And she was right. Ian found Clare on one end of the couch silent; Ralphie at the other. Both of them were staring unmoving as though daring the other to blink. “You two sharing a Vulcan mind meld?”
“I think he’s plotting to eat my brain.” Clare said, refusing to blink.
“No, that would be Rodie. Ralphie’s just probably trying to figure out how to get to the other end of the couch to lick your face without the shift in weight killing you both.”
“Har Har.” Clare looked up at him.
“Sorry, that was mean.” Ian walked to stand over Clare and kissed the top of her head. “Ralphie’s not that huge.”
Clare smacked at him and Ian began to rub her shoulders. “Oh, that feels soooo good.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Ian, I know I sound like a broken record but I am so miserable. My back hurts. My feet are swollen and a catheter could make me stop peeing. Let me just clue you in Ian, next time you wanna have kids…you get pregnant and see how you like it.”
“Let’s not go there.”
“Gladly.”
“Dinner will be ready in a few.” Ian didn’t stop rubbing her shoulders. “We’re going to look at the house plans and figure out where to build the nursery afterwards. I assume you want to help make that decision.”
“Frankly, Ian, I’ll leave that up to you guys.”
Ian stopped in mid-rub. “You’re kidding? How did you get in Clare’s body and what planet are you from?”
Clare attempted to look at him, until he finally sat lightly on the arm of the sofa beside her. “Honestly, Ian. This sounds awful, but at this point I don’t care where the nursery is as long as one of these babies isn’t sleeping on my bladder and the other on my intestines.”
“That’s just a lovely picture, thank you.”
“You want Happy Pregnant Lady? Watch “I Love Lucy”, cause in the real world at this stage of the game we’re all miserable and want everyone else to be as well, especially the bastards who knock us up.”
Ian smiled and nodded. “Once again, lovely pictures, just lovely. I think I’ll just mosey into the den. I’m suddenly feeling the need to protect my testicles.”
“Probably a very good idea.”
Ian backed slowly toward the den.
Ralphie, determined to see everyone happy shyly slipped toward Clare but was immediately frozen in mid-stride as Clare barked, “That tongue comes anywhere near my side of the couch and you lose it!”
“Uhm, Ralphie, you’d better come with me.” The dog wasted no time joining Ian in backing out of the living room.
“Rodie?” Ian called out. “Clare wants to see you on the living room sofa!”
“What?” Came a voice from inside his den.
“Nothing.” He said as he and Ralphie entered the room. “Remind me to give Ripley a raise. Putting up with Clare all day can’t be worth what I’m paying him.”
Billy looked up from the desk, Jude looking over his shoulder and Reese not far away at the bookcase. “Maybe we should just lock her in the garage until she gives birth.”
“There’s a good idea.” Ian smiled.
“Nah.” Jude looked up from the blueprints. “She’d jes’ scratch up yer paint job and eat the fenders.”
“Probably.” Ian looked down at the renderings from his side of the desk. “What have we got here?”
Billy pointed. “Well, these are the plans for the house as it currently stands. See, first floor…” He flipped the page. “Second floor. Everything is sound and supported enough to knock out almost any wall you choose.”
“You’ll prob’ly have to give up some closet space ‘er a bathroom, but you kin’ put it enny where ya want.”
Ian rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s have a look.”
The trio parted for Ian to take the seat Billy had been occupying behind the desk. “What are those?” He asked.
“Oh those, are the plans for the house before Miss Elizabeth did the renovations.” Reese informed him.
“We wanted to double check both sets to make sure nothing from the original structure would be weakened by any changes you want to make.” Billy said. “We keep forgetting this house is actually very old and only part of the original house.”
Ian nodded and reached for the second set of blueprints. He flipped a few pages and then went back to the set before him and looked again. “I’m confused.” He held up one set of blueprints. “These are the plans for the Hutton Mansion?”
“No, no.” Billy smiled. “Those are here.” Low and behold, Billy produced a cardboard roll from a chair and pulled out yet another set of plans. Rolling them out he pointed as he explained.
“See, this was the original lay out.”
“Holy smokes, that was huge!” Ian was shocked. “Even for way back then, it was huge!”
“That stone wall in your back yard was the foundation for the back wing. According to these there were three wings connected. This is the only wing that survived the fire.”
Ian looked up at him from the plans. “Back wing? I thought Kellen’s house was part of the original structure.”
“No.” Reese piped in. “Didn’t you pay attention when you were on ‘America Alive’? Kellen’s house was a guesthouse on the property. I think they used it as servant’s quarters.”
“An’ that Redfield feller lived in yer house?” Jude asked.
“No.” Reese corrected him. “James Redfield lived in the house that is now the apartments at the end of the cul-de-sac. David Turner lived in my house.”
“Turner?” Jude shot one eye open a little further. “I thought him and the Darla woman was married.”
“They were.” Ian said looking intently at the plans.
“Then why’d he live in another house?”
Reese looked at Billy and Billy looked at Reese. “Uhhh…”
“Never mind that.” Ian waved they’re attention back. “I’m really confused. You say these in front of me are the plans as the house stands now.”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
Billy nodded. “Absolutely.”
“’Kay…” Ian looked at the second set of plans. “Got a question, then. What the heck did Elizabeth Elysian do to the house?”
“What?”
Ian pointed to the first page. “I can see she added the spiral staircase in the center of the first floor.”
“Yes.” Billy looked over Ian’s shoulder and checked them against the plans before the renovations. “There was a simple staircase and first floor landing. She put in the spiral with the mid-level landing. See? Not much else was done to the first floor, all the drastic changes were made to the second.”
Ian nodded his head. “Am I just reading the what you call it wrong? The little key in the corner here that tells you a quarter inch equals a foot?”
“No, that’s right.” Billy said.
“Hmmm…” Ian looked back at the prints in front of him and back to the pre-renovation set in Billy’s hands. Finally laying them side by side. “It looks to me like the second floor used to be a whole lot bigger.”
“What?”
“Look.”
Billy and Jude examined both sets of blueprints closely. “Huh. Reese, do you know anything about this?”
“About what?”
“The outer perimeters of the house match up.” Ian pointed out, but the second floor…some of it seems to be missing.”
“What?” Reese leaned in to take a look.
“Maybe it’s like Doctor Who’s Tardis only my house is the opposite, bigger on the outside and smaller on the inside.”
“Huh?”
“According to the current plans the only thing on the second floor is my bedroom, the walk-in and the hot tub off the side.” Ian told him.
“That’s right.” Reese confirmed.
“But look at the old plans.” Billy said.
“Half of it is missing.” Ian and Billy looked at Reese. “What did Miss Elizabeth do with the rest of the second floor?”
“Uh…Ian, son….” Jude interrupted. “…and we may as well ask ‘im, bout this, too.”
“What?”
Jude pointed to the key, licked his finger and split apart another page to the old plans that were stuck together. “I can see mebbe misplacing part of the second floor, Reese, but got any notions as to where the hell the whole third floor went?
Friday, July 8, 2011
Vignette #227: Right Minds
“That was quick.” Ripley looked up from the oven when Ian entered the kitchen, now dressed in flannel pants and a tee.
“There are days all I can think about is coming home and taking Ian Justyn off, wading him up and shoving him in the dirty clothes hamper.” He was shoved into a seat at the table, a glass of fresh iced tea placed in front of him. Ian picked it up and held it against his cheek. “Today was definitely one of those days.”
“First of all, Baby Doll,” Tippy turned to him fussing over something in a bowl on the counter, “You’ve never wadded up anything and shoved it in the hamper.”
“The first time I tried to do laundry for him, I got so confused.” Ripley looked over Tippy’s shoulder. “Ooh, add some lemon juice, just a little. It took me an hour to figure out that no one in their right minds would keep clean clothes folded neatly in a clothes hamper.”
“When does the term ‘right minds’ and the name ‘Ian Justyn’ ever belong in the same sentence?” Ian mused then gulped his tea.
“Did you have a rough day?”
“Not a all. It was a great day as a matter of fact, I just didn’t want to be there.” Ian admitted. “I just wanted to be here. Maybe I just wanted to be with my family. Maybe I just wanted to get this whole nursery thing started and maybe I just wanted to come up with new ways to torture the cat.” Rodie cocked her head from her position not far from him as she had been from the moment Ian stepped in the door. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Ian stared at Rodie. Rodie stared back. “I think I’ll give the cat a bath.” Rodie freaked and ran. Ian turned to the duo making dinner. “Yeah, that was why I came home.”
“You love that cat.” Tippy scolded him.
“Do not.”
“Do, too.”
“Children…” Ripley warned. “Don’t make me separate you two.” He dipped the pad of his finger in Tippy’s concoction and tasted. He smacked his lips a moment and thought as Tippy waited anxiously. “It’s good, but it’s missing just a little something.”
“What?” She gave it a taste, as well. “Hmm…you’re right. Baby Doll, taste this and tell me what it’s missing.”
Before he had a chance to say anything, Tippy shoved a spoonful in his mouth. His eyes darted to the left and then to the right, then swallowed. “What is it?”
“Guacamole.”
Got up from the table and looked down in the bowl, then to the counter and turned to Tippy. “Simple…” He picked up two green veggies from the counter. “Try adding some avocado.”
Tippy put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Pffffffttttt…it’s been one of those days.”
“Do you want me to take over dinner?” Ian put an arm around her, squeezed her close and rubbed her shoulder.
“That’s sweet, Baby Doll, but it’s my turn to make dinner. You go find Billy and Jude and start making some plans.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” He kissed her temple as she began to gently mash avocado in a second bowl. “Don’t worry, if you forget to add any other major ingredients we’ll just tell the kids it’s poor Mexican night and we have to imagine most of dinner.”
“See, you always know what to do.” Tippy laughed.
“Have you seen Clare?” Ian asked Ripley. “She should probably be in on this from the get go.”
“Actually, not for a few minutes.” Ripley sighed. “Which surprises me. I don’t know what’s been up with her today, but she’s been like this bad after shave smell wafting up my nose every time I turned around.”
“Clare?”
“Ian I swear, if I hadn’t locked the bathroom door, she’d have sat in my lap while I did my business.” Ripley shook his head, and then grabbed a potholder to take the olive oil brushed pizza dough from the oven. “It wasn’t until Jude and Billy showed up a few minutes ago that she finally deigned to let me leave her sight.”
“She’s probably just scared to be alone.” Ian looked over his shoulder as Ripley began to spread his special tomato sauce on one of the pies. “She is about to give birth, to twins, at any moment. Wait…guac and pizza?”
“It’s Thursday night.” Tippy looked up from her gentle folding.
“Vonnie chose dinner.” Ian said and Tippy and Ripley nodded.
“Honestly Ian, Clare’s driving me crazy.” Ripley put another spoonful on and spread it. “I think something’s wrong.”
“I’ll go chat with her. Where are the kids?” Ian asked as he swiped a pepperoni from the plate.
“Reese and Billy are in the den. Vonnie’s outback playing with Ralphie.” Tippy began folding her avocado in. “And Ronnie and Jesse are playing some video game.”
Ian smiled. “I love how the term ‘kids’ around here is sort of a yours, mine and ours overview.”
“Well, Baby Doll, let’s face it, we got us a redneck hippy commune goin’ here.”
“And we all kinda like it.” Ripley added while adding shredded cheese. “Don’t get too involved with the plans just yet, Boss Man.”
“Why? You and Clare gonna plat each other’s hair and paint your nails?”
“Funny.” Ripley scowled at him. “No, dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Time to put the tortillas in the oil.” Tippy announced to herself.
“Okay, I’ll find Clare, check in with Jude and Billy then round up the little hippies and get ‘em cleaned up.”
Ian made his way out of the kitchen just in time to run into the littlest hippy, today anyway. “Uncle Ian!” She giggled and jumped into his arms.
“Vonda Rae.” He squeezed her tight. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
“Just since this morning?”
“Yep, and I think…just a little bit….” Ian looked Vonnie over well. “…More ticklish!” He tickled her ribs as the child squealed with delight. He finished the tickle attack with kisses all over her face before sitting her on her feet. “Honey, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you wash up and then head into the kitchen and see what you can do for you Granny and Uncle Ripley?”
“’Kay.”
“Vonnie.” He stopped her in mid-bounce. “Have you seen Clare?”
“Ya huh.” She nodded her head. “She’s beached on the far end of the couch. Don’t worry. Ralphie’s sitting on the other end so it won’t flip over.” With that she was gone.
“There are days all I can think about is coming home and taking Ian Justyn off, wading him up and shoving him in the dirty clothes hamper.” He was shoved into a seat at the table, a glass of fresh iced tea placed in front of him. Ian picked it up and held it against his cheek. “Today was definitely one of those days.”
“First of all, Baby Doll,” Tippy turned to him fussing over something in a bowl on the counter, “You’ve never wadded up anything and shoved it in the hamper.”
“The first time I tried to do laundry for him, I got so confused.” Ripley looked over Tippy’s shoulder. “Ooh, add some lemon juice, just a little. It took me an hour to figure out that no one in their right minds would keep clean clothes folded neatly in a clothes hamper.”
“When does the term ‘right minds’ and the name ‘Ian Justyn’ ever belong in the same sentence?” Ian mused then gulped his tea.
“Did you have a rough day?”
“Not a all. It was a great day as a matter of fact, I just didn’t want to be there.” Ian admitted. “I just wanted to be here. Maybe I just wanted to be with my family. Maybe I just wanted to get this whole nursery thing started and maybe I just wanted to come up with new ways to torture the cat.” Rodie cocked her head from her position not far from him as she had been from the moment Ian stepped in the door. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Ian stared at Rodie. Rodie stared back. “I think I’ll give the cat a bath.” Rodie freaked and ran. Ian turned to the duo making dinner. “Yeah, that was why I came home.”
“You love that cat.” Tippy scolded him.
“Do not.”
“Do, too.”
“Children…” Ripley warned. “Don’t make me separate you two.” He dipped the pad of his finger in Tippy’s concoction and tasted. He smacked his lips a moment and thought as Tippy waited anxiously. “It’s good, but it’s missing just a little something.”
“What?” She gave it a taste, as well. “Hmm…you’re right. Baby Doll, taste this and tell me what it’s missing.”
Before he had a chance to say anything, Tippy shoved a spoonful in his mouth. His eyes darted to the left and then to the right, then swallowed. “What is it?”
“Guacamole.”
Got up from the table and looked down in the bowl, then to the counter and turned to Tippy. “Simple…” He picked up two green veggies from the counter. “Try adding some avocado.”
Tippy put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Pffffffttttt…it’s been one of those days.”
“Do you want me to take over dinner?” Ian put an arm around her, squeezed her close and rubbed her shoulder.
“That’s sweet, Baby Doll, but it’s my turn to make dinner. You go find Billy and Jude and start making some plans.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” He kissed her temple as she began to gently mash avocado in a second bowl. “Don’t worry, if you forget to add any other major ingredients we’ll just tell the kids it’s poor Mexican night and we have to imagine most of dinner.”
“See, you always know what to do.” Tippy laughed.
“Have you seen Clare?” Ian asked Ripley. “She should probably be in on this from the get go.”
“Actually, not for a few minutes.” Ripley sighed. “Which surprises me. I don’t know what’s been up with her today, but she’s been like this bad after shave smell wafting up my nose every time I turned around.”
“Clare?”
“Ian I swear, if I hadn’t locked the bathroom door, she’d have sat in my lap while I did my business.” Ripley shook his head, and then grabbed a potholder to take the olive oil brushed pizza dough from the oven. “It wasn’t until Jude and Billy showed up a few minutes ago that she finally deigned to let me leave her sight.”
“She’s probably just scared to be alone.” Ian looked over his shoulder as Ripley began to spread his special tomato sauce on one of the pies. “She is about to give birth, to twins, at any moment. Wait…guac and pizza?”
“It’s Thursday night.” Tippy looked up from her gentle folding.
“Vonnie chose dinner.” Ian said and Tippy and Ripley nodded.
“Honestly Ian, Clare’s driving me crazy.” Ripley put another spoonful on and spread it. “I think something’s wrong.”
“I’ll go chat with her. Where are the kids?” Ian asked as he swiped a pepperoni from the plate.
“Reese and Billy are in the den. Vonnie’s outback playing with Ralphie.” Tippy began folding her avocado in. “And Ronnie and Jesse are playing some video game.”
Ian smiled. “I love how the term ‘kids’ around here is sort of a yours, mine and ours overview.”
“Well, Baby Doll, let’s face it, we got us a redneck hippy commune goin’ here.”
“And we all kinda like it.” Ripley added while adding shredded cheese. “Don’t get too involved with the plans just yet, Boss Man.”
“Why? You and Clare gonna plat each other’s hair and paint your nails?”
“Funny.” Ripley scowled at him. “No, dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Time to put the tortillas in the oil.” Tippy announced to herself.
“Okay, I’ll find Clare, check in with Jude and Billy then round up the little hippies and get ‘em cleaned up.”
Ian made his way out of the kitchen just in time to run into the littlest hippy, today anyway. “Uncle Ian!” She giggled and jumped into his arms.
“Vonda Rae.” He squeezed her tight. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
“Just since this morning?”
“Yep, and I think…just a little bit….” Ian looked Vonnie over well. “…More ticklish!” He tickled her ribs as the child squealed with delight. He finished the tickle attack with kisses all over her face before sitting her on her feet. “Honey, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you wash up and then head into the kitchen and see what you can do for you Granny and Uncle Ripley?”
“’Kay.”
“Vonnie.” He stopped her in mid-bounce. “Have you seen Clare?”
“Ya huh.” She nodded her head. “She’s beached on the far end of the couch. Don’t worry. Ralphie’s sitting on the other end so it won’t flip over.” With that she was gone.
Vignette #226: Vantage Point
From her vantage behind the curtain, a stunned Tess watched paralyzed as Darla’s feet went from kicking the air to barely twitching. A blood-curdling scream filled the air. Tess looked up to see the last horrified sound come from Darla’s mouth.
Instead, Tess’s attention went to Lucille hitting the floor and screaming, her silky nightgown in flames, candles fallen over from the dresser as it was kicked by a struggling now lifeless Darla swinging from the rafter. Lucille screamed and struggled to put out the flames now creeping up from the hem to her stomach.
Tess instinctually yanked the draperies in front of her down. It took two powerful pulls, but the long hiding adrenaline in her kicked in and she heard the rod holding them snap. Tess jumped past the swaying body and pounced on the burning Lucille.
It seemed like it took forever, but it only took a moment. Lucille lay gasping for air, face twisted in pain. Her eyes focused on the panting young woman, lying on top of her. “Baby, it’s you.” Lucille half smiled.
Tess looked up, finally seeing the full face of Darla Hutton. It was frozen in shock, and at the same time, as the body twisted lightly back and forth, seemed to have this wry knowing smile. She cocked her head staring in the open, bulging eyes, the smell of burned satin and burned flesh filling the air.
Suddenly there was a whoosh as fire danced up the walls and across the mussed bedspread.
“Come one, Lucille, we’ve got to get out of here.” Tess yanked the charred drapes off Lucille and grabbed at her.
Lucille grasped Tess’s arm and held it still. “Oh Baby. You’ve burned yourself.”
As she half stood, for the first time, Tess got a look at the lower half of Lucille’s body. “You, too.” She took a deep breath and forced herself not to stare or vomit. “We’ve got to get out of here, Lucille. The room is on fire.”
The woman nodded and tried to get up. “Help me.” She gasped as she tried.
As the walls began to crack like the campfires Tess remembered from Girl Scouts not that long ago, she stopped trying to help Lucille up, grabbing her by the shoulders and began to just drag her from the room. She could hear Lucille moan in pain, but she had no choice if she wanted to save her life, if that were even possible.
She made it to the top of the stairs. A sturdy poof made Tess look back at the room she’d just dragged Lucille from. It was now the pit from Hell, and it was still racing toward them.
“Mizz Sinclair?” A voice came at her from the staircase.
“Jasper!” Tess had avoided having contact with any of the staff before, negroes scared her, but she was never so glad to see anyone in her life. “Help me! Lucille is hurt.”
