Authors: Mairsile Leabhair
I took a sip of my cola, sneering at the taste after having just drunk that expensive champagne, and then I put the phone back up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Blackie Blackstone?” the caller asked.
“Yes. Do I know you?”
“No, but you know my husband, John Mooney.”
I repeated the name in my head, but it didn’t ring a bell. “Nope. Sorry. I don’t recognize the name.”
“I’m surprised, considering you got him kicked out of college,” she replied snidely.
Instantly defensive, I barked back, “Now, wait just a damn minute. Why in the hell would I do that?”
“Maybe it was because you were a rich bitch who didn’t care who she stepped on.”
“Nah. That doesn’t sound like me at all,” I jeered, ready to hang up on the bitch.
“Or maybe it was because you were caught drinking on campus and laid the blame on Johnny.”
Okay, that does sound like me. Or it did, before I met Chris.
“I saw your commercial, and I’d like to believe that you’ve changed, Blackie,” she professed. “If you are sincerely sorry, then perhaps you’ll help my husband out.”
Oh yeah, here comes what she’s really after. Money.
Throughout my lifetime, people have pretended to be my friend in order to get money or be in the rich clique society, and I learned at an early age how to tell them to fuck off.
“Listen, I’m sorry I got him kicked out of college, and
if
in fact it was my fault, I’d be happy to apologize to him in person, but I don’t like being blackmailed for money.”
“Blackmailed? Nobody said anything about blackmail,” she exclaimed.
“Then what is it you want from me, Mrs. Mooney?”
I realized that just as Chris had to face her past when she apologized to the man she ran over with her car, I must face mine also and make amends. The only problem with that is that I’ve offended so many people it would take me the rest of my life to apologize to everyone. That’s why I am so determined to make the scholarship program a success. It is the closest way to make retribution for my sins.
A moment of silence, and then she said, “I don’t know what I want from you. I guess just to help him out somehow.”
She wants something, but doesn’t know what she wants? This would be so much easier if I were drunk.
“Help him out how?”
“He was a deejay at a radio station but got laid off a few months ago and hasn’t been able to find a job here in San Francisco. I know that your father owns several radio stations; maybe you could put in a good word for him?”
“Does Johnny know you called me?” I asked.
“Oh, no. He would never forgive me if he knew that I was talking with you. And you mustn’t tell him either,” she replied.
“Uh, excuse me, lady, but—”
“Teresa. My name is Teresa Mooney,” she said.
“Well, excuse me, Teresa,” I said snidely, “but how in the hell can I keep from it? You’re kind of tying my hands here, you know. It sounds like he wouldn’t want help from me anyway.”
“I don’t know how, but if you truly want to make amends, I know you’ll find a way. Look, I’m not asking for a handout,” she repeated vehemently. “I’m asking you to invest in my husband. He’s a good man, and after what you did to him, he deserves your consideration.”
“All right. I’ll have someone check into it, and
then
I’ll let you know
if
I can help Johnny or not.”
She wasn’t happy with the delay, but I’m not a billionaire because my father blindly walked into a deal with his wallet opened wide in his hand. Just as I hung up, Chris walked over to me.
“Everything all right, honey?” she questioned. “Your face is flushed.”
“I think we just got our next pay it forward case,” I replied.
“Really? That’s great,” she said. “How did they know about us? I thought we were keeping it quiet.”
“We are, and they don’t know about our little side program. The call came from the wife of a man that I sort of got kicked out of college.”
“Sort of?”
“Yeah, well apparently I was drunk at the time, so I don’t remember a lot of it. Anyway, she saw me on our commercial and I guess the call center forwarded her call to me. She wants me to make up for what I did by helping out her husband, but the problem is, John hates me I’m sure, and probably has a major chip on his shoulders. But honestly, if he walked through that door right now, I wouldn’t recognize him. The only thing I remember about him was that he had terrible acne and was good at chemistry.”
“Well, he doesn’t know me, so maybe I could be your front man, so to speak,” Chris suggested.
“That’d be great if I knew what you were fronting. He lives in San Francisco and just lost his job at a radio station. That’s about all I know right now.”
“Do you
want
to help him out, Melinda?” Chris asked.
“Yes, actually, I do. But I don’t want to just shove money at him, apologize and walk away. That would be the easy way out. Besides, the way his wife sounded on the phone, I’m pretty sure he’d tell me to shove it up my ass. But after watching you try to make restitution to that asshole faker— uh, I mean your victim— I need to at least try to do the same for mine.”
