Every Day I'm Hustling Page 20

  All of this is to say that I’ve been there. Sometimes life deals you some sucky cards from the bottom of the deck. I’m human, so there’s a moment of “Damn, this is awful.” But you know, it’s all in how you figure out how to play those cards. The deep breath and “Okay, how can we make this better?”

  Recently at a lunch party I attended, this girlfriend of mine put her arm around me. “This one here,” she said, “she always figures out a new job for herself. Always thinking of something new and wonderful to do. An idea that works and ends up working for you.”

  “Thank you” was all I could say.

  You and me, our dreams are big. There will be moments when our successes grow beyond our dreams, and there will also be times where our success is smaller than our dreams. Either way, hold on to it. Don’t give up on your dream, and never, ever give up on you.

  LESSON SIXTEEN

  IF YOU OWN THE RISK, YOU OWN THE REWARD

  In early 2014, my agent, Sheila Legette, gave me a call with another offer. “Listen, the Syfy channel has a movie they want you to do, but they need an answer in thirteen hours.”

  “Where the hell did they get thirteen hours from?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “So they want you for Sharknado 2—”

  I didn’t let her finish the sentence. “Yes.”

  “—as Ian Ziering’s—”

  “Yes.”

  “—love interest.”

  “Yes!”

  Why would I want to do a so-bad-it’s-good sci-fi sequel about a tornado of hungry sharks? Let me tell you, nobody expected anything of that first film, and I was so happy for Ian and Tara Reid when it became a ratings phenomenon in its re-airings. Perhaps even better, social media embraced the film: 318,000 tweets by 112,000 users. Ian and Tara were in on the joke, and they reaped the rewards for taking a risk on it. So I was so on board.

  The plot, such as it was, had me as Ian’s high school crush—his chocolate blast from the past—who comes back into his life to see if we can get our swirl on. Didn’t happen, but in the meantime there’s two sharknadoes coming, and I got to show I could kick butt in action for the first time since Kill Bill.

  We filmed in New York City, and my L.A. booty was stuck in what had to be the coldest winter ever. At one point we filmed on top of a sixty-five-story building and it was so cold that Ian and I could barely get our dialogue out. We really bonded during the shoot. I had done a guest spot on Beverly Hills 90210 back when we were babies, but none of our scenes were together. Now we were together all the time, and he was a really fun guy. Every scene was basically us running from airborne sharks, and I had on these tight camo pants and a leather jacket. In one scene we were supposed to fall trying to get away from the sharks, and Ian landed right on my hair. I felt a tug, and I looked down to see two braids on the ground.

  “You scalped me,” I yelled. “Call TMZ, ’cause Ian Ziering just scalped Vivica Fox!”

  While I was filming, the people from Celebrity Apprentice called again. They had been after me a few times to do it, but I wasn’t sure. By then I had done reality, but in this kind of competition, the camera is on you all the time like a business soap opera. That was a risk, but doing the show appealed to my branding. I was doing more producing and doing well with the Vivica Fox Hair Collection. This would be a good way to introduce myself to America as a businesswoman and extend the brand of Vivica Fox. I decided to take the risk and say yes.

  The next day, Ian and I were sitting next to each other in our makeup chairs.

  “I hear we’re going to be working together on jobs back-to-back?”

  “On what?” I said.

  “I’m doing Celebrity Apprentice, too,” he said.

  I high-fived him. “I will be so sad to see you go home,” I joked.

  He laughed. Ian is a great guy, and he is even more competitive than me. We talked to Mark McGrath, who was in Sharknado 2 with us. He had been on Celebrity Apprentice, and he pulled no punches.

  “They’re sixteen-hour days, guys,” he told us, “and you’ll work every day.” He said people get exhausted and testy, which makes for great TV. “It will break you down.”

  Sharknado 2: The Second One premiered to huge ratings, nearly doubling its tweet count and becoming Syfy’s most watched film ever. Important for me, it tripled its numbers in viewers under fifty. I had worked hard to woo that sci-fi audience. I appreciated them. They are loyal, and they will come out to support you. So I put in a lot of time at the San Diego Comic-Con. It was me saying to them, “I know you loved me in Kill Bill. Well, guess what, Vivica is still here and she can still kick ass and look good doing it.”