“The house is on fire!” Jasper looked over her shoulder and cried out.
“I know.” Tess grabbed his arm to grab back his attention. “A lit candle fell over and caught Lucille’s dress on fire. I grabbed the drapes to put it out, but I don’t know…we have to get out of here. Help me. I think she’s passed out.”
“Lawdy.” Jasper uttered the one word of fear and then picked up Lucille like she was the morning paper and raced down the staircase with her. Tess followed behind them until they were out the door, the burning wing behind them.
“Is there anyone else inside?” Tess thought to ask.
“No, Miss Lucille sent everyone home.” Jasper cradled Lucille like a sleeping child, gently swaying her and looking at her sleeping face with love. “I always stay behind for Miss Lucille and Miss Darla.”
“We need to call someone…the fire company…the hospital…” Tess turned around and ducked at a loud pop from behind the door. “It’s burning so quickly.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tess stepped off the stoop with him, willing to follow him to the nearest phone.
“No.” Lucile’s eyes were closed but her voice was strong and full of calm focus. “This is what we’re going to do…”
Instead, Tess’s attention went to Lucille hitting the floor and screaming, her silky nightgown in flames, candles fallen over from the dresser as it was kicked by a struggling now lifeless Darla swinging from the rafter. Lucille screamed and struggled to put out the flames now creeping up from the hem to her stomach.
Tess instinctually yanked the draperies in front of her down. It took two powerful pulls, but the long hiding adrenaline in her kicked in and she heard the rod holding them snap. Tess jumped past the swaying body and pounced on the burning Lucille.
It seemed like it took forever, but it only took a moment. Lucille lay gasping for air, face twisted in pain. Her eyes focused on the panting young woman, lying on top of her. “Baby, it’s you.” Lucille half smiled.
Tess looked up, finally seeing the full face of Darla Hutton. It was frozen in shock, and at the same time, as the body twisted lightly back and forth, seemed to have this wry knowing smile. She cocked her head staring in the open, bulging eyes, the smell of burned satin and burned flesh filling the air.
Suddenly there was a whoosh as fire danced up the walls and across the mussed bedspread.
“Come one, Lucille, we’ve got to get out of here.” Tess yanked the charred drapes off Lucille and grabbed at her.
Lucille grasped Tess’s arm and held it still. “Oh Baby. You’ve burned yourself.”
As she half stood, for the first time, Tess got a look at the lower half of Lucille’s body. “You, too.” She took a deep breath and forced herself not to stare or vomit. “We’ve got to get out of here, Lucille. The room is on fire.”
The woman nodded and tried to get up. “Help me.” She gasped as she tried.
As the walls began to crack like the campfires Tess remembered from Girl Scouts not that long ago, she stopped trying to help Lucille up, grabbing her by the shoulders and began to just drag her from the room. She could hear Lucille moan in pain, but she had no choice if she wanted to save her life, if that were even possible.
She made it to the top of the stairs. A sturdy poof made Tess look back at the room she’d just dragged Lucille from. It was now the pit from Hell, and it was still racing toward them.
“Mizz Sinclair?” A voice came at her from the staircase.
“Jasper!” Tess had avoided having contact with any of the staff before, negroes scared her, but she was never so glad to see anyone in her life. “Help me! Lucille is hurt.”
“The house is on fire!” Jasper looked over her shoulder and cried out.
“I know.” Tess grabbed his arm to grab back his attention. “A lit candle fell over and caught Lucille’s dress on fire. I grabbed the drapes to put it out, but I don’t know…we have to get out of here. Help me. I think she’s passed out.”
“Lawdy.” Jasper uttered the one word of fear and then picked up Lucille like she was the morning paper and raced down the staircase with her. Tess followed behind them until they were out the door, the burning wing behind them.
“Is there anyone else inside?” Tess thought to ask.
“No, Miss Lucille sent everyone home.” Jasper cradled Lucille like a sleeping child, gently swaying her and looking at her sleeping face with love. “I always stay behind for Miss Lucille and Miss Darla.”
“We need to call someone…the fire company…the hospital…” Tess turned around and ducked at a loud pop from behind the door. “It’s burning so quickly.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tess stepped off the stoop with him, willing to follow him to the nearest phone.
“No.” Lucile’s eyes were closed but her voice was strong and full of calm focus. “This is what we’re going to do…”
Vignette #225: Controlling Darla
The scream startled Tess, as Darla let it out and scrambled to the top of the dressing table, kicking at a laughing Lucille who danced around her and pawed at her. Darla kicked and yelled. Lucille laughed and menaced until Darla whipped off her belt and started hitting her attacker with it.
After several very adept thwacks with the buckle, Lucille finally backed off, but only a little. “Okay, ya little bitch. Keep it. Didn’t want it anyway.”
Darla caught her breath, but didn’t dare leave her perch from the dresser top. She looked around the room. “What are all these…” She whipped her head to Lucille. “You’ve been screwing in my bed.”
“Jealous?” Lucille had to be quick to put her hands up in defense as the belt snapped in the air just an inch from her face. “You crazy bitch!”
“You’ve been screwing…in my bed! Haven’t you!”
“Yeah.” Lucille glared at her. “It’s not like you were using it. Hell, we haven’t seen you since the night you ran screaming “They’re trying to kill me” out the front door leaving that disgusting trail of whatever it was when you’re water broke.”
“You are trying to kill me, me and my baby.”
“You’re still breathing aren’t you bitch?”
“But you want me dead!”
“I could care less.” Lucille calmly smoothed the silky front of her lingerie. “I just want the threats and the paranoia and the general nightmare of insanity you create gone.”
From her steadfast perch on the dresser Darla looked down. “You just want to keep me quiet.”
“Doesn’t seem any one is able to do a good job with that. Quiet is hardly a word in anyone’s vocabulary when you’re around, these days anyway.”
Darla pointed a finger at Lucille. “I know what’s been going on, Lucille. I know what all three of you have been doing. I’m not stupid.”
“Darla, you barely know what your name is…”
“You want me out of the way so I won’t tell anybody. You want me dead so no one will ever find out. There’s a word for want you all have done. I don’t know what it is, but there’s a word for it.”
Lucille laughed again. “You just keep proving me right.”
“…And I don’t think it’s legal. You’d have an awful lot of explaining to do if I died.”
“Honey, I keep having to explain things when you’re alive.” Lucille rolled her eyes and looked at her fingernails. “Alive…dead…it don’t seem to make much of a difference.”
“You’re just upset because I’m in control now.” Darla mocked her.
“Darla, you can’t even control your bowels.”
Darla kicked out and caught Lucille in the jaw sending her reeling out of Tess’s sight. In seconds Lucille came back into view howling like a wounded animal on attack. Darla jumped from Lucille’s lunge and landed on a chair between the dresser and the draperies.
“Stay away from me, Lucille!” She warned. “Stay away from me or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Lucille growled, hunched over like a linebacker ready for defense.
“I’ll…I’ll…” Darla looked up at the ceiling. She smiled and looked back down at the huffing Lucille. “Or…I’ll…do this…” In the bat of an eye, Darla whipped one end of the cloth belt around the thick wood brace that ran the length of the ceiling and tied the other end around her neck.
“I see we’ve been hiding our past as a calf roper.” Lucille giggled uncharacteristically.
Tess could see Darla’s face clearly. It was full of rage and vengeance. “I’ll do it. I swear, Lucille. You come one step closer and I’ll kill myself.”
“Oh do it, bitch.” Lucille sat on the bed and crossed her legs. “Get it over with. We’re all tired of the threats. Do us all the favor and just get it the fuck over with.”
“You’ll never find my baby.” She threatened.
“Like anyone cares, Darla. You’ve done us all a favor and gotten rid of the thing. One less mess I have to clean up.”
“Think of the scandal, Lucille. You hate scandal.”
Lucille leaned back on the bed, casually sighing. “Actually, Darla. I love scandal. It’s what I make my living off of. If there ain’t one hovering around. I got nothin’ to do, so I create one. Those are the best. Those I can always make in my favor.”
“They’ll find out the truth!” Darla hissed. “Everyone will know what I’ve known all along.”
Tess couldn’t help but notice Lucille tighten her body language just a bit. She tried to remain nonchalant, but the slight crack in her voice gave her away. “And exactly what is it that you think you’ve known all along Darla?”
“Darla…hah!” The woman with the make shift noose around her head snorted. “Darla Hutton doesn’t exist!”
“Of course she exists, you idiot!” Lucille spit. “You’re Darla Hutton…”
“If I kill myself, they’ll investigate. It’ll be all over the papers! Everyone will know!”
Lucille stood but went back to examining her fingernails. She sighed. “Everyone will know what, Darla?”
“Don’t come any closer!” Darla wailed. “I’ll do it. I swear!”
“Everyone will know what?”
“That I’m not Darla Hutton.” The woman seemed to be relieved to admit that fact. Tess couldn’t help but notice the pleasure in her face giving her the courage to go further. “If I die, they’ll know that truth. I’m not Darla Hutton and I never really have been!”
Lucille laughed, never taking her eyes off her cuticles. “Oh honey. You are insane.”
“You’ll never be able to explain your way out if I kill myself.”
“Actually, Darla Not Darla Never Really Have Been Darla, suicide is not my first option, but one I can so easily deal with. It easily explains so much…”
Before Tess had a chance to gasp, Lucille turned her back, kicking behind her and knocking the chair from beneath Darla’s feet. Stunned, she watched Darla struggling to find solid ground beneath her.
“Most of it would be a lie, but most everything about everything these days has nothing to do with the truth.” Lucille spoke, back to Darla as her feet did a horrifying dance in the air.
After several very adept thwacks with the buckle, Lucille finally backed off, but only a little. “Okay, ya little bitch. Keep it. Didn’t want it anyway.”
Darla caught her breath, but didn’t dare leave her perch from the dresser top. She looked around the room. “What are all these…” She whipped her head to Lucille. “You’ve been screwing in my bed.”
“Jealous?” Lucille had to be quick to put her hands up in defense as the belt snapped in the air just an inch from her face. “You crazy bitch!”
“You’ve been screwing…in my bed! Haven’t you!”
“Yeah.” Lucille glared at her. “It’s not like you were using it. Hell, we haven’t seen you since the night you ran screaming “They’re trying to kill me” out the front door leaving that disgusting trail of whatever it was when you’re water broke.”
“You are trying to kill me, me and my baby.”
“You’re still breathing aren’t you bitch?”
“But you want me dead!”
“I could care less.” Lucille calmly smoothed the silky front of her lingerie. “I just want the threats and the paranoia and the general nightmare of insanity you create gone.”
From her steadfast perch on the dresser Darla looked down. “You just want to keep me quiet.”
“Doesn’t seem any one is able to do a good job with that. Quiet is hardly a word in anyone’s vocabulary when you’re around, these days anyway.”
Darla pointed a finger at Lucille. “I know what’s been going on, Lucille. I know what all three of you have been doing. I’m not stupid.”
“Darla, you barely know what your name is…”
“You want me out of the way so I won’t tell anybody. You want me dead so no one will ever find out. There’s a word for want you all have done. I don’t know what it is, but there’s a word for it.”
Lucille laughed again. “You just keep proving me right.”
“…And I don’t think it’s legal. You’d have an awful lot of explaining to do if I died.”
“Honey, I keep having to explain things when you’re alive.” Lucille rolled her eyes and looked at her fingernails. “Alive…dead…it don’t seem to make much of a difference.”
“You’re just upset because I’m in control now.” Darla mocked her.
“Darla, you can’t even control your bowels.”
Darla kicked out and caught Lucille in the jaw sending her reeling out of Tess’s sight. In seconds Lucille came back into view howling like a wounded animal on attack. Darla jumped from Lucille’s lunge and landed on a chair between the dresser and the draperies.
“Stay away from me, Lucille!” She warned. “Stay away from me or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Lucille growled, hunched over like a linebacker ready for defense.
“I’ll…I’ll…” Darla looked up at the ceiling. She smiled and looked back down at the huffing Lucille. “Or…I’ll…do this…” In the bat of an eye, Darla whipped one end of the cloth belt around the thick wood brace that ran the length of the ceiling and tied the other end around her neck.
“I see we’ve been hiding our past as a calf roper.” Lucille giggled uncharacteristically.
Tess could see Darla’s face clearly. It was full of rage and vengeance. “I’ll do it. I swear, Lucille. You come one step closer and I’ll kill myself.”
“Oh do it, bitch.” Lucille sat on the bed and crossed her legs. “Get it over with. We’re all tired of the threats. Do us all the favor and just get it the fuck over with.”
“You’ll never find my baby.” She threatened.
“Like anyone cares, Darla. You’ve done us all a favor and gotten rid of the thing. One less mess I have to clean up.”
“Think of the scandal, Lucille. You hate scandal.”
Lucille leaned back on the bed, casually sighing. “Actually, Darla. I love scandal. It’s what I make my living off of. If there ain’t one hovering around. I got nothin’ to do, so I create one. Those are the best. Those I can always make in my favor.”
“They’ll find out the truth!” Darla hissed. “Everyone will know what I’ve known all along.”
Tess couldn’t help but notice Lucille tighten her body language just a bit. She tried to remain nonchalant, but the slight crack in her voice gave her away. “And exactly what is it that you think you’ve known all along Darla?”
“Darla…hah!” The woman with the make shift noose around her head snorted. “Darla Hutton doesn’t exist!”
“Of course she exists, you idiot!” Lucille spit. “You’re Darla Hutton…”
“If I kill myself, they’ll investigate. It’ll be all over the papers! Everyone will know!”
Lucille stood but went back to examining her fingernails. She sighed. “Everyone will know what, Darla?”
“Don’t come any closer!” Darla wailed. “I’ll do it. I swear!”
“Everyone will know what?”
“That I’m not Darla Hutton.” The woman seemed to be relieved to admit that fact. Tess couldn’t help but notice the pleasure in her face giving her the courage to go further. “If I die, they’ll know that truth. I’m not Darla Hutton and I never really have been!”
Lucille laughed, never taking her eyes off her cuticles. “Oh honey. You are insane.”
“You’ll never be able to explain your way out if I kill myself.”
“Actually, Darla Not Darla Never Really Have Been Darla, suicide is not my first option, but one I can so easily deal with. It easily explains so much…”
Before Tess had a chance to gasp, Lucille turned her back, kicking behind her and knocking the chair from beneath Darla’s feet. Stunned, she watched Darla struggling to find solid ground beneath her.
“Most of it would be a lie, but most everything about everything these days has nothing to do with the truth.” Lucille spoke, back to Darla as her feet did a horrifying dance in the air.
Vignette #224: Hiding Places
It wasn’t her idea but, since no one was there, they wanted to make love in Darla’s bed, and they had all afternoon. It was her first real love affair and she was thrilled, adventurous and found it all so adult and exciting.
They had met on the set of “Just In Time”, her first big role in a big motion picture. She knew the moment she got it; it would be a huge stepping-stone in her career. Everyone wanted to be in an HRT project. Everyone wanted to work with David Turner, James Redfield and the elusive Darla Hutton. It was a rarity but they were all three working together again. She was right there working along side them.
Little did she know how much would change in her life before the film even was released. Things happened so fast. One minute she was the naïve young actress working on a major motion picture. The next she was a seasoned pro, a large role under her belt and waking from an afternoon rendezvous in the star’s bed when she wasn’t home.
It served the woman right. She had hoped to learn so much from working with Darla Hutton. What she learned was the kind of star she didn’t want to be. The woman pitched temper tantrums shutting down or delaying the shoot constantly. Then a few minutes later, the same shrew was cowering in a corner bawling her eyes out.
Darla Hutton spoke to only a chosen few, and seemed to enjoy making everyone around her miserable. She treated her co-star and her director with disdain, often picking up a prop and hurling it unprovoked at one of them.
Oh she was beautiful, even more breath taking in person than on the screen, but quite frankly not only was she unprofessional, she wasn’t a very good actress. It surprised her.
Teresa, as she was called back then, had been mesmerized by “Breathe Again”, as everyone who saw it had been. Although Darla’s five other pictures didn’t have that same exact magic, Darla was brilliant and the films excellent.
“Just In Time” would probably be at best good. James Redfield was incredible, as usual, and the script seemed inspired, but Darla Hutton was terrible. The only time she could even stand her in the rushes was in the musical numbers. As terrible as Hutton was in this role, her vocal abilities were unmatched.
David Turner had a reputation for spinning gold. She had her fingers crossed that he’d be able to work his magic in the editing room. There was no way she wanted her first major role to be in Darla Hutton’s first major bomb.
She stirred in the big brass bed. Her lover was gone. Tess sat up looking around the ornate room. Sighing she looked down on the floor and then reached for her clothes. It wouldn’t be the first time she had awakened after a thrilling hour of passion to find herself alone. She guessed that was the way things would always be as long as she was sleeping with someone who was already married.
She dressed lazily and looked at the mussed bed. She thought about making it, but remembered it hadn’t been made when she had been thrown on it and ravaged. Tess smiled. She started to blow out the many candles lit around the bedroom. She’d almost forgotten how they’d taken her breath away when she was led in and she saw them for the first time.
With a quick breath out went to first candle. She loved the perfumed wax smell as that little dash of smoke curled in the air after whiffing the flame out. Tess touched a clear drip from the candle and let the hot goo dry almost instantly on her finger. She was looking at it when she heard her coming.
She couldn’t make out what was said, but she could make out an argument was ensuing and coming straight for her. Panicked she looked around the room, dashing behind the flowing drapes just before the bedroom door was slammed open.
From her hiding place she heard the big bed rock, as a body was either thrown against it or someone threw themselves on it. She didn’t dare look to see who it was, as much as she wanted to. She trembled waiting for a moment when she could slip away unnoticed. She tried to crane her head around to see if she might be able to slip out the window when she became suddenly aware that there was someone else in the room.
“Don’t you ever walk away from me!” The voice growled.
“I’ll do anything I please!” Came the voice from the bed. “I’m free of you now and I don’t take orders from you or anyone else anymore!”
“Free?” The other voice scoffed. “You’re back in this house aren’t you?”
She heard the woman sit up on the bed. “I just came back to get my things.”
“Two questions Darla. How long will it take you to pack your bags and get the hell out and when will we all be free of you?”
Tess turned her head slightly to the left and realized that she could see the mirror on the dresser from her hiding place. Remembering her acting teacher once telling her if you can see the audience, they can see you. She began to slip further behind the drapes, but instead wrapped them discreetly around herself until she could no longer she her own reflection.
From her hiding place she could see Lucille take a step toward the woman on the bed. “I’m waiting for an answer Darla. How long until we’re all rid of you for good?”
She couldn’t see Darla’s face, only that back of her thick black curls. “Soon enough.”
“What you want something more?” Lucille pulled the yellow frock tighter around her chest, trying to cover the lingerie she was wearing. “Blood?”
Tess could hear Darla smile. “Not really, but if I asked for it, you’d have to give it to me. You know you would.”
She saw Lucille pull a large cedar box she’d been hiding behind her back so Darla could see it. Tess noticed Darla’s head move like a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse. Lucille smiled and tossed it on the bed and out of Tess’s sight.
“Here.” The triumph evident in her voice, “I don’t have any cash on me, but these should do. My jewelry is worth a fortune. Take It, get out and don’t come back. In fact never let us hear from you again.”
Darla’s manic laugh was unmistakable. “You think I need money?”
“Of course, you need money.”
Tess could hear the cedar box open and the sound of fingers dipping through the jewelry. “You aren’t nearly as smart as you think you are Lucille. I have money, lots and lots of money.”
“But all in a joint account with your husband. Remember him?”
“David? Of course, I remember him.” Tess could she her cock her head from the reflection in the mirror. “Is he dead yet?”
“No.” Lucille smirked. “He’ll be fine. So will James. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“There.” Tess started to panic again when she realized Darla was getting up from the bed and walking toward the mirror. She had to stifle a laugh, no a guffaw, when she got a look at Darla getting a look at herself.
