I was going to get the Carolyn Bessette story out of her one way or another.

I didn't know a damn thing about style.

I'd gone to Manhattan to become a model.

I spent two weeks prancing around a studio in Queens in my underwear with nine other guys. They were long days. But what the hell, it was Calvin Klein.

My father was a sergeant with the Connecticut state police. My mother was a hairstylist.

I was going to get the Carolyn Bessette story out of her one way or another.

Thank God for little miracles, right?