The Scoop

by Fern Michaels

  Meekly, with her eyes lowered, Bernice replied, “Yes, Missus Toots.”

  “Sophie? Ida? Dessert and coffee?” Toots asked the pair seated across from her.

  “Hell yes, I want dessert! All I’ve heard since I arrived is how skinny I am,” Sophie said with a grin.

  Thank goodness her eating disorder wasn’t self-inflicted, Toots thought. She’d just been too occupied with Walter’s care the last year to take proper care of herself. That was about to change.

  “Ida?” Toots inquired.

  “Nothing, thank you.”

  The minute Ida had stepped foot in the house, she’d asked to go to her room, where she took the germ-zapping light Toots had purchased and proceeded to scan it across every inch of the room. Apparently it had been to her satisfaction, for she hadn’t complained. At least not yet. A small bathroom that Toots herself had scrubbed with Clorox and then with ammonia—even Toots knew better than to mix the two if she wanted to be alive when her friends got there—met her standards as well. Ida needed psychiatric help. Big-time and soon. Toots made a mental note to ask Dr. Pauley for a referral.

  While the others familiarized themselves with their rooms, she’d called and arranged for the doctor to stop by later that evening. She’d also spoken with Henry Whitmore. He would fax her the required papers so she could set up an account for Mavis. With those tasks out of the way, all she needed was to hear from Christopher to see if the sale had gone through. She said a prayer that it would. Abby would never have to know she’d purchased The Informer, because she’d told Christopher she must remain a “silent owner.” Big businesses did that all the time, she reasoned. Abby would never know her new boss. Toots had big plans for her daughter’s future as a tabloid reporter.

  Ten minutes later, they scattered around the long expanse of what Toots always referred to as the terrace even though it was a front porch that stretched around the entire perimeter of her home. Old houses in Charleston were like that. They had sunporches, sunrooms, verandas. Toots simply referred to the area as a terrace, and the name had stuck.

  When Toots bought the old plantation house years ago, she hadn’t hired a decorator the way most of her friends had. She’d simply bought pieces she liked, and in doing so created a welcoming, homey atmosphere inside and out. Old wicker chairs and tables were arranged so that one person or a group of twenty could converse comfortably without too much effort. Colorful handcrafted pots purchased from many of Charleston’s local artists held a variety of green plants, ferns, and brightly colored flowers. Discreetly placed outdoor lighting created a soft, warm glow all the way around the long porch. Toots loved the varied scents that permeated the outdoors this time of the day, when the world was settling in for an evening of rest, or should be. She always thought of evenings as a time to reflect on the events of the day, both good and bad. Though today she must focus on her guests and what tomorrow would bring.

  Bernice served dessert and coffee with as much aplomb as she had earlier. A chocolate mousse with whipped topping and chocolate shavings and a large array of fruit for Mavis and anyone else who cared to forgo a trip down sugar alley.

  “How long has it been since we were all together like this?” Mavis asked, between bites of pineapple.

  “Six years ago, when Abby graduated from college. Then, when she up and decided to move to California, you girls came to my rescue, remember?” Toots said. “It was the worst day of my life,” she added, recalling how sad and empty she’d felt after Abby flew the coop. That’s when that damned Leland had stepped into her life, trying to charm the pants off her. Stupid her, she’d let him, then felt guilty and married him. Shit! What had she been thinking?

  “Toots!” Sophie said none too quietly. “Earth to Toots!”

  “I bet she’s planning her next wedding,” Ida offered, more like the old Ida they all knew and loved. Not the germaphobe who wouldn’t hug or kiss them in return.

  “Oh, shut up! I was thinking about Abby,” Toots said, explaining her temporary private mental mission.

  “You should have asked her to come for a visit. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I haven’t seen my goddaughter nearly enough,” Mavis stated.

  “I invited her, but she’s too busy with work. Actually, that’s something I want to talk to you all about. Abby’s boss at The Informer has a gambling problem. I’m not clear about all the details, but apparently he’s selling the paper to settle his gambling debts. Abby said a condition of the sale may be that all current employees must go.”