Darla leaned into the mirror, and then turned to Lucille covered in every piece of jewelry she had space for. “Do I look like a cheap whore yet?”
Lucille crossed her arms. “You don’t need to be slathered in too much jewelry to look like a cheap whore.”
In a flash the cedar box was hurled at Lucille who ducked and laughed. “Almost got me. You move pretty well for a woman who just had a baby. You did just have a baby or were you just messing with us all again?”
“Yes, I had a baby.” Darla got defensive, rubbing her belly slightly.
“What’d you do with it? Drop it by the road and high tail it home to whine until one of us goes and finds it for you like a lost earring?”
Tess watched Darla whip around to face the mirror, hurt flashing across her face and then just a quickly smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know where my baby is?”
“Couldn’t care less, Darla.”
“That’s what you want. That’s what you all want. You want me to hand over my baby and then you’ll take it and get rid of me.”
“Actually, Sweetheart, my personal choice is just to wash my hands of you and the little pooping brat.” Lucille took a step toward Darla. “So what was it, a boy poop or a girl poop?”
Darla whipped around to face the mirror again, her eyes darting around in dismay. “A little boy…David has a son.”
“David?” Lucile scoffed. “Are you sure it’s David’s?”
“Of course, it’s David’s.”
“I don’t know, Darla. You got awful chummy with Mike Kincaid. You guys got friendly and all of a sudden all you could talk about was blowing whistles and getting out. You been blowin’ Mike Kincaid’s whistle Darla?”
Her voice became cold and deadly. “I’ll have you know the only man who’s ever touched me is my husband.”
Lucille laughed out loud. “Not surprised. Who’d wanna touch a crazy bitch? That’s exactly what you are Darla, one crazy bitch.”
Darla turned slowly and deliberately until she was facing Lucille. “I bet you wish you could say the same.”
“I got one up on ya, Darla.” Lucile put her hands on her hips and let the peignoir fall open, giving Darla a flash of cleavage. “I’ve never been touched by…a man.”
“Perverts!” Darla gasped. “You all are perverts!”
Lucille threw back her head and laughed. Then like a tiger waiting for the perfect moment, she pounced on her prey. “Is that what’ll take to get you off everyone’s back? Me?”
Lucille yanked Darla to her and kissed her deeply. Darla struggled, finally pushing her off and wiping her lips disgustedly with the back of her hand. “You ever touch me again and I’ll kill you!”
“Like I haven’t heard that before.” Lucille pushed herself up off the floor.
Darla put out her hand. “I mean it. Don’t come one step closer!”
Lucille took a daring step toward Darla, who threw herself against the dressing table, rattling the mirror and the contents on top of the dresser.
“Ouch!” Darla grabbed her hand, and cradled it where a candle hand fallen over and burned her.
“Aw, darling.” Lucille smirked, advancing toward her. “Let Mama kiss it and make it all better.
They had met on the set of “Just In Time”, her first big role in a big motion picture. She knew the moment she got it; it would be a huge stepping-stone in her career. Everyone wanted to be in an HRT project. Everyone wanted to work with David Turner, James Redfield and the elusive Darla Hutton. It was a rarity but they were all three working together again. She was right there working along side them.
Little did she know how much would change in her life before the film even was released. Things happened so fast. One minute she was the naïve young actress working on a major motion picture. The next she was a seasoned pro, a large role under her belt and waking from an afternoon rendezvous in the star’s bed when she wasn’t home.
It served the woman right. She had hoped to learn so much from working with Darla Hutton. What she learned was the kind of star she didn’t want to be. The woman pitched temper tantrums shutting down or delaying the shoot constantly. Then a few minutes later, the same shrew was cowering in a corner bawling her eyes out.
Darla Hutton spoke to only a chosen few, and seemed to enjoy making everyone around her miserable. She treated her co-star and her director with disdain, often picking up a prop and hurling it unprovoked at one of them.
Oh she was beautiful, even more breath taking in person than on the screen, but quite frankly not only was she unprofessional, she wasn’t a very good actress. It surprised her.
Teresa, as she was called back then, had been mesmerized by “Breathe Again”, as everyone who saw it had been. Although Darla’s five other pictures didn’t have that same exact magic, Darla was brilliant and the films excellent.
“Just In Time” would probably be at best good. James Redfield was incredible, as usual, and the script seemed inspired, but Darla Hutton was terrible. The only time she could even stand her in the rushes was in the musical numbers. As terrible as Hutton was in this role, her vocal abilities were unmatched.
David Turner had a reputation for spinning gold. She had her fingers crossed that he’d be able to work his magic in the editing room. There was no way she wanted her first major role to be in Darla Hutton’s first major bomb.
She stirred in the big brass bed. Her lover was gone. Tess sat up looking around the ornate room. Sighing she looked down on the floor and then reached for her clothes. It wouldn’t be the first time she had awakened after a thrilling hour of passion to find herself alone. She guessed that was the way things would always be as long as she was sleeping with someone who was already married.
She dressed lazily and looked at the mussed bed. She thought about making it, but remembered it hadn’t been made when she had been thrown on it and ravaged. Tess smiled. She started to blow out the many candles lit around the bedroom. She’d almost forgotten how they’d taken her breath away when she was led in and she saw them for the first time.
With a quick breath out went to first candle. She loved the perfumed wax smell as that little dash of smoke curled in the air after whiffing the flame out. Tess touched a clear drip from the candle and let the hot goo dry almost instantly on her finger. She was looking at it when she heard her coming.
She couldn’t make out what was said, but she could make out an argument was ensuing and coming straight for her. Panicked she looked around the room, dashing behind the flowing drapes just before the bedroom door was slammed open.
From her hiding place she heard the big bed rock, as a body was either thrown against it or someone threw themselves on it. She didn’t dare look to see who it was, as much as she wanted to. She trembled waiting for a moment when she could slip away unnoticed. She tried to crane her head around to see if she might be able to slip out the window when she became suddenly aware that there was someone else in the room.
“Don’t you ever walk away from me!” The voice growled.
“I’ll do anything I please!” Came the voice from the bed. “I’m free of you now and I don’t take orders from you or anyone else anymore!”
“Free?” The other voice scoffed. “You’re back in this house aren’t you?”
She heard the woman sit up on the bed. “I just came back to get my things.”
“Two questions Darla. How long will it take you to pack your bags and get the hell out and when will we all be free of you?”
Tess turned her head slightly to the left and realized that she could see the mirror on the dresser from her hiding place. Remembering her acting teacher once telling her if you can see the audience, they can see you. She began to slip further behind the drapes, but instead wrapped them discreetly around herself until she could no longer she her own reflection.
From her hiding place she could see Lucille take a step toward the woman on the bed. “I’m waiting for an answer Darla. How long until we’re all rid of you for good?”
She couldn’t see Darla’s face, only that back of her thick black curls. “Soon enough.”
“What you want something more?” Lucille pulled the yellow frock tighter around her chest, trying to cover the lingerie she was wearing. “Blood?”
Tess could hear Darla smile. “Not really, but if I asked for it, you’d have to give it to me. You know you would.”
She saw Lucille pull a large cedar box she’d been hiding behind her back so Darla could see it. Tess noticed Darla’s head move like a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse. Lucille smiled and tossed it on the bed and out of Tess’s sight.
“Here.” The triumph evident in her voice, “I don’t have any cash on me, but these should do. My jewelry is worth a fortune. Take It, get out and don’t come back. In fact never let us hear from you again.”
Darla’s manic laugh was unmistakable. “You think I need money?”
“Of course, you need money.”
Tess could hear the cedar box open and the sound of fingers dipping through the jewelry. “You aren’t nearly as smart as you think you are Lucille. I have money, lots and lots of money.”
“But all in a joint account with your husband. Remember him?”
“David? Of course, I remember him.” Tess could she her cock her head from the reflection in the mirror. “Is he dead yet?”
“No.” Lucille smirked. “He’ll be fine. So will James. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“There.” Tess started to panic again when she realized Darla was getting up from the bed and walking toward the mirror. She had to stifle a laugh, no a guffaw, when she got a look at Darla getting a look at herself.
Darla leaned into the mirror, and then turned to Lucille covered in every piece of jewelry she had space for. “Do I look like a cheap whore yet?”
Lucille crossed her arms. “You don’t need to be slathered in too much jewelry to look like a cheap whore.”
In a flash the cedar box was hurled at Lucille who ducked and laughed. “Almost got me. You move pretty well for a woman who just had a baby. You did just have a baby or were you just messing with us all again?”
“Yes, I had a baby.” Darla got defensive, rubbing her belly slightly.
“What’d you do with it? Drop it by the road and high tail it home to whine until one of us goes and finds it for you like a lost earring?”
Tess watched Darla whip around to face the mirror, hurt flashing across her face and then just a quickly smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know where my baby is?”
“Couldn’t care less, Darla.”
“That’s what you want. That’s what you all want. You want me to hand over my baby and then you’ll take it and get rid of me.”
“Actually, Sweetheart, my personal choice is just to wash my hands of you and the little pooping brat.” Lucille took a step toward Darla. “So what was it, a boy poop or a girl poop?”
Darla whipped around to face the mirror again, her eyes darting around in dismay. “A little boy…David has a son.”
“David?” Lucile scoffed. “Are you sure it’s David’s?”
“Of course, it’s David’s.”
“I don’t know, Darla. You got awful chummy with Mike Kincaid. You guys got friendly and all of a sudden all you could talk about was blowing whistles and getting out. You been blowin’ Mike Kincaid’s whistle Darla?”
Her voice became cold and deadly. “I’ll have you know the only man who’s ever touched me is my husband.”
Lucille laughed out loud. “Not surprised. Who’d wanna touch a crazy bitch? That’s exactly what you are Darla, one crazy bitch.”
Darla turned slowly and deliberately until she was facing Lucille. “I bet you wish you could say the same.”
“I got one up on ya, Darla.” Lucile put her hands on her hips and let the peignoir fall open, giving Darla a flash of cleavage. “I’ve never been touched by…a man.”
“Perverts!” Darla gasped. “You all are perverts!”
Lucille threw back her head and laughed. Then like a tiger waiting for the perfect moment, she pounced on her prey. “Is that what’ll take to get you off everyone’s back? Me?”
Lucille yanked Darla to her and kissed her deeply. Darla struggled, finally pushing her off and wiping her lips disgustedly with the back of her hand. “You ever touch me again and I’ll kill you!”
“Like I haven’t heard that before.” Lucille pushed herself up off the floor.
Darla put out her hand. “I mean it. Don’t come one step closer!”
Lucille took a daring step toward Darla, who threw herself against the dressing table, rattling the mirror and the contents on top of the dresser.
“Ouch!” Darla grabbed her hand, and cradled it where a candle hand fallen over and burned her.
“Aw, darling.” Lucille smirked, advancing toward her. “Let Mama kiss it and make it all better.
Vignette #223: Hidden Scars
“So do you wanna pitch in with us for the baby gift?” Jeff Torkelson asked as he scooped up the last donut from the snack table.
“Has left on the plate and salivating recalling the days when donuts were a basic food that bimbo spit out the kid yet?” Tess Sinclair responded while staring at the powdered sugar group in her diet.
“No, but we’ve signed them up for diaper service.” Torkelson licked the sugar off his fingers, teasing his co-star.
Tessie rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty generic Stud Muffin. It’s Ian. He’s a God. We can do better.”
“It’s all the crew could agree on they could afford. They wanted to do something, and I’ve agreed to pay for half.”
“I’ll match yours and raise ya, but we’ve got to come up with something better than diaper service.” Tess sighed and picked up a petite carrot stick. “How ‘bout a hit man to off the knocked up bimbo…once she’s had the kid, of course.”
“We better hurry.” Jeff took the carrot stick, licked it, rolled it in the stray powdered sugar and handed it back to Tessie. “They’re due any day.”
“They?” Tess looked at the carrot and back to Jeff. “What, she having a litter?”
“Twins.” Jeff smiled. “She’s having twin boys.”
“Well aren’t you just the font of all things Justyn.” Tess acted like she tossed the carrot in the trash, but palmed it to hopefully lick off the sugar in the privacy of her trailer later.
“I talked with Trampus Scott this morning. He filled me in.”
“Hey, Torkelson!” The AD yelled from behind them. “You wanna come shoot this scene or do I have time for an orgasm?”
“Be there in ninety seconds, Gibby. Treat yourself, you got time for two orgasms.” Jeff kissed Tess on the cheek.
She smiled and turned to the AD. “Hey, Gibby, you wanna borrow my tweezers? I got ‘em handy? Just rinse ‘em off before you return ‘em.”
Tess turned to retire to her trailer, almost running into a well-meaning make up girl.
“Sorry, Miss Sinclair.” The young girl blushed.
“It’s okay, dear. My fault wasn’t looking where I was going.” She patted the sweet young thing on the shoulder and gently made sure she was out of her way.
The girl looked at Tess’s forearm where the long sleeve rode up just a bit. She grabbed Tess’s hand and looked at it. “Oh my, would you like me to touch that up for you? I would only take a second.”
“No thanks, dear.”
“That’s a pretty nasty scar.”
Tess yanked back the fabric just a bit and looked at it. “I guess it is. I never think about it anymore. It was so long ago, I don’t even quite remember how I got it.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could ever forget something like that. It must have hurt something awful.”
Tess pulled her sleeve back down to her wrist. “Hon when you get my age, you tend to forget the bad stuff and remember the important, like the little tag in your underwear goes in the back.”
The girl put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “You’re so funny Miss Sinclair.”
“Call me Tess, dear heart.” The icon smiled and went on her way; musing/hoping for just a moment the new make up girl had been flirting with her.
Pulling the door to her trailer shut behind her, Tess immediately reached for the carrot in her pocket, but sighed lobbed it at the trash can full of tissues and reached for the bottle of spring water that had been sitting out all day. She plopped on the couch and looked at her sleeve.
After a good long lukewarm drink, she pushed the sleeve up enough to stare at the scar on her arm. It was about the size of a fifty-cent piece, and over time had become more a discoloration than a burn.
She had lied. She hadn’t forgotten how she got it, although she had tried many, many times. How can you forget something that wakes you up at night screaming in a cold sweat?
It was a long, long time ago. The old adage was true, it did fade with time, but it had to be re-forgotten every few months it haunted her dreams horribly vivid clarity in.
“Has left on the plate and salivating recalling the days when donuts were a basic food that bimbo spit out the kid yet?” Tess Sinclair responded while staring at the powdered sugar group in her diet.
“No, but we’ve signed them up for diaper service.” Torkelson licked the sugar off his fingers, teasing his co-star.
Tessie rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty generic Stud Muffin. It’s Ian. He’s a God. We can do better.”
“It’s all the crew could agree on they could afford. They wanted to do something, and I’ve agreed to pay for half.”
“I’ll match yours and raise ya, but we’ve got to come up with something better than diaper service.” Tess sighed and picked up a petite carrot stick. “How ‘bout a hit man to off the knocked up bimbo…once she’s had the kid, of course.”
“We better hurry.” Jeff took the carrot stick, licked it, rolled it in the stray powdered sugar and handed it back to Tessie. “They’re due any day.”
“They?” Tess looked at the carrot and back to Jeff. “What, she having a litter?”
“Twins.” Jeff smiled. “She’s having twin boys.”
“Well aren’t you just the font of all things Justyn.” Tess acted like she tossed the carrot in the trash, but palmed it to hopefully lick off the sugar in the privacy of her trailer later.
“I talked with Trampus Scott this morning. He filled me in.”
“Hey, Torkelson!” The AD yelled from behind them. “You wanna come shoot this scene or do I have time for an orgasm?”
“Be there in ninety seconds, Gibby. Treat yourself, you got time for two orgasms.” Jeff kissed Tess on the cheek.
She smiled and turned to the AD. “Hey, Gibby, you wanna borrow my tweezers? I got ‘em handy? Just rinse ‘em off before you return ‘em.”
Tess turned to retire to her trailer, almost running into a well-meaning make up girl.
“Sorry, Miss Sinclair.” The young girl blushed.
“It’s okay, dear. My fault wasn’t looking where I was going.” She patted the sweet young thing on the shoulder and gently made sure she was out of her way.
The girl looked at Tess’s forearm where the long sleeve rode up just a bit. She grabbed Tess’s hand and looked at it. “Oh my, would you like me to touch that up for you? I would only take a second.”
“No thanks, dear.”
“That’s a pretty nasty scar.”
Tess yanked back the fabric just a bit and looked at it. “I guess it is. I never think about it anymore. It was so long ago, I don’t even quite remember how I got it.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could ever forget something like that. It must have hurt something awful.”
Tess pulled her sleeve back down to her wrist. “Hon when you get my age, you tend to forget the bad stuff and remember the important, like the little tag in your underwear goes in the back.”
The girl put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “You’re so funny Miss Sinclair.”
“Call me Tess, dear heart.” The icon smiled and went on her way; musing/hoping for just a moment the new make up girl had been flirting with her.
Pulling the door to her trailer shut behind her, Tess immediately reached for the carrot in her pocket, but sighed lobbed it at the trash can full of tissues and reached for the bottle of spring water that had been sitting out all day. She plopped on the couch and looked at her sleeve.
After a good long lukewarm drink, she pushed the sleeve up enough to stare at the scar on her arm. It was about the size of a fifty-cent piece, and over time had become more a discoloration than a burn.
She had lied. She hadn’t forgotten how she got it, although she had tried many, many times. How can you forget something that wakes you up at night screaming in a cold sweat?
It was a long, long time ago. The old adage was true, it did fade with time, but it had to be re-forgotten every few months it haunted her dreams horribly vivid clarity in.
Vignette #222: Rabid Followings
There was complete silence as the lights came up slowly in the screening room.
“So…” Ian’s eyes darted nervously around. “Is this a good stunned silence or a bad stunned silence?”
He heard someone mutter, “I need a cigarette.”
Suddenly the room was lighting up, ignoring all the politically correct signs and health justifications. There was a moment or two of Bic flicking, puffing and exhaling.
Suddenly someone slapped their free hand down on the arm of their screening chair. “That was absolutely brilliant.” And the room filled with thunderous applause.
Ian wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or second guess himself.
Ned Bellamy sat forward in his chair. “Ian…I am speechless. I’ve never seen anything like that. Riveting, just riveting. My heart is still beating at 90 miles an hour. Now, I admit I’m one of the few who’ve never read the books, so everything was a complete and utter surprise.”
“The downside,” leave it to Trent Rockford to throw water on the embers, “is that Amanda will editing another three hours into the episode to make up a week of the daytime soap.” He eased knowingly back in his chair. “The upside is that even with the extra footage it will still probably be much faster than most daytime dramas.”
“Actually…” Ian smiled. “…You’ve misunderstood. What you’ve just seen are the first two episodes of the daytime drama. Amanda is doing the opposite. Filming the soap and then editing it down into two hours per week for nine weeks, so the mini-series version we run in Prime Time will be even faster, pared down to major storylines or subplots you’ll have to tune into the daytime version to get resolution.”
Rockford was stunned. “That’s the daytime version?”
“Yes.”
His eyes couldn’t hide the skepticism. “Obviously what you are calling the European cut.”
“No. That’s what will run at 4 P.M. every afternoon, Monday through Friday.”
“That passed the censors?”
Ian laughed. “Oh, yeah. Not to say it won’t cause a little controversy in smaller markets, but everything follows FCC guidelines and regulations to the nth degree. In fact, the only other people to have seen these besides yourselves are FCC reps.”
Jessica Greginsky grinned. “Wonder what that European version contains.”
He handed her a DVD. “You may watch this in my office, but this DVD does not leave my sight. For those who want the Reader’s Digest version, the episodes usually run four to five minutes longer, harsher language, bits of sex and nudity that didn’t make the FCC guidelines.”
“No extra violence?”
“No extra violence.”
David Turner turned to face his board and invited guests. “All markets airing “Blood Kisses” has been given an either/or option. They must choose to run the version you’ve just seen as is at 4 PM or the European version at one in the morning.”
“And if they choose to run neither?” Rockford the wet blanket jumped in again.
