From Riches to Rags

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “Sure, what’s up, Blackie? Are you still in Memphis?”

  “No, I’m back in Vegas.” And after two days, I’m ready to go back to Memphis.

  “That’s an interesting development. Want to tell me about it?”

  Suddenly the flood gates opened up and I told George everything, sparing him nothing. When I told him that Chris said we couldn’t be friends I think I even cried a little, like a silly school girl.

  “I’m uh, not sure what to do next, George. I mean I got her kitten back, but she still walked away from me.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “I don’t know, I guess that she would at least talk to me. Was that too much to ask?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Why the hell do you say that?” If he wasn’t pissing me off, I might have appreciated his insight a little more.

  “Because, when you did something nice for her, you accomplish it by doing something wrong. I told you, when you can do something nice for her, and not expect a reward for it, she will be able to see past your larger than life reputation, and learn that there’s a caring person underneath it.”

  “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, George.”

  “It’s my job to‒”

  My eyebrow arched sarcastically and I sneered, “Oh, yeah, should have known.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. It’s my job to peel away the layers and get to the heart of the person so I can write honestly about their life. Blackie, you have a lot of layers that Chris has to look through before she can see your heart. You need to help her out with that.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “You’re off to a good start with the cat, do more things like that, only this time don’t buy your way into it, like you did with the landlord, do it because you want to, not because you think it will get her to talk to you or confide in you. Just be a friend to her.”

  “I, um, apparently don’t know how to be a friend. I’ve never had a friend before, not like you’re talking about.”

  “I’m your friend, Blackie.”

  “Yeah, well, you have to be, don’t you?”

  “No, not at all. Your parents pay me, not you, and they are not my only client. Even if you had them fire me, I would be just fine. So you see, you have no strings to pull with me. When I say that I honestly want to help you succeed with Chris, I mean it.”

  Is that what he means by being a friend? It’s so much easier to just buy a friend for however long I needed them. But that’s not what I want this time.

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter anyway, I mean about Chris. She doesn’t want to be my friend.”

  “But did she say that she never wanted to see you again?”

  “No, no she didn’t.” Was he onto something?

  “There’s your window of opportunity. She may have closed the door, but she didn’t shut the window.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s a play on words. She is giving you another chance, so take my advice and go slow. Don’t see her every day or she may not understand your intentions and turn you away permanently.”

  “Okay, that’s good advice, George, thanks.”

  My head was racing so far ahead that I hadn’t heard a word he said. I know that she doesn’t have a car and that getting to and from work by bus had to be frustrating at the very least. I could pick her up and take her myself. And I could also take her home after her shift.

  “Blackie, did you hear me, I said don’t stalk her.”

  “What? Stalking? No, I’m not going to stalk her per se. I just want to help her out.”

  “Just don’t overdo it. Too much of a good thing is still too much.”

  “I understand, George,” but I’ve got to be me, “I’m running late, talk to you later.”

  Making Friends ‒ Christine Livingston and Melinda Blackstone

  After talking with Mrs. Shelby for so long, I was running terribly late. I kissed my kitten, grabbed my purse, locked the door behind me and ran out onto the street. I was in such a rush that I started across the street without looking for traffic first. I heard tires squealing and instinctively covered my head with my hands. Although I hadn’t seen the car yet, I certainly heard the cussing.

  “Gal-damn, whadda ya, blind or sump thing, dumbass!” He bellowed over the sound of his horn blaring at me.

  For a brief second, I thought of feigning blindness, just to make him feel bad, but instead, I apologized and moved out of his way. Thankfully, my bus pulled up behind him, and I jumped on as soon as the doors flew open. I hadn’t intended on taking the bus to work, but had run out of time and had no choice. Granted, it’s only a couple of dollars and two transfers, but that’s food money that I was reluctant to part with. At least today was payday. This restaurant pays every week, which is very helpful, and this was my first check at my new job. Had it been a week already? I was encouraged by the tips I was bringing home at night. I stuffed them in a jar to use for emergency funds, like having to take the bus to work.

  My bus pulled up in front of the restaurant and I climb out, swinging my purse over my shoulder, and finger combing my hair out of my eyes from a sudden gust of wind. That’s when I saw her.

  “Chris, fancy meeting you here.” Melinda said with a crooked grin on her lips.

  I refused to smile, although I was smiling in my mind. I had not seen her in a couple of days and was beginning to worry, although I certainly had no right to. Surprisingly, I had felt her absence.

  “Melinda.” I said, and walked toward the back of the restaurant, where the hired help enter.

  “Have you got a second?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I’m late for work.” A little white lie, I had at least ten minutes to spare.

  She looked at me disbelieving, but was quick to ask, “I just wanted to say that I will be happy to take you home after your shift, if you would like?”

  “Thank you, Melinda, but that isn’t necessary. I am perfectly fine taking the bus.” I wasn’t going to tell her the truth, that I absolutely hated taking the bus at night. Drunks, hookers and drug dealers were the only ones on the bus at that hour.