  “That’s not fair,” Sophie said, sipping her coffee. “Can’t she sue him? Discrimination, something like that?”

  Toots shook her head. “I didn’t ask.” She took a deep breath. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you all about. I know each of us has something going on in her life right now, but I don’t think any one of us has something so important that she can’t put it off for a few weeks or…months.” Toots let the statement hang in the air, allowing the girls a chance to absorb her words, hoping they’d know she was leading them to something bigger and better than what they currently had. Not so much a monetary thing, except for Mavis, of course, but a chance for some real excitement. Toots wanted to add some much-needed excitement to her life and her friends’ lives. With her owning and operating a tabloid, the opportunity for some exhilarating thrills was theirs for the taking. If they saw it that way. If they would welcome a new challenge in their lives. If they were willing to relocate temporarily to California. There were a lot of ifs.

  “I know you too well, Teresa. You’ve got something up your sleeve. You’ve always been such a sneak,” Ida said. “I should know,” she added, referring to the past.

  “Oh, get over it, Ida! You only wanted Jerry when you thought Toots wanted him. Face the facts, she got him, you didn’t. From what I gather, you’re the lucky one. So what if he left all his millions to Toots? She deserved it after all those years of his cheapness and lack of sex drive. If you want my opinion”—Sophie held up a slim hand—“and I know you don’t, but I’m going to give it to you anyway. Toots did you a favor by snatching him away. So get over it. And you need to get over this germ thing you’ve got going on. Do you realize there are medications for people like you?”

  Toots could barely contain her laughter. Leave it to Sophie to call an ace an ace and a spade a spade.

  “Is that what you think?” Ida asked indignantly.

  “No, it’s what I know. You two have been going at it for years, and I, for one, am damned sick of it. It isn’t like you never married. How many times was it?” Sophie looked to Mavis for an answer.

  “I can’t remember. Between her and Toots, I lost count. I think it’s a competition thing between the two of them,” Mavis said.

  “Three, if you must know,” Ida shot back.

  “Bullshit. More like five. I’m not that old that I don’t remember those two idiots you married from Georgia. The ones you claimed were related to Jimmy Carter. The ones you never wanted to talk about. Weren’t they cousins or something?” Toots said to her former rival with a huge grin plastered on her face. She knew it ticked Ida off when someone reminded her of her not-so-perfect past.

  “I’ll have you know I had both marriages annulled. And no, they were not cousins. They were very…distant cousins, not close at all. They didn’t even know one another until I came along,” Ida said with an air of haughtiness that was so Ida.

  Snickering, Sophie said, “I wonder if they ever compared notes.”

  Ida stood up. “I don’t know why I even bother with you three. All you do is crack jokes about one another and talk about sex.”

  “Sit down, Ida. We’re teasing, and you know it. Stop acting like some lily-white puritan. We’re your friends, or have you forgotten that?” Toots asked.

  Gingerly, Ida sat back down on the edge of a stool. “You won’t let me. I know we’re friends, but truly when you took Jerry away, well, let’s just say my life hasn’t been the same. I’ve been trying to
find a…substitute to replace him if you must know. He really broke my heart. And so did you,” Ida added, tears streaming down her face like two silvery rivers.

  Toots thought Ida had missed her calling. She should’ve been an actress. This repeat performance was getting old. Ida needed a new script. If she’d stop caterwauling long enough, Toots was about to offer her, all of them, the opportunity of a lifetime.

  Toots passed Ida a tissue while Sophie lit a cigarette and Mavis snarfed down the last piece of fruit on the platter.

  “I have a proposition I’d like to offer for your consideration. It’s not set in stone yet, but something tells me that’s just a formality.” When Toots saw she had her three best friends’ undivided attention, she continued. “It’s about Abby.” Now she really had their attention. Faultless they were not. Godmothers, they were the best.

  “Is she sick?” Ida asked.

  “I bet she’s getting married!” Sophie shouted exuberantly.