“I’m so proud of you, honey,” Chris said with a smile. “So what can we do to help him?”
“I don’t know, but I promised his wife that I would have someone check into his situation. Want to be that someone with me?”
Chris nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Good deal. I’ll have the pilot ready the jet and we can leave tomorrow. Want to stay at my parents’ house again?”
“Well, um,” she hesitated. “Will your parents be there?”
After the way my father and I got into it the last time we were together, I don’t blame Chris for being gun shy. “No, they’re in Napa Valley this month. But I just had a brilliant idea. Why don’t we rent a house and move everyone to San Francisco for a month or two. No telling how long something like this will take, and there’s still so much more to show you.”
Before we were engaged, Chris and I visited my parents’ home in San Francisco, where I stupidly tried to impress her with all my expensive toys. It didn’t work like I had planned. In fact, she wasn’t impressed by my money at all. She was impressed with my kindness to the house staff, something that wasn’t done entirely out of the goodness of my heart.
“Wow. Just pack up Norma, our kittens and the house staff, and move to California for seven or eight weeks?”
“Sure, why not? With Meg and Frankie doing all the leg work from here, we can work on the scholarship applicants from anywhere.”
“I just hope Norma will go for it because I don’t want to leave her at home alone,” Chris stated.
“Well if she insists on staying at home, we’ll ask Charlotte to stay and take care of her.”
“Yes, I’d feel better about that. But I just had an idea that might entice her to come with us.”
“What’s that?” I asked, smiling at Chris’s enthusiasm.
“Hollywood. I would love to take Norma back to her old stomping grounds.”
“That’s a great idea!” I exclaimed, thinking how fun it would be to see that feisty old lady back in tinsel town.
“Okay people,” George bellowed to be heard above the chatter, waving a DVD in his hand. “It’s time to watch the bloopers!”
*
A dream can feel so real sometimes. You dream you’re falling, and wake up bracing for the impact, gasping for air. I would have preferred to dream about the intense sex Chris and I had just had, but unfortunately, as I drifted off to sleep, the last thing I thought about was being back in college.
Friday night at the college hangout, and the place was packed with mostly juniors and seniors. As a freshman, I knew that I would be snubbed, but that had never stopped me before. It seems that everyone had their own little clique and they weren’t letting me in. I decided it was because they didn’t know who I was, or what I was capable of, so I was there to show them what a real college party could be like. I was going to demand their respect, even if I had to pay for it. A little something that I learned from my father.
The hangout was actually a pizza parlor located just off campus, with all the typical trappings a teenager navigates to, including liquor. All you needed was a fake ID, and the owner would look the other way. There were pinball machines that lined the back wall, booths along the inner half wall, and tables filled the open space. There was a small pizza parlor tucked in one corner, with an ice cream stand next to it. A touchscreen jukebox, with its blaring music and glaring lightshow, stood in the darkest corner. There was a room with a pool table in it, but no one shot stick, they used the table to have sex on. All this place needed was a wall full of video game consoles and it would look just like my condo. Unlike ninety-nine percent of the students in here, I had a condo because I didn’t want to live in the dorm with all those nasty smells and stringent rules, so I guilted my father into buying me a condo close to campus.
I stood in the doorway of the pizza joint, feeling superior in my new clothes – black leather pants, white silk shirt and a rust-colored leather jacket, with a couple of black pearl bracelets on each wrist, and large, black pearl earrings, all of which cost thousands, and all custom fit to accentuate my confidence. After all, I was Blackie Blackstone, only child of Robert Blackstone, the billionaire businessman.
I walked over and unplugged the jukebox, and then walked into the middle of the room and waited for the grumblings to quiet down.
“Dude, who is that hypebeast?”
“Are you kidding? That alpha dog is rolling in cheddar. And she is smokin hot!”
“Girls only. My condo, tonight. ABC party,” I announced, and walked out.
“Dude, what is an ABC party?”
“Hello? It’s an anything but clothes party. You are such a freshman sometimes.”
By the time people began arriving at my place, I was sitting like a queen on her throne, in my three-thousand-dollar, barrel tall wing chair, at the far end of the oblong living room. My chair was sitting on a riser, so that I would be elevated above everyone else, as befitting the queen of the party. My goal was to let them know that Blackie Blackstone was in the house, but also to shock the shit out of these kids and give them the night of their lives.
