“The Artist’s mother was recommended to me by one of her friends, a lady who’d employed me in a divorce action. Juraci called me and asked me to drop by her home to discuss a matter she described as being highly confidential. I told her I’d consult in my office for free, but a house call was something I’d have to charge for. She told me money was of no import. It was a statement, I confess, that aroused my immediate interest. Clients like that don’t come along often.”
“What was her brief? Exactly.”
“To discover whether the Tadesco woman was doing, or had done, something that might damage the Artist in any way. A romantic liaison with someone other than Tico, for example, or if there was something in Cintia’s past that might engender a scandal.”
“Do you think Juraci was simply being cautious, or did she give you the impression she’d be pleased if you could come up with something negative?”
“The latter. It was evident from the way she spoke about Senhorita Tadesco that she’d taken a dislike to her.”
“So her true objective was to find some way to encourage the Artist to break off his engagement?”
“I believe that to be the case, yes.”
“And your investigations revealed… what?”
“I told you. Nothing. Nothing she could use.”
Goncalves took note of the qualification and pounced.
“But there was something.”
Prado paused to consider his words.
“I’ll say this much, Agent Goncalves: I wouldn’t want my son to contemplate a marriage with the likes of Cintia Tadesco.”
“Explain.”
“I’m about to. I do a good deal of my work with people in show business. In the course of time, I’ve learned a lot about it.”
“So?”
“Do you remember Marco Franco?”
“Franco, the actor?”
“Him.”
“He was pretty big once. Whatever happened to him?”
“Cintia Tadesco happened to him. Marco had an agent by the name of Leo Marques. Marques is every performer’s dream. He’s not only a shark when it comes to negotiations; he’s also adept at making stars.”
“The public does that.”
“I disagree.” Prado had turned a corner from laconic into loquacious. “The public most definitely does not do that. Manipulators like Marques do that. There’s no truth to the expression a star is born. Stars are made, not born. Stars are constructed article by article, sound bite by sound bite. The more an actor is exposed to the public, the more famous he or she becomes, the more press coverage they get. It’s a snowball effect, but somebody has to get the snowball rolling. That’s what people like Marques do, they get the snowball rolling. Am I boring you?”
“Not in the least. Keep talking.”
“Essentially, actors and sports stars are little more than entertainers, but many of them, deluded by the adulation of the masses, become convinced they’re much more. They begin to believe their opinions have validity in realms that go beyond their area of expertise, that they’re authorities on government, culture and art, and that they’re qualified to give advice on everything from child-rearing to where you spend your vacation. The public, by and large stupid, and the press, who earn their daily bread by pandering to the public, lap up their advice like dogs lap up vomit.”
“That’s pretty distasteful, Senhor Prado.”
“Divulging asinine pronouncements as if they’re gospel truth is even more distasteful, Agent Goncalves.”
“What’s all this got to do with Cintia Tadesco?”
“I’ll get back to Cintia in a minute. At the moment, I’m still talking about Marco Franco. Franco, then, largely due to Marques’s efforts, achieved star status. People admired him, people took his advice. He did testimonials for everything from toothpaste to cars, and the masses went out and bought whatever he recommended. For Leo Marques, who got ten percent of every centavo he earned, Marco Franco was a gold mine.”
“I still don’t-”
“Bear with me. I’m almost there. Now, actors come and go. They age; they lose their charms; they fall out of fashion.
Marques is an old fox. He’s been around a long time. He knows his continuing success depends upon constantly developing new people, getting new snowballs rolling. He spotted Cintia Tadesco at some party or other and told her to drop around and see him.”
“Sexual interest?”
“Not at all. Leo Marques is of an age where the only thing that gives him a hard-on is money. So Cintia shows up with her book… you’re familiar with the term book?”
“Portfolio?”
“Right. She shows up with a book which has only a few photos in it, and second-class photos at that. He leafs through it. They have a little conversation. He tells her she’s got the basics, and if she does exactly what he tells her, they’ll make a lot of money together.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“I’m making a few assumptions, but I’m not far off the mark.”
“Okay. So Cintia agrees.”
“Cintia agrees. Marques orchestrates a campaign to get her picture into Fofocas and all the other magazines and tabloids. He gets her into gossip shows on television. He gets her invited to parties where she’s photographed next to the rich and famous.”
“But you can’t just mandate that kind of stuff,” Goncalves said. “Why should the magazines and television shows go along? Why should they give her free publicity? I mean, there must be hundreds, maybe thousands of people who are clamoring for it. There are probably tens of thousands of beautiful women in this country. The competition is fierce.”
“It is. But that’s where Marco Franco came in. In him, Leo Marques was representing a well-established personality. The readers of Fofocas like to read about who’s courting who, who’s divorcing whom, who’s running around with someone else behind whose back. But all those whos have to be people the readership already knows. They only begin to care about nobodies when they become somebodies. So one of the ways to get a new snowball rolling is to link the person you’re trying to promote with someone who’s already famous. A man with a man, a woman with a woman, a man with a woman, it doesn’t matter. Before long, the unknown person becomes known. Got it?”
“Got it. And in Cintia Tadesco’s case-”
“Leo Marques linked her to Marco Franco.”
Goncalves scratched his head. “But Marco was already famous. Why did he go along? What was in it for him?”
“Two things: first of all, no matter how famous you are it never hurts to have a photogenic female on your arm. It generates more pictures.”
“And the second thing?”
“Timing. Marco Franco’s public was overwhelmingly female. There was a rumor going around he was gay. It could have killed him. He needed somebody like Cintia Tadesco.”
“And is he? Gay, I mean?”
“Let’s say he’s sexually confused.”
“Which means?”
“It’s never been clear, even to him, if he’s bisexual, or homosexual. But one thing’s for sure: there was truth to the rumor.
At the time, Marco was having an affair with a male tennis pro and the news was getting out and it was bad news for him because most of that huge female audience of his had fantasies about being in bed with him. There was no way they’d take kindly to a gay tennis pro being in there with them.”
“Understandable. So, as far as the press is concerned, Marco and Cintia became an item?”
“It started out that way, but before long, so the story goes, Marco is boffing Cintia and loving it. He buys her a BMW. He gives her a weekend place out in Granja Viana. He takes her on a tour of Europe. He rejects his old ways and becomes a raging tower of testosterone.”
“But?”
“But Cintia has no sense of gratitude. She’s hard as a diamond, and she’s always looking for ways to better herself. She’s introduced to the Artist. She doesn’t hesitate. She makes a play for him, and she snags him. He’s not only a step up; he’s a whole flight up. He’s famous all over the world. He can buy and sell Marco Franco twenty times over.”
“And he’s ugly as sin and dumb as a post.”