In the Nick of Time

by Laveen, Tiana

  “Well, thank you, Vicki. I really appreciate it.” She took a nervous swallow of her tea. “What does this entail?”

  “There is a fashion gala at the Metropolitan Museum of art in a couple of months.”

  “Serendipity, Satindippity – The Belle of Blue.”

  “Exactly…hold on.” She paused, looked down at her phone, then tossed it aside. “I need a drink like right fuckin’ away!” Tossing her classy modes to the side like yesterday’s headline news, she waved her thin, branch like arm frantically in the air, lips puckering up as if she were about to whistle for a cab. A waiter with a long black ponytail flowing down his back immediately drifted to her side with an empty tray in hand and a coy grin on his face… one of definite familiarity.

  “Ms. Laurel, I apologize for my delay. There were several people opting to purchase you a drink so it slowed me down a bit. Particularly those men over that way.” He threw a lazy glance over his shoulder at several men sitting in expensive dark suits at the bar, their brows bouncing up and down like Groucho Marx as they waved their glasses in her general direction.

  Oh God… here we go…

  “Oh, fuck them,” Vicki said leisurely as she waved them off like gnats hovering over a piping hot meal. “Look, I want a simple drink for a simple girl.”

  “Of course.”

  “I want an Amaretto Sour, and then bring out a Lemon Drop. If I’m still feeling alive and breathing just fine, I’ll request more until my friend here offers to split a cab and get me back home straight away. Do you understand?”

  Taryn smirked and shook her head.

  “Certainly. Would you like to hear our lunch specials?”

  “What’s your name again?” Vicki grinned up at the handsome guy in a sarcastic sort of way. “I’m sorry, I know you see me every damn month but my brain is so fried right now.” She dumped her phone back into her bag.

  “Dale.”

  “That’s right, Dale. Let me ask you a question, dear. Do I look like I eat?” She grinned a bit wider. “Have you ever known me to order any food from here, hmmm?”

  “Well no, I can’t say that I have but it’s my job to inquire, Ms. Laurel, and besides, it doesn’t hurt to ask.” He nodded in an agreeable sort of way.

  “But it does hurt to order and then eat the shit. I am 6’1, Dale. Six fucking one. This morning I weighed myself and it came up to exactly 138 lbs. My agent told me that I needed to lose five for a show in two days. My diet is mainly liquid mush and a basket full of vitamins, minerals, and crap I can’t even pronounce. I work out twice a day until I can barely stand straight, my mood is programmed to a comfortable 72 degrees with a chance of bitchy, and my I.Q. is higher than that of those married dicks over there trying to buy my pussy with the wave of their ‘someone is about to get alimony, you scum-bag’ filled wallets. I do want to be catered to. I’m a spoiled fucking brat, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  Taryn dropped her head and laughed so hard within, her entire body vibrated. Her eyes moistened with a fresh wave of silliness that only Vicki could cause.

  “And one more thing regarding the model worshipers over there in the penis gallery, and yeah, I meant to say penis, Dale.” She waved her finger towards the fuckers still winking and smiling in her direction. “Tell them I only fuck billionaires and each thrust is a thousand dollars so they better cum quick. Now.” She snatched the menu off the table and scanned it. “I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been in my entire, miserable life and you ask me if I want to eat! Does a whore want to fuck? Does a school marm want to beat hands with a ruler?! Of course I do! I’m at death’s damn door… Do you know what that feels like?!”

  “Can’t say that I do…” The man’s lips trembled as he did his damnedest to control his laughter.

  “It feels like I could turn into a cannibal, Dale… I could sop you up with warm tea and biscuits, just like my mum used to make. I could sink my freshly cleaned and dental grade whitened teeth into your shoulder and delight in the flavor of your tender, young flesh… How barbaric, yes? This beautiful, poised woman sitting here talking about chomping away at her waiter—a man that has treated her horrid self with nothing but kindness while she’s returned his favor with contempt…I’m a fucking asshole. And no—no need for modesty.” She lazily waved her hand in his direction. “I know I’m stunning, goddamn it. I can barely keep from making love to myself every morning, it’s no wonder I’ve labeled myself as bisexual.”

