She could not believe the big deal everyone was making of it. Every channel in this stupid town was glued on it. Oh, sure, she always watched, every year, but Clare could not believe that since she’d gotten up this morning that was all that was on the TV. She finally just gave up.
She looked over at the thick envelope that was laying on the nightstand; cash, more cash than she’d ever seen. It was just there. She heard a knock on her door this morning, and when she opened it up it was right there at her feet. She looked around but saw no one. It was creepy.
Clare picked it up and leafed through it again. “Holy words my mother told me never to say.” She breathed and folded the flap shut. “I can’t keep this.” She tossed it in her lap.
She focused her attention back on the TV screen. She looked at all the pretty people in all their pretty clothes, and thought. “And now I figure out how to get back home.”
She sighed and took a drink from the warm pop can that had been there all day. She looked at the envelope. “Well, that would easily get me a plane ticket and then some…and I am definitely going to need money.”
She flopped back on the bed, putting the pillow over her face and thrashing her feet. She’d overplayed her hand and lost. She just could not believe she’d lost. Clare Humphreys always won, always, but there was nothing she could do.
“And in less than an hour those velvet doors will be shut and someone’s dream will come true…” said the guy on the television she knew from that stupid talent program she refused to watch.
She threw the pillow that had been over her face at the screen. “My dreams aren’t gonna come true. They just exploded in my face!” She seethed and then burst into tears.
She cried for a while and then reached for a Kleenex, knocking that thick envelope in the floor. “Crap.” She whined and sniffed. She reached down and stuffed some of the money that had fallen out back in. Clare paused a moment and turned the envelope back and forth.
“No address, just a phone number. How am I supposed to return this? Just leave it on the dresser when I get tossed out tomorrow?” She wiped her nose. “That’s real smart. What a nice little ‘Welcome to the Fleabag’ gift for the next person who checks in or the maid…like they have one.”
She got up and looked at her face in the dirty mirror. “God, I looked like somebody ran over my dog and then shot me.” She opened the rusty tap and tried to wash her face.
“Ladies and gentlemen, one of tonight’s nominees…Saxon Allen…” the man said.
Clare looked at the reflection of the screen in the mirror. “Just kill me now…”
“Listen to that dip prattle on…” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m so happy. I’m so lucky. I’m so pretty…hope she looses.”
She reached for the hot Pepsi and took another drink glued to the screen. “…No…” Clare scurried to the edge of the bed. “That can’t…it had better not be!” She grabbed the remote and started changing channels, the Oscar parade everywhere.
She stopped at the channel that had a close up of Saxon Allen waving at someone and holding hands with her escort, but Clare couldn’t get a good look. She pointed the remote again until she spotted her again, back where she started…
“Oh stop, you goof.” Saxon Allen playfully smacked someone off screen.
“You look like you are having a great time.” The man said and pointed the mike back at her.
“Oh I am.”
“And it seems like this man is providing it. Would you like to introduce him to us?”
“Yeah, Kleenex Girl…” Clare squinted. “Let’s see the ‘mo you’ve got…” Clare stopped in mid sentence when the camera pulled back enough to show her escort, smiling, dressed in a deep blue tuxedo and obviously adoring the bleach blond bimbo who had slept her way to the top…Ian.
“NOOOOO!” She stood up and screamed.
Someone pounded on the wall, “Shud’up over there!”
Clare hurled the pop can at the wall and began to pace the room. “I can understand that I screwed up. I got dumped. It’s over. I have to accept that. I have to...” She hurled her face back to the screen just in time to see Ian kiss Saxon Allen on the cheek.
“But I will not be replaced by a cheap, no talent, bra stuffing, corn bread eating, coal dust covered slut from Grundy!”
Clare grabbed at the envelope, throwing wads of cash on the floor until she found the little card with the phone number on it. She picked up the phone and walked to the mirror as she dialed and heard it ring.
As soon as the line picked up she spit. “It’s Clare Humphreys…what did you have in mind?”
While she listened she wiped the tears from her cheeks with a hundred dollar bill.
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