  “But I don’t mind. I’m up at that hour anyway.”

  “I can only imagine what you are doing prowling around at two A.M. in the morning.”

  “Yeah, I used to prowl up and down the Vegas strip and loved it.”

  “Used to?”

  “It’s not fun anymore.”

  She stated it with such finality that I wondered why it wasn’t fun for her anymore. Curiosity got the best of me and I asked, “Why isn’t it fun anymore, Melinda?”

  “Because I always ended up feeling empty and used, and in both cases, and I realize now, it was my own fault.”

  Her sincerity seemed genuine, which led me to ask again, “Melinda, why are you really trying so hard to be my friend?”

  “Because you said no.”

  Truthful and to the point, and finally, I believed her. “All right, just this once, you may pick me up after work.” I saw a big cheesy grin on her face, as if she had just swallowed the mouse, “But it doesn’t mean anything has changed between us.”

  “Nothing has to change, Chris. I don’t want anything more than friendship. And friends help each other out, right. That’s all I’m doing, helping my friend.”

  “Uh-huh, we’ll see.”

  *

  Yes ma’am, we certainly will see. I watched Chris walk into the restaurant and then I let out a jubilant yell that scared the pigeons right off the stoop. She finally relented! It was a small concession, but if I stayed calm, and charming, I might get another one, and then another one, until she succumbed to my charming ways, and trusted me enough to accept me as her friend. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and although it was a very long tunnel, and the light was no larger than a pinhead, it was the most beautiful light I had ever seen. I think I just made a new friend tonight. Don’t screw it up!

  I went back to my hot
el room and pulled out my laptop. Since I couldn’t get the detectives to cooperate, I would search for Carl Livingston myself. The first link that came up led me to the company he worked for, Memphis Investment Funds, which had a complete bio on him. He’s married, with one child, Chris, and his net worth is so substantial that the company put it in big, bold letters. All things consider, it wasn’t on the same scale my father’s billions, but then my father had help from his ancestors. Mr. Livingston made his millions all by himself. Impressive.

  Ideas began flashing through my brain like a freight train through a tunnel. With this knowledge there were so many opportunities I could take advantage of, like hiring Livingston to invest for me, or contracting with Mrs. Livingston to hold a fundraiser for me, or…, suddenly I became angry, with myself. Damn it! I realized that I was trying to buy my way in again.

  So then, what should I learn from this information? He is rich, Chris is not. Perhaps they had a falling out, a really big falling out. Still, what happened between them that ended up with Chris living in a dump, working her ass off for every penny? The more I thought about it, the less it mattered. I’m curious, who wouldn’t be? But how would knowing what happened affect my being friends with her? It wouldn’t. I realized, I am her friend whether she wants me to be or not, and as her friend, I must support her however she wishes to be supported, even if it’s by waiting for her to confide in me. Damn… I think I’m starting to understand this friendship thing.

  A Good Deed ‒ Melinda Blackstone and Christine Livingston

  “Were you busy tonight?”

  I had waited down the road from the restaurant for over thirty minutes, because I didn’t want to appear eager, and when it was time for Chris’s shift to be over with, I pulled up in front of it.

  “About as you would expect, mostly drink orders from people listening to the music. And you know what that means.”

  I shook my head. I had an idea, but decided to let her tell me.

  “It means more tips for me because they get a little liquor in them and they loosen their purse strings.”

  Yep, that was pretty much the answer I had in mind too. I watched as Chris wrapped her jacket around her tighter, so I offered to turn up the heat. She said she was fine, but I turned on the seat warmer anyway, and adjusted it to low heat.

  “What do you do with all that money you bring home in tips?” It was a stupid question, but I was trying to start a conversation.

  “It mostly goes in my cookie jar in case of emergency. But I’ve started a separate jar, for a special project I’m working on.”

  “Is it a secret project, or can you tell me about it?”

  She looked at me for a moment, as if trying to decide if this crossed her boundary.

  “Well, it’s kind of a secret, but only to my neighbor. You know, Mrs. Shelby, whom you got a kitten for, it’s for her.”

  “You mean you’re getting her a present or something?”

  “Something like that. I’m hoping to locate her grandchildren, or maybe even great-grandchildren. You see, she only had one daughter, now deceased, and she has lost contact with her grandchildren. It’s sad, really.”

  “That is sad.”

  “What’s just as sad is all that history and knowledge she has, and no one to share it with. Did you know she was a movie star in the forties?”

  I don’t think Chris meant for me to reply, because she plowed on with her story, and I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm for an aging actress she’d only just made friends with. Then I felt the slightest twinge of jealousy beginning to take hold of me. Chris had made a friend. One who was able to penetrate her wall of distrust, and rather easily too, and that’s what made me jealous. But then my heart lashed out at my brain and told me that if I were truly her friend, as I claim to be, I would be happy for her, not jealous. I listened to my heart.

  “Where’d you go?’