“Then the contract states we may option to syndicate it to any competing station in their market. Initially six stations opted not to run it, sparking a bidding war in their markets. Four of those quickly changed their minds.”
“And the other two?” Ned Beatty has to ask.
“We’ll be the highest paid syndicated series in their market. Contracts have already been signed. Those two affiliates no longer have an option to run “Blood Kisses” for two years and with the buzz both are now balking…way too late.”
Ian leaned against the lip of the stage in front. “Let me also point out that 64 affiliates are not only running the daytime version but have purchased the rights to run the European cut at one A.M. as well. Thanks to that strategy, ladies and gentlemen, you have just seen the first two episodes of what is officially the first network daytime series to debut in the black.”
The screening room broke into thunderous applause. As it died down, Jessica Greginsky raised her hand like a schoolgirl. Ian couldn’t help but giggle as he nodded to her. “Excuse me, but I think I misunderstood. You said the Prime Time version would air two hours a week for nine weeks. I thought it was three hours a week for three weeks.”
David Turner waved at Ian to answer. “That was initially the thought, but after meeting with Amanda Jackson and seeing the rushes and the scripts, I decided to throw my weight around and overrule that decision.”
“It was going to be difficult to do justice to the Trilogy with only a total of nine hours in which to tell a 2600 page story. We didn’t want to offend the people who loved the books enough to make them the top selling paperbacks of all time.” Ian added.
“Now, Amanda has eighteen hours in Prime Time spread over nine weeks to make sure the rather rabid following is satisfied.” Turner took the floor back. “In addition that takes us up to the middle of November Sweeps, and another ten hours of air time during the day during sweeps to begin telling new stories of gothic brilliance.”
“…And speaking of brilliance, Wella…” Ian pointed to the front row.
Wella humbly stood up, a little nervous about making her first presentation to the Board. “Thank you, Ian. We have a new project to discuss, we hope. As you all know thanks to the brilliant editing and the borderline psychotic minds of Logan Snipe and William Kensington, our once and embarrassing bottom rated soap ‘Sebastian Manor’ has been trading places with ‘The Young and the Restless’ for number one.”
She waited patiently once again for the spontaneous applause. “But that little masterpiece comes to a close in August, and our little devil geniuses have finished their job. Ian saw fit to drop in my lap, what do with them now…” Wella turned to her boss with sarcasm, “…and I so want to thank you for making this my first solo assignment.”
“Just sign them to a contract before someone else snaps them up.” The ever-cheery Rockford snapped.
“Already done, Mr. Rockford.” Wella caught the look Ian gave her from the corner of his eye. “The problem being, Trent, was not to lock them into exclusivity but how to use their talents properly without having to shell out tons of cash to have them sit on their butts for the length of their contract as too many have in the past.”
“What’s the problem?” Ned simply asked. “What they did was brilliant.”
“No doubt.” Ian nodded. “There in lies the problem. Willy and Logan’s talent seems to be basically in making other people’s crap smell like strawberry ice cream, not in creating from their own ideas.”
“Oh.” Jessica bit her lip. “I see the problem.”
“At first we let them pitch a few ideas.” Wella wrinkled her nose. “I think in a few years, once they get some experience working with a good team of people that part will work itself out.” She nodded to Blake who dutifully stood and began passing folders out. “In the meantime, we think we’ve found something that works for us immediately and at the same time give them the experience they need.”
Guess who opened the folder and barked, “The Worst Show on Television? What kind of crap smelling crap is this?”
“Actually Trent,” Wella immediately stepped right up to Ian’s delight. “It’s actually an old concept with a new flair, a show within a show. Does anyone remember that film “Amazon Women On the Moon”?”
Someone in the back mused. “Oh yeah, that movie about the really cheap Sci-Fi movie running on late night TV that keeps breaking down so they start throwing anything in to take up dead air?”
“Exactly.” Wella said. “A little independent that did very well and became a cult hit on Video and again when dropped to DVD. It’s actually a similar concept, one pitched to us by Cassidy Roark….”
“Cassidy Roark?” Trent Rockford sat up straight in his screening seat. “Last year’s Oscar winner for Best Director?”
“That would be the one, also the man Ian signed an exclusive development deal with.” Wella beamed. “This is an idea he’s had for a longtime, but could never find a network to show interest or the right people to do it right.”
“He loves ‘Sebastian Manor Redux” and called me specifically to see if Willy and Logan would be interested in working with him. It’s the perfect vehicle for both.”
“Plus it gives them access to our vaults.” Wella tried to light dollar signs in the board’s eyes. “The crux of the story with in the story is terrible television, hence the title, so they’ll be scouring the vaults for obscure footage. If you approve the first six week arc would center around ‘Home Cookin’.”
“Oh my God!” Rockford sounded offended. “Why would anyone dig up that disaster? We pulled it after four episodes.”
Jessica agreed. “And as I recall we pulled it in the middle of an episode…and no one noticed.”
Ian laughed. “You might also recall that it was the last series aired that Simon Kent developed, and we paid for a full season to boot. This may help us recoup some of that wasted money.”
“The plan is…” Wella referred to the folders in everyone’s lap, “…to drop each arc with the complete series it’s based on and the Snipe/Kensington Redux of the series as one set.”
“What was the name of the bimbo who starred in that thing?” Denver Metcalfe asked no one specific.
“Tawny Turrell?” Ian was almost embarrassed he knew.
“That’s her!” Metcalfe pointed to Ian. “I wonder whatever happened to her?”
“I think she asked my kid if he wanted fries with that when we bought him his last happy meal.” Someone for the back of the room quipped.
“She did give her permission for use, so I assume she’s still connected in the business some how.” Wella pulled the conversation back to the pitch. “We’ve also decided the show would be a good match for some of the “Cattle Call” contestants. That little show has developed it’s own rabid following.”
“I love that show.” Jessica Greginsky sighed. “And I hate reality shows.”
“I was so mad when that cute little Tempie Chadwick got voted off.” Ned Beatty leaned into Jessica.
“What was America thinking…?”
“Children…back to…uh…reality.” Ian teased. “For those of you members of the board who don’t bother to keep up, I’d just like to point out that “Cattle Call” is now our highest rated series and our first to hit number one in three years.”
“But it’s the summer season…” Trent Rockford yawned.
Wella put her hands on her hips, but David Turner spoke out first. “But it’s pulling in numbers equal to any series we’ve run during the last three sweeps. It’s not pulling in “American Idol” numbers, but they’re growing episode by episode.”
“And I’ve already locked it in for the next three summers.” Wella blushed when she realized she’d just blown her own horn.
“We’ve found a lot of amazing talent already through the show.” Ian smiled. “I think we’re just seeing the beginning of a pretty phenomenal talent pool there. Granted, a lot of it is unseasoned, but with the right mentor programs there are going to be some pretty phenomenal careers launched through it.”
“…And HRT.” David Turner grinned ear to ear. As the group continued to discuss the pitch, Turner remembered walking out of this very building in January convinced there had to be someone in it who could help restore the network to its former glory. Looking at Ian Justyn, he knew he’d found his man.
“So…” Ian’s eyes darted nervously around. “Is this a good stunned silence or a bad stunned silence?”
He heard someone mutter, “I need a cigarette.”
Suddenly the room was lighting up, ignoring all the politically correct signs and health justifications. There was a moment or two of Bic flicking, puffing and exhaling.
Suddenly someone slapped their free hand down on the arm of their screening chair. “That was absolutely brilliant.” And the room filled with thunderous applause.
Ian wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or second guess himself.
Ned Bellamy sat forward in his chair. “Ian…I am speechless. I’ve never seen anything like that. Riveting, just riveting. My heart is still beating at 90 miles an hour. Now, I admit I’m one of the few who’ve never read the books, so everything was a complete and utter surprise.”
“The downside,” leave it to Trent Rockford to throw water on the embers, “is that Amanda will editing another three hours into the episode to make up a week of the daytime soap.” He eased knowingly back in his chair. “The upside is that even with the extra footage it will still probably be much faster than most daytime dramas.”
“Actually…” Ian smiled. “…You’ve misunderstood. What you’ve just seen are the first two episodes of the daytime drama. Amanda is doing the opposite. Filming the soap and then editing it down into two hours per week for nine weeks, so the mini-series version we run in Prime Time will be even faster, pared down to major storylines or subplots you’ll have to tune into the daytime version to get resolution.”
Rockford was stunned. “That’s the daytime version?”
“Yes.”
His eyes couldn’t hide the skepticism. “Obviously what you are calling the European cut.”
“No. That’s what will run at 4 P.M. every afternoon, Monday through Friday.”
“That passed the censors?”
Ian laughed. “Oh, yeah. Not to say it won’t cause a little controversy in smaller markets, but everything follows FCC guidelines and regulations to the nth degree. In fact, the only other people to have seen these besides yourselves are FCC reps.”
Jessica Greginsky grinned. “Wonder what that European version contains.”
He handed her a DVD. “You may watch this in my office, but this DVD does not leave my sight. For those who want the Reader’s Digest version, the episodes usually run four to five minutes longer, harsher language, bits of sex and nudity that didn’t make the FCC guidelines.”
“No extra violence?”
“No extra violence.”
David Turner turned to face his board and invited guests. “All markets airing “Blood Kisses” has been given an either/or option. They must choose to run the version you’ve just seen as is at 4 PM or the European version at one in the morning.”
“And if they choose to run neither?” Rockford the wet blanket jumped in again.
“Then the contract states we may option to syndicate it to any competing station in their market. Initially six stations opted not to run it, sparking a bidding war in their markets. Four of those quickly changed their minds.”
“And the other two?” Ned Beatty has to ask.
“We’ll be the highest paid syndicated series in their market. Contracts have already been signed. Those two affiliates no longer have an option to run “Blood Kisses” for two years and with the buzz both are now balking…way too late.”
Ian leaned against the lip of the stage in front. “Let me also point out that 64 affiliates are not only running the daytime version but have purchased the rights to run the European cut at one A.M. as well. Thanks to that strategy, ladies and gentlemen, you have just seen the first two episodes of what is officially the first network daytime series to debut in the black.”
The screening room broke into thunderous applause. As it died down, Jessica Greginsky raised her hand like a schoolgirl. Ian couldn’t help but giggle as he nodded to her. “Excuse me, but I think I misunderstood. You said the Prime Time version would air two hours a week for nine weeks. I thought it was three hours a week for three weeks.”
David Turner waved at Ian to answer. “That was initially the thought, but after meeting with Amanda Jackson and seeing the rushes and the scripts, I decided to throw my weight around and overrule that decision.”
“It was going to be difficult to do justice to the Trilogy with only a total of nine hours in which to tell a 2600 page story. We didn’t want to offend the people who loved the books enough to make them the top selling paperbacks of all time.” Ian added.
“Now, Amanda has eighteen hours in Prime Time spread over nine weeks to make sure the rather rabid following is satisfied.” Turner took the floor back. “In addition that takes us up to the middle of November Sweeps, and another ten hours of air time during the day during sweeps to begin telling new stories of gothic brilliance.”
“…And speaking of brilliance, Wella…” Ian pointed to the front row.
Wella humbly stood up, a little nervous about making her first presentation to the Board. “Thank you, Ian. We have a new project to discuss, we hope. As you all know thanks to the brilliant editing and the borderline psychotic minds of Logan Snipe and William Kensington, our once and embarrassing bottom rated soap ‘Sebastian Manor’ has been trading places with ‘The Young and the Restless’ for number one.”
She waited patiently once again for the spontaneous applause. “But that little masterpiece comes to a close in August, and our little devil geniuses have finished their job. Ian saw fit to drop in my lap, what do with them now…” Wella turned to her boss with sarcasm, “…and I so want to thank you for making this my first solo assignment.”
“Just sign them to a contract before someone else snaps them up.” The ever-cheery Rockford snapped.
“Already done, Mr. Rockford.” Wella caught the look Ian gave her from the corner of his eye. “The problem being, Trent, was not to lock them into exclusivity but how to use their talents properly without having to shell out tons of cash to have them sit on their butts for the length of their contract as too many have in the past.”
“What’s the problem?” Ned simply asked. “What they did was brilliant.”
“No doubt.” Ian nodded. “There in lies the problem. Willy and Logan’s talent seems to be basically in making other people’s crap smell like strawberry ice cream, not in creating from their own ideas.”
“Oh.” Jessica bit her lip. “I see the problem.”
“At first we let them pitch a few ideas.” Wella wrinkled her nose. “I think in a few years, once they get some experience working with a good team of people that part will work itself out.” She nodded to Blake who dutifully stood and began passing folders out. “In the meantime, we think we’ve found something that works for us immediately and at the same time give them the experience they need.”
Guess who opened the folder and barked, “The Worst Show on Television? What kind of crap smelling crap is this?”
“Actually Trent,” Wella immediately stepped right up to Ian’s delight. “It’s actually an old concept with a new flair, a show within a show. Does anyone remember that film “Amazon Women On the Moon”?”
Someone in the back mused. “Oh yeah, that movie about the really cheap Sci-Fi movie running on late night TV that keeps breaking down so they start throwing anything in to take up dead air?”
“Exactly.” Wella said. “A little independent that did very well and became a cult hit on Video and again when dropped to DVD. It’s actually a similar concept, one pitched to us by Cassidy Roark….”
“Cassidy Roark?” Trent Rockford sat up straight in his screening seat. “Last year’s Oscar winner for Best Director?”
“That would be the one, also the man Ian signed an exclusive development deal with.” Wella beamed. “This is an idea he’s had for a longtime, but could never find a network to show interest or the right people to do it right.”
“He loves ‘Sebastian Manor Redux” and called me specifically to see if Willy and Logan would be interested in working with him. It’s the perfect vehicle for both.”
“Plus it gives them access to our vaults.” Wella tried to light dollar signs in the board’s eyes. “The crux of the story with in the story is terrible television, hence the title, so they’ll be scouring the vaults for obscure footage. If you approve the first six week arc would center around ‘Home Cookin’.”
“Oh my God!” Rockford sounded offended. “Why would anyone dig up that disaster? We pulled it after four episodes.”
Jessica agreed. “And as I recall we pulled it in the middle of an episode…and no one noticed.”
Ian laughed. “You might also recall that it was the last series aired that Simon Kent developed, and we paid for a full season to boot. This may help us recoup some of that wasted money.”
“The plan is…” Wella referred to the folders in everyone’s lap, “…to drop each arc with the complete series it’s based on and the Snipe/Kensington Redux of the series as one set.”
“What was the name of the bimbo who starred in that thing?” Denver Metcalfe asked no one specific.
“Tawny Turrell?” Ian was almost embarrassed he knew.
“That’s her!” Metcalfe pointed to Ian. “I wonder whatever happened to her?”
“I think she asked my kid if he wanted fries with that when we bought him his last happy meal.” Someone for the back of the room quipped.
“She did give her permission for use, so I assume she’s still connected in the business some how.” Wella pulled the conversation back to the pitch. “We’ve also decided the show would be a good match for some of the “Cattle Call” contestants. That little show has developed it’s own rabid following.”
“I love that show.” Jessica Greginsky sighed. “And I hate reality shows.”
“I was so mad when that cute little Tempie Chadwick got voted off.” Ned Beatty leaned into Jessica.
“What was America thinking…?”
“Children…back to…uh…reality.” Ian teased. “For those of you members of the board who don’t bother to keep up, I’d just like to point out that “Cattle Call” is now our highest rated series and our first to hit number one in three years.”
“But it’s the summer season…” Trent Rockford yawned.
Wella put her hands on her hips, but David Turner spoke out first. “But it’s pulling in numbers equal to any series we’ve run during the last three sweeps. It’s not pulling in “American Idol” numbers, but they’re growing episode by episode.”
“And I’ve already locked it in for the next three summers.” Wella blushed when she realized she’d just blown her own horn.
“We’ve found a lot of amazing talent already through the show.” Ian smiled. “I think we’re just seeing the beginning of a pretty phenomenal talent pool there. Granted, a lot of it is unseasoned, but with the right mentor programs there are going to be some pretty phenomenal careers launched through it.”
“…And HRT.” David Turner grinned ear to ear. As the group continued to discuss the pitch, Turner remembered walking out of this very building in January convinced there had to be someone in it who could help restore the network to its former glory. Looking at Ian Justyn, he knew he’d found his man.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Chapter 46: Two Questions
There was complete silence as the lights came up slowly in the screening room.
“So…” Ian’s eyes darted nervously around. “Is this a good stunned silence or a bad stunned silence?”
He heard someone mutter, “I need a cigarette.”
Suddenly the room was lighting up, ignoring all the politically correct signs and health justifications. There was a moment or two of Bic flicking, puffing and exhaling.
Suddenly someone slapped their free hand down on the arm of their screening chair. “That was absolutely brilliant.” And the room filled with thunderous applause.
Ian wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or second guess himself.
Ned Bellamy sat forward in his chair. “Ian…I am speechless. I’ve never seen anything like that. Riveting, just riveting. My heart is still beating at 90 miles an hour. Now, I admit I’m one of the few who’ve never read the books, so everything was a complete and utter surprise.”
“The downside,” leave it to Trent Rockford to throw water on the embers, “is that Amanda will editing another three hours into the episode to make up a week of the daytime soap.” He eased knowingly back in his chair. “The upside is that even with the extra footage it will still probably be much faster than most daytime dramas.”
“Actually…” Ian smiled. “…You’ve misunderstood. What you’ve just seen are the first two episodes of the daytime drama. Amanda is doing the opposite. Filming the soap and then editing it down into two hours per week for nine weeks, so the mini-series version we run in Prime Time will be even faster, pared down to major storylines or subplots you’ll have to tune into the daytime version to get resolution.”
Rockford was stunned. “That’s the daytime version?”
“Yes.”
His eyes couldn’t hide the skepticism. “Obviously what you are calling the European cut.”
“No. That’s what will run at 4 P.M. every afternoon, Monday through Friday.”
“That passed the censors?”
Ian laughed. “Oh, yeah. Not to say it won’t cause a little controversy in smaller markets, but everything follows FCC guidelines and regulations to the nth degree. In fact, the only other people to have seen these besides yourselves are FCC reps.”
Jessica Greginsky grinned. “Wonder what that European version contains.”
He handed her a DVD. “You may watch this in my office, but this DVD does not leave my sight. For those who want the Reader’s Digest version, the episodes usually run four to five minutes longer, harsher language, bits of sex and nudity that didn’t make the FCC guidelines.”
“No extra violence?”
“No extra violence.”
David Turner turned to face his board and invited guests. “All markets airing “Blood Kisses” has been given an either/or option. They must choose to run the version you’ve just seen as is at 4 PM or the European version at one in the morning.”
“And if they choose to run neither?” Rockford the wet blanket jumped in again.
“Then the contract states we may option to syndicate it to any competing station in their market. Initially six stations opted not to run it, sparking a bidding war in their markets. Four of those quickly changed their minds.”
“And the other two?” Ned Beatty has to ask.
“We’ll be the highest paid syndicated series in their market. Contracts have already been signed. Those two affiliates no longer have an option to run “Blood Kisses” for two years and with the buzz both are now balking…way too late.”
Ian leaned against the lip of the stage in front. “Let me also point out that 64 affiliates are not only running the daytime version but have purchased the rights to run the European cut at one A.M. as well. Thanks to that strategy, ladies and gentlemen, you have just seen the first two episodes of what is officially the first network daytime series to debut in the black.”
The screening room broke into thunderous applause. As it died down, Jessica Greginsky raised her hand like a schoolgirl. Ian couldn’t help but giggle as he nodded to her. “Excuse me, but I think I misunderstood. You said the Prime Time version would air two hours a week for nine weeks. I thought it was three hours a week for three weeks.”
David Turner waved at Ian to answer. “That was initially the thought, but after meeting with Amanda Jackson and seeing the rushes and the scripts, I decided to throw my weight around and overrule that decision.”
“It was going to be difficult to do justice to the Trilogy with only a total of nine hours in which to tell a 2600 page story. We didn’t want to offend the people who loved the books enough to make them the top selling paperbacks of all time.” Ian added.
