by Smith, Skye
"Ottawa," Gerry chuckled. Americans and their geography. "It's the capital city of Canada. The nice lady is the prime minister's wife. That is why you made the front page."
"So she's married to, like, the main guy in your church?" asked Maya, paying more attention to a photo of her being dipped by Kevin. Her dress looked fabulous. "Like a bishop or something?"
"Yeah," Wendy piped in, "something like that. By the way, don't bother turning that dress back in to wardrobe. The fashion house says you can keep it so long as you wear it to at least one more public event."
Karen crushed Maya's arm against her breasts and whispered, "Told you so."
The executives were now starting to drift into the room and take up space. Wendy carefully folded the papers back together while Karen accepted congratulations from all around. Gerry pulled Maya back to some corner seats. They were, after all, only extras.
The proposed trailer was well done. There was a sixty-second, a thirty-second, and a fifteen-second version. A quick snip of Maya wriggling against the fence was in each of them. The longer version even had Gerry being the straight man for one of Karen's funnier lines during the make over.
The producer spoke and everyone listened. "Good enough to kick off the promos on the talk show circuit. Karen, I want you to take Maya down to Hollywood and start with the pre-teen talk shows on cable. It's November in a couple of days, and I want to build the demand so the distributors will include this movie in the Christmas box. Thanks, everyone. We've got ourselves a winner."
Nobody had to be reminded that it was almost November. Not here in Vancouver. The rain clouds off the Pacific were building. Soon they would sweep in heavy and low and obliterate any sunlight for a month or more. The locals called it Grayvember or even Grave-ember since the suicide rate soared with the endless gray.
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She had begged a limo to take her home from the studio, because she had to shop for big plastic storage bins and a suitcase on wheels, thus she needed a car. On the way home she stopped at the Rock shop on Granville Island to buy more crystals. As soon as she got home she began sorting her wardrobe between what to take to LA and what to store here in the basement.
"I have to go," she called out to Erik and Karl who were pretending to watch the business news on TV. It was pretend news anyway. "Though frankly, I am not sorry to be getting out of this endless drizzle. They are paying me fifty grand, so it's not like I have a choice." She changed her mind about her yellow sundress and put it into the 'to go' pile. It would be sunny in LA. "Thanks for letting me store my stuff in your basement."
She heard a name she recognized and she squeezed in between them on the couch to watch the business news. They couldn't believe she was there to watch business news, so they assumed she was there to flirt. Instead she took the TV off mute. Nancy, the old nurse, was on the screen making an announcement.
"... to introduce Mr. John Stern. He and his security firm will be helping me through this transition period. Mr. Stern you may already know. His firm has been in the news for their heroic efforts trying to clear the mine fields of central Africa."
"So, the shit is about to hit the fan," Maya whispered to herself just as Erik wrestled her for the remote and pressed the mute button, and then just turned the TV off.
"How long will you be gone?" he asked her.
"All of November for sure, 'cause Karen says we'll be doing talk shows both in LA and New York. Then I should visit my mom for Christmas. She's an old hippie pagan, so she always celebrates the shortest days of the year. Then, well, I don't know. I didn't expect to have all this money. I've always wanted to travel. I have a friend in Belgium, and maybe I'll loan her the money so we can go to Goa together."
"India?" Karl sat up. "You're going to India?"
"Well, like, I can't sit around forever waiting for you guys to make up your mind about babies."
"But..."
"No buts. I've been warned by your friends that you are just going to break my heart. They called you the Heartbreak Kids. Besides, I have a career now. Like, the studio is not, like absolutely not, going to be interested in a pregnant school girl in their slasher movies."
"But, this is so sudden."
"Sorry, but I've been swept up into one of the whirlwinds of life. Hurricane Karen. Besides, maybe by next spring you guys will have worked out how our new family will work, and just maybe you'll be ready to commit."
"Well, it is kind of complicated," Erik said as he folded his arms around her.
