BOOK ONE: DECEPTIONS
Chapters One to Twenty Six
Vignettes 1 - 140

BOOK TWO: YESTERDAY ECHOES
Chapters 27 to
Vignettes 141 -

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Vignette #25: Arrival

By nightfall, Ian was upstairs, standing in front of the mirror looking at him self. Dressed in new clothes, from undies to sport coat, he had to admit that he was a little impressed. Somehow, Tippy had managed to arrange everything from wardrobe to a haircut, excuse me--stylist, in one afternoon.

He was relieved to discover that it wasn’t his taste that Tippy didn’t approve of; it was as that a man of his stature could no longer afford to be a Wal-Mart shopper. She was as frugal as he was, and together they assembled a respectable new wardrobe, without melting his credit cards.

Ian had heard the doorbell, and knew that he needed to get downstairs before Tippy regurgitated too much information, again. He adjusted the blue jacket one more time and ran his fingers through his hair. Ian couldn’t quite believe that the guy in the mirror was actually him.

He was halfway down the stairs when the little group waiting for him, sighed and whistled. Ian smiled and blushed as he continued down the stairs. Tippy clapped her hands together and did a little dance.

“Oh my, Baby Doll, I may just have to throw my vows to my husband right out the window!” She squealed. “Do it! Do the little turn for me.”

Ian knew this one by heart now. He had done it so many times that day, including while standing in front of sales people in various cuts of underwear. Ian took a little step forward and did a pivot, allowing Tippy and his/her audience to see all sides.

“Show the rest, Baby Doll. Turn around and lift up the jacket for me.” Okay, this one he hated, but he had learned quickly that if he just did it, it got the whole thing over with much faster.

Ian turned around and lifted up the tails of the sport coat so she could get a gander at his behind. “Those pants are perfect, just perfect. God, you just have the most perfect butt! Don’t you think so, Wella?”

Wella was speechless. Her hand was at her throat, and Blake, standing beside her, had let his mouth drop to the floor. “He cleans up real nice doesn’t he?” Tippy just beamed.

Tippy waved her hands, “Okay, everybody, have a good time. Now out, out!” She started herding the three of them to the front door. “Baby Doll, I’ll lock up for you and no need to be home before tomorrow at one. Have a good time and get laid but if you miss my party I will track you down and kill you and the bitch blowing you.”

“Yes, ma’am” Ian robotically responded as he tried to shut the front door not too obviously as quickly as possible. He loved her dearly and already owed her the world, but he was ready to call it a night when it came to Mamie Rae Tipton. He turned to face Wella and Blake; staring in complete silence on the front porch.

“I don’t know what to say,” Wella finally managed.

“Personally, I am trying to hold it all in until we get in the car. I will definitely start with a very gay squeal.” Blake managed.

“I would say you have a lot of explaining to do, but I think that things have suddenly become self explanatory.”

“Thank you.” Ian was grateful. “Shall we just go?” The duo nodded in agreement.

“I thought we’d take my car, do you know where we are going?” Wella said starting to turn to the driveway.

“Uh…” Ian made her stop, “No and yes. Tippy has arranged everything, remember?” He put out his arms on either side as an invitation for his friends to take. “This will be one of the only times tonight that I will remind you, that we are young up and coming television executives enjoying a Saturday night out; to see as well as be seen. We cannot just show up, we must…arrive.”

With perfect timing, a stretch limo pulled out of the garage. Blake could no longer hold back and the neighborhood resonated with a perfectly gay squeal. A very beautiful woman dressed in uniform emerged from the driver’s side of the limo and opened the door for the trio to enter.

As Wella daintily lifted her mid length skirt to step into the car, she looked back at Ian. “Thank you so much, especially for the young part.”

“You are welcome.”

Once the door was shut and the limo on its way, Blake started blathering like Tippy reborn. “I cannot believe that you live here. The irony just blows my mind.”

“What are you talking about?” Ian asked.

“You really have no idea?”

Both Wella and Ian looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. “My God,” Blake said. “You are soooo straight. This land was once the home of none other than, Darla Hutton! This whole neighborhood was once her palace green!”

Ian was still blank. “Who is Darla Hutton?”

This time Wella piped in. “Now that I am surprised at, Hutton as in the “H” in HRT network, the place you work for.”