  At this, Taryn burst out laughing, unable to take another second of Vicki’s antics with a straight face.

  “Anyway, this is serious business!” The lady smirked. “If I gain one more goddamn pound, I could be in big fucking trouble, so you go back into that kitchen of yours,” she pointed across the way, “and you ask that chef in there to cut me up one, and I mean just one,” she said, holding up a finger, “celery stalk into tiny slices with a dab of fat free Ranch dressing or the equivalent. And don’t you fucking giggle; control yourself or your tip will be no laughing matter. Do you understand me, Dale?”

  The man’s lips kinked in a quivering grin as he took her menu from her grip and for a moment, he clamped his eyes shut, no doubt pushing back tears of laughter.

  “Yes, I understand,” he finally stated, semi-straight faced.

  “Good, because it would be a travesty if I left from here, walked into a bakery, and told the employees it was a stick up…demanding all of their sweet, carb-filled treats! Ugh!” She waved him away as if he disgusted her, but all the man could do was laugh, and Taryn, too.

  “Vicki, you are a horrible woman…horrible!” Taryn taunted.

  The lady chuckled and leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes for a spell or two as if utterly exhausted. “I know… I simply can’t help myself. Now, I know you haven’t been out of rehabilitation long, and I hope you don’t mind me drinking but—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t mind you drinking, Vicki.”

  “Okay, great. I thought about that after the fact. That is my way after all; quite inconsiderate I am. It would be devastating if I ever changed.”

  “You really are a trip.” Taryn smirked and shook her head.

  “I know,” she said, smiling proudly. “Okay, so anyway, back to Betsey. The show is happening soon and I mentioned you. She’s interested. Would you like to come down and meet her? She’s in town right now.”

  Taryn opened her mouth to accept, to say ‘yes’, to give a gracious gesture or two and sing it from the rafters, but something stopped her dead in her catwalk tracks… It was Nick’s voice…

  Follow your dream…

  The other day when she’d awakened after they’d made love and she presented her wares to the man, exposed herself in more ways than one, he’d asked for an in-depth explanation of the drawings, going straight to the one sketchpad filled with the most detailed designs. She sat him down and told him, and his intrigue, interest, and total attention to her desires delighted her… It felt so good. No… it wasn’t perfect, but his response pushed her even further over the edge.

  He believed in her, told her to chase her dream until she had it backed in a corner, and if the damn thing resisted, to call him—he’d throw handcuffs on the bastard and make it submit.

  “I’d… I’d love too, but I can’t.”

  Vicki cranked her neck to the side as if having some out of body experience. Her eyes widened and her body twisted in a strange, yoga type way. Dale returned with her first drink, and within a matter of uncomfortable moments, the woman had dumped it down her throat and slammed the glass on the table as if to say, ‘Now what?!’

  “I must be hearing things, Taryn. You did NOT just say that.”

  “I did.” She shook her head. “I’m serious.”

  “Listen, you’ve been trying to get back in! Has your brain gone rotten? I’ve heard all about you wishing to get back into the swing of things!” Vicki slapped the table. “I prayed for you, Taryn. I never pray! I visited you in the hospital… brought
that big spread of flowers!”

  “I know… I remember… thank you so much. They were beautiful.”

  “This is Betsey Johnson, Taryn! Betsey fuckin’ Johnson! If she likes you… you’re in! Every Fashion Week, you’re there. It’s your first step to being back in the game, on the map and climbing!”

  “I know…” Taryn lowered her head, fiddling with the napkin on her lap, turning it here and there.

  “Why are you doing this? Am I witnessing a suicide?” Vicki asked woefully as she grabbed her second drink from Dale’s hand and downed that one, too.

  Taryn took a deep breath. “I’m doing this because I’m someone else, now. I want to say yes and you have no idea how badly. I need the money, God knows I do, but I know if I accept this job then I won’t get back out… I’ll be sucked right back in. I don’t want it anymore… I can’t be that girl anymore, Vicki.”