She pulled away from him. "No, it's not. You guys call yourselves engineers, problem solvers. Like, one of you has to marry me, you know, legally, so I can live in Canada, and so the baby has a name. Then I go off the pill, and you both bonk me senseless until I'm pregnant. It's not complicated at all."
She grabbed the pile of clothes to be put in the storage bin and took them to put through a drier cycle to make sure they were absolutely dry. When she came back, they were playing odds or evens. "You buggers, you're gambling for me."
"No, honest," Karl lied, "we were deciding who was going to make supper."
"You guys are such twits sometimes. Karl has the corporate career that means he can't be gay."
"He lost anyway," Erik chuckled.
"You mean won," she corrected him.
"Have it your way." He ducked as a cushion flew towards his face. Karl grabbed her and started tickling. They all rolled off the couch and onto the floor in a bundle of thrashing arms and legs and laughter.
The tussle ended in a lot of hugs and kisses. "Will you wait for me?" she asked, once she had caught her breath and could speak again.
"Of course," Erik whispered, suddenly very serious, "ten years if necessary, though Karl's mother may have had me bumped off before then."
"So Goa is in India, right? Wasn't that where you guy's learned about auras? Maybe it would be good for me to go there."
"You do realize that India is as big as the USA," Erik pointed out. "Going from the beach scene of Goa, to the ashrams of the Ganges is a bit further than crossing the street."
"And it is very dangerous for young women to travel there alone," Karl pointed out.
"You mean, like, there may be predators hunting young women?" she snarked back. "You mean, more dangerous for young women than Vancouver?"
"Yes, actually," Karl said, grabbing her wrist so she would know he was serious. "Maya, listen. There is an active white slave trade for wee blondies like you. It's big money. There are a lot of rich, brown men over there who would pay top dollar to take delivery of you."
"Like, even in these holy places, ashrams?"
The two men looked at each other and nodded to each other. Erik said he was going to pour some wine and wandered off into the kitchen.
"Erik and I met in India," Karl began. "I was studying meditation at an ashram in Rishikesh up in the Himalaya mountains. It's a holy town on a holy river. Erik showed up. He had two women traveling with him that he had met in Delhi, you know, teaming up to travel. Sonya and Bridget, both Danish beauties.
Erik was put in my room, while the Danes were given their own. Within a few days Erik had swapped rooms with Bridget. Two days later we were kicked out of the ashram. The girls were best friends traveling around India, so Erik and I traveled with them. We heard about this cool ashram in Poona, inland from Bombay, where they supplied high quality dope to help you meditate." Karl leaned back against the sofa cushions, and put his feet up on the ottoman.
"The guru was a guy called Rashraj. The ashram wasn't like the one in Rishikesh. In the one in Rishikesh we were the only westerners. In Poona, the whole thing was westerners. The one in Rishikesh was run by donation, while the one in Poona was expensive. It was great. It was like an international hostel of cool young people. Lots of nudity, drugs, music and talk. Did I mention sex? There was lots of sex.
We all learned the Rashraj method of meditation, and sometimes we would do it in the nude. That is how Erik and I found out th
at we had auras. Rashraj found out too, because he also had an aura. We became two of his 'chosen ones' and had personal instruction from him. " Karl was lost in thought, or maybe memories, for a moment.
He continued, "Since Rashraj was busy with the meditations, the business end was left to this other guy, Manny. He started pushing the business end, and the prices. Later, like after we had left the place, we figured out Manny's business plan. You attract Euro males with the promise of free drugs. You encourage them to bring their Euro women with them, and so you allow free sex. Then you charge rich guys from Bombay an absolute fortune to come and have sex with the Euro women. "
Maya had been only half listening to the story, now she sat forward and pricked her ears. "Ohmigod, that is like so sneaky, so sleazy."
"It wasn't Rashraj, he was a nice old guy, and innocent like the rest of us," said Eric, as he handed out the wine glasses. "It was bloody Manny, and he was raking it in."