“Now, Amanda has eighteen hours in Prime Time spread over nine weeks to make sure the rather rabid following is satisfied.” Turner took the floor back. “In addition that takes us up to the middle of November Sweeps, and another ten hours of air time during the day during sweeps to begin telling new stories of gothic brilliance.”
“…And speaking of brilliance, Wella…” Ian pointed to the front row.
Wella humbly stood up, a little nervous about making her first presentation to the Board. “Thank you, Ian. We have a new project to discuss, we hope. As you all know thanks to the brilliant editing and the borderline psychotic minds of Logan Snipe and William Kensington, our once and embarrassing bottom rated soap ‘Sebastian Manor’ has been trading places with ‘The Young and the Restless’ for number one.”
She waited patiently once again for the spontaneous applause. “But that little masterpiece comes to a close in August, and our little devil geniuses have finished their job. Ian saw fit to drop in my lap, what do with them now…” Wella turned to her boss with sarcasm, “…and I so want to thank you for making this my first solo assignment.”
“Just sign them to a contract before someone else snaps them up.” The ever-cheery Rockford snapped.
“Already done, Mr. Rockford.” Wella caught the look Ian gave her from the corner of his eye. “The problem being, Trent, was not to lock them into exclusivity but how to use their talents properly without having to shell out tons of cash to have them sit on their butts for the length of their contract as too many have in the past.”
“What’s the problem?” Ned simply asked. “What they did was brilliant.”
“No doubt.” Ian nodded. “There in lies the problem. Willy and Logan’s talent seems to be basically in making other people’s crap smell like strawberry ice cream, not in creating from their own ideas.”
“Oh.” Jessica bit her lip. “I see the problem.”
“At first we let them pitch a few ideas.” Wella wrinkled her nose. “I think in a few years, once they get some experience working with a good team of people that part will work itself out.” She nodded to Blake who dutifully stood and began passing folders out. “In the meantime, we think we’ve found something that works for us immediately and at the same time give them the experience they need.”
Guess who opened the folder and barked, “The Worst Show on Television? What kind of crap smelling crap is this?”
“Actually Trent,” Wella immediately stepped right up to Ian’s delight. “It’s actually an old concept with a new flair, a show within a show. Does anyone remember that film “Amazon Women On the Moon”?”
Someone in the back mused. “Oh yeah, that movie about the really cheap Sci-Fi movie running on late night TV that keeps breaking down so they start throwing anything in to take up dead air?”
“Exactly.” Wella said. “A little independent that did very well and became a cult hit on Video and again when dropped to DVD. It’s actually a similar concept, one pitched to us by Cassidy Roark….”
“Cassidy Roark?” Trent Rockford sat up straight in his screening seat. “Last year’s Oscar winner for Best Director?”
“That would be the one, also the man Ian signed an exclusive development deal with.” Wella beamed. “This is an idea he’s had for a longtime, but could never find a network to show interest or the right people to do it right.”
“He loves ‘Sebastian Manor Redux” and called me specifically to see if Willy and Logan would be interested in working with him. It’s the perfect vehicle for both.”
“Plus it gives them access to our vaults.” Wella tried to light dollar signs in the board’s eyes. “The crux of the story with in the story is terrible television, hence the title, so they’ll be scouring the vaults for obscure footage. If you approve the first six week arc would center around ‘Home Cookin’.”
“Oh my God!” Rockford sounded offended. “Why would anyone dig up that disaster? We pulled it after four episodes.”
Jessica agreed. “And as I recall we pulled it in the middle of an episode…and no one noticed.”
Ian laughed. “You might also recall that it was the last series aired that Simon Kent developed, and we paid for a full season to boot. This may help us recoup some of that wasted money.”
“The plan is…” Wella referred to the folders in everyone’s lap, “…to drop each arc with the complete series it’s based on and the Snipe/Kensington Redux of the series as one set.”
“What was the name of the bimbo who starred in that thing?” Denver Metcalfe asked no one specific.
“Tawny Turrell?” Ian was almost embarrassed he knew.
“That’s her!” Metcalfe pointed to Ian. “I wonder whatever happened to her?”
“I think she asked my kid if he wanted fries with that when we bought him his last happy meal.” Someone for the back of the room quipped.
“She did give her permission for use, so I assume she’s still connected in the business some how.” Wella pulled the conversation back to the pitch. “We’ve also decided the show would be a good match for some of the “Cattle Call” contestants. That little show has developed it’s own rabid following.”
“I love that show.” Jessica Greginsky sighed. “And I hate reality shows.”
“I was so mad when that cute little Tempie Chadwick got voted off.” Ned Beatty leaned into Jessica.
“What was America thinking…?”
“Children…back to…uh…reality.” Ian teased. “For those of you members of the board who don’t bother to keep up, I’d just like to point out that “Cattle Call” is now our highest rated series and our first to hit number one in three years.”
“But it’s the summer season…” Trent Rockford yawned.
Wella put her hands on her hips, but David Turner spoke out first. “But it’s pulling in numbers equal to any series we’ve run during the last three sweeps. It’s not pulling in “American Idol” numbers, but they’re growing episode by episode.”
“And I’ve already locked it in for the next three summers.” Wella blushed when she realized she’d just blown her own horn.
“We’ve found a lot of amazing talent already through the show.” Ian smiled. “I think we’re just seeing the beginning of a pretty phenomenal talent pool there. Granted, a lot of it is unseasoned, but with the right mentor programs there are going to be some pretty phenomenal careers launched through it.”
“…And HRT.” David Turner grinned ear to ear. As the group continued to discuss the pitch, Turner remembered walking out of this very building in January convinced there had to be someone in it who could help restore the network to its former glory. Looking at Ian Justyn, he knew he’d found his man.
“So do you wanna pitch in with us for the baby gift?” Jeff Torkelson asked as he scooped up the last donut from the snack table.
“Has that bimbo spit out the kid yet?” Tess Sinclair responded while staring at the powdered sugar left on the plate and salivating recalling the days when donuts were a basic food group in her diet.
“No, but we’ve signed them up for diaper service.” Torkelson licked the sugar off his fingers, teasing his co-star.
Tessie rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty generic Stud Muffin. It’s Ian. He’s a God. We can do better.”
“It’s all the crew could agree on they could afford. They wanted to do something, and I’ve agreed to pay for half.”
“I’ll match yours and raise ya, but we’ve got to come up with something better than diaper service.” Tess sighed and picked up a petite carrot stick. “How ‘bout a hit man to off the knocked up bimbo…once she’s had the kid, of course.”
“We better hurry.” Jeff took the carrot stick, licked it, rolled it in the stray powdered sugar and handed it back to Tessie. “They’re due any day.”
“They?” Tess looked at the carrot and back to Jeff. “What, she having a litter?”
“Twins.” Jeff smiled. “She’s having twin boys.”
“Well aren’t you just the font of all things Justyn.” Tess acted like she tossed the carrot in the trash, but palmed it to hopefully lick off the sugar in the privacy of her trailer later.
“I talked with Trampus Scott this morning. He filled me in.”
“Hey, Torkelson!” The AD yelled from behind them. “You wanna come shoot this scene or do I have time for an orgasm?”
“Be there in ninety seconds, Gibby. Treat yourself, you got time for two orgasms.” Jeff kissed Tess on the cheek.
She smiled and turned to the AD. “Hey, Gibby, you wanna borrow my tweezers? I got ‘em handy? Just rinse ‘em off before you return ‘em.”
Tess turned to retire to her trailer, almost running into a well-meaning make up girl.
“Sorry, Miss Sinclair.” The young girl blushed.
“It’s okay, dear. My fault wasn’t looking where I was going.” She patted the sweet young thing on the shoulder and gently made sure she was out of her way.
The girl looked at Tess’s forearm where the long sleeve rode up just a bit. She grabbed Tess’s hand and looked at it. “Oh my, would you like me to touch that up for you? I would only take a second.”
“No thanks, dear.”
“That’s a pretty nasty scar.”
Tess yanked back the fabric just a bit and looked at it. “I guess it is. I never think about it anymore. It was so long ago, I don’t even quite remember how I got it.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could ever forget something like that. It must have hurt something awful.”
Tess pulled her sleeve back down to her wrist. “Hon when you get my age, you tend to forget the bad stuff and remember the important, like the little tag in your underwear goes in the back.”
The girl put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “You’re so funny Miss Sinclair.”
“Call me Tess, dear heart.” The icon smiled and went on her way; musing/hoping for just a moment the new make up girl had been flirting with her.
Pulling the door to her trailer shut behind her, Tess immediately reached for the carrot in her pocket, but sighed lobbed it at the trash can full of tissues and reached for the bottle of spring water that had been sitting out all day. She plopped on the couch and looked at her sleeve.
After a good long lukewarm drink, she pushed the sleeve up enough to stare at the scar on her arm. It was about the size of a fifty-cent piece, and over time had become more a discoloration than a burn.
She had lied. She hadn’t forgotten how she got it, although she had tried many, many times. How can you forget something that wakes you up at night screaming in a cold sweat?
It was a long, long time ago. The old adage was true, it did fade with time, but it had to be re-forgotten every few months it haunted her dreams in horribly vivid clarity.
It wasn’t her idea but, since no one was there, they wanted to make love in Darla’s bed, and they had all afternoon. It was her first real love affair and she was thrilled, adventurous and found it all so adult and exciting.
They had met on the set of “Just In Time”, her first big role in a big motion picture. She knew the moment she got it; it would be a huge stepping-stone in her career. Everyone wanted to be in an HRT project. Everyone wanted to work with David Turner, James Redfield and the elusive Darla Hutton. It was a rarity but they were all three working together again. She was right there working along side them.
Little did she know how much would change in her life before the film even was released. Things happened so fast. One minute she was the naïve young actress working on a major motion picture. The next she was a seasoned pro, a large role under her belt and waking from an afternoon rendezvous in the star’s bed when she wasn’t home.
It served the woman right. She had hoped to learn so much from working with Darla Hutton. What she learned was the kind of star she didn’t want to be. The woman pitched temper tantrums shutting down or delaying the shoot constantly. Then a few minutes later, the same shrew was cowering in a corner bawling her eyes out.
Darla Hutton spoke to only a chosen few, and seemed to enjoy making everyone around her miserable. She treated her co-star and her director with disdain, often picking up a prop and hurling it unprovoked at one of them.
Oh she was beautiful, even more breath taking in person than on the screen, but quite frankly not only was she unprofessional, she wasn’t a very good actress. It surprised her.
Teresa, as she was called back then, had been mesmerized by “Breathe Again”, as everyone who saw it had been. Although Darla’s five other pictures didn’t have that same exact magic, Darla was brilliant and the films excellent.
“Just In Time” would probably be at best good. James Redfield was incredible, as usual, and the script seemed inspired, but Darla Hutton was terrible. The only time she could even stand her in the rushes was in the musical numbers. As terrible as Hutton was in this role, her vocal abilities were unmatched.
David Turner had a reputation for spinning gold. She had her fingers crossed that he’d be able to work his magic in the editing room. There was no way she wanted her first major role to be in Darla Hutton’s first major bomb.
She stirred in the big brass bed. Her lover was gone. Tess sat up looking around the ornate room. Sighing she looked down on the floor and then reached for her clothes. It wouldn’t be the first time she had awakened after a thrilling hour of passion to find herself alone. She guessed that was the way things would always be as long as she was sleeping with someone who was already married.
She dressed lazily and looked at the mussed bed. She thought about making it, but remembered it hadn’t been made when she had been thrown on it and ravaged. Tess smiled. She started to blow out the many candles lit around the bedroom. She’d almost forgotten how they’d taken her breath away when she was led in and she saw them for the first time.
With a quick breath out went to first candle. She loved the perfumed wax smell as that little dash of smoke curled in the air after whiffing the flame out. Tess touched a clear drip from the candle and let the hot goo dry almost instantly on her finger. She was looking at it when she heard her coming.
She couldn’t make out what was said, but she could make out an argument was ensuing and coming straight for her. Panicked she looked around the room, dashing behind the flowing drapes just before the bedroom door was slammed open.
From her hiding place she heard the big bed rock, as a body was either thrown against it or someone threw themselves on it. She didn’t dare look to see who it was, as much as she wanted to. She trembled waiting for a moment when she could slip away unnoticed. She tried to crane her head around to see if she might be able to slip out the window when she became suddenly aware that there was someone else in the room.
“Don’t you ever walk away from me!” The voice growled.
“I’ll do anything I please!” Came the voice from the bed. “I’m free of you now and I don’t take orders from you or anyone else anymore!”
“Free?” The other voice scoffed. “You’re back in this house aren’t you?”
She heard the woman sit up on the bed. “I just came back to get my things.”
“Two questions Darla. How long will it take you to pack your bags and get the hell out and when will we all be free of you?”
Tess turned her head slightly to the left and realized that she could see the mirror on the dresser from her hiding place. Remembering her acting teacher once telling her if you can see the audience, they can see you. She began to slip further behind the drapes, but instead wrapped them discreetly around herself until she could no longer she her own reflection.
From her hiding place she could see Lucille take a step toward the woman on the bed. “I’m waiting for an answer Darla. How long until we’re all rid of you for good?”
She couldn’t see Darla’s face, only that back of her thick black curls. “Soon enough.”
“What you want something more?” Lucille pulled the yellow frock tighter around her chest, trying to cover the lingerie she was wearing. “Blood?”
Tess could hear Darla smile. “Not really, but if I asked for it, you’d have to give it to me. You know you would.”
She saw Lucille pull a large cedar box she’d been hiding behind her back so Darla could see it. Tess noticed Darla’s head move like a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse. Lucille smiled and tossed it on the bed and out of Tess’s sight.
“Here.” The triumph evident in her voice, “I don’t have any cash on me, but these should do. My jewelry is worth a fortune. Take It, get out and don’t come back. In fact never let us hear from you again.”
Darla’s manic laugh was unmistakable. “You think I need money?”
“Of course, you need money.”
Tess could hear the cedar box open and the sound of fingers dipping through the jewelry. “You aren’t nearly as smart as you think you are Lucille. I have money, lots and lots of money.”
“But all in a joint account with your husband. Remember him?”
“David? Of course, I remember him.” Tess could she her cock her head from the reflection in the mirror. “Is he dead yet?”
“No.” Lucille smirked. “He’ll be fine. So will James. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“There.” Tess started to panic again when she realized Darla was getting up from the bed and walking toward the mirror. She had to stifle a laugh, no a guffaw, when she got a look at Darla getting a look at herself.
Darla leaned into the mirror, and then turned to Lucille covered in every piece of jewelry she had space for. “Do I look like a cheap whore yet?”
Lucille crossed her arms. “You don’t need to be slathered in too much jewelry to look like a cheap whore.”
In a flash the cedar box was hurled at Lucille who ducked and laughed. “Almost got me. You move pretty well for a woman who just had a baby. You did just have a baby or were you just messing with us all again?”
“Yes, I had a baby.” Darla got defensive, rubbing her belly slightly.
“What’d you do with it? Drop it by the road and high tail it home to whine until one of us goes and finds it for you like a lost earring?”
Tess watched Darla whip around to face the mirror, hurt flashing across her face and then just a quickly smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know where my baby is?”
“Couldn’t care less, Darla.”
“That’s what you want. That’s what you all want. You want me to hand over my baby and then you’ll take it and get rid of me.”
“Actually, Sweetheart, my personal choice is just to wash my hands of you and the little pooping brat.” Lucille took a step toward Darla. “So what was it, a boy poop or a girl poop?”
Darla whipped around to face the mirror again, her eyes darting around in dismay. “A little boy…David has a son.”
“David?” Lucile scoffed. “Are you sure it’s David’s?”
“Of course, it’s David’s.”
“I don’t know, Darla. You got awful chummy with Mike Kincaid. You guys got friendly and all of a sudden all you could talk about was blowing whistles and getting out. You been blowin’ Mike Kincaid’s whistle Darla?”
Her voice became cold and deadly. “I’ll have you know the only man who’s ever touched me is my husband.”
Lucille laughed out loud. “Not surprised. Who’d wanna touch a crazy bitch? That’s exactly what you are Darla, one crazy bitch.”
Darla turned slowly and deliberately until she was facing Lucille. “I bet you wish you could say the same.”
“I got one up on ya, Darla.” Lucile put her hands on her hips and let the peignoir fall open, giving Darla a flash of cleavage. “I’ve never been touched by…a man.”
“Perverts!” Darla gasped. “You all are perverts!”
Lucille threw back her head and laughed. Then like a tiger waiting for the perfect moment, she pounced on her prey. “Is that what’ll take to get you off everyone’s back? Me?”
Lucille yanked Darla to her and kissed her deeply. Darla struggled, finally pushing her off and wiping her lips disgustedly with the back of her hand. “You ever touch me again and I’ll kill you!”
“Like I haven’t heard that before.” Lucille pushed herself up off the floor.
Darla put out her hand. “I mean it. Don’t come one step closer!”
Lucille took a daring step toward Darla, who threw herself against the dressing table, rattling the mirror and the contents on top of the dresser.
“Ouch!” Darla grabbed her hand, and cradled it where a candle hand fallen over and burned her.
“Aw, darling.” Lucille smirked, advancing toward her. “Let Mama kiss it and make it all better.
The scream startled Tess, as Darla let it out and scrambled to the top of the dressing table, kicking at a laughing Lucille who danced around her and pawed at her. Darla kicked and yelled. Lucille laughed and menaced until Darla whipped off her belt and started hitting her attacker with it.
After several very adept thwacks with the buckle, Lucille finally backed off, but only a little. “Okay, ya little bitch. Keep it. Didn’t want it anyway.”
Darla caught her breath, but didn’t dare leave her perch from the dresser top. She looked around the room. “What are all these…” She whipped her head to Lucille. “You’ve been screwing in my bed.”
“Jealous?” Lucille had to be quick to put her hands up in defense as the belt snapped in the air just an inch from her face. “You crazy bitch!”
“You’ve been screwing…in my bed! Haven’t you!”
“Yeah.” Lucille glared at her. “It’s not like you were using it. Hell, we haven’t seen you since the night you ran screaming “They’re trying to kill me” out the front door leaving that disgusting trail of whatever it was when you’re water broke.”
“You are trying to kill me, me and my baby.”
“You’re still breathing aren’t you bitch?”
“But you want me dead!”
“I could care less.” Lucille calmly smoothed the silky front of her lingerie. “I just want the threats and the paranoia and the general nightmare of insanity you create gone.”
From her steadfast perch on the dresser Darla looked down. “You just want to keep me quiet.”
“Doesn’t seem any one is able to do a good job with that. Quiet is hardly a word in anyone’s vocabulary when you’re around, these days anyway.”
Darla pointed a finger at Lucille. “I know what’s been going on, Lucille. I know what all three of you have been doing. I’m not stupid.”
“Darla, you barely know what your name is…”
“You want me out of the way so I won’t tell anybody. You want me dead so no one will ever find out. There’s a word for want you all have done. I don’t know what it is, but there’s a word for it.”
Lucille laughed again. “You just keep proving me right.”
“…And I don’t think it’s legal. You’d have an awful lot of explaining to do if I died.”
“Honey, I keep having to explain things when you’re alive.” Lucille rolled her eyes and looked at her fingernails. “Alive…dead…it don’t seem to make much of a difference.”
“You’re just upset because I’m in control now.” Darla mocked her.
“Darla, you can’t even control your bowels.”
Darla kicked out and caught Lucille in the jaw sending her reeling out of Tess’s sight. In seconds Lucille came back into view howling like a wounded animal on attack. Darla jumped from Lucille’s lunge and landed on a chair between the dresser and the draperies.
“Stay away from me, Lucille!” She warned. “Stay away from me or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Lucille growled, hunched over like a linebacker ready for defense.
“I’ll…I’ll…” Darla looked up at the ceiling. She smiled and looked back down at the huffing Lucille. “Or…I’ll…do this…” In the bat of an eye, Darla whipped one end of the cloth belt around the thick wood brace that ran the length of the ceiling and tied the other end around her neck.