  *   *   *

  I swear I had no idea Donald Trump was a monster. The first time I met him at the start of Celebrity Apprentice, he surprised me. He had always seemed like a huckster on TV, but in person he had great presence. He was charming and carried himself with an authoritative tone. Whether it was a complete fabrication or not, the feeling was that you couldn’t come on this show and bullshit him.

  He transmitted that bottomless pride to everyone around him. You were doing a reality show competition, but he made you think you were curing cancer. We all called him Mr. Trump, and you found yourself truly wanting to please him. I can see why he inspires such loyalty from people in his inner circle. I certainly fell for it.

  I will say that it was the most racially charged set I have ever been on. Ever. There were three other black contestants, Keisha Knight Pulliam, Terrell Owens, and Kenya Moore. The Trump family carried themselves in a certain kind of way around the contestants. “We’re here. You’re there. Yes, we’re Daddy’s spoiled little kids.” I chalked it up to living a privileged life. We were the help.

  Ivanka is the one who inherited her father’s presence. When she walked into a room, she acted like royalty and you treated her as such. I think because she really thought her father was some kind of king. Whatever the reason for it, I commend her for that commanding presence. She’s definitely the savviest of the lot.

  Don Jr. acted the part of a gentleman, and so clearly emulated his dad. Eric was another story. He was such a cold fish, but as we did the show, I realized that he was really just painfully shy. It must have been so difficult growing up with all of these personalities.

  The one who seemed to have it worst was Melania. She seemed cold when I first met her and never warmed up. She was stiff, like it hurt her to move. At the time, I thought she was just playing the role of the kept wife to the hilt. Knowing what we know now, I think she was just really lonely.

  Having lived on Planet Trump for my stint on Celebrity Apprentice, I can see why they have such an inflated view of themselves. Their name is inescapable. You woke up and his name was on the TV and on the bath products. You drank Trump Ice water and sipped Trump wine. I’m surprised I didn’t turn into a damn Trump. The thought of Vivica A. Trump makes my blood run cold!

  When we got there, Ian had prepared so much. Lord, he had watched every episode and had all but taken himself to Trump University. I was impressed, and I have to say that it was always nice to see his handsome face smiling at me on the tough days of the show. He would ask me if I was hanging in there when a lot of other people just wanted me to fall. As actors, we also had an advantage, I think, because we know how to take constructive criticism and then sharpen our game.

  Mark was right, it was tough. I would say it was even tougher than Dancing with the Stars, because that you could walk away from. We were getting up at four in the morning and working until midnight, constantly hurtling toward one deadline after another. There were also some reality TV veterans there, and they had that drama muscle amped and ready to create “scenes” that would get airtime. Like clockwork, the worker bees among us who took the challenges seriously would become exasperated and find ourselves inadvertently playing right into their scenes. What was a very superficial bit of role-playing to them was to me very real. At night, finally alone, I would lay out my clot
hes for the next day, because there was always such a rush in the mornings. In bed I would lie awake and my mind wouldn’t shut off. I would fixate on what I could have done to make the interaction more positive, or what I really wanted to say to someone.

  I constantly fantasized about leaving and just saying, “Okay, I’m good, see ya.” I shared this with Lita, who knew just what to say.

  “So you want to quit,” she said.

  “I didn’t say ‘quit,’ I just want off the show.”

  “So, quitting,” she said. “‘Vivica Fox Quits Celebrity Apprentice’ is the headline. You’re quitting.”

  That was the push I needed. I never want to be seen as a quitter. I had to remember that this was not a show about business—it’s a show about people with strong personalities forced to live under extreme pressure. That’s why people crack.

  So I guess I have to talk about Kenya.

  Okay, from the start I knew she was trouble. Everybody did. She cast herself as the villain. It hurt me because I had known Kenya for years and always thought, Wow, such a pretty girl. I root for my girls, and I want them to be Miss America or Miss USA or whatever the hell title she won because she will definitely correct you in that nasal voice of hers: “No, it’s Miss…” Baby, you won a title, shut up. But much respect to that because she did win. BITCH.