"Anyway," continued Karl, "that is when our love affair began. We were already good friends, and were practicing our auras with our guru. You know how spectacular the sex is with the auras. We got into it, into each other, to the exclusion of Sonya and Bridget, to the exclusion of everything around us. And of course there was the dope.
The girls were tired of being bonked by rich Indians and not by us, so they decided to continue with their trip around India, and head for Goa. The last we saw of them they were waving from the back window of a rich guy's car. He was one of the Indians who had been bonking them anyway, so they were off to live the high life with him in Bombay for a while."
"The last you saw of them?" she repeated, remembering how they got onto this subject. "That sounds ominous."
"It was," replied Karl. "Three months later, when we were being almost saintly with the guru and our auras - I mean, we were on the way to becoming gurus ourselves. Well, a man from the Danish consul came to the ashram searching for the girls. We had forgotten all about them. You know, travelers coming together for some brilliant moments, and then going off in different directions.
We helped the man. We forced Manny to give us the name of the man from Bombay. We went with the consul to Bombay and helped him to question the rich guy. We made out Police reports and missing persons reports. That was all the man from the consul had time for, but we decided to catch the steamer to Goa and find them. Not a trace."
"We ran out of money and had to go home." said Erik. "Me to Holland, and Karl here to Vancouver. We hated being separated. Karl got me a student visa, and I joined him here at U.B.C.. We took all the same courses until we specialized."
"And the girls?" she asked, "did they ever get home?"
"We got a Christmas card every year for five years from Sonya's mother. Nothing."
"So, what do you think happened to them?"
Erik jumped in. "I think the guy in Bombay had sent them to his country estate. He was loaded. Old family India. They probably have tribes of brown children of their own by now."
"But wouldn't they have contacted their mothers by now?" she asked, almost fretfully. She had issues with her own mom, but couldn't imagine not staying in communication with her.
Karl said slowly, "That is why I think they were sold into slavery. Even in those days there were date rape drugs. Drugged and spirited away in the back of a van. They wake up in a brothel servicing greasy fat and very rich Arab tourists."
"That's disgusting!" She shuddered at the thought.
"Big money, though. One of my grad students was from Bombay. He's back there now. I'll give you his name and address. He told me that naturally blonde, good-looking young girls would cost at least five hundred dollars an hour. This is in India, where half the population earns a dollar a day. The Danes were even prettier than you are, Maya."
"So why haven't you gone back to look for them?"
"That was almost fifteen years ago. Sonya's brother went to search. We provided him with all the information we knew. He ran into the same dead ends we did. By the time we were finished U.B.C. and had earned some money, well, that was five years later. Impossible."
"And they never went back to the ashram?"
"The ashram was closed by the police. Not for the corruption, or for the sex slavery, but because of the dope. Umm, that sounds pretty normal for here, but in India dope is a part of many of their religions. It was unheard of to close an ashram for dope. Old Rashraj is probably still there, with a begging bowl. The police would never arrest a holy man, but Manny and the ashram are long gone. I heard that Manny moved to California and bought a bunch of Rolls Royces."
She sighed. "So what you are saying is, don't go to Goa. What about Thailand? They have nice beaches."
"Same problem. Young blonde women disappear there every season. You can read about it on the web. Some guy gets all friendly and buys them drinks, drops a drug in one, apologizes to the others in the bar about his drunk girlfriend, and then walks her out of the bar and into a waiting car. Poof. Never seen again."
"Psychopaths?"
"Probably not. Probably just smart business men taking advantage of a corrupt culture."
"Taking advantage of young girls like me, you mean. Why doesn't someone do something about it?"
"Look how hard Emma's task force is working and they are after just one man, not every business man with a keen eye for a profit. Look what happened when the Iron Curtain fell. The white slaver stories were fast and furious about the trade in fair young Russian and Polish and Czech girls. My god, Maya, in Germany you can book a holiday in Thailand, and book your hooker when you book your hotel room."