“I see we’ve been hiding our past as a calf roper.” Lucille giggled uncharacteristically.
Tess could see Darla’s face clearly. It was full of rage and vengeance. “I’ll do it. I swear, Lucille. You come one step closer and I’ll kill myself.”
“Oh do it, bitch.” Lucille sat on the bed and crossed her legs. “Get it over with. We’re all tired of the threats. Do us all the favor and just get it the fuck over with.”
“You’ll never find my baby.” She threatened.
“Like anyone cares, Darla. You’ve done us all a favor and gotten rid of the thing. One less mess I have to clean up.”
“Think of the scandal, Lucille. You hate scandal.”
Lucille leaned back on the bed, casually sighing. “Actually, Darla. I love scandal. It’s what I make my living off of. If there ain’t one hovering around. I got nothin’ to do, so I create one. Those are the best. Those I can always make in my favor.”
“They’ll find out the truth!” Darla hissed. “Everyone will know what I’ve known all along.”
Tess couldn’t help but notice Lucille tighten her body language just a bit. She tried to remain nonchalant, but the slight crack in her voice gave her away. “And exactly what is it that you think you’ve known all along Darla?”
“Darla…hah!” The woman with the make shift noose around her head snorted. “Darla Hutton doesn’t exist!”
“Of course she exists, you idiot!” Lucille spit. “You’re Darla Hutton…”
“If I kill myself, they’ll investigate. It’ll be all over the papers! Everyone will know!”
Lucille stood but went back to examining her fingernails. She sighed. “Everyone will know what, Darla?”
“Don’t come any closer!” Darla wailed. “I’ll do it. I swear!”
“Everyone will know what?”
“That I’m not Darla Hutton.” The woman seemed to be relieved to admit that fact. Tess couldn’t help but notice the pleasure in her face giving her the courage to go further. “If I die, they’ll know that truth. I’m not Darla Hutton and I never really have been!”
Lucille laughed, never taking her eyes off her cuticles. “Oh honey. You are insane.”
“You’ll never be able to explain your way out if I kill myself.”
“Actually, Darla Not Darla Never Really Have Been Darla, suicide is not my first option, but one I can so easily deal with. It easily explains so much…”
Before Tess had a chance to gasp, Lucille turned her back, kicking behind her and knocking the chair from beneath Darla’s feet. Stunned, she watched Darla struggling to find solid ground beneath her.
“Most of it would be a lie, but most everything about everything these days has nothing to do with the truth.” Lucille spoke, back to Darla as her feet did a horrifying dance in the air.
From her vantage behind the curtain, a stunned Tess watched paralyzed as Darla’s feet went from kicking the air to barely twitching. A blood-curdling scream filled the air. Tess looked up to see the last horrified sound come from Darla’s mouth.
Instead, Tess’s attention went to Lucille hitting the floor and screaming, her silky nightgown in flames, candles fallen over from the dresser as it was kicked by a struggling now lifeless Darla swinging from the rafter. Lucille screamed and struggled to put out the flames now creeping up from the hem to her stomach.
Tess instinctually yanked the draperies in front of her down. It took two powerful pulls, but the long hiding adrenaline in her kicked in and she heard the rod holding them snap. Tess jumped past the swaying body and pounced on the burning Lucille.
It seemed like it took forever, but it only took a moment. Lucille lay gasping for air, face twisted in pain. Her eyes focused on the panting young woman, lying on top of her. “Baby, it’s you.” Lucille half smiled.
Tess looked up, finally seeing the full face of Darla Hutton. It was frozen in shock, and at the same time, as the body twisted lightly back and forth, seemed to have this wry knowing smile. She cocked her head staring in the open, bulging eyes, the smell of burned satin and burned flesh filling the air.
Suddenly there was a whoosh as fire danced up the walls and across the mussed bedspread.
“Come one, Lucille, we’ve got to get out of here.” Tess yanked the charred drapes off Lucille and grabbed at her.
Lucille grasped Tess’s arm and held it still. “Oh Baby. You’ve burned yourself.”
As she half stood, for the first time, Tess got a look at the lower half of Lucille’s body. “You, too.” She took a deep breath and forced herself not to stare or vomit. “We’ve got to get out of here, Lucille. The room is on fire.”
The woman nodded and tried to get up. “Help me.” She gasped as she tried.
As the walls began to crack like the campfires Tess remembered from Girl Scouts not that long ago, she stopped trying to help Lucille up, grabbing her by the shoulders and began to just drag her from the room. She could hear Lucille moan in pain, but she had no choice if she wanted to save her life, if that were even possible.
She made it to the top of the stairs. A sturdy poof made Tess look back at the room she’d just dragged Lucille from. It was now the pit from Hell, and it was still racing toward them.
“Mizz Sinclair?” A voice came at her from the staircase.
“Jasper!” Tess had avoided having contact with any of the staff before, negroes scared her, but she was never so glad to see anyone in her life. “Help me! Lucille is hurt.”
“The house is on fire!” Jasper looked over her shoulder and cried out.
“I know.” Tess grabbed his arm to grab back his attention. “A lit candle fell over and caught Lucille’s dress on fire. I grabbed the drapes to put it out, but I don’t know…we have to get out of here. Help me. I think she’s passed out.”
“Lawdy.” Jasper uttered the one word of fear and then picked up Lucille like she was the morning paper and raced down the staircase with her. Tess followed behind them until they were out the door, the burning wing behind them.
“Is there anyone else inside?” Tess thought to ask.
“No, Miss Lucille sent everyone home.” Jasper cradled Lucille like a sleeping child, gently swaying her and looking at her sleeping face with love. “I always stay behind for Miss Lucille and Miss Darla.”
“We need to call someone…the fire company…the hospital…” Tess turned around and ducked at a loud pop from behind the door. “It’s burning so quickly.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tess stepped off the stoop with him, willing to follow him to the nearest phone.
“No.” Lucile’s eyes were closed but her voice was strong and full of calm focus. “This is what we’re going to do…”
“That was quick.” Ripley looked up from the oven when Ian entered the kitchen, now dressed in flannel pants and a tee.
“There are days all I can think about is coming home and taking Ian Justyn off, wading him up and shoving him in the dirty clothes hamper.” He was shoved into a seat at the table, a glass of fresh iced tea placed in front of him. Ian picked it up and held it against his cheek. “Today was definitely one of those days.”
“First of all, Baby Doll,” Tippy turned to him fussing over something in a bowl on the counter, “You’ve never wadded up anything and shoved it in the hamper.”
“The first time I tried to do laundry for him, I got so confused.” Ripley looked over Tippy’s shoulder. “Ooh, add some lemon juice, just a little. It took me an hour to figure out that no one in their right minds would keep clean clothes folded neatly in a clothes hamper.”
“When does the term ‘right minds’ and the name ‘Ian Justyn’ ever belong in the same sentence?” Ian mused then gulped his tea.
“Did you have a rough day?”
“Not a all. It was a great day as a matter of fact, I just didn’t want to be there.” Ian admitted. “I just wanted to be here. Maybe I just wanted to be with my family. Maybe I just wanted to get this whole nursery thing started and maybe I just wanted to come up with new ways to torture the cat.” Rodie cocked her head from her position not far from him as she had been from the moment Ian stepped in the door. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Ian stared at Rodie. Rodie stared back. “I think I’ll give the cat a bath.” Rodie freaked and ran. Ian turned to the duo making dinner. “Yeah, that was why I came home.”
“You love that cat.” Tippy scolded him.
“Do not.”
“Do, too.”
“Children…” Ripley warned. “Don’t make me separate you two.” He dipped the pad of his finger in Tippy’s concoction and tasted. He smacked his lips a moment and thought as Tippy waited anxiously. “It’s good, but it’s missing just a little something.”
“What?” She gave it a taste, as well. “Hmm…you’re right. Baby Doll, taste this and tell me what it’s missing.”
Before he had a chance to say anything, Tippy shoved a spoonful in his mouth. His eyes darted to the left and then to the right, then swallowed. “What is it?”
“Guacamole.”
Got up from the table and looked down in the bowl, then to the counter and turned to Tippy. “Simple…” He picked up two green veggies from the counter. “Try adding some avocado.”
Tippy put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Pffffffttttt…it’s been one of those days.”
“Do you want me to take over dinner?” Ian put an arm around her, squeezed her close and rubbed her shoulder.
“That’s sweet, Baby Doll, but it’s my turn to make dinner. You go find Billy and Jude and start making some plans.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” He kissed her temple as she began to gently mash avocado in a second bowl. “Don’t worry, if you forget to add any other major ingredients we’ll just tell the kids it’s poor Mexican night and we have to imagine most of dinner.”
“See, you always know what to do.” Tippy laughed.
“Have you seen Clare?” Ian asked Ripley. “She should probably be in on this from the get go.”
“Actually, not for a few minutes.” Ripley sighed. “Which surprises me. I don’t know what’s been up with her today, but she’s been like this bad after shave smell wafting up my nose every time I turned around.”
“Clare?”
“Ian I swear, if I hadn’t locked the bathroom door, she’d have sat in my lap while I did my business.” Ripley shook his head, and then grabbed a potholder to take the olive oil brushed pizza dough from the oven. “It wasn’t until Jude and Billy showed up a few minutes ago that she finally deigned to let me leave her sight.”
“She’s probably just scared to be alone.” Ian looked over his shoulder as Ripley began to spread his special tomato sauce on one of the pies. “She is about to give birth, to twins, at any moment. Wait…guac and pizza?”
“It’s Thursday night.” Tippy looked up from her gentle folding.
“Vonnie chose dinner.” Ian said and Tippy and Ripley nodded.
“Honestly Ian, Clare’s driving me crazy.” Ripley put another spoonful on and spread it. “I think something’s wrong.”
“I’ll go chat with her. Where are the kids?” Ian asked as he swiped a pepperoni from the plate.
“Reese and Billy are in the den. Vonnie’s outback playing with Ralphie.” Tippy began folding her avocado in. “And Ronnie and Jesse are playing some video game.”
Ian smiled. “I love how the term ‘kids’ around here is sort of a yours, mine and ours overview.”
“Well, Baby Doll, let’s face it, we got us a redneck hippy commune goin’ here.”
“And we all kinda like it.” Ripley added while adding shredded cheese. “Don’t get too involved with the plans just yet, Boss Man.”
“Why? You and Clare gonna plat each other’s hair and paint your nails?”
“Funny.” Ripley scowled at him. “No, dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Time to put the tortillas in the oil.” Tippy announced to herself.
“Okay, I’ll find Clare, check in with Jude and Billy then round up the little hippies and get ‘em cleaned up.”
Ian made his way out of the kitchen just in time to run into the littlest hippy, today anyway. “Uncle Ian!” She giggled and jumped into his arms.
“Vonda Rae.” He squeezed her tight. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
“Just since this morning?”
“Yep, and I think…just a little bit….” Ian looked Vonnie over well. “…More ticklish!” He tickled her ribs as the child squealed with delight. He finished the tickle attack with kisses all over her face before sitting her on her feet. “Honey, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you wash up and then head into the kitchen and see what you can do for you Granny and Uncle Ripley?”
“’Kay.”
“Vonnie.” He stopped her in mid-bounce. “Have you seen Clare?”
“Ya huh.” She nodded her head. “She’s beached on the far end of the couch. Don’t worry. Ralphie’s sitting on the other end so it won’t flip over.” With that she was gone.
And she was right. Ian found Clare on one end of the couch silent; Ralphie at the other. Both of them were staring unmoving as though daring the other to blink. “You two sharing a Vulcan mind meld?”
“I think he’s plotting to eat my brain.” Clare said, refusing to blink.
“No, that would be Rodie. Ralphie’s just probably trying to figure out how to get to the other end of the couch to lick your face without the shift in weight killing you both.”
“Har Har.” Clare looked up at him.
“Sorry, that was mean.” Ian walked to stand over Clare and kissed the top of her head. “Ralphie’s not that huge.”
Clare smacked at him and Ian began to rub her shoulders. “Oh, that feels soooo good.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Ian, I know I sound like a broken record but I am so miserable. My back hurts. My feet are swollen and a catheter could make me stop peeing. Let me just clue you in Ian, next time you wanna have kids…you get pregnant and see how you like it.”
“Let’s not go there.”
“Gladly.”
“Dinner will be ready in a few.” Ian didn’t stop rubbing her shoulders. “We’re going to look at the house plans and figure out where to build the nursery afterwards. I assume you want to help make that decision.”
“Frankly, Ian, I’ll leave that up to you guys.”
Ian stopped in mid-rub. “You’re kidding? How did you get in Clare’s body and what planet are you from?”
Clare attempted to look at him, until he finally sat lightly on the arm of the sofa beside her. “Honestly, Ian. This sounds awful, but at this point I don’t care where the nursery is as long as one of these babies isn’t sleeping on my bladder and the other on my intestines.”
“That’s just a lovely picture, thank you.”
“You want Happy Pregnant Lady? Watch “I Love Lucy”, cause in the real world at this stage of the game we’re all miserable and want everyone else to be as well, especially the bastards who knock us up.”
Ian smiled and nodded. “Once again, lovely pictures, just lovely. I think I’ll just mosey into the den. I’m suddenly feeling the need to protect my testicles.”
“Probably a very good idea.”
Ian backed slowly toward the den.
Ralphie, determined to see everyone happy shyly slipped toward Clare but was immediately frozen in mid-stride as Clare barked, “That tongue comes anywhere near my side of the couch and you lose it!”
“Uhm, Ralphie, you’d better come with me.” The dog wasted no time joining Ian in backing out of the living room.
“Rodie?” Ian called out. “Clare wants to see you on the living room sofa!”
“What?” Came a voice from inside his den.
“Nothing.” He said as he and Ralphie entered the room. “Remind me to give Ripley a raise. Putting up with Clare all day can’t be worth what I’m paying him.”
Billy looked up from the desk, Jude looking over his shoulder and Reese not far away at the bookcase. “Maybe we should just lock her in the garage until she gives birth.”
“There’s a good idea.” Ian smiled.
“Nah.” Jude looked up from the blueprints. “She’d jes’ scratch up yer paint job and eat the fenders.”
“Probably.” Ian looked down at the renderings from his side of the desk. “What have we got here?”
Billy pointed. “Well, these are the plans for the house as it currently stands. See, first floor…” He flipped the page. “Second floor. Everything is sound and supported enough to knock out almost any wall you choose.”
“You’ll prob’ly have to give up some closet space ‘er a bathroom, but you kin’ put it enny where ya want.”
Ian rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s have a look.”
The trio parted for Ian to take the seat Billy had been occupying behind the desk. “What are those?” He asked.
“Oh those, are the plans for the house before Miss Elizabeth did the renovations.” Reese informed him.
“We wanted to double check both sets to make sure nothing from the original structure would be weakened by any changes you want to make.” Billy said. “We keep forgetting this house is actually very old and only part of the original house.”
Ian nodded and reached for the second set of blueprints. He flipped a few pages and then went back to the set before him and looked again. “I’m confused.” He held up one set of blueprints. “These are the plans for the Hutton Mansion?”
“No, no.” Billy smiled. “Those are here.” Low and behold, Billy produced a cardboard roll from a chair and pulled out yet another set of plans. Rolling them out he pointed as he explained.
“See, this was the original lay out.”
“Holy smokes, that was huge!” Ian was shocked. “Even for way back then, it was huge!”
“That stone wall in your back yard was the foundation for the back wing. According to these there were three wings connected. This is the only wing that survived the fire.”
Ian looked up at him from the plans. “Back wing? I thought Kellen’s house was part of the original structure.”
“No.” Reese piped in. “Didn’t you pay attention when you were on ‘America Alive’? Kellen’s house was a guesthouse on the property. I think they used it as servant’s quarters.”
“An’ that Redfield feller lived in yer house?” Jude asked.
“No.” Reese corrected him. “James Redfield lived in the house that is now the apartments at the end of the cul-de-sac. David Turner lived in my house.”
“Turner?” Jude shot one eye open a little further. “I thought him and the Darla woman was married.”
“They were.” Ian said looking intently at the plans.
“Then why’d he live in another house?”
Reese looked at Billy and Billy looked at Reese. “Uhhh…”
“Never mind that.” Ian waved they’re attention back. “I’m really confused. You say these in front of me are the plans as the house stands now.”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
Billy nodded. “Absolutely.”
“’Kay…” Ian looked at the second set of plans. “Got a question, then. What the heck did Elizabeth Elysian do to the house?”
“What?”
Ian pointed to the first page. “I can see she added the spiral staircase in the center of the first floor.”
“Yes.” Billy looked over Ian’s shoulder and checked them against the plans before the renovations. “There was a simple staircase and first floor landing. She put in the spiral with the mid-level landing. See? Not much else was done to the first floor, all the drastic changes were made to the second.”
Ian nodded his head. “Am I just reading the what you call it wrong? The little key in the corner here that tells you a quarter inch equals a foot?”
“No, that’s right.” Billy said.
“Hmmm…” Ian looked back at the prints in front of him and back to the pre-renovation set in Billy’s hands. Finally laying them side by side. “It looks to me like the second floor used to be a whole lot bigger.”
“What?”
“Look.”
Billy and Jude examined both sets of blueprints closely. “Huh. Reese, do you know anything about this?”
“About what?”
“The outer perimeters of the house match up.” Ian pointed out, but the second floor…some of it seems to be missing.”
“What?” Reese leaned in to take a look.
“Maybe it’s like Doctor Who’s Tardis only my house is the opposite, bigger on the outside and smaller on the inside.”
“Huh?”
“According to the current plans the only thing on the second floor is my bedroom, the walk-in and the hot tub off the side.” Ian told him.
“That’s right.” Reese confirmed.
“But look at the old plans.” Billy said.
“Half of it is missing.” Ian and Billy looked at Reese. “What did Miss Elizabeth do with the rest of the second floor?”
“Uh…Ian, son….” Jude interrupted. “…and we may as well ask ‘im, bout this, too.”
“What?”
Jude pointed to the key, licked his finger and split apart another page to the old plans that were stuck together. “I can see mebbe misplacing part of the second floor, Reese, but got any notions as to where the hell the whole third floor went?
“So…” Ian’s eyes darted nervously around. “Is this a good stunned silence or a bad stunned silence?”
He heard someone mutter, “I need a cigarette.”
Suddenly the room was lighting up, ignoring all the politically correct signs and health justifications. There was a moment or two of Bic flicking, puffing and exhaling.
Suddenly someone slapped their free hand down on the arm of their screening chair. “That was absolutely brilliant.” And the room filled with thunderous applause.
Ian wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or second guess himself.
Ned Bellamy sat forward in his chair. “Ian…I am speechless. I’ve never seen anything like that. Riveting, just riveting. My heart is still beating at 90 miles an hour. Now, I admit I’m one of the few who’ve never read the books, so everything was a complete and utter surprise.”
“The downside,” leave it to Trent Rockford to throw water on the embers, “is that Amanda will editing another three hours into the episode to make up a week of the daytime soap.” He eased knowingly back in his chair. “The upside is that even with the extra footage it will still probably be much faster than most daytime dramas.”
“Actually…” Ian smiled. “…You’ve misunderstood. What you’ve just seen are the first two episodes of the daytime drama. Amanda is doing the opposite. Filming the soap and then editing it down into two hours per week for nine weeks, so the mini-series version we run in Prime Time will be even faster, pared down to major storylines or subplots you’ll have to tune into the daytime version to get resolution.”
Rockford was stunned. “That’s the daytime version?”
“Yes.”
His eyes couldn’t hide the skepticism. “Obviously what you are calling the European cut.”
“No. That’s what will run at 4 P.M. every afternoon, Monday through Friday.”
“That passed the censors?”
Ian laughed. “Oh, yeah. Not to say it won’t cause a little controversy in smaller markets, but everything follows FCC guidelines and regulations to the nth degree. In fact, the only other people to have seen these besides yourselves are FCC reps.”
Jessica Greginsky grinned. “Wonder what that European version contains.”
