Misadventures of Victoria Davenport: Operation Matchmaker
By Erik Schubach
Copyright © 2013 by Erik Schubach
Self publishing
P.O. Box 523
Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026
Cover photo © 2013 By Sergey Rusakov / ShutterStock.com license
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Manufactured in the United States of America
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-9889998-4-8
Preface
The Misadventures of Victoria Davenport is a short story featuring the hyper and lovable blonde Einstein, Vicky from A Deafening Whisper, and chronicles her first adventure in England during her Oxford years. You don't need to have read A Deafening Whisper as this short can be read as a standalone story.
She quickly became the most requested character for me to write about in my Music of the Soul series. So I thought it would be fun to release a short story as a treat to Vicky's fans until I release her full novel, Lightning Strikes Twice.
This story will also bring to light the reasons behind her dichotomy of genius and scatterbrained personality. As well as some of the decisions she made that resulted in her accepting the full ride at Oxford, away from her friends and family.
But mostly, I'm hoping they share her sense of fun and adventure as she makes her way in England and defines herself as an individual.
This short picks up after Mia and Vee saw her off at the airport in Seattle in A Deafening Whisper. With that said... on to the story!
Prologue
The plane had been in the air for just over twenty minutes when I finally got my crying under control. I was seriously going to miss my housemates, my only true friends, my confidantes. But I had accepted Oxford's offer in my junior year. I had to get out of there. It just hurt too much. Leave it to me to do a boneheaded maneuver like falling in love with both of my friends. They are both such incredible women!
I want Mia and Vee to be happy with every fiber of my being. It was the most incredible thing watching them get married. They have so much love for each other and they couldn't be a more perfect couple if they tried. Their baby girl, Abbey, is quite possibly the sweetest baby in the universe! They made me her godmother.
It hurt every day I was with them and telling them I loved them, but not that I was IN love with them. And with that damn disease slowly taking Vee away from us, it hurt even more. Because of the way my brain works, I was obsessing over it, imagining every possible outcome every time I looked into her amazing eyes.
Imagine that if you can. Whether you want it or not, playing out every conceivable way in which a devastating disease can possibly take away someone you love. All because you had caught a glimpse of a page in a book about that particular disease when you walked past your mother's study when you were seven. Now every detail of the words on that page haunts you and tortures you with each of the horrific nuances of the diseases terminal nature.
I know, I sound like a headcase. Well, that's pretty much me in a nutshell, Victoria Davenport... headcase. Triple cursed and blessed with an immeasurable IQ, an eidetic memory, and a mind that can't shut off.
Like now, as I relay this story I am also replaying one of my favorite movies that I saw when I was eleven complete with my conversations with my mother and father. I'm also calculating how quickly we will arrive from Seattle to London with varying headwinds or tailwinds. I'm trying not to tell the woman three rows up that her husband is cheating on her since I caught a passing glimpse at his cell phone in my peripheral vision when he was texting his mistress, “Betty”, while he was over by the restroom at the airport. While simultaneously determining the best route for me to stop at the various stores I saw on the London and Oxford maps I looked at online briefly before I left, to buy supplies to stock my room at the residence hall.
And a couple dozen other things... including stressing over Vee. Damn it! Now I'm starting to think about it again.
My father taught me how to block things out so I don't think about everything. Just concentrate on solving PI. I'm a little over thirty seven billion digits in since I started his exercises back then... 3-3-8-6-1-1-2-6-7 He said to do as many things like that to clear my mind of the unwanted thoughts. So... the London phone book, random people throughout it without ever duplicating a single person B. L. Lewis, Regina P. Butters, Winston G. Henderson. 3-4-7-8-0-7-4-5 And thinking of facts about cute animals that I read when I was three... cats have more bones than humans; humans have two hundred and six, whereas a cat has two hundred and thirty bones. They also have better hearing than a dog. 8-5-0-6-7
Well you get the idea.
He calls it creating white noise. I try to concentrate on all of that white noise and not allow myself to think. It makes me a little excitable and act a bit scatterbrained, but it helps me to drown out the noise in my head I don't want to hear.
OMG! That sundress that the lady across the aisle is looking at in that magazine is soooooo cute! Enderscotts Dressworks. Got it and the web address filed away in my head... as well as the tiny print disclaimers and copyright notice at the bottom of the page. The gift gives and the curse takes away.
Well anyway, this is my first time overseas. Though I'll miss Seattle, I can't wait to embrace British culture!
Operation Matchmaker
My 'flat' is sooooo boring. There's nothing to do. I'm bored, bored, bored, bored, bored! The next applicant for a roommate I posted on the local boards won't be here for another fifteen minutes. So far I haven't been impressed. Everyone here seems so prim and proper, and there's no way I'm living with the last guy that showed up, he was the exception to my experiences with Oxfordites, Oxfordians, Oxies? Ewwww what a sleaze he was.
