“Little Ms. Goody Two Shoes, you think you know all about it. You know nothing,” Samantha hissed.
Zelda pulled her by her arm, up from the chair, while Pip followed them out to the hallway.
“Tell us what happened to you as a child. Did your Daddy’s friend prey upon you to make you think it was okay to do the same to a kid, scared, alone and trying to figure his way through an adult world?”
“Just back off,” Samantha said.
“No, you back off,” Pip said. “If you think for one moment it’s cute to have an adult screwing with your head and using your body, you are wrong. I didn’t find it amusing when my Mom’s boyfriend did it to me.”
“And I didn’t find it slightly interesting when my stepfather wanted to use sex as a form of punishment to my 13-year-old body either. You being here, coming after him for whatever reason, whether it be to spark up old times or for him to make you feel young and desirable again, is sad. You are a withered old woman dressed like a stripper turned showgirl at the worst casino in town. Go find a corner and sit in it,” Zelda said, pulling out her phone.
She snapped a picture of Samantha.
“What are you doing with that photo?” Samantha asked.
“Times have changed. You open your mouth or even take one step closer to him, and I will buy as many ads and billboards as I can labeling you as a pedophilic child molester. Samantha, I also want you to know there is no statute of limitations on rape in the state of California. Charges can still be brought against you for your definition of taking little Scottie for a ride to Disneyland,” Zelda said.
Samantha stormed away with Pip throwing up her gang signs to the back of the lady’s head. Scott left the stage and walked up to join the ladies. “Is everything okay? Was that Samantha?”
“Yes, we had a friendly chat, getting a few things cleared and out of the way. We even came to an understanding,” Zelda said with a smile.
“See, it does help to talk about it and get it out,” he said, placing one arm on her shoulder and the other over Pip’s. “Tonight, dinner is on me, wherever you ladies want to dine.”
PIP, QUIET DURING MOST of the meal, ate in near silence. A vent dealer hyped up and excited after Scott’s presentation, sought him out, pulling him away from the dinner table to talk business and place a large order. Zelda used the free moment to address the sullen Pip.
“Penny for your thought?” Zelda said softly.
“Nope, this is going to cost you a twenty,” Pip retorted.
Zelda pulled a crisp ten dollar bill from her wallet, laying it on the table. “Half now, the other half if the information is any good.”
“So, what? I am your informant now or something,” Pip said almost laughing at Zelda.
“No, you are my friend and something is bothering you. I would like to think that after you helped me, that you would be open enough to share what is on your mind,” she replied.
“Even if that includes your brother?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t want to hear if he is having erectile dysfunction or any shit like that, but a legitimate concern you can share with me as your friend. Remember, we are BFF’s,” Zelda said.
“I’m not thinking about your brother but that Samantha woman. You know she is going to contact or come for you,” Pip said.
“Why in the hell would she do that? I don’t think she is even that crazy.”
“It’s not crazy Zelda,” she said pausing. “Do you remember when you and I met at the conference?”
Zelda nodded wondering where Pip was going with the conversation.
“You think you know everything. You think you understand him and you don’t. His world is different and so is he,” she said in hushed tones.
“Pip, I know you think you know Scott...,” she started, but Pip stopped her.
“I do know him, but my fear is that you are so focused on you that you can’t really see him. Samantha sees him. I see him. Zelda, did you know that I work for Scott,” She said watching Zelda’s surprised face. “Exactly my point. I have worked for him for over four years. The house I live in, he helped me purchase. These boobs, I scraped and saved to buy so that the one chance I had at that conference to get his attention, I would. Just like Samantha, I took my chance and instead of raising my hand, my boobs were going to speak for me, but Zelda, he still was not interested. He is not interested in her, if he was, he would have reached out to her by now. Scott has the resources and based on how she looks, Samantha would not be hard to find.”
Shifting in her seat, Zelda tossed a strand of hair over her shoulder. “What are you trying to tell me Pip?”
“I’m telling you that she is going to call. Samantha is going to expect you to be a stark raving bitch, just like I did, but you turned the tables on me and was helpful. Will you be helpful to her even though you didn’t consider me to be a threat? She threatens you, Zelda. What she had with Scott was real regardless if he was 13 or 33. He is a different kind of man,” Pip told her.
“Pip, I appreciate your help and all...,” Zelda started, but Pip slammed her hand on the table.
“Goddammit, Zelda. You need to be a better woman,” Pip shouted, causing everyone in the restaurant to turn around, including Scott and the business owner he spoke to about the potential sales.
“Is everything okay ladies?” Scott asked, giving a slight tilt of his head.
“Everything is fine, Baby,” Zelda said, giving him a shaky smile.
“No, it’s not. You are going to hurt him by being selfish and stupid, then I am going to have to officially break up with Michael, who by the way, fucks like a Greek god, just because you keep getting in your own way. Love is simple. All that is required is for you find someone who loves you and you love them back. None of this other bullshit you keep dragging under the covers,” Pip said.
“Pip, I’m not sure what kind of person you think I am, but you have me all wrong,” Zelda said.
