Separating Riches (27 page)

“Yes, I agree with the illegal part,” he responded.

“But blackmailing someone isn’t illegal, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Blackstone?” I asked, baiting him purposely.

“Of course it’s illegal,” he said, standing up as if to be more intimidating. “What are you insinuating, Ms. Bumgartner?”

“Well, it has been brought to my attention that you, Mr. Blackstone, were the one who hired Derrick to take pictures of Blackie in a compromising position with Tori, when they were in college. Which means that you are the one who blackmailed her the first time.”

Melinda stood up angrily. “What the fuck, Meg. That’s my father you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I am aware of that, Blackie. But it would explain why your father was so generous to Derrick. He gave him your car and a job, when, in fact, he should have had Derrick thrown in jail. What doesn’t make sense is why your father would do that to you?”

“To teach her a lesson,” Elizabeth confessed.

“Mother, no,” Blackie gasped.

“It’s true, Melinda,” Robert admitted. “I was trying to teach you the consequences of your whoring ways.”

I could tell that Blackie was hurt by his revelation, and for that I was sorry.

“Damn, what a dad,” she chided. “Did they give you the father of the year award for that one?”

“I was trying to help you, Melinda. Just like Felicia and Carl tried to help Christine by kicking her out of the house.”

Chrissie opened her mouth to protest, but Felicia stood up and waved her index finger at him.

“Don’t you dare compare what we did for our child out of heartbreak, for what you did to yours, for monetary gain,” she said, shaking, with tears running down her cheeks. Chrissie put her arm around Felicia’s shoulders.

Elizabeth jumped up. “And don’t you dare insinuate that your suffering a wild teenage daughter is any worse than our suffering one.”

This had the potential to get way out of hand, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. “All right, let’s just sit down and discuss this calmly.” No one was listening to me. “I said SIT DOWN!” I shouted. They heard me that time and after a pregnant pause, where they debated whether to leave or not, they sat back down.

“Blackie, you are the victim in all this. Do you have anything you want to say?”

“Damn straight I do,” she barked and jumped up.

I sat down and let her have the floor.

“First, I completely understand my parents’ way of trying to teach me a lesson. I don’t like it, but I understand it. But understanding their reasoning behind it doesn’t mean I’m not really hurt by it, and am in fact, really pissed at them for it.”

“Darling, we were only trying to help you,” Elizabeth said apologetically.

“Let me finish, Mother,” Blackie requested. “Understanding what Chris and her parents went through to get her to stop drinking helps me better understand what you and Father were trying to do, Mother. Your method failed, but that doesn’t mean you love me any less by trying. It does show you both what doesn’t work with me. I am my father’s daughter, after all.”

“May I say something?” Blackstone asked.

“Again, let me finish, Father,” Blackie asserted. “You say that you want me to run your Memphis firm. It means a lot to me that you would have that kind of faith in me. Thanks to my wife, I’m ready to be an adult and take on more responsibility. But, just so there are no false expectations, I have no desire to be a mogul like you, Father. Chris and I have plans for the future and it doesn’t include sitting on your golden throne in your golden office here in California.” Blackie held her hand out to indicate that he could speak now.

He stood up and walked over to his daughter, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Melinda, we both know I would never win the father of the year award, but what I did, I did out of love for you. I know you credit Chris for sobering you up, as do I. But the sober you turned out to be a wonderful young woman and I had something to do with that. As you said, you are my daughter. Don’t throw that away because you’re blinded by hormones.”

“He means because you’re a newlywed blinded by love,” Elizabeth explained, trying to soften the insult.

Blackie took a step back, breaking his contact with her. “I hear what you’re saying, Father, and what you’re not saying. I think we have reached an understanding.”

Blackstone nodded and sat back down beside his wife.

Blackie took a moment, and then walked over to where Tori and Teresa were sitting. “I want you two bitches to understand that I will not tolerate any more shit from you. My wife and I are on to you, and I will use every last penny I have to make your life a living hell if I hear of you trying to blackmail someone else. And trust me when I say that I have the resources at hand,” Blackie pointed at me, “to know your every move.”

I tipped my hat in a show of solidarity.

“Now get the fuck out of my sight before I change my mind and have you both arrested,” Blackie demanded.

Chris got up and opened the door to the hallway, then looked at Tori and then Teresa. “As a Christian, who doesn’t have to lie about being a real one, I will say a prayer for both of you. Especially you, Teresa,” Chrissie asserted. “As a protective wife, I will also assure you both that if I see either one of you near my wife again, I will beat the shit out of you, personally.”

“And I’ll be waiting in line to help her,” Blackie boasted.

Note to self, don’t piss these two off at the same time.

Tori was about to say something, when Teresa grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. Chris slammed the door behind them. Then she softened, and looked at the rest of us.

“It’s time to get the party started,” she said with a smile.