  So I was sad to see the transformation in her. Becoming a “star” on Real Housewives of Atlanta had changed her into this reality chick who would stab you in the back for fame. Or spare change.

  That behavior was why I was so sure she was the culprit when my Samsung Galaxy phone went missing in our dressing room during the King’s Hawaiian challenge. (I can’t see those buns without shaking my head.) This isn’t an ad for Samsung, by the way. I paid $600 to have it replaced and get a new one by noon. When I finally had a phone again, I was so busy working that I didn’t check my Twitter. Big mistake.

  As project manager of the challenge, Kenya failed miserably. So in the boardroom she went after me. It was no secret she hated me. “If Vivica tries to throw me under the bus in the boardroom for no reason, I will not only throw her under the bus,” she said on the show, “I will pick up the bus and drop it on her several times. Then I will get in the bus and drive over her. Then back up and drive over her again.”

  Well, she threw herself under that bus by doing a bad job, but she still tried to make good on her promise to destroy me. In the boardroom, when it was clear she was the most likely to leave, she pulled a Hail Mary—or more likely Hail Satan—and accused me of being erratic.

  “Vivica has had wild ups and downs, emotionally she has been very angry at times,” she said. “I’ve seen her go from these hot flashes to being all over. I saw a tweet from her the other day saying that she was going through menopause.”

  She tried to justify trying to use my age against me by saying I had tweeted about it—while my phone was missing.

  That started this hunt to find the tweet, which I present in all of its typo glory and grammatical nonsense:

  “This menopause id killing me I can’t think straight. im acting a damn fool half the time 50 just isn’t sexy”

  Donald Jr. read it aloud, and he agreed that it seemed odd that all my other tweets were things like “Have a blessed day.” Plus it was the only random tweet in the time my phone was missing. Now, I will be sexy until the day I die. On my worst day, I am a sexy girl. I never would have tweeted that, not just for my vanity, but because it would have dragged down my girls in their fifties. Also, I know how to write a sentence, okay?

  What a coincidence that Kenya brought up that I tweeted about menopause to back up her claim that I was erratic. Even Mr. Trump said to Kenya, “Why are you so nasty to everyone?”

  Kenya was so unbelievably fortunate that she was dealing with Vivica Fox. Because Angie Fox from Indy would kick her ass on 38th and Emerson. To avoid calling her a toxic bitch on NBC, I coined a term that went viral: “toxic trick.” Honey, people loved that.

  Kenya continued to deny she took my phone, but the boardroom showdown was all anyone could talk about on the entertainment shows, and it made for good watercooler talk. Nice try, trick. She was good for business. I had to laugh a little while later, when Kenya somehow got herself into a Golden Globes after-party. She sidled up to Lupita Nyong’o and asked for a picture with her. Apparently she got denied because Kenya tweeted: “@Lupita_Nyongo refused 2 take pics After 2 movies #girlbye”

  A reporter asked Lupita, who you know I love, about the “incident.”

  “Who is Kenya Moore?” Lupita said. Exactly. #girlbye.

  I finished in the top three out of sixteen contestants of Celebrity Apprentice, and I won $70,000 for my charity, Best Buddies. So I consider myself a winner. I left with my head held high. In my last boardroom meeting, Trump asked me if I thought Leeza Gibbons deserved to go home before me. I was honest and said Leeza was a better choice to stay. People were really surprised by that, considering it is such a cutthroat game. But Leeza had consistently done a wonderful job, earning more cash in the competitions. I knew the next challenge would be a fund-raiser, and I knew she would shine at that. She won the season, and I was genuinely proud of her. Game recognizes game, and more than that, good women support good women.

  One more thing about Mr. Trump: I don’t dislike him because he’s a Republican. I don’t dislike anyone simply because of a label or lifestyle. I believe in uniting people, and he’s done a terrible disservice to this wonderful country by trying so hard to divide us. He planted a lot of ugly seeds, seeds that will take us awhile to get past. But we will. We have no choice. I believe that united we stand, divided we fall.

