Fairy Tale Interrupted: A Memoir of Life, Love, and Loss

Fairy Tale Interrupted: A Memoir of Life, Love, and Loss

RoseMarie Terenzio

Language: English

Pages: 256

ISBN: 1439187681

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Working Girl meets What Remains, the behind-the-scenes story of an unlikely friendship between America’s favorite First Son, John F. Kennedy Jr. and his personal assistant, a blue-collar girl from the Bronx.

From the moment RoseMarie Terenzio unleashed her Italian temper on the entitled nuisance commandeering her office in a downtown New York PR firm, an unlikely friendship bloomed between the blue-collar girl from the Bronx and John F. Kennedy Jr.

Many books have sought to capture John F. Kennedy Jr.’s life. None has been as intimate or as honest as Fairy Tale Interrupted. Recalling the adventure of working as his executive assistant for five years, RoseMarie portrays the man behind the icon—patient, protective, surprisingly goofy, occasionally thoughtless and self-involved, yet capable of extraordinary generosity and kindness. She reveals how he dealt with dating, politics, and the paparazzi, and describes life behind the scenes at George magazine. Captured here are her memories of Carolyn Bessette, how she orchestrated the ultra-secretive planning of John and Carolyn’s wedding on Cumberland Island—and the heartbreak of their deaths on July 16, 1999, after which RoseMarie’s whole world came crashing down around her. Only now does she feel she can tell her story in a book that stands as “a fitting personal tribute to a unique boss . . . deliriously fun and entertaining” (Kirkus Reviews).

I Was Born There, I Was Born Here

Goddess of Love Incarnate: The Life of Stripteuse Lili St. Cyr.

Unstoppable: The Incredible Power of Faith in Action

The Tortured Life of Scofield Thayer

For Team and Country: Sport on the Frontlines of the Great War

The Queen Mother: The Official Biography

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

so we met downstairs around lunchtime almost every day to kiss and talk. In addition to great chemistry, we had great conversations—and there wasn’t a lot of that going on in the Under Acme scene. “I feel like a chick, I talk so much around you,” he’d say. Joey lavished me with compliments, telling me I was smart and had a stripper’s body. “You’re the coolest girlfriend I ever had,” he said. Joey fit into a larger pattern I had of surrounding myself with good-looking guys. That included not only

a career. Working for the salon changed him. He had begun getting up early in the morning and going to the gym before work. As soon as he was let go, Frank went back to his old habits—drinking heavily, staying out until all hours of the night, experimenting with God knows who or what. I wasn’t going to let his getting fired by a hair salon derail him, so I set about finding him another job. Negi Vafa, George’s creative services director, a chic Iranian woman, hired Frank to assist her with RSVPs

family to celebrate John and Carolyn’s marriage. Julia Roberts, who was dating John’s trainer, sat at our table, and of course Frank had her wrapped around his finger before the salad plates were cleared. When he got up to go to the bathroom, Julia leaned toward me and whispered, “I hope you’re going to marry him. He’s a great guy and he’s so gorgeous.” “I know, Julia,” I replied, “but he’s gay.” “Are you sure?” she said, looking disappointed. I could take Frank anywhere, and he would not only

“Just don’t pay attention to it. I don’t.” I cringed. “There are worse things that could happen than a few photographers following you around,” he said, putting the nail in the coffin of my afternoon; I now would have to clean up the mess he created by minimizing her feelings. I knew that John’s dismissive attitude was due to his frustration. He had no control over the situation and was angry that he couldn’t protect his wife from it. He should have told her as much—I know she really wanted to

of his suits, a navy Zegna with chalky blue pinstripes. I remembered when he first wore it, for a meeting. “You look gorgeous in that suit,” I’d said. It was one of only a handful of times I told him he looked handsome. “Whoa,” he said. “What did you say?” “If you wore a red tie, it would be very ‘John F. Kennedy Jr.,’” I sassed, bringing us back to our usual selves—the Bronx Upstart messing with the Most Famous Man in the World. With every happy memory, a dark shadow followed close behind. A

Download sample

Download