Oxford is breaking their “all students must live on campus” rule for me. I guess they thought it would be a good idea to house me elsewhere as I wasn't quite what they were expecting and didn't conform to their template. But I'm used to this, not many people accept me for who I am. The two extremes between my personality and my academic record are a little too contradictory for most. But this is just how I am, I won't change for anyone.
Vee and Mia loved me for who I am. I glanced at the shadowbox framed picture of the three of us that they had given to me for Christmas our freshman year. That was after we found out about Vee's... oh crap... 2-4-2-5-8-7-5-3-0. Mildred T. S. Beaumont, Terrance L. Highbridge.
As soon as I had left the London Heathrow Airport there was a car waiting for me. They whisked me out of London before I could experience anything. The driver was a stoic fellow and didn't say a word the entire hour drive to Oxford. So I just reassembled, upside down in my head, the first thousand piece jigsaw my parents had given me when I was four. This along with recalling all the street names in Seattle in reverse alphabetical order to help pass the time. OMG! That was a cute doggy that man was jogging with beside the road!
Ms. Templeton and two helpers met me at the car, I saw her in the orientation booklet. I hopped out in my jeans and my favorite Leather and Heels tour shirt before the driver could get around
the car, he looked annoyed with me as he retrieved my luggage from the trunk.
The woman might as well have had a board strapped to her back, her posture was impeccable. She looked to be in her mid thirties and was well coiffed and dressed in an immaculate white business suit with low white heels. Like most people, she towered over me. I like being short! Images of Emma Frost from the X-Men came unbidden into my head when I looked at her. I giggled at the stray thought. But OMG, she really looked like her!
I stepped up to her and put my hand out. “Hi! I'm Vicky Davenport. It's good to meet you Ms. Templeton...” I turned to the others. “...and helper-type people.”
She eyeballed me up and down. I didn't really care for the disapproving look on her face. Then she shook my hand like she'd catch like, I don't know, Vicky cooties or something as she spoke with her low, almost toneless voice with a light accent, “Good afternoon, Miss Davenport. I assume you have more... appropriate attire in you bags?”
I looked at the people walking all around the campus then at her and her assistants as the sedan drove away. Everyone was in either classy clothing like cardigan sweaters and designer pants and the like, or in more casual attire sort of like mine, but not a single printed shirt in the lot though. The only skirts I saw hung below the knee.
I shrugged. “I got a few things.”
Ms. Templeton looked to the others then nodded toward my bags. “Get these to her room.” They wordlessly started grabbing my luggage and darted off.
She just started marching off calling behind her as her low heels clacked on the walk. “This way. The Dean is expecting you, Miss Davenport. It's best to not keep him waiting.”
I marched behind her like a wind-up soldier until some students passing by giggled. I acted all innocent and walked normally when she looked back at me.
We went into an administration building. I was hoping it would be like all ancient and historic-y looking. I mean, I'm in England, hello? But booo, it was more modern. Then up to a secretary's desk. Ms. Templeton just nodded at the nice looking middle aged secretary, “Marjorie Raife” her nameplate on the desk said.
Oh she'd be the one on South Hampton street by the meat mongers outside of the campus. There was only one M. J. Raife listed in the Oxford area in the phone books. And using the address listed in there along with the maps I had skimmed, that would be the only logical conclusion.
The timid looking woman buzzed the Dean. “Ms. Templeton and Miss Davenport have arrived sir.” She nodded then looked over to us. She gave me a tiny smile before she said, “You can go in, ladies.”
I grinned at her. “Just call me Vicky, Marj. That's like, a super pretty blouse! It really makes your eyes pop!”
The woman smiled for a moment until she caught the death glare coming from la Ice Queen. We walked into a huge office with a separate seating area and a huge, floor to ceiling bookshelf along one wall. I took a moment to look at it as we passed.
Sitting behind the huge, carved walnut desk sat a handsome man in a business suit, with dark hair that had silver frosting it, giving him a regal appearance. He stood as we entered and he walked around his desk as we approached.
He appraised me for a second but I couldn't read anything in his face. Then he offered his hand and spoke in a heavier accent than Ms. T, “Good afternoon, Miss Davenport. I'm Dean Barrows. It is a pleasure to have you studying with us, your record is... well, quite astounding.”
I grinned as I shook his hand and interrupted. “Hi, call me Vicky. Dude, you got a lot of books! Like, there's a tiny forests worth there.” I stopped myself from my normal babbling, this didn't seem to be the time.
He looked at me with an odd expression then to his books. He dismissed it as he motioned to the chairs in front of his desk as he walked back around his desk. “Right then... please have a seat.” He waited until we were both seated before he sat. Cool, he's all gentleman-y and such.
He shuffled through some papers on his desk. “So Miss... ummm... I mean Vicky. I see you were triple majoring in the States. Business, Arts and Humanities, and Computer Science?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
He stared at me like he wanted me to say more. Umm. What more can I say? Those were my majors. I didn't have any lieutenants and I'm wearing my privates. Did you know that the rank of major is awarded to soldiers that show... oops, sorry... the story.