  *   *   *

  When Celebrity Apprentice was over, I thought that that was just five and a half weeks of my life that I’ll never get back. But when it finally aired, it led to something a lot better.

  The night that epic boardroom showdown with Kenya aired, my phone was ringing nonstop. I was just about to put it away and give myself a break when I got a call from Lee Daniels. I have known him for many years, but never had the chance to work with him. Before Precious came out, we watched it together on his laptop in a hotel room in Miami. I knew it was a masterpiece. I remember grabbing his arm and saying, “Thank you.” He had a vision that put a spotlight on the lives of black women whose stories have not been valued enough to show on-screen. I then watched his continued rise, getting such fantastic performances out of Oprah in The Butler and Taraji in Empire.

  Lee didn’t even say “Hello” and just got right into it. “Bitch!” he said. “Bitch! Gawd, Vivica, that boardroom scene!”

  He was talking a mile a minute, which is how his brain works.

  “Lee, she tried me,” I said.

  “You had that Diahann Carroll Dynasty thing going on. Michelle Obama brought to the limit.”

  “She is lucky I’m a classy lady, right?”

  “Baby, I’m going to figure out some kind of way to get you on Empire.”

  “Um, hello, stop reading my mind.”

  “Okay, let me think,” he said. “But I want you to be a part of my family.”

  Now, in Hollywood when you hear that “Oh, I would love to work with you!” thing, you don’t think much of it. But Lee has always kept his word.

  He called me a few months later. “Would you mind playing Cookie’s older sister?” he asked.

  “I’d play Cookie’s grandmother, honey.”

  “I don’t want you to be coming in here like Cookie,” he says. “I want you to be different.”

  The contrast he created is that my character, Candace, is a bougie, rich suburbanite who left the tough streets of Philadelphia in the rearview of her Mercedes and never looked back. She’s got a white husband, two kids, and when an issue with their sister Carol pops up, Candace has to step into Cookie’s world. They’re both rich, powerful women, but how they present themselves to the world is completely different.

  Lee knows what a ferocious, amaz
ing actress Taraji is, so he told me he needed someone who, every now and again, could just show the slightest hint of toughness underneath Candace’s Hermès scarf.

  Did I mention her clothes are gorgeous? Candace goes into her Park Avenue lunches in the armor of her fashion. Her dresses rarely even have patterns, because she never, ever wants to clash with her surroundings. She’s a bit of a chameleon that way. And I love that she is a mature woman who still presents her shape, but tastefully. As the sisters have spent time together, they’ve sort of rubbed off on each other. Cookie listens to Candace in a way she doesn’t to others, and Candace is dropping a lot of that bougie act as she gets more comfortable straddling between her world and Cookie’s.

  I was excited because me, Taraji, and Terrence go back like Kool-Aid. Terrence and I did The Salon together in Baltimore, back when I was a teary mess. The first time Taraji and I were in our makeup chairs together for Empire, we had a real sister moment. She leaned over to me. “This is so crazy,” she said. “I’m so glad that you are playing my sister.”

  We shoot in Chicago, so when it’s cold, what the hell else is there to do but hang out and talk? Gabourey Sidibe and I sing old-school R&B together, like Keith Sweat’s “Nobody,” and maybe over a little vodka, we old-timers talk the young ones through the trials and tribulations of fame. We keep it positive, though. “Welcome to the ride.”

  I host Empire viewing parties because it is so satisfying to see people react to my scenes with Taraji. I hosted one in Hollywood, and there were all sorts of oohs and aahs and laughs, because those sisters really know how to get under each other’s skin. This young black woman came to me for a photo, and I hugged her tight as the flash went off.

  She got all serious. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Oh, baby,” I said. “Thank you for coming out to support Empire.”

  “No,” she said. “Thank you. I can’t remember seeing two black women together on TV looking so fabulous and being so smart. Thank you.”

  It was like that moment when I thanked Lee for Precious. It’s the return on my investment of time in Celebrity Apprentice, and of Lee’s investment in me.