He handed her a DVD. “You may watch this in my office, but this DVD does not leave my sight. For those who want the Reader’s Digest version, the episodes usually run four to five minutes longer, harsher language, bits of sex and nudity that didn’t make the FCC guidelines.”
“No extra violence?”
“No extra violence.”
David Turner turned to face his board and invited guests. “All markets airing “Blood Kisses” has been given an either/or option. They must choose to run the version you’ve just seen as is at 4 PM or the European version at one in the morning.”
“And if they choose to run neither?” Rockford the wet blanket jumped in again.
“Then the contract states we may option to syndicate it to any competing station in their market. Initially six stations opted not to run it, sparking a bidding war in their markets. Four of those quickly changed their minds.”
“And the other two?” Ned Beatty has to ask.
“We’ll be the highest paid syndicated series in their market. Contracts have already been signed. Those two affiliates no longer have an option to run “Blood Kisses” for two years and with the buzz both are now balking…way too late.”
Ian leaned against the lip of the stage in front. “Let me also point out that 64 affiliates are not only running the daytime version but have purchased the rights to run the European cut at one A.M. as well. Thanks to that strategy, ladies and gentlemen, you have just seen the first two episodes of what is officially the first network daytime series to debut in the black.”
The screening room broke into thunderous applause. As it died down, Jessica Greginsky raised her hand like a schoolgirl. Ian couldn’t help but giggle as he nodded to her. “Excuse me, but I think I misunderstood. You said the Prime Time version would air two hours a week for nine weeks. I thought it was three hours a week for three weeks.”
David Turner waved at Ian to answer. “That was initially the thought, but after meeting with Amanda Jackson and seeing the rushes and the scripts, I decided to throw my weight around and overrule that decision.”
“It was going to be difficult to do justice to the Trilogy with only a total of nine hours in which to tell a 2600 page story. We didn’t want to offend the people who loved the books enough to make them the top selling paperbacks of all time.” Ian added.
“Now, Amanda has eighteen hours in Prime Time spread over nine weeks to make sure the rather rabid following is satisfied.” Turner took the floor back. “In addition that takes us up to the middle of November Sweeps, and another ten hours of air time during the day during sweeps to begin telling new stories of gothic brilliance.”
“…And speaking of brilliance, Wella…” Ian pointed to the front row.
Wella humbly stood up, a little nervous about making her first presentation to the Board. “Thank you, Ian. We have a new project to discuss, we hope. As you all know thanks to the brilliant editing and the borderline psychotic minds of Logan Snipe and William Kensington, our once and embarrassing bottom rated soap ‘Sebastian Manor’ has been trading places with ‘The Young and the Restless’ for number one.”
She waited patiently once again for the spontaneous applause. “But that little masterpiece comes to a close in August, and our little devil geniuses have finished their job. Ian saw fit to drop in my lap, what do with them now…” Wella turned to her boss with sarcasm, “…and I so want to thank you for making this my first solo assignment.”
“Just sign them to a contract before someone else snaps them up.” The ever-cheery Rockford snapped.
“Already done, Mr. Rockford.” Wella caught the look Ian gave her from the corner of his eye. “The problem being, Trent, was not to lock them into exclusivity but how to use their talents properly without having to shell out tons of cash to have them sit on their butts for the length of their contract as too many have in the past.”
“What’s the problem?” Ned simply asked. “What they did was brilliant.”
“No doubt.” Ian nodded. “There in lies the problem. Willy and Logan’s talent seems to be basically in making other people’s crap smell like strawberry ice cream, not in creating from their own ideas.”
“Oh.” Jessica bit her lip. “I see the problem.”
“At first we let them pitch a few ideas.” Wella wrinkled her nose. “I think in a few years, once they get some experience working with a good team of people that part will work itself out.” She nodded to Blake who dutifully stood and began passing folders out. “In the meantime, we think we’ve found something that works for us immediately and at the same time give them the experience they need.”
Guess who opened the folder and barked, “The Worst Show on Television? What kind of crap smelling crap is this?”
“Actually Trent,” Wella immediately stepped right up to Ian’s delight. “It’s actually an old concept with a new flair, a show within a show. Does anyone remember that film “Amazon Women On the Moon”?”
Someone in the back mused. “Oh yeah, that movie about the really cheap Sci-Fi movie running on late night TV that keeps breaking down so they start throwing anything in to take up dead air?”
“Exactly.” Wella said. “A little independent that did very well and became a cult hit on Video and again when dropped to DVD. It’s actually a similar concept, one pitched to us by Cassidy Roark….”
“Cassidy Roark?” Trent Rockford sat up straight in his screening seat. “Last year’s Oscar winner for Best Director?”
“That would be the one, also the man Ian signed an exclusive development deal with.” Wella beamed. “This is an idea he’s had for a longtime, but could never find a network to show interest or the right people to do it right.”
“He loves ‘Sebastian Manor Redux” and called me specifically to see if Willy and Logan would be interested in working with him. It’s the perfect vehicle for both.”
“Plus it gives them access to our vaults.” Wella tried to light dollar signs in the board’s eyes. “The crux of the story with in the story is terrible television, hence the title, so they’ll be scouring the vaults for obscure footage. If you approve the first six week arc would center around ‘Home Cookin’.”
“Oh my God!” Rockford sounded offended. “Why would anyone dig up that disaster? We pulled it after four episodes.”
Jessica agreed. “And as I recall we pulled it in the middle of an episode…and no one noticed.”
Ian laughed. “You might also recall that it was the last series aired that Simon Kent developed, and we paid for a full season to boot. This may help us recoup some of that wasted money.”
“The plan is…” Wella referred to the folders in everyone’s lap, “…to drop each arc with the complete series it’s based on and the Snipe/Kensington Redux of the series as one set.”
“What was the name of the bimbo who starred in that thing?” Denver Metcalfe asked no one specific.
“Tawny Turrell?” Ian was almost embarrassed he knew.
“That’s her!” Metcalfe pointed to Ian. “I wonder whatever happened to her?”
“I think she asked my kid if he wanted fries with that when we bought him his last happy meal.” Someone for the back of the room quipped.
“She did give her permission for use, so I assume she’s still connected in the business some how.” Wella pulled the conversation back to the pitch. “We’ve also decided the show would be a good match for some of the “Cattle Call” contestants. That little show has developed it’s own rabid following.”
“I love that show.” Jessica Greginsky sighed. “And I hate reality shows.”
“I was so mad when that cute little Tempie Chadwick got voted off.” Ned Beatty leaned into Jessica.
“What was America thinking…?”
“Children…back to…uh…reality.” Ian teased. “For those of you members of the board who don’t bother to keep up, I’d just like to point out that “Cattle Call” is now our highest rated series and our first to hit number one in three years.”
“But it’s the summer season…” Trent Rockford yawned.
Wella put her hands on her hips, but David Turner spoke out first. “But it’s pulling in numbers equal to any series we’ve run during the last three sweeps. It’s not pulling in “American Idol” numbers, but they’re growing episode by episode.”
“And I’ve already locked it in for the next three summers.” Wella blushed when she realized she’d just blown her own horn.
“We’ve found a lot of amazing talent already through the show.” Ian smiled. “I think we’re just seeing the beginning of a pretty phenomenal talent pool there. Granted, a lot of it is unseasoned, but with the right mentor programs there are going to be some pretty phenomenal careers launched through it.”
“…And HRT.” David Turner grinned ear to ear. As the group continued to discuss the pitch, Turner remembered walking out of this very building in January convinced there had to be someone in it who could help restore the network to its former glory. Looking at Ian Justyn, he knew he’d found his man.
“So do you wanna pitch in with us for the baby gift?” Jeff Torkelson asked as he scooped up the last donut from the snack table.
“Has that bimbo spit out the kid yet?” Tess Sinclair responded while staring at the powdered sugar left on the plate and salivating recalling the days when donuts were a basic food group in her diet.
“No, but we’ve signed them up for diaper service.” Torkelson licked the sugar off his fingers, teasing his co-star.
Tessie rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty generic Stud Muffin. It’s Ian. He’s a God. We can do better.”
“It’s all the crew could agree on they could afford. They wanted to do something, and I’ve agreed to pay for half.”
“I’ll match yours and raise ya, but we’ve got to come up with something better than diaper service.” Tess sighed and picked up a petite carrot stick. “How ‘bout a hit man to off the knocked up bimbo…once she’s had the kid, of course.”
“We better hurry.” Jeff took the carrot stick, licked it, rolled it in the stray powdered sugar and handed it back to Tessie. “They’re due any day.”
“They?” Tess looked at the carrot and back to Jeff. “What, she having a litter?”
“Twins.” Jeff smiled. “She’s having twin boys.”
“Well aren’t you just the font of all things Justyn.” Tess acted like she tossed the carrot in the trash, but palmed it to hopefully lick off the sugar in the privacy of her trailer later.
“I talked with Trampus Scott this morning. He filled me in.”
“Hey, Torkelson!” The AD yelled from behind them. “You wanna come shoot this scene or do I have time for an orgasm?”
“Be there in ninety seconds, Gibby. Treat yourself, you got time for two orgasms.” Jeff kissed Tess on the cheek.
She smiled and turned to the AD. “Hey, Gibby, you wanna borrow my tweezers? I got ‘em handy? Just rinse ‘em off before you return ‘em.”
Tess turned to retire to her trailer, almost running into a well-meaning make up girl.
“Sorry, Miss Sinclair.” The young girl blushed.
“It’s okay, dear. My fault wasn’t looking where I was going.” She patted the sweet young thing on the shoulder and gently made sure she was out of her way.
The girl looked at Tess’s forearm where the long sleeve rode up just a bit. She grabbed Tess’s hand and looked at it. “Oh my, would you like me to touch that up for you? I would only take a second.”
“No thanks, dear.”
“That’s a pretty nasty scar.”
Tess yanked back the fabric just a bit and looked at it. “I guess it is. I never think about it anymore. It was so long ago, I don’t even quite remember how I got it.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could ever forget something like that. It must have hurt something awful.”
Tess pulled her sleeve back down to her wrist. “Hon when you get my age, you tend to forget the bad stuff and remember the important, like the little tag in your underwear goes in the back.”
The girl put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “You’re so funny Miss Sinclair.”
“Call me Tess, dear heart.” The icon smiled and went on her way; musing/hoping for just a moment the new make up girl had been flirting with her.
Pulling the door to her trailer shut behind her, Tess immediately reached for the carrot in her pocket, but sighed lobbed it at the trash can full of tissues and reached for the bottle of spring water that had been sitting out all day. She plopped on the couch and looked at her sleeve.
After a good long lukewarm drink, she pushed the sleeve up enough to stare at the scar on her arm. It was about the size of a fifty-cent piece, and over time had become more a discoloration than a burn.
She had lied. She hadn’t forgotten how she got it, although she had tried many, many times. How can you forget something that wakes you up at night screaming in a cold sweat?
It was a long, long time ago. The old adage was true, it did fade with time, but it had to be re-forgotten every few months it haunted her dreams in horribly vivid clarity.
It wasn’t her idea but, since no one was there, they wanted to make love in Darla’s bed, and they had all afternoon. It was her first real love affair and she was thrilled, adventurous and found it all so adult and exciting.
They had met on the set of “Just In Time”, her first big role in a big motion picture. She knew the moment she got it; it would be a huge stepping-stone in her career. Everyone wanted to be in an HRT project. Everyone wanted to work with David Turner, James Redfield and the elusive Darla Hutton. It was a rarity but they were all three working together again. She was right there working along side them.
Little did she know how much would change in her life before the film even was released. Things happened so fast. One minute she was the naïve young actress working on a major motion picture. The next she was a seasoned pro, a large role under her belt and waking from an afternoon rendezvous in the star’s bed when she wasn’t home.
It served the woman right. She had hoped to learn so much from working with Darla Hutton. What she learned was the kind of star she didn’t want to be. The woman pitched temper tantrums shutting down or delaying the shoot constantly. Then a few minutes later, the same shrew was cowering in a corner bawling her eyes out.
Darla Hutton spoke to only a chosen few, and seemed to enjoy making everyone around her miserable. She treated her co-star and her director with disdain, often picking up a prop and hurling it unprovoked at one of them.
Oh she was beautiful, even more breath taking in person than on the screen, but quite frankly not only was she unprofessional, she wasn’t a very good actress. It surprised her.
Teresa, as she was called back then, had been mesmerized by “Breathe Again”, as everyone who saw it had been. Although Darla’s five other pictures didn’t have that same exact magic, Darla was brilliant and the films excellent.
“Just In Time” would probably be at best good. James Redfield was incredible, as usual, and the script seemed inspired, but Darla Hutton was terrible. The only time she could even stand her in the rushes was in the musical numbers. As terrible as Hutton was in this role, her vocal abilities were unmatched.
David Turner had a reputation for spinning gold. She had her fingers crossed that he’d be able to work his magic in the editing room. There was no way she wanted her first major role to be in Darla Hutton’s first major bomb.
She stirred in the big brass bed. Her lover was gone. Tess sat up looking around the ornate room. Sighing she looked down on the floor and then reached for her clothes. It wouldn’t be the first time she had awakened after a thrilling hour of passion to find herself alone. She guessed that was the way things would always be as long as she was sleeping with someone who was already married.
She dressed lazily and looked at the mussed bed. She thought about making it, but remembered it hadn’t been made when she had been thrown on it and ravaged. Tess smiled. She started to blow out the many candles lit around the bedroom. She’d almost forgotten how they’d taken her breath away when she was led in and she saw them for the first time.
With a quick breath out went to first candle. She loved the perfumed wax smell as that little dash of smoke curled in the air after whiffing the flame out. Tess touched a clear drip from the candle and let the hot goo dry almost instantly on her finger. She was looking at it when she heard her coming.
She couldn’t make out what was said, but she could make out an argument was ensuing and coming straight for her. Panicked she looked around the room, dashing behind the flowing drapes just before the bedroom door was slammed open.
From her hiding place she heard the big bed rock, as a body was either thrown against it or someone threw themselves on it. She didn’t dare look to see who it was, as much as she wanted to. She trembled waiting for a moment when she could slip away unnoticed. She tried to crane her head around to see if she might be able to slip out the window when she became suddenly aware that there was someone else in the room.
“Don’t you ever walk away from me!” The voice growled.
“I’ll do anything I please!” Came the voice from the bed. “I’m free of you now and I don’t take orders from you or anyone else anymore!”
“Free?” The other voice scoffed. “You’re back in this house aren’t you?”
She heard the woman sit up on the bed. “I just came back to get my things.”
“Two questions Darla. How long will it take you to pack your bags and get the hell out and when will we all be free of you?”
Tess turned her head slightly to the left and realized that she could see the mirror on the dresser from her hiding place. Remembering her acting teacher once telling her if you can see the audience, they can see you. She began to slip further behind the drapes, but instead wrapped them discreetly around herself until she could no longer she her own reflection.
From her hiding place she could see Lucille take a step toward the woman on the bed. “I’m waiting for an answer Darla. How long until we’re all rid of you for good?”
She couldn’t see Darla’s face, only that back of her thick black curls. “Soon enough.”
“What you want something more?” Lucille pulled the yellow frock tighter around her chest, trying to cover the lingerie she was wearing. “Blood?”
Tess could hear Darla smile. “Not really, but if I asked for it, you’d have to give it to me. You know you would.”
She saw Lucille pull a large cedar box she’d been hiding behind her back so Darla could see it. Tess noticed Darla’s head move like a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse. Lucille smiled and tossed it on the bed and out of Tess’s sight.
“Here.” The triumph evident in her voice, “I don’t have any cash on me, but these should do. My jewelry is worth a fortune. Take It, get out and don’t come back. In fact never let us hear from you again.”
Darla’s manic laugh was unmistakable. “You think I need money?”
“Of course, you need money.”
Tess could hear the cedar box open and the sound of fingers dipping through the jewelry. “You aren’t nearly as smart as you think you are Lucille. I have money, lots and lots of money.”
“But all in a joint account with your husband. Remember him?”
“David? Of course, I remember him.” Tess could she her cock her head from the reflection in the mirror. “Is he dead yet?”
“No.” Lucille smirked. “He’ll be fine. So will James. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“There.” Tess started to panic again when she realized Darla was getting up from the bed and walking toward the mirror. She had to stifle a laugh, no a guffaw, when she got a look at Darla getting a look at herself.
Darla leaned into the mirror, and then turned to Lucille covered in every piece of jewelry she had space for. “Do I look like a cheap whore yet?”
Lucille crossed her arms. “You don’t need to be slathered in too much jewelry to look like a cheap whore.”
In a flash the cedar box was hurled at Lucille who ducked and laughed. “Almost got me. You move pretty well for a woman who just had a baby. You did just have a baby or were you just messing with us all again?”
“Yes, I had a baby.” Darla got defensive, rubbing her belly slightly.
“What’d you do with it? Drop it by the road and high tail it home to whine until one of us goes and finds it for you like a lost earring?”
Tess watched Darla whip around to face the mirror, hurt flashing across her face and then just a quickly smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know where my baby is?”
“Couldn’t care less, Darla.”
“That’s what you want. That’s what you all want. You want me to hand over my baby and then you’ll take it and get rid of me.”
“Actually, Sweetheart, my personal choice is just to wash my hands of you and the little pooping brat.” Lucille took a step toward Darla. “So what was it, a boy poop or a girl poop?”
Darla whipped around to face the mirror again, her eyes darting around in dismay. “A little boy…David has a son.”
“David?” Lucile scoffed. “Are you sure it’s David’s?”
“Of course, it’s David’s.”
“I don’t know, Darla. You got awful chummy with Mike Kincaid. You guys got friendly and all of a sudden all you could talk about was blowing whistles and getting out. You been blowin’ Mike Kincaid’s whistle Darla?”
Her voice became cold and deadly. “I’ll have you know the only man who’s ever touched me is my husband.”
Lucille laughed out loud. “Not surprised. Who’d wanna touch a crazy bitch? That’s exactly what you are Darla, one crazy bitch.”
Darla turned slowly and deliberately until she was facing Lucille. “I bet you wish you could say the same.”
“I got one up on ya, Darla.” Lucile put her hands on her hips and let the peignoir fall open, giving Darla a flash of cleavage. “I’ve never been touched by…a man.”
“Perverts!” Darla gasped. “You all are perverts!”
Lucille threw back her head and laughed. Then like a tiger waiting for the perfect moment, she pounced on her prey. “Is that what’ll take to get you off everyone’s back? Me?”
Lucille yanked Darla to her and kissed her deeply. Darla struggled, finally pushing her off and wiping her lips disgustedly with the back of her hand. “You ever touch me again and I’ll kill you!”
“Like I haven’t heard that before.” Lucille pushed herself up off the floor.
Darla put out her hand. “I mean it. Don’t come one step closer!”
Lucille took a daring step toward Darla, who threw herself against the dressing table, rattling the mirror and the contents on top of the dresser.
“Ouch!” Darla grabbed her hand, and cradled it where a candle hand fallen over and burned her.
“Aw, darling.” Lucille smirked, advancing toward her. “Let Mama kiss it and make it all better.
The scream startled Tess, as Darla let it out and scrambled to the top of the dressing table, kicking at a laughing Lucille who danced around her and pawed at her. Darla kicked and yelled. Lucille laughed and menaced until Darla whipped off her belt and started hitting her attacker with it.
After several very adept thwacks with the buckle, Lucille finally backed off, but only a little. “Okay, ya little bitch. Keep it. Didn’t want it anyway.”
Darla caught her breath, but didn’t dare leave her perch from the dresser top. She looked around the room. “What are all these…” She whipped her head to Lucille. “You’ve been screwing in my bed.”
“Jealous?” Lucille had to be quick to put her hands up in defense as the belt snapped in the air just an inch from her face. “You crazy bitch!”
“You’ve been screwing…in my bed! Haven’t you!”
“Yeah.” Lucille glared at her. “It’s not like you were using it. Hell, we haven’t seen you since the night you ran screaming “They’re trying to kill me” out the front door leaving that disgusting trail of whatever it was when you’re water broke.”
