Modern Girls
Page 25
During most of our trip west, Andi was silent and sad with her thoughts of trauma and loss. The occasional conversation focused on the near future. Andi needed lots of reassurance that if she got the role she’d be recovered from her injuries before filming began. I kidded Andi that she wouldn’t be showing her behind so it should be OK. The laughter that followed broke the tension and the thoughts of her ordeal.
Andi realized she wouldn’t be able to work at Modern Girls for a while. And, while she thought about that, she decided that she would never go back there.
***
After we got back to her apartment, Andi gave me a big hug and kiss. I gently returned them. Andi’s gratitude and appreciation of my efforts had no limits, even with all her current pain and suffering. I felt like a true hero, certainly Andi believed it and said it repeatedly during the remainder of my time in L.A. We had solved the case, she was no longer a suspect, she might have her first part in a major motion picture, she was alive and reasonably well, the killer was dead, and she had close friends who showed her how it felt to be loved.
Andi shed many tears in the hours we had left together. I finally explained how her lies thwarted me, angered me and wasted my time. Plus, most importantly, it nearly cost us our lives. I wanted her to live truthfully and carefully. I think it sunk in with her. I hoped it did, because I didn’t know how else to express my love.
Andi never asked me to stay with her in L.A. Later, I realized my frustration pre-empted Andi from expressing those desires.
She did ask me to come to bed and stay there with her for as long as we could. I tenderly fulfilled her desires.
The next day, Andi was still flying high from the prospect of her major film role. I think that made it easier for her to let go of me that Sunday morning in LAX. As I walked down the entrance way to my plane, we made eye contact one last time. That’s the image that first comes to mind when I think of Andi; she’s smiling and waving to me in her short white cotton dress, with her hair flowing freely down her back, wondering why I’m going the wrong way - away from her.
At the time, I had to get away from Sid Gabriel’s world and his women. I needed to talk to Cyndie Myst and hold Dee Dee Cho. I wanted to go home.
epilogue
Wilmington, Delaware, October 25, 2003
I have a recurring dream. I am back in that mountain cabin, high above Tucson, Arizona and it is eight years earlier. I wake in the middle of the night needing the bathroom; I drank too much wine. I walk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of chilled water from the refrigerator. I drink deeply. The very different women, in the rooms to my right and to my left, play on my mind.
What does it all mean? What should I do? I struggle to understand.
I walk to the entrance of the second bedroom. The door is closed. I pause to think again. I should turn left and head back, but I usually go right, as the attraction is too strong.
I slowly turn the handle and push the door open. The faint, blue glow of starlight provides ethereal light in this room and on the gorgeous angel-come-to-earth that appears before me. This young, little beauty sleeps soundly on the right side of the full-sized bed. As if she knows I’d come here, the covers on the left side are turned down, inviting me to join her. She is lying flat on her back, and her beautiful dark hair is spread out all around her pillow. Her arms are on top of the covers on either side of her body with both palms facing down. Her breathing is the sweetest and only sound I hear. She is so tranquil and at ease.
I walk to the bed, kneel down and give Edith a soft kiss on her forehead. For a brief moment, her mouth forms in to a slight, adorable smile and her eyelids move. It looks like she whispers my name, like she senses me there.
Somehow, I resist my heart’s desire. I almost accept her silent offer. I imagine sliding into bed next to her. But, every time something, perhaps my intuition, tells me not to do it. Our time has not yet arrived.
Instead, I stand up and take in this angelic creature for a long time and then leave her to heavenly dreams.
I quietly close the door behind me and walk back across the hall, returning to the opened door from where I started.
The atmosphere is different in this bedroom. The amber outdoor lights provide much more illumination. The highway facing windows bring in the occasional sounds of passing vehicles. A violated, fair-haired angel is in the large bed, deeply sleeping too, on her side. Like the petite beauty in the other room, this woman’s very long blonde hair is tossed all over her pillow and face and shoulders. In contrast, the slumbers of the lady in this master bedroom are tormented. The covers are off her body and her small white nightshirt is raised above her hips, showing her badly wounded behind with its red marks of abuse. Her face expresses the pain and trauma, and her arms are tight and close to her body. I walk to the bed and cover her with the sheet. I kiss Andrea on her forehead and the hint of a smile crosses the innocent face of that naughty, reckless gift from God.
Then, for the next to last time, I see myself getting into bed with Andi. I lift her left arm and place it on my chest. I pray and let my thoughts go where they may.
And, then, I remember Edie’s words; “I know you need to go, but stay in touch with us.”
The dream ends. I wake and realize again how quickly my love found became love lost. Why did I let go of these modern girls?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gary S. Griffin spent years as a business investigator which provided a rich library of experiences he used to create his private eye stories. The personalities of the performing artists and models in Gary's life have all contributed to developing the unique and fascinating characters that populate his novels.
Gary lives in Delaware with his wife and children.