“No. I have you all right. The problem is you don’t know what kind of person you are. Sifting through some old journals is not going to bring back the missing pieces of you. The you that you are, is sitting at this table. Zelda gets to go to bed tonight and sleep next to that good guy. I, on the other hand, keep picking up my phone feeling like a dumbass because I want to call your brother. I cried myself to sleep last night in preparation of him showing up and dumping me because my baggage is a going to be a pain in his ass and he is not going to want to deal with me after he has spent his entire adult life dealing with your shit. That why I say no more Zelda.”
“Pip, I am having a hard time here. I can’t just dismiss my past and move on like it never happened,” Zelda said leaning closer.
“Yes, you fucking can! Women do it all the time. Bad shit happens to women every day. Some wallow in it going poor me, waiting for others to come wipe their noses or their spoiled little asses. Others get counseling, learn to heal and move forward. When you move forward, the two men who love you the most can move forward as well. I can move forward with Michael as soon as he falls out of his twisted love affair with you.”
“Michael is moving forward, with you,” Zelda persisted, dismissing the last part of Pip’s comment. Addressing it at this point would lead to a fight and she didn’t want to fight with Pip.
“Your brother can’t have a relationship with me because he is still in one with you. Let him go, Zelda,” she said softly. “Let go and love Scott so that Michael can love me.”
“Pip?”
“Yes, Zelda?’
“You get on my damned nerves, but that’s why I love you,” Zelda said.
“Girl, you’d better,” she said. “Now, let’s leave these men here and go get some drinking done so I can feel better about myself.”
Chapter 8 – Sinking in Some Teeth
Sunday Morning
Zelda sat poolside sunning her tired soul as the three journals sat on the table beside her as if they too were in need of illumination. She hated the diaries. She hated eve
rything they represented, but more importantly, Zelda hated the way the diaries made her see herself and her life as she had lived it thus far. A little something both Scott and Pip had pointed out to her. The thing that crawled up her pants leg and made her itch the most was her newfound anger towards her brother.
How different would I be as a person had he not messed with my head?
This question she also asked him over the phone. He called in the middle of her thought, forcing her hand to ask her brother the question out loud.
“What is wrong with who you are now? It makes no sense whatsoever to sit and toy with the idea of whom you could have been. This isn’t The Matrix, there was no blue pill, Zelda. I was 18 and faced with hard choices. I had the choice to make the decision I made or to allow you to come face to face with the fact your stepfather was a sadistic man. So sit on the other end of this line feeling froggy, wanting to jump at me, bumping accusations of me doing you wrong. You’ve had a good life. A semi-normal, well-balanced one, as much as I could give. I showered you with love and affection somewhat to my detriment, but don’t give me this shit. I don’t want to hear it,” Michael said firmly.
“Why do people keep telling me that I am supposed to just get on with my life and not address any of these serious issues, Mike?”
“What serious issues? Tell me one goddamn serious issue you’ve had to deal with, Zelda? Your life is crappy because Mama was mean to you? So what? She was mean to me too! You want to complain about Grandma sitting you in a tub of hot water to cool your jets when you were popping off at the mouth, which you loved to do. Sis, what you are saying is nothing new.”
She held the phone, unable to think of a single thing that had held her back. She stopped gymnastics because she no longer wished to compete. It wasn’t a money issue. The choice of a local college was her preference over going out of state or out of town, which she’d selected in order to stay in her own space. Most people got on her nerves becoming the main reason why her inner circle of friends was only Margo and Jinny, now half Jinny and mainly Pip.
“Bye Mike,” she said, trying to get off the phone with him.
“You want to know what your real issue is, Zelda? You are selfish,” he said.
“What do you mean I’m selfish?”
“Just what I said. You are so busy being focused on your childhood, that it has never occurred to you that I didn’t have much of one. What is truly pissing me off is that you called to lay into me about your life and never once did you ask how we are doing after withstanding a hurricane,” he said.
“As pissy as you are, I assume you are fine,” she said.
“Grandma’s house is ruined, Wilke and she have been locked in here with me for a week, and Pip won’t talk to me,” he said. “That’s why I am pissy!”
“Surprise Pip and do something spontaneous,” Zelda suggested, changing the subject. “She’s in love with you. All you have to do is woo her and win her, big brother.”
“Yeah, I’m trying,” he said. “And you are trying to change the subject. I know what you’re doing but don’t worry, I will be there Tuesday. Love you. Wait...hold on, Pip loves me?”
“Yes, and I love you, too,” she said clicking off the line.
What in the entire fresh hell? The conversation didn’t go exactly as she had planned. Nothing was going as she planned. No matter what she said or calculated doing, she felt like a victim.
I am not a victim.
I am not a victim of my father.
I am not a victim of Michael’s Vulcan Mind Melding.
I am not a victim of my circumstance.
I am not a victim of my crazy grandmother.
I am strong. Moving forward. Clear. Vision.