  “Is she a lesbian?” Mavis asked timidly.

  “No, no, and no.” Toots looked at Mavis questioningly. “Why would you even ask such a question?”

  “I don’t know. Abby’s not getting any younger. I never hear anything about her dating anyone special. I just thought I’d ask. It’s not that big a deal anymore. Not like when we were young. Remember Sheila Finkelstein? She’s a lesbian. I saw her with her partner years ago at the theater in New York when I took my English class there for their senior trip. I always suspected it when we were in high school. There was just something about her, you know, the way she would watch you undress in gym class. I never felt comfortable around her.”

  “That’s more than I needed to know,” Toots said. “I do remember her, though. Never thought too much about her sexual preference then, either.”

  The four women laughed deep, belly-hurting laughs. Just like old times. Yes, they all had their quirks, but they had the ties of almost fifty years of friendship to bind them.

  It would take another fifty to unravel them.

  Chapter 7

  “California? What am I supposed to do about Walter?” Sophie squealed. “He’s on the brink of death! At least I think he’s on the brink of death. Maybe it’s more wishful thinking on my part. California!”

  “Yes, California. Stop fretting, Sophie. Dear old Walter can die just as easily with a nurse in attendance as with you. You can go back for the funeral if it happens. Like Abby says, crisp him up, and it’s a done deal. You collect your insurance check, and it’s all just a memory.”

  “Yes, but I thought this was just a quick trip, a mini-vacation. I needed a break,” Sophie argued. She fired up a cigarette. “What if he dies while I’m in California?”

  “Then you’ll have your wish and five million bucks to boot. It’s your call. Either you’re in or out.”

  Toots stared at the group gathered around the dining room table. After dessert and coffee, they’d gone inside, where Toots found the half-empty bottle of scotch. Half-empty cups littered the table. Sophie used hers for an ashtray. Ida perched on the edge of her chair, ready to spring at any second, while Mavis eyed the bowl of apples and oranges in the center.

  “Sorry. When Walter’s name is mentioned, it brings back all those years of bad memories, not to mention bringing out my bad side.”

  The women nodded. They understood perfectly.

  “Here’s my plan. I’m thinking at the very least we’ll need to hang out west for at least six months if we’re to accomplish our goal, which is to make The Informer a source to be reckoned with. The other tabloids have ruled the market for years. It’s time they had some healthy competition.” Toots took a sip of scotch. She shuddered as it made its fiery descent into the pit of her stomach.

  “Sounds good, but exactly what do you plan to do? News is news no matter if it’s Hollywood news or national news. You just can’t make it happen. It could take years to develop sources in the business. You need someone on the inside, you need reliable snitches, friends who hate their best-friends-forever and sell them out for money,” Sophie said.

  “Remember, we’re talking about Hollywood. News that may not be considered real news is news out there. For instance, remember when Helen Heart disappeared? The tabloids reported that she’d taken a trip to Europe for plastic surgery when in reality she’d been in rehab right in their very own Malibu Hills. While this isn’t important to the world in general, it’s very important to those in the business. Would you want to hire an aging drunk for your next blockbuster? I don’t think so. So, to answer your question, the type of news we’ll be working on isn’t important in the sense that it will affect the world, but it will affect Helen Heart’s career and others just like her. The big guns in the business read this stuff even though they’ll never admit it. Abby told me this. She knows.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ida said. “What can you do that the former owner didn’t do?”

  “That’s where Abby will come in. She has contacts. She’s told me on more than one occasion that she had breaking news before the other reporters, but old Rag didn’t believe her, then the next day, it would be splashed on the front page of The Enquirer or The Globe. Abby said it happened a lot. Enough that it made her wonder if her boss was on the take. I have no clue what she meant by that. The stories Abby writes are newsy but not front-page news, according to her, even though I tend to disagree. I enjoy reading whatever she writes.”

  “Same here,” Sophie said.

  “I am very proud of my goddaughter, no matter what she writes. She’s a very skilled writer, too,” Mavis added. “I bet she could write a novel if she set her mind to it. It would probably be a best seller, too. Nothing like that tacky Jackie Collins stuff, either. I have never liked her books.”

