There was a music room in Sylvester’s house which had a karaoke machine. I spent hours in there and when I wasn’t accompanying the hits of the moment I’d be improvising. Sometimes my PA Kelly would join in. I am a good singer and performer, but I never took it seriously enough. I do wish I had made myself concentrate on it for at least a year or so, worked harder with my singing coach and taken longer in the studio. I didn’t pay any attention to my own critical faculties and even when I was given songs I didn’t like, I’d record them anyway.

Every Body Tells A Story
came out in 1987 and it was… okay. The album did sell, but it wasn’t what it could have been. It didn’t work in the US at all, did slightly better in the UK, but it was a hit in Europe. I had a No. 1 in Italy and it did well in Spain and also in South America, but it never took off in the way I thought it should and the fault was
purely mine. Still, I got to tour off the back of it in Spain and promoted the album with performances on TV, so although it didn’t win me much respect in musical terms I enjoyed wonderful times working with musicians and getting the chance to live the touring lifestyle. Sylvester allowed me to take off to do the promotion and I worked pretty hard to make it a hit, but I was pretty frustrated that I felt I had to have permission to do it from him. That was really what made me realise I couldn’t go on living like some kind of robot. I told Kelly and moved out of the villa and into a small apartment and then a hotel, from where I called Sylvester to tell him it was all over. It was the first he’d heard and he went absolutely nuts.

I didn’t have a lawyer or an agent and I was basically on the streets. None of my friends would talk to me. For my parents what was hardest to deal with was the coverage of the split when I was on the cover of every newspaper and every magazine.

The public in Denmark had never fallen for Sylvester in the first place. There had been outspoken criticism when we visited that time he saw my parents’ house. We flew in by private jet, which normally ensured a smooth and discreet arrival in an airport, but this time there was an anti-Stallone demonstration and someone even managed to break in and spray-paint the entire plane.
That’s fucking Denmark, you know?
I remember thinking. I was furious – you might not agree with the man and his views but you don’t do that. And I got really angry and defended my husband-to-be in the press. Security was on high alert the whole time we were there.

Now it seemed there was once more no other story. It was widely alleged that I had become a lesbian and that was why we were splitting up. That story was reported everywhere, particularly in the UK, but even in Denmark my father had to endure looks from colleagues who were watching his personal life unfold in their daily paper. The asides and snide questions followed him everywhere and that seemed totally unfair to me. I might have been running with the Hollywood set but my parents really had nothing to do with it. They were bewildered by what was happening to them and the family were angry with me. They had said not to marry him and now it was all a mess; it was all very sad and very ugly. Yet my parents knew that there was no truth in the stories and despite all the shit he was going through my father said to me that if I needed to move back home they would still be there to look after me.

Kelly’s family was also hit. I had stayed good friends with her and I knew her family was small but sociable and very religious. They were stunned by the allegations that their daughter and I were lovers and ended up having to move towns. And so it was that two families sustained direct hits in the endless rounds of media attacks. They were split down the middle, with some speaking out in defence and others angry about being caught up in such a personal campaign. I found out that a major PR company had been hired to take us down in a very deliberate way but I never got anything to say who was behind it.

Fox
magazine ran a cover story suggesting that I had walked away with $100 million. Other sources put it at just $50 million. Either way I was accused of taking everything
from Sylvester and there was nothing I could say. Or rather nobody listened. It was like being run over by a tank. I watched helplessly as my family fell apart and the pain was unbearable, but there was no point in fighting something that was so completely untrue and I realised how little truth there is in most celebrity stories. Even some of my allies came to believe that there was no such thing as smoke without fire, but I can tell you that I’ve never been a lesbian. Take a look at my track record! I’m not denying that someone can marry and still go on to be lesbian or gay and that’s fine, but I’m saying that it wasn’t the case for me. I told journalists, ‘Just stop it! I’m Danish. The first legalised gay marriage took place in Denmark in 1973. If I was a lesbian, I would say so.’ They just ignored me.

Kelly had been my rock throughout the marriage. Because we spent almost every day together there were plenty of photos of the two of us that could be used in evidence against me. I have no idea how these got into the press but it was Kelly I felt particularly sorry for. For almost three years all she had done was be very loyal and she knew everything that went on between Sylvester and me. She would refer to the set-up we had as ‘Sylvester’s crazy house’.

She and I would take off and drive around Hollywood sometimes, just to escape the place and the bodyguards. My car was fitted with a police siren system – which wasn’t, strictly speaking, legal but was one of the perks of being who I was. It could do fire sirens as well and just to give you an idea of how stupid our humour was, I had a tape of someone having a particularly liquid attack of diarrhoea, which we played at full volume down Rodeo Drive,
cracking up with laughter the whole way. The genteel ladies of Beverly Hills were treated to thunderclaps of flatulence and we thought it was the coolest thing ever; that tells you how mature we were.