Each statement she wrote in the new diary that she’d purchased before coming to Vegas. A fresh book with unsullied virgin pages to make a different start with journaling the innermost thoughts of what she felt was an empty head. More than anything, she wanted to chronicle her pain, as if giving it life, but she didn’t have any real pain, just flashes of a memory of a bad smell of liquor on a man’s breath on her neck, his hand on her thigh. Adding to that was a stupid conflicted mother, who tried to punish the personality out her body.
When I have kids, I’m going to be a good mom. A kind mom. A loving mom who is unafraid to shower my children with affection and let them know they are cared for, and I am definitely going to protect them from predators.
Her phone chimed. She recognized the number as Chandler’s.
“Hey there,” she said cheerfully. “This a surprise.”
“That, Madam, will be the understatement of the year. I have on the line for you Samantha. Should I put the call through?” He asked.
“Why in the bluegrass of Kentucky is she calling me?”
“I am uncertain, Ms. Fitzsimons. Should I tell her you are unavailable to take the call?”
“No, put her through,” she said hesitantly, knowing the woman had called on Scott’s private line. Zelda’s sophomoric attempt to bar Samantha from getting to him last night was almost laughable. Only the laugh was at her expense. Pip was right. She had the number to Scott’s private line. They may have been in contact for years for all Zelda knew.
“Zelda Fitzsimmons, how may I help you?” she said, trying her best to sound professional.
“How did you know?” Samantha asked.
“You have to be more specific, lady. It would help me a great deal, though, if you clarified your comment,” Zelda said, trying to remember Pip’s words at not coming across as a total bitch.
Samantha sighed audibly before answering, “How did you know someone had molested me?”
Zelda breathed deeply, pulling together years of wordplay to make sure she put the metaphor in the right frame. She thought of a documentary she’d watched at a Survivor’s conference a few years ago about lions and nature versus nurture. The analogy, although cerebral, fit the context perfectly.
“Lion cubs are taught to hunt through play. Is hunting and killing inherent in their nature or is a learned behavior in order to survive? We are not so different from the animals. Only our world is predicated on a sense of morality based on rights and wrongs. If the play you learn as a child became a norm in your life’s routine, then your sense of right and wrong becomes distorted. The wrongs done to you become your right, therefore turning the former plaything into a skilled predator,” Zelda said.
“You sure are fancy with your words. I have no idea what any of that means, but I wanted you to know that I tried to speak to Scott and tell him I was sorry,” she said. “It has been years and I often wondered how well he had adjusted.”
“To be frank, Samantha, you could have said that the first night. The whole raising your hand in the audience thing was to catch him off guard, to see if there was still a spark between you. I mean, I don’t blame you, the man he is, wow, is a far cry from the 13-year old boy you played house with, but that ship has sailed. He wants kids and a family, not your teeth in a jar on the nightstand,” she said, clapping her hand over her mouth.
“As you said earlier in your fancy talk, it seems you are expressing a learned behavior of being a bitch,” Samantha said, hanging up the phone.
“Well!” Zelda said, bursting into laughter. “Teeth in a jar...shit that was funny.” Today would be a good day after all.
Chapter 9 – But...Baby!
Monday Morning
Monday came and went with Scott and Pip spending the day at the conference. Zelda worked diligently on notes for the conferences she would visit during the week and sorting through conflicting emotions. When Scott arrived at the suite after a long day, she wasn’t in the mood to be social with him nor Pip. He ordered dinner in, took a hot shower, and sat in the oversized chair reading a book. She didn’t bother him and he had little to say to her.
As the hours ticked away, Scott rose at a little after ten, bidding her goodnight and turning in. A few minutes later, she joined him, getting in the bed, moving closer
to him, still having no words. He didn’t ask for any. His strong hairy arm draped around her waist, slowly moving her body closer to his. Scott lowered his face to plant a small kiss on the top of her head before he drifted off to sleep. A comfort unlike any she’d ever known came over Zelda. Four hours they spent together in one room without saying a word and no sex had been initiated, yet at this moment, she felt closer to him than anyone in her life. Love.
This is what love felt like.
I love this man.
TUESDAY MORNING
Michael arrived Tuesday morning, hesitant and weary, sitting his suitcase inside of Zelda’s hotel room door as she and Scott had breakfast. Pip opted not to join them since she’d worked late for an encore performance with a small group of specialized ventriloquists that worked with children.
“Good morning,” Michael said as Scott opened the door to let him in.
“Breakfast?”
“No, my stomach is not quite right,” he said, rubbing his belly. “I need to see Pip.”
“She’s next door on the right,” Zelda said softly.
He left his suitcase and inhaled deeply ready to go pay the Pipper.
“Michael, you are leaving your suitcase,” Zelda said.
“Yeah, I may be leaving on the next flight, depending on how this goes,” he said giving a mock salute and stepping into the walkway.
“He will be back in a few,” Scott said.
“You men think you understand women and you don’t. All he has to do is be honest with her and all will be well,” she said to Scott.
“No, she is going to be bitchy and temperamental and come at him with anxieties and issues which don’t have a damn thing to do with Michael. He, in turn, is going to say something smart-ass and off the cuff and really piss her off. I give him fifteen minutes before he’s back,” Scott said, clearing his plate.
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