Alexa Wu - An International Love Story

CHAPTER 1 1995, May The Hamptons, Memorial Day weekend Alexa Clipping from Vanity Fair 1977: It-girl, dancer, and model Alexa Wu shows off her pregnant belly It's daring, but would we have expected anything less from our favorite Gogo dancer? Only a few weeks before she is due to give birth to her first child, which she is expecting with her husband... I put the magazine clipping in the pile of clips from my early modeling career and took another out of the stack. It was a Rolling Stone magazine cover from even earlier than the previous one. I looked for the date on the worn cover, which had been folded many times over the years. It was from 1974 with Suzi Quatro posing in the front in black leather pants and jacket with me and three other dancers in the background. We were also wearing leather, but red leather shorts with triangle bikini bottoms, also in red leather. My long hair came down to my waist, and I stood sideways so you could see my hair flowing behind me. By then I had bleached it to a delicious caramel color with a reddish tinge. The knee-length white patent leather boots with platform soles made my legs, and thus me, look taller than my 165 cm. A small, subtle smile played on my lips. I hadn't been able to hide my excitement at being chosen by Suzi for the cover of the iconic Rolling Stone magazine just a few months after my international debut in French Vogue. That same year, she released the monster hits Devilgate Drive and Wild One, but it wasn't until 1978 that she came out with "If You Can't Give Me Love" and "Stumblin' In". I would put the CD on the stereo and let the familiar lyrics take me back to a completely different life so many years ago that it seemed like it was a totally different era and someone else's life. "What are you doing?" June joined me in the living room. I made a move to get up from the floor in front of the fireplace where I was sitting. There were clippings from magazines and newspapers, colorful Polaroids, and black and white press photographs. It was a mix of memories from the Disco 77 days in Bangkok and pictures from my entire career. "Do you need it for tomorrow?" My 18-year-old daughter sat down next to me. Her hair was as long as mine had been then, but a few shades lighter than my naturally black hair. I had cut mine a few years ago, but not quite short. It suited a woman of 43 not to have hair down to her buttocks, I thought, stroking my daughter's hair. "Yeah, maybe. I hadn't thought much about it, but yes it is because of the dinner tomorrow that I felt like exploring my past." That wasn't the only truth, but I couldn't reveal my intention yet. "You should make a scrapbook or several." June picked up a couple of Polaroids. "I love the style and remember playing dress-up in some of your clothes. Do you still have them?" I nodded. "You didn't get to play with all of my clothes, my darling," I laughed and ruffled her hair. "I saved everything, and it's here in the house. We can look at it while we're here if you like?" It was Memorial Day long weekend and Monday was an extra day off. There was less than a month left of June's high school. Next month she was going to graduate and move on with her life. Fortunately, she had been more sensible than I was at the time and had chosen to get an education and go to college. Ten wild horses or my father couldn't have convinced me of that because I wanted to be a model and dancer and see the world. "I'd love to, but I'd better go. Killian's coming over to play tennis in..." She glanced at her brightly colored wristwatch with a cherry on the strap. "...Ten minutes, and I'm not even dressed." "Is he joining us for lunch? It's been quite some time since I've seen him." Killian was June's Hampton's friend. They saw each other whenever we were here, but not otherwise, since he went to the local high school and June went to a private school in Manhattan. "If I know him, and I do, he won't say no to your lavish lunches." Her whole face lit up when she talked about him. I wonder if she knew that herself? And was there more between them than a lovely childhood friendship? "We can meet on the south terrace. It's nice outside." And the terrace is covered. "You go up and change. Good match." June kissed me on the cheek and put the pictures down. My late husband and I also played tennis together. I found myself smiling at how we could almost get into an argument over the rules, but we always reconciled with kisses and hugs, as if we'd had a far more serious disagreement. Suzi's voice filled the room around me with Our love is alive... the first stanza of "Stumblin' In", and I nodded to the rhythm as I poured a fresh cup of tea from the flimsy oriental teapot. I placed the cup on the lacquered mahogany coffee table and sat down in front of stacks of memories. June had placed the two photos she had taken on top of the Rolling Stone clip. "Tomás Duarte," I said, a grin spreading across my lips. "Once a DJ, always a DJ, and one of the best lyricists in the world," I muttered to myself. In one picture, he was posing behind the desk, flipping records. In the other, we stood together at the bar. He had his arm around me. I was wearing a thigh-length psychedelic patterned dress in yellow, brown, and orange with long sleeves. It was daytime, the room was empty, and there was no one on the dance floor, just a few patrons at the bar. Tomás was a milk chocolate-colored Brazilian with a head full of luscious, soft dark curls – a skirt and pants hunter. He didn't discriminate. I was a dancer, and he was a DJ at Disco 77, and for a while, we shared a bed. I was 22 years old, and having been a go-go dancer for a few years after high school, I needed to settle down somewhere far away from my narrow-minded and prejudiced parents. Today, as a mother, I could see that they had only wanted the best for me. I didn't see that when I was young, wild, and a believer in my own free will to decide on my own life. I still had that, but I also knew that the life I lived in the 70s didn't exist today. s*x, drugs, and rock'n'roll, minus drugs for me, but lots of s*x and dancing. "You were wild," I laughed, running my finger over his brown curls. "A hot-blooded Brazilian in Bangkok." Disco 77 became my home for the next few years, and first I fell for Tomás Duarte, my hot Latino lover.