  The woman stared at her as if she were some strange fungus growing up along the wall, something that needed cut down, exterminated, eradicated. Then, after a while, her expression softened and her head fell back as she laughed and laughed, then laughed some more.

  “Oh fuck…this is what I’ve always loved about you, Taryn. So damn unpredictable.”

  Taryn sucked her teeth and got to fidgeting with her hands.

  I must be crazy! This was my ticket! The golden train into a tunnel I was no longer allowed to enter! It was all set up; all I had to say was, ‘Go!’

  Vicki looked about the place and exhaled, her sights on nothing in particular. “Taryn, I’m glad you’re in a good spot… I’m glad you got your confidence back, if it ever fully left. As for me, well, cue the sad, soppy daytime drama music.” She looked down, shook her head. “Everyone hates me…”

  Taryn had no idea where the damn statement had come from; it seemed out of left field… but no, there was more to the story.

  “Vicki, that’s not true.”

  “Oh yes, it is.” Vicki’s expression turned stern. “And I’m fine with it. Really, I am. You see, I’m a hard worker, and I respect other hard workers. A lot of these people out here are so damn lazy. You’re not.”

  “Well, thank you…”

  “They want all the glittery glamour, the fame, the adoration, but don’t want to work for it and earn it. Do you remember the day we met?”

  Taryn’s lips curved upward in a mischievous grin. “Of course. I had just finished that InStyle job and then we were booked for the same show.”

  Vicki nodded and placed one hand over the other on her lap. “You were just coming into your own. I was quite young, too.”

  “And a lot of newcomers looked up to you, anyway.”

  Vicki shrugged, sucked her teeth, and stared at Taryn for several seconds before responding. “I was dealing with a lot during that time, Taryn.”

  “What was going on? If you don’t mind me asking…” She took another sip of her iced tea, pleased no more seeds swam her way.

  “Something dreadful… Anyway, I watched you for a little while. I didn’t know you personally, had never worked with you beforehand obviously, but most people knew who you were by then.” She shrugged. “You were a hot commodity, you got attention. That’s not what made me take a liking to you though.”

  “What was it?”

  “You were the only person that smiled at me…and it was a genuine smile, too.”

  Taryn’s brows dipped and she went tongue-tied as emotions she couldn’t describe filled her chest cavity.

  Who wouldn’t smile at Vicki?

  The woman was beautiful and a riot. Sure, she rubbed many the wrong way, but she was unforgettable, and extraordinary people simply garnered a grin or two by simple default.

  “You smiled at me when I needed it most, when I needed to feel safe.” She took a deep breath. “You and I had a conversation, and you had no idea how you helped me.” She paused, took another deep breath. “You said the simplest of things, and it really just helped me get through the next twenty-four hours. We were chatting and I said to you, ‘The lighting in here is vile.’ Then, I went on to complain, in my typical way.” She smiled sadly. “I added, speaking in a joking tone, that when I was a kid, I used to be afraid of the dark, and that the photographer was bringing my phobia back to the forefront. So, you leaned in close, with those gorgeous, dark brown eyes of your’ and said, ‘It’s better to be afraid of the dark, than to run from the light.’ You were old, Taryn.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Taryn cackled, causing Vicki to do the same.

  “No, not like that. I mean, here you were, this young twenty-two or twenty-three year old, talking like that… and it drew me to you, made me want to be around you. You see, the previous evening had been the worst night of my life. Yes, I truly was afraid of the dark, Taryn. I had been violently attacked while leaving a photo shoot the day before.”

  “Oh, Vicki, I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table and gripped her hand, not suspecting such a confession in the least.

  “I had the audacity to refuse his advances.” She rolled her eyes. “So, he beat the shit out of me.” She shrugged, smirked… spoke so flippantly, yet her anger over the matter remained quite fresh, and the pain and sorrow fresher. “But, he watched my face,” she said, shaking a finger. “He made certain to not touch a hair on my head or any skin above the neck.” She shrugged. “The show must go on…”

  “Oh my God, Vicki… I would have never known! You acted so… so normal.”