"Okay, okay, okay. I won't bloody go to India, but you tell me how I am going to learn anything more about my aura without going there. Your guru is there. Sarthani says I should go to someplace, um Dharamsala or something to learn more. That's in India."
"Then wait," said Erik. "I will organize a sabbatical from U.B.C. for next year and take you and keep you safe."
"Right, like you've got a proven track record haven't you?" She regretted her words immediately. Erik looked completely stricken. Karl wouldn't even look at her. "I'm sorry. Why are we even talking about this? I'm on my way to Hollywood and New York. Like, there can't be many places more dangerous than them for an innocent like me."
Karl looked like his best friend had just died. "I was just trying to explain how close Erik and I are, and why, and why it's hard for us to let a woman into our lives. I mean deeply into our lives. We've got women friends, and sometimes we sleep with them, but until you, we've never let anyone into our private inner circle."
"You let me in because of my aura. You generate auras. Erik discovered that I generate an aura. Duh, I'm not completely thick, you know. You want babies by me in hopes that your children will inherit our gift."
Karl went pale and turned away. Erik settled in beside her and began to stroke her hair. "Let it all out, love. Your honesty is a bit brutal, but we won't hide from it."
"It's just that I've been here for what, like three months. I've known about my aura for only three months. In that time I have matured a bit and become more sophisticated. In the mirror I am a bit more... together. Yet deep inside I feel like I have become old."
Karl turned to her and gave her a small smile. "In three months you have saved a child from a predator, been attacked by a predator, have killed a man, have healed some women, and have become a movie actress. Normal people don't see that much action in their whole lives. You need time for your mind to put it all into place. Time to get used to your new life."
"Yeah, right. As if that will happen in, like, LA or New York. Speaking of which, I have to finish packing." She kissed them each on a cheek and stood to go. "Could you turn the TV onto local news and watch for photos of us? Please? Pretty please? Call me if any come on. "
Karl watched her walk away. He turned to Erik and said, "I am missing her already." Erik nodded and curled into his arms and turned the TV on, and found the local news, and hit mute.
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MAYA'S AURA - the Refining by Skye Smith
Chapter 18 - Three years earlier in Laurel Canyon, Hollywood
The yellow haze hid most of the coastal plain from clear view. She could see towers looming out of the haze that was Santa Monica, and the glint of the sea in the far distance. Directly below, a road snaked torturously up the steep hillside of the Hollywood hills from the Sunset Boulevard side, and then ran along the ridge to disappear behind a stand of eucalyptus trees. It led eventually down through the steep valleys on the other side of the ridge and to Laurel Canyon.
Maya leaned against the rail that framed the glass fence around the balcony. It was her own private balcony, reached by sliding doors from her own suite in Karen's house. It was a big house, but that was mainly because of the size of the entertaining rooms downstairs. No, that wasn't quite true. Each one of the five bedrooms was a suite. This house had seven bathrooms.
Karen's main squeeze was no longer living here. She had called her security company from Vancouver last week and they had come and guarded the silverware while he packed up and left. Then they had changed all the locks and passwords and had installed a new camera surveillance system.
It was hard for a country girl from Albion to believe that this sprawling mass of paved streets and paved roofs and sulfurous haze was part of the same state. Karen had told her that she did not live in LA. She lived in the Hollywood Hills above the smog line, and went down to the flats where the peons lived, only to do business. She was one of the Ladies of the Canyon, depicted in song and on the screen. She called it her island of sanity floating above a city gone stark raving mad.
Karen came out on the balcony to ask if she had everything she needed. "It may seem crazy that I own such a large house," she said, "but the truth is, if I sold it now I would make more from the house than from all the after-tax earnings from my work."
They heard Bruno putting the suitcase in the room. Bruno was her driver, her major domo, her body guard, and an ex-cop trying to survive on a disability pension. He had picked them up at the airport in a Town and Country minivan. It was almost as spacious as a limo but was much easier to drive on the steep and narrow streets of the hills. It was also incognito. Just another soccer mom.