He nodded when I didn't continue. “As discussed you will be starting with business education and we can evaluate your load after this quarter and add another if it appears you can handle the load. Oxford is not like the schools you are used to. The academic regimen is much more stringent here. You have seen our offerings, what are your interests?”
I tilted my head. “Hmmm. I really like animals, I mean they are sooo cute. Like have you been to many zoos? They rock! Oh! I'd so make a friggin' awesome zookeeper! Then of course there is art! And it isn't because I love a couple artists. No I like to see the unexpected you know you can get an insight into how the artist was thinking and feeling and junk. And I like slap jack! I play it cuz I'm not allowed to play poker anymore. I've been kicked out of too many casino card games cuz they say I cheat. I'd be all 'nu-uh' and they say 'uh-huh'. I don't, it is just predicting the cards in the deck using the ones already dealt. Then there's...”
When Dean Barrows interrupted I remembered to breathe. “Miss Davenport! Vicky! Slow down. That isn't what I meant. I was asking about your academic interests here at Oxford.”
I glanced over and the ice lady looked appalled. What's her damage? I looked back at the Dean. “Oh, just whatever, it's all the same to me. I'm really just in it for the degree, I already read the text books. But I do have an affinity for Arts and Humanities. I mean it's gotta be cool since it has two names, what with the 'and' in the name hookin' it all up and everything. And I'm human and I like art! Win win!”
Ms. T stood and walked behind the desk and whispered in the Dean's ear. You know, they'd make an awesome couple. Frigid and handsome. Yin yang it people! I'd so make an awesome matchmaker! Oooo... oh yeah, I think I'll do that after I settle in.
She returned to her seat and the Dean looked a little pale. “I think there has been some miscommunication between us. We were expecting, ummm...” He looked at Ms. T then back to me. “We were told you were top of your class and that your grades, and your IQ were off the charts. We are a prestigious university and our alumni are heralded as some of the best and the brightest.”
Okay. Now I'm pissed. I hate this. Just because I'm not like Ms. Stick In The Ass here, doesn't mean I'm not smart.
I dropped my smile and glared at him. “You have five thousand six hundred and three books on the shelves. Four if you count the one you are currently reading, Capital Gains In the Post Modern Industrial Age. Which, by the way, is bunk because it doesn't include suppositions for the volatility of the Euro due to collapsing government economies in the European Union.”
I took a breath. “So, personally knowing the page count for four thousand and thirty six of those books and estimating the page counts of the others by using books of similar size. That would be two million, eight hundred and seven thousand, six hundred and four pages. I takes two hundredths of a pound of pine to create a single sheet. An average pine tree weighs two thousand five hundred pounds. So it took twenty two full grown trees to make the books here.”
Without breaking eye contact I continued. “You have your books sorted by subject then author and title. Yet you have the Art Works of the Nineteenth Century by Ernest Brown and Art Works of Leonardo da Vinci by Ernest Brown swapped. Oops.”
I squinted and held up a hand when he tried to interrupt, then I continued. “I have read every text book in the Oxford business program and reviewed the online notes for this coming year and committed them to all memory. It is just a formality for me to sit in the classes every day until finals. I know all the answers to the first test Professor Adleman will be giving because I saw in my peripheral vision, one of your office workers cop
ying the answer key for him as we walked past. I suggest you have him give me an essay instead so I don't just regurgitate answers straight from that or the textbooks. Actually I suggest that for all of your instructors.”
I glared between the two in challenge. “DO NOT mistake my personality as an indication of my intelligence or capabilities! That is just who I am. If you want one, you are going to get both. So am I flying back home or what? Well, I wouldn't fly, I'd take a plane cuz I can't fly on my own. But how friggin' cool would that be?”
Mia and Vee taught me not to hide who I am and be proud of myself. And they... damn it... 3-8-3-2-7-9-5-0-2. A newborn panda weighs five ounces.
Ms. T was looking at her shoes now. They must be fascinating to her. Dean Barrows glanced from me to his book case then silently stood and walked over to it and put his hand on one of the offending titles. He looked back at me then swapped the placement of the two books before he walked back over and sat down.
He took a deep breath. “Oxford would be proud to tout someone with your abilities on our roster. I think maybe we should rethink housing you with the general student population. Maybe off campus lodging would fit more with your... umm... personality eccentricities. I don't think you'd fit in well with the social norm here or the image we try to project.”
I shrugged. “Whatever.”
That was two days ago and they shuffled me off to this flat. The University is footing the bill, but I need a roommate to keep my mind occupied on other things. So I put up the listing.
The doorbell rang. I mused to myself, “Perfect, right on time.” I rolled off the bed where I was standing on my head and walked out into the main room in the tiny two bedroom apartment and up to the door.
I opened it and there was a blonde girl who looked no more that twenty one or so. Her hair was darker than my natural light blonde, maybe strawberry blonde would be the best description. She was three or four inches taller than my five foot one.
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