“Oh, she was one of the founders. I knew they were three old movie actors, but I didn’t know their names. I’m surprised one was a woman.” Ian added.

Blake was staring out the window. “And she once owned all of this. Just imagine.”

The chauffeur piped in. “That’s actually not quite true.”

Blake was gaily offended. “Excuse me?”

The driver quickly apologized, “I apologize for interrupting, sir, but I grew up around here, and that’s not exactly true. It is true that Darla Hutton lived here, and most of the buildings that remain were at one time part of the estate, but she never really owned any of it. That’s all part of the legend of Darla Hutton, it was actually all owned equally by the other two partners, including James Redfield, the “R” in HRT.”

Blake corrected himself, “Oh, that’s right. I had just gotten it all confused. Redfield was her lover. He kind of disappeared about the same time Darla did.”

The chauffeur agreed, “That’s what I understand as well.”

“Disappeared?” Ian was a little intrigued. Blake was happy to fill him in, blathering on and on about how the facts and the rumors were so blurred no one probably knew the truth.

What was known was that Redfield’s wife found out about the affair with Darla and that there was a very public and documented confrontation, one of the few things that could be verified. Neither Darla nor Redfield ever made another film or ever appeared in public, together or separately, after that.

The legend was that they ran off together to Mexico or Canada and changed their names, living happily ever after. Mrs. Redfield committed suicide and no one has ever been able to track the now legendary lovers down. The sole survivor of the story, David Turner, ended up with total control of what became the most powerful entertainment conglomerate in the English-speaking world.

Ian was mildly amused and interested. “Wait a minute. I thought the “T’ stood for Tolan. Isn’t Jack Tolan’s family one of the big shareholders in the company?

Wella knew the answer to that one. “Oh no, Tolan’s just an employee like almost everyone else. David Turner is still alive, head of the board and in the office almost every day.”

“You are kidding?” Ian was astounded. “He must be as old as dirt.”

“In his 90’s,” Blake affirmed. “They say that he’s the only one who knows the whole story and he’s never said a word but, somewhere there’s a diary that can dish the whole dirt.”

“I’d love to get my hands on that” Ian mused to out loud.

Wella’s eyes quickly turned to stare at him in the passing lights. “I’m surprised that this really interests you.”

“Are you kidding?” Ian smirked. “Can you imagine the ratings we’d get if we could get hold of that diary? All the sex, deception and the intrigue; we’d have a whopping demographic—it would crush the competition. “Dallas” would look like that piece of crap we run at 2 in the afternoon.”

“That’s my boss”, Wella sighed, “Always thinking development.”

“We’re almost there. Destination ‘Open Fields’ is just about five minutes away,” the chauffeur announced.

Wella and Blake looked at each other and this time they both let out a gay squeal. “Open Fields? We’re going to Open Fields?”

“Uh…yes…is that something else I should know about?” Ian asked.

Wella squeezed Ian’s forearm. “Oh, child, Open Fields is only the newest and most exclusive club in town. Probably the whole country.”

“Kevin and I used to stand in line every Saturday night just hoping we could get in, the asshole.” Blake dreamed and kvetched.

“You never got in?” Ian asked.

“Please, the people in line out front rarely get in. You have to have your name on a list…” he said.

“And to be on the list you have to know somebody or be with somebody who knows somebody to get on the list.” Wella added.

“Hmmm”, Ian said, “I guess Mamie Rae Tipton knows somebody and got us nobody’s on somebody’s list.”

Wella made a chopping motion in the air, “That woman arranges my entire social life from now on.”

“Wouldn’t it be a hoot, if Kevin were standing in line with that Twinkie he dumped me for and saw me walk right passed him and into the club.” Blake dreamed again.

“Who’s Kevin?” Ian asked Wella.

“His ex, it wasn’t pretty, don’t bring it up.” Wella warned.

“And a Twinkie?”

“You are straight, aren’t you?” He nodded his head. “A fresh white boy filled with cream.”

“Ewww!” Ian retreated.

Within moments, the limo was passing a long cue of people all standing in what looked to be an endless line. The chauffeur maneuvered the car to a space that was far enough from the entrance to safely stop without parking on or near anyone hoping to get in.

A young man immediately appeared outside of the door and opened it. He extended a hand to Blake who stepped out, followed by Wella and then Ian. The driver also stepped out and informed them that she would be waiting down the street to take them where ever they chose to go either together or separately until dawn.