  Chris was looking at me curiously and I realized she had stopped talking. “What?”

  “You vegged out for a minute. You haven’t been drinking have you?”

  I smiled at her, exhaled into the palm of my hand and held it close to her nose. She laughed and said she believe me.

  “No, I think I have an idea of how to help you with your project, if you’re interested?”

  “Oh, um, I don’t know…”

  I would have been surprised if she had said yes right away. “Now hear me out first, and then you can say no, okay?”

  She nodded her head and I poured my idea out like it was a fine glass of wine. I explained that I had a private detective on retainer, although I left the part out about how she probably hates me, thanks to her wife, and that I could ask her to look for Mrs. Shelby’s grandkids. Then before Chris could catch her breath at my brilliant idea, I promised her I would want nothing in return, other than to do a good deed for an old woman. I assured her that she could tell me to drop dead and never see her again right now, and I would still be happy to help out Mrs. Shelby. It was a little over dramatic, but truthful.

  “Why?” Chris said.

  “Why?”

  “Why would you want to do that for her, Melinda?”

  I pulled the car over in front of her apartment and turned the engine off. Then I half turned in my seat and looked at her.

  “Because she’s your friend, Chris, and because Christmas is coming and I fear she’s had to many lonely holiday’s as it is.”

  Chris got this really faraway look on her face and I thought for a second that she might cry. But she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at me with the softest smile on her lips.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll let me help.”

  “All right, I’ll let you help. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, we might not be able to find her family before Christmas.”

  “I have faith, if it’s meant to be, it will be.”

  I couldn’t resist teasing her, “Hey, isn’t that a song?”

  She yawned and replied, “I don’t know, but I reckon if it ain’t, it sure ought to be.”

  “Did you know your southern twang really comes out when you’re tired?”

  She blushed, and put her hands to her cheeks, “Oh no, really?”

  “Yes, and I like it. Uh, not that you’re tired. I like the way you draw your words out, like you’re enjoying a plank of cheese and then washing it down with a vintage wine.”

  “You know, you have a bit of the poet in you, Melinda.”

  “My first compliment from you. We’re making headway.”

  Chris laughed and said, “You’re also very humble.”

  “Ha! I don’t think I’ve ever been told that one before, even as a joke.”

  “Well, maybe next time it won’t be a joke.”

  She yawned again, and I was afraid she was ready to go in, but to my surprise, she had one more question for me.

  “Melinda, don’t you get tired of it?”

  “Of what, Chris?”

  “Of the carousing, drinking, and partying? I read the magazines; I know what kind of life you live. Hell, I’ve lived it myself, and even as I took another drink, I would think, there’s got to be something more to life than this.”

  I was both humbled and dismayed. Humbled that Chris was opening up to me, revealing more of herself as she questioned the meaning of life, just as I was doing. It was like we were simpatico in so many ways and yet, I was disturbed that she couldn’t get past that image of me as a rich society drunkard. I haven’t had a drink since… oh, uh, a few days ago, but at least I didn’t get drunk this time. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

  “Have you found what that something more is, Chris?”

  “Not yet, but I’m closer to it than I’ve ever been before.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m trying so hard to be friends with you. I can feel that inside of you, and I want to experience it too.”

  “That probably should feel creepy to me, but for some
reason, I believe you, Melinda.”

  We talked for hours about what it was and how to obtain it, and before we knew it, the sun was rising above the horizon, and we still didn’t have our answers. But that was okay, we didn’t need to find them today. It was enough that we talked, that she wanted to stay in my company for longer than five minutes. That I could offer my opinions and have accept them, was a major step forward for me, for us.

  “Melinda, I’m having lunch with Mrs. Shelby today, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you’d like to join us?”

  “Yeah, thanks, that would be great. I’d love to see that movie poster; it might help in the search for her grandkids.”

  “Oh yes, that’s a good idea. But don’t let on what we’re doing, I don’t want to get her hopes up unnecessarily.”

  “You’re right of course.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lunch with New Friends ‒ Christine Livingston, Melinda Blackstone and Norma Shelby

  I had watched her from my apartment window and when Melinda ascended the stairs, I greeted her in the hallway with an accusing question.

  “What’s that in your hand?”

  Melinda was holding a brown paper bag, and I already knew what it was, or so I thought.

  “It’s a bottle of wine. Isn’t that what you bring to a luncheon when you’re the guest?”

  “Yes, of course, I um, I just‒”

  “Chris, it’s all right. Now, let’s not keep Mrs. Shelby waiting.”

  I tapped on my neighbor’s door and we waited a moment, while she looked through the peep hole at us. She opened the door and greeted me with her calico kitten in her hands.

  “Norma, you remember Melinda Blackstone? She wanted to meet a movie star, so I asked her to join us. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Norma’s eyes twinkled as if we were fans waiting for an autograph.

  “Perfectly all right, my dear. Melinda did me a kindness that I am grateful for. She is always welcome here.”