“You are trying to kill me, me and my baby.”
“You’re still breathing aren’t you bitch?”
“But you want me dead!”
“I could care less.” Lucille calmly smoothed the silky front of her lingerie. “I just want the threats and the paranoia and the general nightmare of insanity you create gone.”
From her steadfast perch on the dresser Darla looked down. “You just want to keep me quiet.”
“Doesn’t seem any one is able to do a good job with that. Quiet is hardly a word in anyone’s vocabulary when you’re around, these days anyway.”
Darla pointed a finger at Lucille. “I know what’s been going on, Lucille. I know what all three of you have been doing. I’m not stupid.”
“Darla, you barely know what your name is…”
“You want me out of the way so I won’t tell anybody. You want me dead so no one will ever find out. There’s a word for want you all have done. I don’t know what it is, but there’s a word for it.”
Lucille laughed again. “You just keep proving me right.”
“…And I don’t think it’s legal. You’d have an awful lot of explaining to do if I died.”
“Honey, I keep having to explain things when you’re alive.” Lucille rolled her eyes and looked at her fingernails. “Alive…dead…it don’t seem to make much of a difference.”
“You’re just upset because I’m in control now.” Darla mocked her.
“Darla, you can’t even control your bowels.”
Darla kicked out and caught Lucille in the jaw sending her reeling out of Tess’s sight. In seconds Lucille came back into view howling like a wounded animal on attack. Darla jumped from Lucille’s lunge and landed on a chair between the dresser and the draperies.
“Stay away from me, Lucille!” She warned. “Stay away from me or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Lucille growled, hunched over like a linebacker ready for defense.
“I’ll…I’ll…” Darla looked up at the ceiling. She smiled and looked back down at the huffing Lucille. “Or…I’ll…do this…” In the bat of an eye, Darla whipped one end of the cloth belt around the thick wood brace that ran the length of the ceiling and tied the other end around her neck.
“I see we’ve been hiding our past as a calf roper.” Lucille giggled uncharacteristically.
Tess could see Darla’s face clearly. It was full of rage and vengeance. “I’ll do it. I swear, Lucille. You come one step closer and I’ll kill myself.”
“Oh do it, bitch.” Lucille sat on the bed and crossed her legs. “Get it over with. We’re all tired of the threats. Do us all the favor and just get it the fuck over with.”
“You’ll never find my baby.” She threatened.
“Like anyone cares, Darla. You’ve done us all a favor and gotten rid of the thing. One less mess I have to clean up.”
“Think of the scandal, Lucille. You hate scandal.”
Lucille leaned back on the bed, casually sighing. “Actually, Darla. I love scandal. It’s what I make my living off of. If there ain’t one hovering around. I got nothin’ to do, so I create one. Those are the best. Those I can always make in my favor.”
“They’ll find out the truth!” Darla hissed. “Everyone will know what I’ve known all along.”
Tess couldn’t help but notice Lucille tighten her body language just a bit. She tried to remain nonchalant, but the slight crack in her voice gave her away. “And exactly what is it that you think you’ve known all along Darla?”
“Darla…hah!” The woman with the make shift noose around her head snorted. “Darla Hutton doesn’t exist!”
“Of course she exists, you idiot!” Lucille spit. “You’re Darla Hutton…”
“If I kill myself, they’ll investigate. It’ll be all over the papers! Everyone will know!”
Lucille stood but went back to examining her fingernails. She sighed. “Everyone will know what, Darla?”
“Don’t come any closer!” Darla wailed. “I’ll do it. I swear!”
“Everyone will know what?”
“That I’m not Darla Hutton.” The woman seemed to be relieved to admit that fact. Tess couldn’t help but notice the pleasure in her face giving her the courage to go further. “If I die, they’ll know that truth. I’m not Darla Hutton and I never really have been!”
Lucille laughed, never taking her eyes off her cuticles. “Oh honey. You are insane.”
“You’ll never be able to explain your way out if I kill myself.”
“Actually, Darla Not Darla Never Really Have Been Darla, suicide is not my first option, but one I can so easily deal with. It easily explains so much…”
Before Tess had a chance to gasp, Lucille turned her back, kicking behind her and knocking the chair from beneath Darla’s feet. Stunned, she watched Darla struggling to find solid ground beneath her.
“Most of it would be a lie, but most everything about everything these days has nothing to do with the truth.” Lucille spoke, back to Darla as her feet did a horrifying dance in the air.
From her vantage behind the curtain, a stunned Tess watched paralyzed as Darla’s feet went from kicking the air to barely twitching. A blood-curdling scream filled the air. Tess looked up to see the last horrified sound come from Darla’s mouth.
Instead, Tess’s attention went to Lucille hitting the floor and screaming, her silky nightgown in flames, candles fallen over from the dresser as it was kicked by a struggling now lifeless Darla swinging from the rafter. Lucille screamed and struggled to put out the flames now creeping up from the hem to her stomach.
Tess instinctually yanked the draperies in front of her down. It took two powerful pulls, but the long hiding adrenaline in her kicked in and she heard the rod holding them snap. Tess jumped past the swaying body and pounced on the burning Lucille.
It seemed like it took forever, but it only took a moment. Lucille lay gasping for air, face twisted in pain. Her eyes focused on the panting young woman, lying on top of her. “Baby, it’s you.” Lucille half smiled.
Tess looked up, finally seeing the full face of Darla Hutton. It was frozen in shock, and at the same time, as the body twisted lightly back and forth, seemed to have this wry knowing smile. She cocked her head staring in the open, bulging eyes, the smell of burned satin and burned flesh filling the air.
Suddenly there was a whoosh as fire danced up the walls and across the mussed bedspread.
“Come one, Lucille, we’ve got to get out of here.” Tess yanked the charred drapes off Lucille and grabbed at her.
Lucille grasped Tess’s arm and held it still. “Oh Baby. You’ve burned yourself.”
As she half stood, for the first time, Tess got a look at the lower half of Lucille’s body. “You, too.” She took a deep breath and forced herself not to stare or vomit. “We’ve got to get out of here, Lucille. The room is on fire.”
The woman nodded and tried to get up. “Help me.” She gasped as she tried.
As the walls began to crack like the campfires Tess remembered from Girl Scouts not that long ago, she stopped trying to help Lucille up, grabbing her by the shoulders and began to just drag her from the room. She could hear Lucille moan in pain, but she had no choice if she wanted to save her life, if that were even possible.
She made it to the top of the stairs. A sturdy poof made Tess look back at the room she’d just dragged Lucille from. It was now the pit from Hell, and it was still racing toward them.
“Mizz Sinclair?” A voice came at her from the staircase.
“Jasper!” Tess had avoided having contact with any of the staff before, negroes scared her, but she was never so glad to see anyone in her life. “Help me! Lucille is hurt.”
“The house is on fire!” Jasper looked over her shoulder and cried out.
“I know.” Tess grabbed his arm to grab back his attention. “A lit candle fell over and caught Lucille’s dress on fire. I grabbed the drapes to put it out, but I don’t know…we have to get out of here. Help me. I think she’s passed out.”
“Lawdy.” Jasper uttered the one word of fear and then picked up Lucille like she was the morning paper and raced down the staircase with her. Tess followed behind them until they were out the door, the burning wing behind them.
“Is there anyone else inside?” Tess thought to ask.
“No, Miss Lucille sent everyone home.” Jasper cradled Lucille like a sleeping child, gently swaying her and looking at her sleeping face with love. “I always stay behind for Miss Lucille and Miss Darla.”
“We need to call someone…the fire company…the hospital…” Tess turned around and ducked at a loud pop from behind the door. “It’s burning so quickly.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tess stepped off the stoop with him, willing to follow him to the nearest phone.
“No.” Lucile’s eyes were closed but her voice was strong and full of calm focus. “This is what we’re going to do…”
“That was quick.” Ripley looked up from the oven when Ian entered the kitchen, now dressed in flannel pants and a tee.
“There are days all I can think about is coming home and taking Ian Justyn off, wading him up and shoving him in the dirty clothes hamper.” He was shoved into a seat at the table, a glass of fresh iced tea placed in front of him. Ian picked it up and held it against his cheek. “Today was definitely one of those days.”
“First of all, Baby Doll,” Tippy turned to him fussing over something in a bowl on the counter, “You’ve never wadded up anything and shoved it in the hamper.”
“The first time I tried to do laundry for him, I got so confused.” Ripley looked over Tippy’s shoulder. “Ooh, add some lemon juice, just a little. It took me an hour to figure out that no one in their right minds would keep clean clothes folded neatly in a clothes hamper.”
“When does the term ‘right minds’ and the name ‘Ian Justyn’ ever belong in the same sentence?” Ian mused then gulped his tea.
“Did you have a rough day?”
“Not a all. It was a great day as a matter of fact, I just didn’t want to be there.” Ian admitted. “I just wanted to be here. Maybe I just wanted to be with my family. Maybe I just wanted to get this whole nursery thing started and maybe I just wanted to come up with new ways to torture the cat.” Rodie cocked her head from her position not far from him as she had been from the moment Ian stepped in the door. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Ian stared at Rodie. Rodie stared back. “I think I’ll give the cat a bath.” Rodie freaked and ran. Ian turned to the duo making dinner. “Yeah, that was why I came home.”
“You love that cat.” Tippy scolded him.
“Do not.”
“Do, too.”
“Children…” Ripley warned. “Don’t make me separate you two.” He dipped the pad of his finger in Tippy’s concoction and tasted. He smacked his lips a moment and thought as Tippy waited anxiously. “It’s good, but it’s missing just a little something.”
“What?” She gave it a taste, as well. “Hmm…you’re right. Baby Doll, taste this and tell me what it’s missing.”
Before he had a chance to say anything, Tippy shoved a spoonful in his mouth. His eyes darted to the left and then to the right, then swallowed. “What is it?”
“Guacamole.”
Got up from the table and looked down in the bowl, then to the counter and turned to Tippy. “Simple…” He picked up two green veggies from the counter. “Try adding some avocado.”
Tippy put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Pffffffttttt…it’s been one of those days.”
“Do you want me to take over dinner?” Ian put an arm around her, squeezed her close and rubbed her shoulder.
“That’s sweet, Baby Doll, but it’s my turn to make dinner. You go find Billy and Jude and start making some plans.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” He kissed her temple as she began to gently mash avocado in a second bowl. “Don’t worry, if you forget to add any other major ingredients we’ll just tell the kids it’s poor Mexican night and we have to imagine most of dinner.”
“See, you always know what to do.” Tippy laughed.
“Have you seen Clare?” Ian asked Ripley. “She should probably be in on this from the get go.”
“Actually, not for a few minutes.” Ripley sighed. “Which surprises me. I don’t know what’s been up with her today, but she’s been like this bad after shave smell wafting up my nose every time I turned around.”
“Clare?”
“Ian I swear, if I hadn’t locked the bathroom door, she’d have sat in my lap while I did my business.” Ripley shook his head, and then grabbed a potholder to take the olive oil brushed pizza dough from the oven. “It wasn’t until Jude and Billy showed up a few minutes ago that she finally deigned to let me leave her sight.”
“She’s probably just scared to be alone.” Ian looked over his shoulder as Ripley began to spread his special tomato sauce on one of the pies. “She is about to give birth, to twins, at any moment. Wait…guac and pizza?”
“It’s Thursday night.” Tippy looked up from her gentle folding.
“Vonnie chose dinner.” Ian said and Tippy and Ripley nodded.
“Honestly Ian, Clare’s driving me crazy.” Ripley put another spoonful on and spread it. “I think something’s wrong.”
“I’ll go chat with her. Where are the kids?” Ian asked as he swiped a pepperoni from the plate.
“Reese and Billy are in the den. Vonnie’s outback playing with Ralphie.” Tippy began folding her avocado in. “And Ronnie and Jesse are playing some video game.”
Ian smiled. “I love how the term ‘kids’ around here is sort of a yours, mine and ours overview.”
“Well, Baby Doll, let’s face it, we got us a redneck hippy commune goin’ here.”
“And we all kinda like it.” Ripley added while adding shredded cheese. “Don’t get too involved with the plans just yet, Boss Man.”
“Why? You and Clare gonna plat each other’s hair and paint your nails?”
“Funny.” Ripley scowled at him. “No, dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Time to put the tortillas in the oil.” Tippy announced to herself.
“Okay, I’ll find Clare, check in with Jude and Billy then round up the little hippies and get ‘em cleaned up.”
Ian made his way out of the kitchen just in time to run into the littlest hippy, today anyway. “Uncle Ian!” She giggled and jumped into his arms.
“Vonda Rae.” He squeezed her tight. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
“Just since this morning?”
“Yep, and I think…just a little bit….” Ian looked Vonnie over well. “…More ticklish!” He tickled her ribs as the child squealed with delight. He finished the tickle attack with kisses all over her face before sitting her on her feet. “Honey, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you wash up and then head into the kitchen and see what you can do for you Granny and Uncle Ripley?”
“’Kay.”
“Vonnie.” He stopped her in mid-bounce. “Have you seen Clare?”
“Ya huh.” She nodded her head. “She’s beached on the far end of the couch. Don’t worry. Ralphie’s sitting on the other end so it won’t flip over.” With that she was gone.
And she was right. Ian found Clare on one end of the couch silent; Ralphie at the other. Both of them were staring unmoving as though daring the other to blink. “You two sharing a Vulcan mind meld?”
“I think he’s plotting to eat my brain.” Clare said, refusing to blink.
“No, that would be Rodie. Ralphie’s just probably trying to figure out how to get to the other end of the couch to lick your face without the shift in weight killing you both.”
“Har Har.” Clare looked up at him.
“Sorry, that was mean.” Ian walked to stand over Clare and kissed the top of her head. “Ralphie’s not that huge.”
Clare smacked at him and Ian began to rub her shoulders. “Oh, that feels soooo good.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Ian, I know I sound like a broken record but I am so miserable. My back hurts. My feet are swollen and a catheter could make me stop peeing. Let me just clue you in Ian, next time you wanna have kids…you get pregnant and see how you like it.”
“Let’s not go there.”
“Gladly.”
“Dinner will be ready in a few.” Ian didn’t stop rubbing her shoulders. “We’re going to look at the house plans and figure out where to build the nursery afterwards. I assume you want to help make that decision.”
“Frankly, Ian, I’ll leave that up to you guys.”
Ian stopped in mid-rub. “You’re kidding? How did you get in Clare’s body and what planet are you from?”
Clare attempted to look at him, until he finally sat lightly on the arm of the sofa beside her. “Honestly, Ian. This sounds awful, but at this point I don’t care where the nursery is as long as one of these babies isn’t sleeping on my bladder and the other on my intestines.”
“That’s just a lovely picture, thank you.”
“You want Happy Pregnant Lady? Watch “I Love Lucy”, cause in the real world at this stage of the game we’re all miserable and want everyone else to be as well, especially the bastards who knock us up.”
Ian smiled and nodded. “Once again, lovely pictures, just lovely. I think I’ll just mosey into the den. I’m suddenly feeling the need to protect my testicles.”
“Probably a very good idea.”
Ian backed slowly toward the den.
Ralphie, determined to see everyone happy shyly slipped toward Clare but was immediately frozen in mid-stride as Clare barked, “That tongue comes anywhere near my side of the couch and you lose it!”
“Uhm, Ralphie, you’d better come with me.” The dog wasted no time joining Ian in backing out of the living room.
“Rodie?” Ian called out. “Clare wants to see you on the living room sofa!”
“What?” Came a voice from inside his den.
“Nothing.” He said as he and Ralphie entered the room. “Remind me to give Ripley a raise. Putting up with Clare all day can’t be worth what I’m paying him.”
Billy looked up from the desk, Jude looking over his shoulder and Reese not far away at the bookcase. “Maybe we should just lock her in the garage until she gives birth.”
“There’s a good idea.” Ian smiled.
“Nah.” Jude looked up from the blueprints. “She’d jes’ scratch up yer paint job and eat the fenders.”
“Probably.” Ian looked down at the renderings from his side of the desk. “What have we got here?”
Billy pointed. “Well, these are the plans for the house as it currently stands. See, first floor…” He flipped the page. “Second floor. Everything is sound and supported enough to knock out almost any wall you choose.”
“You’ll prob’ly have to give up some closet space ‘er a bathroom, but you kin’ put it enny where ya want.”
Ian rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s have a look.”
The trio parted for Ian to take the seat Billy had been occupying behind the desk. “What are those?” He asked.
“Oh those, are the plans for the house before Miss Elizabeth did the renovations.” Reese informed him.
“We wanted to double check both sets to make sure nothing from the original structure would be weakened by any changes you want to make.” Billy said. “We keep forgetting this house is actually very old and only part of the original house.”
Ian nodded and reached for the second set of blueprints. He flipped a few pages and then went back to the set before him and looked again. “I’m confused.” He held up one set of blueprints. “These are the plans for the Hutton Mansion?”
“No, no.” Billy smiled. “Those are here.” Low and behold, Billy produced a cardboard roll from a chair and pulled out yet another set of plans. Rolling them out he pointed as he explained.
“See, this was the original lay out.”
“Holy smokes, that was huge!” Ian was shocked. “Even for way back then, it was huge!”
“That stone wall in your back yard was the foundation for the back wing. According to these there were three wings connected. This is the only wing that survived the fire.”
Ian looked up at him from the plans. “Back wing? I thought Kellen’s house was part of the original structure.”
“No.” Reese piped in. “Didn’t you pay attention when you were on ‘America Alive’? Kellen’s house was a guesthouse on the property. I think they used it as servant’s quarters.”
“An’ that Redfield feller lived in yer house?” Jude asked.
“No.” Reese corrected him. “James Redfield lived in the house that is now the apartments at the end of the cul-de-sac. David Turner lived in my house.”
“Turner?” Jude shot one eye open a little further. “I thought him and the Darla woman was married.”
“They were.” Ian said looking intently at the plans.
“Then why’d he live in another house?”
Reese looked at Billy and Billy looked at Reese. “Uhhh…”
“Never mind that.” Ian waved they’re attention back. “I’m really confused. You say these in front of me are the plans as the house stands now.”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
Billy nodded. “Absolutely.”
“’Kay…” Ian looked at the second set of plans. “Got a question, then. What the heck did Elizabeth Elysian do to the house?”
“What?”
Ian pointed to the first page. “I can see she added the spiral staircase in the center of the first floor.”
“Yes.” Billy looked over Ian’s shoulder and checked them against the plans before the renovations. “There was a simple staircase and first floor landing. She put in the spiral with the mid-level landing. See? Not much else was done to the first floor, all the drastic changes were made to the second.”
Ian nodded his head. “Am I just reading the what you call it wrong? The little key in the corner here that tells you a quarter inch equals a foot?”
“No, that’s right.” Billy said.
“Hmmm…” Ian looked back at the prints in front of him and back to the pre-renovation set in Billy’s hands. Finally laying them side by side. “It looks to me like the second floor used to be a whole lot bigger.”
“What?”
“Look.”
Billy and Jude examined both sets of blueprints closely. “Huh. Reese, do you know anything about this?”
“About what?”
“The outer perimeters of the house match up.” Ian pointed out, but the second floor…some of it seems to be missing.”
“What?” Reese leaned in to take a look.
“Maybe it’s like Doctor Who’s Tardis only my house is the opposite, bigger on the outside and smaller on the inside.”
“Huh?”
“According to the current plans the only thing on the second floor is my bedroom, the walk-in and the hot tub off the side.” Ian told him.
“That’s right.” Reese confirmed.
“But look at the old plans.” Billy said.
“Half of it is missing.” Ian and Billy looked at Reese. “What did Miss Elizabeth do with the rest of the second floor?”
“Uh…Ian, son….” Jude interrupted. “…and we may as well ask ‘im, bout this, too.”
“What?”
Jude pointed to the key, licked his finger and split apart another page to the old plans that were stuck together. “I can see mebbe misplacing part of the second floor, Reese, but got any notions as to where the hell the whole third floor went?
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