  “Then why do you read them?” Ida questioned.

  “Supposedly her characters are loosely based on real people. I always try and figure out who the ‘real’ people are. Not that I know them, but it’s interesting. I don’t believe all those wild sex scenes, either. What kind of woman has sex with five different men a night?” Mavis said.

  “Tramps,” Toots offered.

  “Sluts,” Sophie said, “or at least those who want to get a jump start in the business. Happens all the time.”

  “And how do you know this?” Ida demanded fretfully.

  “I don’t know it for a fact, but it’s been happening since the beginning of time. People use sex as a trade-off.” Sophie looked at Ida, then at Toots. “Right?”

  “If you’re insinuating that I’ve done something similar in the past, you would be wrong. Though there were times when I was rather happy that my poor mate couldn’t, well, let’s just say rise to the occasion.” Toots laughed. “And in that sense I was grateful for the payoff. Which was no sex with a man who’d passed his prime.”

  “Why do we always end up discussing sex?” Ida asked.

  “Because none of us are getting any,” Sophie said with a huge grin. “At least none that I know of.” She glanced at her three friends seated at the table, wondering if one of them was lucky enough to dispute her statement.

  Zip.

  “Says something about us, doesn’t it?” Toots challenged. “We’re not that old. We’re going to Los Angeles. I think it’s time we changed our status. What about the rest of you? Are you game for a change?”

  Toots eyed her friends seated around the table as she waited for an answer. Her hands in her lap, she crossed her fingers.

  “As long as I can bring Coco, I’m in. I can get Phyllis, my neighbor, to close up my house for the summer. Better yet, she can use it when all of her grandkids come to visit after school gets out. She’s always complaining about how cramped she is when they visit. This will work out just perfect!” Mavis clapped her pudgy hands together, smiling from ear to ear.

  “Ida?” Toots asked. “What about it?”

  “I don’t know. There’s this condition…”—Ida looked down at her hands covered in latex—“…ah…problem. I know yo
u all think it’s irrational, but I can’t seem to help myself. I wouldn’t be an asset to the paper or to the three of you, so I should probably head on home when you all leave.”

  Sophie chimed in. “So that’s a no? You won’t even give this a try? You want to spend the rest of your years wearing latex, struggling to breathe behind a mask, and smelling like bleach?”

  Good old Sophie, always going straight to the heart of the matter. Toots smiled. This is what Ida needed, a good dose of reality, and there was no one better than Sophie to serve it up with a large dollop of her smart-ass humor.

  Ida turned to face Toots, tears pooling in her eyes. “What should I do, Teresa? I don’t want to be like this. I’ve tried to fight it, but it’s a losing battle. And before you ask, I’ve been to three different shrinks.” She held out her gloved hands.

  The three old friends had convinced Ida to get rid of the surgeon’s mask when Sophie threatened to shoot out her kneecaps. Toots figured it was more or less a start of sorts on Ida’s rehabilitation. After a little too much scotch, Ida confessed her obsession with germs started when Thomas, her last husband, died from the E. coli he’d consumed by eating tainted meat. The friends’ ready solution was unanimous: Stop eating meat.

  “I can’t make the decision for any of you. Either you want to come along or not. I can’t say it doesn’t matter one way or the other because it does matter. I would like nothing more than to have Abby’s godmothers, my oldest and dearest friends, accompany me on this adventure. And I guarantee it will be an adventure, but if you can’t or won’t, I understand,” Toots said coolly. She’d be damned if she’d reduce herself to begging.

  “What the hell! If Walter dies, I’ll rush back to New York, fry his ass, and collect my money. Count me in,” Sophie said, a little too gleefully.

  Toots grinned. She could always count on Sophie.

  “I’m in.” Mavis giggled, evidence of too much scotch.

  Toots suddenly remembered her promise to take Mavis to Liz’s Stout Shop for a new wardrobe. Maybe she could coax Bernice into doing it.