Hooray for Hollywood — Chris,
Melinda, George, Felicia, Elizabeth & Robert
and
Norma

My head was still reeling from the emotional drama of learning how victimized Melinda was by her own father. She had made a poignant speech, but I could tell she was hurting more than she let on. I don’t care what any of them said, it was completely different than what my parents did to me. My parents hired Meg to watch over and protect me, although I didn’t know it at the time. Melinda’s parents hired a photographer to take graphic photos of her so they could blackmail her into submission. There’s something very wrong with that.

“Chris, hurry, help me with this, will you please?” my mother asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Sure, Mom.”

I helped her pick up the cardboard cutout of Norma and carry it out of the back catering area. Mom had workers breaking down the
Yankee Doodle Dandy
pod that was right in front of the curtains. Then they moved in a huge backdrop picturing the nation’s capital in 1961. I positioned the cardboard cutout in front of the backdrop and was amazed at how well the perspective turned out. Then I grabbed the custom made banner stands and positioned them on either side of the backdrop. One banner was a lobby card of Norma’s movie,
Mr. Washburne Takes a Wife,
the other banner was a photograph of Norma accepting her Academy Award for that same movie.

Melinda and I had found Norma’s acceptance speech on YouTube and watched it a dozen times. She was so beautiful, so poised and eloquent, that I couldn’t help but cry every time.

While Mom and I readied the pod for Norma’s surprise, Melinda ushered the college students out, tipping each one an extra hundred for their service. That should take the sting out of missing what was coming, not that they were aware of it. For all they knew, the party was over. As I put Norma’s golden statue, the Oscar, on a pedestal by the cardboard cutout, Mom instructed the audio-visual guy to beam Norma’s movie,
Mr. Washburne Takes a Wife,
onto the curtain behind the pod.

The real guests were beginning to arrive so I joined Melinda in greeting them. Producers, directors, actors and actresses, some who had worked with Norma, some who wanted to work with her again, and some who had been her friend, filtered through the doors. The invitation said the party would begin at 8:45pm, but I had told Norma that the party would start at nine, knowing that she would be at least fifteen minutes late. She had told me before that an actress is never on time. With that in mind, I wasn’t expecting her for another twenty minutes.
Perfect.
We had done it. We had pulled it all together without a hitch. Well, without a physical hitch, anyway. The emotional toll will resonate with us for a long time.

But for now, it’s all about Norma. I only hope that she doesn’t get too mad at us for going against her wishes. Melinda said, with her usual candor that I love so much, that technically we weren’t because Hollywood is coming to her, not the other way around, which is what she did not want.

“Should we hide and surprise her?” Michael Jude, a producer asked.

“Goodness, no,” I answered. “She’s in her late eighties, a fright like that might give her a heart attack.”

“Is she in ill health?” he asked.

I wondered if he were probing me because he was thinking of using her in a movie. “She’s in better health than I am. Strong, beautiful, and wise beyond measure,” I responded.

“Are you related to her?” he asked.

I thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

Just as he was about to ask another question, George walked in with Norma on his arm. He led her a few steps into the room, and then stopped, and took a step back. The audience applauded as they parted like the Red Sea, forming an aisle for her to walk down. The lights went down and the spotlight shone on Norma alone.

“What on earth?” she said, not moving.

I wobbled down the aisle as Charlie Chaplin would, watching Norma laugh at my antics, even as she wiped a tear away. Then Melinda, who seemed to float on air, joined me by Norma’s side. We each took an arm and escorted her down the aisle to the display. Norma smiled at her movie playing on the curtain. My mom, with a handheld wireless microphone, read a list of Norma’s movies, her philanthropy, and her life away from Hollywood, which took me by surprise.

“Norma had a black belt in taekwondo in her forties, was a lounge singer in her fifties, climbed Mount McKinley in her sixties, took up sculpting in her seventies, and just this year she became the unofficial great-grandmother to my daughter and her wife, who are in their twenties.”
Thank you for that last one, Mom.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sarah Norma Smith, known in Hollywood as Academy Award winner, Ms. Norma Shelby.”

Norma turned to face the audience, and then turned back and wiped the tears from her face. The audience members started shouting,
speech, speech,
and Mom handed Norma the microphone.

“Thank you,” she said, expecting the audience to stop clapping, but they didn’t, not until after the third thank you. “My goodness, what a surprise. I don’t know how my two girls pulled this off, but I’m glad they did. It gave me an excuse to play dress up again. Anyway, I appreciate everyone coming out tonight, but I’m not sure why you did. It’s not my birthday, and I don’t believe there was an anniversary that I’d forgotten—”

“It’s because we’ve missed you!” a woman in the audience yelled.

“Thank you, I’ve missed all of you too,” Norma said. “More so than I realized. It was hard, leaving the cinema, and too hard to return to it.” Norma then turned to a tearful Melinda and I. “Thank you, for bringing the cinema back to me.”

Norma lowered the mic as we rushed into her arms, sobbing. What a beautiful moment for a beautiful woman. Norma transformed into a movie star as she walked among the audience, remembering old times, connecting with old friends. That producer who had asked me all those questions gave Norma his card and said he was producing a movie and wanted her for the part of the grand dame. Unfortunately, Norma turned him down. I so wanted to see her at work, but Norma told the producer that this was her last trip away from home.