  “I never reported it. I knew who he was; everyone knows who he is. I was young, afraid, and hadn’t developed the audacity I have now. Additionally, if I’d said anything, he would have destroyed me.” Her eyes narrowed. “My ass would be right back where I started with no prospects. Blackballed and forgotten.”

  “Who was it, Vicki?”

  “No point in discussing that now.” She held her head high. “I know the drill, so don’t bore me with it… about how I should have said something because he could do the same to someone else, blah blah blah… wouldn’t matter! He’d get off scot-free and I’d have nothing! Anyway, he’s incapable of doing anything to anyone now… He’s dead, car accident. And far as who he was, I will take it to my grave.”

  Taryn tried her damndest to navigate the situation laid at her feet. She sat before a complicated, tortured woman with simple, elegant features. Within that gorgeous shell lived a tormented human inferno, a woman no one knew, and she would never allow a living soul to come too close.

  “Before you go rolling out the rusty, bloodied guillotine or borrow a stack of stones to cast in my direction, know that I’ve made up my mind and the decision is final. I know it’s not the P.C. thing to do.” She rolled her eyes and put her fingers in quotes. “But it’s what is personally best for me.” She looked down into her lap, thoughtful, and slicked her tongue real slow across her upper lip.

  Taryn shook her head. “You know better than that. I’m not judging you, Vicki… I’m not judging you at all.”

  They sat for a while, in silence but for the sounds of the people around them talking and the clanking of silverware and plates.

  “That next day, I came into work with my head held high, put a little make-up on the bruises and carried on as usual.”

  “I can’t believe it… I just can’t believe it.”

  “Oh, I think you can, Taryn. Something inside of you probably told you I was in some sort of mess. Out of all the people there, you came up to me. There had to be at least fifteen other models standing around. I took the words you said to heart. It gave me permission to just breathe and not run from things, let them destroy me. Over the years, I heard people making snide remarks about me, saying I was a bitch, and I made a choice at that moment to protect myself at all costs. No one offered me a slither of kindness, a well placed laugh, nothing… but you came up to me and… you smiled.

  “You also told me that I was really good, and you’d always wanted to meet me. You intrigued me, Taryn. Over the years, we never spoke on a daily basis, b
ut when we did talk, it was for hours and I felt like I’d known you my entire life. You were fun, exciting, and good… so good. I still considered you a close friend, no matter where in the world I was, and how much time had passed.”

  “Me too…”

  “And when I heard about your diagnosis, it just…” She hung her head and shook it, then looked back into her eyes. “It really did something to me. I cried so hard. It made me think about mortality too, and all the time I wasted being angry and fighting myself. It seems like all the good people get screwed over, and the bad people get all the luck.” She shook her head and smirked. “I hated that this had happened to you. You were hanging on, wrestling every damn moment trying to keep a grasp on life, and here I was, taking it for granted. Seeing you like that…sick like that, well, it changed me.”

  “It changed me, too.”

  “Why, of course it did. I learned a lesson though, through you. A simple one: ‘Be grateful.’ I knew if you made it through, God willing, you’d have a tough time of it. You were still smiling though. In that hospital bed, you just kept smiling…”

  “I had to, Vicki. I had to stay as upbeat as I could, for as long as I could, because I couldn’t let cancer win. If it was going to take me down, then it was going to have to fight me.” She gritted her teeth as she relived spells of the trauma.

  “And what a fighter you were. You were still beautiful though—bald, bruised, skinny as a run over penny and all… but just… lovely.”

  They smiled at one another and reached out to hold hands tight.

  “Thank you for visiting me in rehab, too, Vicki.”

  “Of course… I had to. I needed to see you.” She swallowed, her face deep in concentration. “You know, when I met you that very first time, I said to myself, ‘What a pretty girl…’” She blinked away tears. “‘What a kind, generous, pretty girl…’ I liked your voice, too. I liked how authentic you came across and I knew you’d make it if you kept on and worked hard… and you did.”