My cocktail waitress was dressed in a see-through apron and nothing else, and the bartender wore nothing more than a bowtie. Both of them were deliciously female. I licked the rim of my crystal rock glass, dredging for the last drop of that exalted Scotch whiskey, as I watched the waitress work the room. Everywhere I looked there were hot, firm, naked, horny girls, giggling and jiggling, drinking, carousing, dancing, and kissing. It didn’t matter that the majority of them were straight, what mattered was that they were willing to experiment, and I was willing to be their teacher.
My cellphone vibrated and I opened it up as the waitress floated over and filled my glass again. It was a text from an unknown number. It read -“IWSN!” I looked around the room to see who would be asking for sex now, but it looked to me like all of them did. I texted back, “Show yourself first.” A chubby girl wearing glasses, walked up. I shook my head. I don’t do ugly. “Sorry, not tonight… or ever.” She walked away dejected.
“What about me?” A gorgeous blonde with large teeth and boobs to match walked up. I was instantly impressed with how uninhibited she seemed, standing there completely naked, her beautiful body glistening under the party lights. I was also instantly aroused.
“Right this way,” I drooled, leading her to my bedroom.
I had every girl who wanted it that night, including the ones who were too drunk to walk. I even screwed the ugly ones, but I was completely wasted by then. I only know this because one of the few straight girls who had declined my offer told me that she thought I had set a national record. Unfortunately, I woke up the next day in the chemistry lab at college, with no memory of how I got there or why. I was stretched out on the counter with an empty whiskey bottle in my hand. In fact, I still had a little buzz going that was rapidly dissolving into a bitch of a hangover. My jacket was gone, along with my watch and wallet, but at least I had some clothes on. Amazingly, there was a student in the lab on a Saturday, and it was that weasel John Mooney, who I had hired to help me with my chemistry class. The bastard was laughing at me.
Chapter Two
Party Planner ‒‒
Felicia Livingston
, Chris Livingston
and
Norma Shelby
I get the feeling that the girls aren’t too enthusiastic about hosting this fundraising dinner, and I don’t understand why. I love these dinners. Not only do I get to plan every detail, but I am handed checks for thousands of dollars at the end of the dinner. It’s a wonderful feeling to be able to tell my charity that I just raised $100,000 for them. I hope that Christine will be able to collect that much with this fundraiser, but if she doesn’t put her heart into it, I’m not sure she will.
I was so proud of my daughter for pulling herself up out of that gutter, literally, to become a respected young lady of society. She has such a refreshing outlook on life now, one that she is fiercely protecting. And I’m glad she is. I know it’s what she has to do to keep from drinking again, but I think she may be too stringent with her rule of no alcohol at the dinner. Most benefactors won’t give up their money without having something to lubricate their wallets first.
“Honey, I think you’re making a mistake not having alcohol at the dinner. It’s one of the most important tools a fundraiser can have. And it is expected at a sit down dinner,” I explained to Chris.
“Then don’t let them sit down,” Chris retorted with a smirk.
“Oh no, dear,” Norma said. “It’s much too hard for people to eat standing up. I’ve ruined many a gown at parties like that.”
“Norma’s right,” I agreed. “If it’s to be a standup occasion, you serve hors d'oeuvres and bourbon.”
“I told you, no alcohol, Mother,” Chris responded sharply.
“Honey, if people want to drink, they will find a way.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember when I was ten years old, sneaking into my parents’ room while they were asleep, and stealing a half-empty glass of whiskey from my father’s nightstand,” Melinda said nonchalantly.
We all looked at her in disbelief.
Was she actually proud of that fact?
She shrugged. “What else could I do? They started locking the liquor cabinet when I was nine.”
“How you didn’t become an alcoholic I’ll never know,” Norma chuckled.
It was then that I realized the three of them had been heavy drinkers most of their lives. Chris since she was a teenager, and Melinda apparently since she was a child, the poor thing. Chris had told me that Norma was a recovering alcoholic, and hadn’t touched a drop in years. I think Chris was trying to emulate Norma’s method of sobriety, only more so. Norma would graciously accept a drink, but then sneak back to the kitchen and pour it down the sink. That’s what I saw her do today at the party. Thankfully, Chris won’t touch the stuff anymore, and in fact, took drinks out of people’s hands and replaced them with sodas.