The three stepped onto a carpet and walked toward the door. He heard some girl complain, “Who do they think they are”, and someone else take bets as to whether or not they were getting in. He also heard someone squeal, “Oh my God! Blake! Blakey!”

He watched Blake turn his head, turn a little white and walk to an overdressed man in his thirties holding hands with a smug young man, maybe 23 or 24. Ian started to walk over with him, but Wella grabbed his arm. “Honey, that’s Kevin. Just leave them alone. He’ll be alright.”

Ian stood back and watched. The man was very condescending toward Blake and the other guy just smirked. “Look, Blakey, Todd and I are almost at the head of the line. He’s so gorgeous I’m sure they’ll let us in.”

“I know one of the waiters.” Todd bragged.

“Good for you.” Was all Blake said.

“Do you wanna stand with us? I’m sure they won’t let all three of us in, but you can stand with us. That’s okay, right, Todd?”

“Sure. Bygones are bygones.”

Ian had enough. Before Blake could say anything, Ian walked up behind him, slipped his arms around him and kissed him on the temple. “There you are Baby Doll. Are you ready?”

Blake was a little shocked, but played along enjoying the look he discovered on both the other men’s faces. “Have you met my new friend? This is Ian. Ian this is Kevin and Todd.”

Kevin looked Ian up and down and was not happy at all. Todd, on the other hand perked right up and jutted his crotch forward a little. “Nice to meet you. Would you like to wait with us? I know a waiter; he promised he’d try to get us in if we got close enough that he could see us on his break.”

Ian gave Blake’s ear and little nibble; much to Blake’s well hidden but definite surprise. “Good luck with that, boys” Ian half said. “Nice to meet you, Todd…Calvin.”

“Kevin.” He said flatly.

Ian ignored him. “Com’mon Baby Doll, Daddy’s on the list. No waiting.”

Blake smiled triumphantly, “Sorry, can’t get’cha in. It’s a private club you know, real men get right in.” He reached back and squeezed Ian’s butt, much to Ian's barely contained surprise. Blake slipped his hand around Ian’s waist and they walked out of the duo’s sight.

As soon as they were far enough away, they both laughed. Blake’s smile was ear to ear. “Oh man, that was almost worth more to me than going in the club itself!”

“Glad I could oblige…Baby Doll.” Ian put his arm around Blake’s shoulder.

“Thanks Daddy.” And slipped his arm around Ian’s waist.

Ian looked around, “Now where did Wella get off to?”

It didn’t take them long to spot her, standing toe to toe with a bouncer towering behind a velvet rope. She was just staring at him and he was staring off into space.

Ian touched her on the shoulder. “Wella, are you okay?” Ian asked.

“I am fine.” She said.

“Ready to go in?”

“Uh huh” she was unmoved.

Ian looked a little worried behind her. But stepped up to the bouncer and realized that he had no idea how to go about this. “Hi, I’m…"

The large man broke frame and reached for the rope. “I know who you are Mr. Justyn. Is this your party?”

The “party” was shocked. “Uh…yes” Ian tried to look unfazed.

The man unsnapped the rope and motioned them in. “Enjoy you’re evening, Mr. Justyn. Let me know if I can be of any service.”

They stepped through…well, Blake and Ian stepped through, Ian had to grab Wella’s hand and yank her through. Ian couldn’t help but ask, “Excuse me, sir…”

“Ripley, Mr. Justyn, you can call me Ripley.”

“Thank you, Ripley. Uhm…how do you know me?”

The large looming man looked him in the eye. “It’s my job, sir.”

“Oh”, he said, “and Ian, call me Ian.”

“Thank you, sir. Have a good night, sir.” Ian took a step forward and had to go back and grab Wella’s hand again. He whispered in her ear. “Wella what the hell is wrong with you.”

She didn’t bother to whisper, but said loud enough for all to hear, “That is the biggest most beautiful white man I have ever seen in my life.”

Wella calmly walked up to the bouncer. "Excuse me sir, but could I squeeze your ass? Just one time?"

"Wella!" Ian grabbed his entrances co-hort and yanked her inside as quickly as he could.

A young man with metal through his nose and dreadlocks looked up at the bouncer from his side of the rope and smiled. "Could I squeeze your ass just one time?"

"Get away from me punk." The man sneered.

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