The rest of the evening was magical. Norma posed for pictures, sang a love ballad to Melinda and I, and danced the waltz with George, whom she played matchmaker for, all night.

Epilogue

Home Alone — Melinda

We’d been back home in Memphis for a month, and I was shooting stick with George, when all of a sudden, everyone had to be someplace else. I didn’t notice the mass exodus at first, everything was perfectly normal. Norma left to have lunch with that producer fellow she met at the masquerade ball last month. He was in town on business and wanted to appeal to her one more time. Then George suddenly remembered something he had to do. I didn’t pay attention to what that was. Kate was at a seminar, so Chris volunteered to babysit. Even Charlotte was gone, and then there was no one to play with. Normally, I’d just go have sex with Chris to relieve my boredom, but the thought of the baby watching me worked like a cold shower on my libido. I played another round of pinball, but even that lost its appeal after a while. Since I hadn’t slept much last night, a combination of bad dreams from the cold pizza and peppers I had, and late night sex with my wife, I was past ready for a nap.

As I left the game room, I could hear the baby crying. Probably needed its diaper changed. I didn’t envy Chris that job, although she didn’t seem to mind it too much. By the time I walked into the kitchen, the baby had stopped crying so I guessed Chris gave him a bottle or something. I walked to the refrigerator to grab a soda and noticed that Konani was gone, too. Curious, I wandered over to the dining room to see if Baylee-Ann was cleaning up after brunch, as is her normal thing to do. She was not there, and there were still some plates on the table.
What is going on?

The house was empty except for Chris and the baby. Then I realized that I was feeling trepidation, like in one of those horror movies where Jamie Lee Curtis hides in a closet, afraid to even breathe, because the boogey man is about to kill her. The baby began to cry again and it was like the shrill plunge of the dreaded knife.

I ran to the living room. “Chris?”
Cue the terror music, because she was gone!
I walked over to the baby’s basinet, where he lay crying and squirming around. Obviously he had a wedgie. “Chris! Come on now, this isn’t funny.” I walked out to the hallway and shouted for Chris. The empty house echoed my shouts back at me. “Damn it!”

The louder I got, the louder the baby cried. I went back over to him and panicked. “What do I do?” I screamed. He replied with a screech that pierced the ears. “Okay. Okay, calm down. And I’m talking to the both of us.” I had heard everyone talk to the boy in baby talk, so I tried that. Even though no one was around to hear me, I still felt embarrassed by it. Baby speak sounds so silly to me.

“I can do this. I can do this,” I repeated over and over again. I had unwillingly seen others change his diapers, and it seemed like a fairly easy thing to do. But when I peeled the tape back on his diaper and pulled it back I almost threw up. The kid had crapped a shitload that reeked to high heaven.
What are they feeding this kid?
Dry retching a couple of times, I had to walk away to regain control of my stomach. “I can do this!”

I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a pair of tongs, plastic trash bags, rubber gloves and a roll of paper towels. Dumping my items on the couch, I ran up the stairs, checking first to make sure Chris wasn’t up there taking a nap. She wasn’t. I ran down the hall and over to Kate’s room and grabbed up the baby powder and a case of diapers. I went back into the living room and put everything on the couch, and then I took off my T-shirt. I wrapped it around my face, covering my nose and mouth. Then I pulled off my jeans and threw them on the chair. Standing there in just my briefs and rubber gloves, I picked up the tongs and approached the basinet, prepared to extract the diaper full of poop. “For those of us who are about to die, we salute you.”
I can do this!

Not Home Alone — Chris

Hiding in the hallway closet, I could hear her calling for me, and I almost went to her. Then I heard things crashing to the floor in the kitchen, feet running up and down the stairs, and every cuss word in the book being shouted to the rafters, and I admit, I laughed my ass off. I knew that no one was born with the knowledge of how to take care of a baby. But Melinda had pedophobia, which is an unusual fear of babies. So, just as she helped me with my fear of driving, I’m helping her with her fear of the baby. As the saying goes, payback’s a bitch, or in this case, payback’s a fourteen-month-old baby boy.

The baby stopped crying and I could hear Melinda singing a song that she was obviously making up. It was so beautiful, and I was so proud that tears welled up inside me. She had faced the worst part, a screaming baby, but I still wanted to give her some alone time with the baby, so she could bond with it. I must have dosed off, because when I checked my watch, two hours had passed. Everyone would be coming home soon, and it was time to face the music.

I crept out of the closet and peeked into the living room. What I saw shocked me so bad I almost wet my jeans from laughing. Chairs were turned over, an explosion of new diapers tossed about, baby powder all over the furniture, and Melinda, with only her briefs on, asleep on the floor, with one leg tangled in the overturned bassinet. The baby, also nude, was sound asleep between her breasts. It was absolutely the sweetest picture I had ever seen. That is until the baby woke up and tried to suckle at her breast with his sharp little teeth. They say that the scream could be heard on the other side of Memphis.

The End