Oh no! What if she does that at the fundraiser?
An idea popped into my head. “Okay, can we compromise on this?” Chris shook her head, but I continued anyway. “Now, hear me out first. We’re doing this dinner to raise funds for college students who drink too much, right?”
“Right,” Chris confirmed.
“Well, we invite benefactors who have teenage children about to enter college.”
“And how will that help?” she asked inquisitively.
“It will help because we’ll invite their teenagers as well,” I said with a self-satisfied smile.
“A wonderful idea, dear,” Norma affirmed. “Surely they will want to set a good example in front of their children.”
“That was my thought, too, Norma,” I acknowledged.
“Mom, you’re a genius!” Chris cheered, jumping up to hug me.
Laughing, I hugged her back. “Thank you, honey. Now, we will need to have this dinner as soon as possible.”
“Well, that could be a problem, Felicia,” Melinda said. “We are planning to go to California in a few days for a case that just came in today.”
“California? For how long?” I asked, perplexed.
“Just for a couple of months, Mom,” Chris assured me.
“Oh, but that would be perfect. It will take me that long to arrange everything and send out the invitations. But how can I show you samples for a theme, or the food?”
“That’s easy, dear. Just use a laptop to Skype with her,” Norma said confidently.
“Damn. You Skype, Norma?” Melinda asked skeptically.
“Of course, dear. Chris showed me how when she set it up so that I could chat with my grandsons. It is perfectly marvelous, as if they were sitting in the room with me. And the best part is that I don’t have to smell my grandson’s wife’s cooking.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” I laughed. “It’s a shame though, that you won’t be able to smell the samples of the food in order to make a decision on the menu.”
“Tell you what, Mom. Since you’ve raised a teenager, you should know what foods they like to eat. Mix that in with what the rich parents like, and you’ve got your menu. I trust your taste implicitly. You don’t need me to make those decisions for you.”
My daughter wasn’t fooling me. She really didn’t want to be bothered with the planning. I guess she didn’t inherit my love for the details.
“All right. You go off to California and I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she replied gleefully. “I love you!”
“I love you too, honey.”
Hooray for Hollywood ‒‒ Norma Shelby
, Chris Livingston, Felicia Livingston
and
Melinda Blackstone
Melinda, bless her inquisitive little heart, asked me again today whether I had taken advantage of their Valentine’s gift. The girls, in the stupor of the love holiday, arranged for a roguishly handsome young gigolo to be sitting in my boudoir when I retired for the evening. I’m still smiling just thinking about that magical night four months ago, but I must shamefully admit to myself that it’s more fun to keep her guessing. I can’t wait to see what they get me for Christmas.
I was shocked when Chris and Melinda asked me to go with them to San Francisco. They said it would be good for me to get out of the house for a change. I told them that I had gotten out of the house when I moved in with them. They laughed, but wouldn’t let it go.
“Norma, just think about it for a while,” Chris suggested. “We could spend some time in Hollywood if you want, and you could show us where you used to work.”
I looked at her sweet, innocent face, and realized she had no idea how hard that would be for me. I didn’t exactly leave Hollywood on good terms. In fact, I was kicked out after a drunken fit on the set of a horror movie that I didn’t want to do, but had no choice because I needed the money. Once I had sobered up, I made the mistake of reading the tabloids, and there on the cover of the rag was my picture with the word
fired
typed in bold letters across my face. I guess it was a slow news day for them, since I was no longer a leading lady at the time. My imagination ran wild, and I knew everyone who looked at me had seen that magazine. So I packed my bags and slinked out of town, promising never to return. It was the humiliation of being deemed unhireable that kept me from ever wanting to go back. That was thirty-eight years ago.
“Let me sleep on it, dear, and I’ll let you know in the morning. All right?”
“Of course, Norma. Take all the time you need. I know we’re being selfish, it’s just that we would miss you terribly.”
“Yeah, Norma, it just wouldn’t be any fun without you there,” Melinda added.
Oh, that is so sweet, and so devious.
But the truth is, I would miss my girls too. “All right. I’ll go with you to San Francisco. But I would prefer not to go to Hollywood, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Oh, sure, and thank you, Norma,” Chris said, and patted my arm.
“Yes, thank you, Norma,” Felicia said. “Someone needs to be there to keep them out of trouble.”