Kelly worked in the shop at Gold Gym, which was where we got talking. Born in New Orleans, she had moved to LA like so many others in search of the American Dream. I was a regular at the gym and I soon got to trust her and asked her if she would be my personal assistant. She needed to be talked around as she’d never done anything like that but she went on to become the best PA I ever had. When I met her she was stuck in a hopeless relationship with a real loser and I think working for me helped her to develop her confidence and move on from him. She organised everything for me and was always there on the movie set and booking tickets for me; she was my shadow in everything I did and she was good at getting things done. There was a tough side to her and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. But one thing she wasn’t was lesbian; not even a bit bisexual. She has always been passionately, loyally, stupidly in love with men – just as I am.

I had never been after money. My feeling about relationships is that when they’re over you’ve got to get on with your life. I didn’t want to get into a protracted battle in the courts which would spin out the divorce; also I wanted to show Sylvester that I was a big girl and I could take care of myself. Everything went really quickly. I took only clothes, a car and jewellery.

A year later I got a cheque for $500,000. Even that was really only symbolic. I’d been told by friends who thought I
was crazy to walk away that I could get millions through the lawyers, even after the pre-nuptial agreement, but I found it impossible to imagine fighting a man I was in the middle of leaving. Despite everyone’s well-intentioned advice I was determined to start over again.

On 13 July 1987 my new life began as the papers came through without contest. I was only 24 and I had already been through two divorces, I had a child and I had known some of the richest and most successful people in the world – although now I was myself poor.

O
ffers of work were not exactly plentiful for the lesbian ex-wife of Sylvester Stallone who took him for $100 million. No more movie parts, no more anything; it all dried up. My agent refused to work with me and I never heard from any of those producers and directors who had previously been so keen to work with me. Later, I was told that the word had been passed around that I was not to be hired: I had been blacklisted and at the time I didn’t even know.

I became homesick and felt I was being called back to the Old World. It was an exciting time for Europe: the Berlin Wall hadn’t yet come down, but young activist Mathias Rust staged his audacious flight over Moscow’s Red Square in a little civilian Cessna plane. Music was interesting too. Michael Jackson released
Bad
with the fabulous single ‘Man In The Mirror’. If there was one song in the world that I wish I had written, that would be it. He sings about wanting to change the way things are – and if you want to make the
world different you have to look deep into your own soul first; you have to face your reflection. That was me – I was ready to change. It was like a message sent to me personally and the words of Michael Jackson gave me strength when I felt very alone.

I was knocked out by the force of the storm. Friends turned their backs on me and I had to reassess a lot of things in my life. A lot of promises turned out to have meant nothing, but I was still healthy. I had my sense of humour, I still had a family – even if they were a long way off – and Kelly was by my side. Most of all I had my beautiful son. I had the important people and they backed me a hundred per cent. When $500,000 landed in my bank account from Sylvester I was even able to buy myself a little house.

Kelly kept me positive. I had got stuck remembering all the good things Sylvester and I had shared and it was her who got me clubbing again in Los Angeles. And although I felt like shit, I still looked great – I was quite awesome at that time. The paparazzi still loved to follow me as I tried to forget Sylvester but at least there was no internet yet, so no YouTube. I was able to retain some kind of a private life.

Hollywood’s hottest clubs included a very cool converted fire station hangout of De Niro and Joe Pesci, which we stormed. We partied with Jack Nicholson and George Michael – I have to say, I had
the
best dance with George Michael and I knew he was gay and it was just so sad! In a quiet corner was shy Michael Jackson and he didn’t go out dancing despite that onstage persona, but he wasn’t withdrawn – you could have a long conversation with him and he was often very funny.

At last an offer of work came and it was from outside the States. An Italian company gave me my first million-dollar contract to co-host a prime-time TV show in Italy. Their viewing figures regularly went above 15 million and could hit 30 million at Christmas. At that point I could speak a little bit of Italian from my days modelling and shooting
Red Sonja
, but I wasn’t able to carry a conversation. Even so, there was a great deal of interest in me as the ex-wife of Sylvester Stallone and money was in plentiful supply – it was the height of the ‘80s. I was ecstatic.
Great!
I thought.
I’m going to show Sylvester I don’t need to sue him to get money, I can make my own. People want me and I can do things I really want to do
.

When my plane touched down in Italy it was surreal. It was more like the Beatles or Tina Turner had arrived. I thought I was going to die in the middle of the crowds who had turned out to greet me. That freaked me out because I had hoped that I would have more freedom now I was on my own. The Italians were very physical in their affection and it was a very different kind of attention to what I would get in Germany or the US, but I plunged straight into work and everywhere I went, I was escorted by the police like a politician.