I laughed, knowing that I would give anything to be that young again, and in the kind of trouble Felicia referred to. But then again, there’s no reason that I couldn’t get into a little trouble now. My libido is still very active, if Valentine’s Day was any indication.
“Yeah, but then who will keep Norma out of trouble?” Melinda joked.
“Nonsense, dear,” I said with a wry smile. “At my age a little trouble would be a good thing.”
“If that’s so, then why don’t you want to go to Hollywood, Norma?” Melinda asked, catching me off guard.
“Because, that life is over with,” I replied evasively. “I have a new life now, with you girls.”
“Norma, I just had a fantastic idea,” Felicia said breathlessly. “I have a contact in Los Angeles, Magdalena Woodbury, who is a fundraising party expert. I’ve consulted with her many times. Anyway, she could put together a soiree in a matter of weeks.”
“Sure, I know who you’re talking about,” Melinda chimed in. “My mother uses her exclusively whenever she’s throwing a party in LA. She’s always bragging on her.”
“Oh!” Chris joined in. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking, Mom?”
“Yes, a reception for Norma befitting an Academy Award winning actress.”
“Oh, no, dear. It was only a supporting role, and no one remembers me anyway.” Suddenly I was frightened. This had the potential to get away from me. I loved them dearly for thinking of me like that, but the thought terrified me.
How can I back out of this gracefully?
“Norma, just the other day I saw one of those documentaries about the golden age of Hollywood, and there was a segment on you,” Felicia said. “They even showed a clip from the movie you won the award for.”
“They did?” I asked, stupefied.
After I left Hollywood all those years ago, I made it a point not to respond to any inquiries from producers. I returned scripts unopened and wouldn’t answer the telephone until answering machines were invented. I was so far removed from Hollywood that I might as well have been stuck in the ice on Pluto.
The planet that is, not my movie. Oh, my. Is Pluto still a planet?
“Yes, and I have it on DVR, I’ll make you a copy, if you’d like?” Felecia said.
“Thank you, dear, but don’t trouble yourself.”
Let’s Talk About Norma ‒‒ Chris Livingston
and
Melinda Blackstone
I admit that I was curious about Norma’s reluctance to return to Hollywood. She spent an hour once, telling Melinda and I all about her first movie,
Invaders from Pluto.
And just a month ago, when we found her stolen Oscar she had won for
Mr. Washburne Takes a Wife
and presented it to her, she cried, she was so happy to have it back.
“It’s none of our business, Melinda,” I said when she told me her concerns.
We were getting ready for bed, and I was sitting at the vanity, brushing my hair. She came over and took the brush from my hand, and began finger combing my hair, causing my scalp to tingle from her touch. It was my favorite time of the day, and my favorite thing for her to do. Make that my second favorite thing for her to do.
“I know, but it’s not like Norma to shy away from anything,” she rebutted. “She’s always been so straightforward with us.”
“Yes, when it would benefit us,” I replied. “But if you think about it, she’s only talked about her beginnings as an actress. She’s not said much about why she left, other than she drank too much.”
“I’m going to look into that, and find out why she‒‒”
I shook my head. “Whoa, hold on, honey. I don’t think we should be digging around in her life like that.”
“This coming from the woman who snooped around and found Norma’s grandson in Texas,” she retorted teasingly.
“Oh. Um, yeah. I had forgotten about that,” I babbled.
“You did a good thing, Chris. You made her so happy,” Melinda said, smiling at the memory.
“But that was different. She obviously has a personal reason that she doesn’t want to go back to Hollywood, and maybe we should leave it alone.”
“I love that,” she said, running her hand up my bare arm. I looked at her curiously. “I love that we’re a
we
now. I’ve never felt connected to anyone enough to think of them as my
we
. Uh, that didn’t come out right.”
“Yeah, that almost made sense,” I laughed. “And you are very sweet. I like being a
we
too.”
“I promise I will be very discreet when I snoop into Norma’s private life. I just think that whatever the problem was, she deserves a chance to set it right. Just like you and I are trying to do.”
“All right,” I relented. “But also promise me that we’ll talk it over first before saying anything to Norma. That is if you find out anything.”
“Sure,
we
are in this together,” she said with a smile.
I went into the bathroom, and when I came back out, Melinda was in bed. I knew she preferred to sleep in the nude. Not me. I usually wore a teddy, or in the winter, I liked to wear flannel because I’m always so cold. But on warmer nights like this one, I slipped into a new, practically see-through negligée.