A Tale of Two Sandis
(Rule 63 AU)
by Aoikami Sarah
Chapter 3
Atlantic City, 1972
Before gambling was legalized in the State of New Jersey, bringing with it an influx of much needed revenue, Atlantic City was a dump. A long period of decline had seen most of the grand old hotels demolished and work was hard to come by, but not for a pretty young woman like Sandi Pines. The friend she was rooming with found her a job as a waitress at a restaurant in the neighborhood and she worked long hours in order to afford her share of the rent. The restaurant, "Le Canard En Feu" was only a block away from the apartment on North Carolina Avenue on the corner of Atlantic and Chalfonte. Despite its french name and menu, it was best known as a large, dark, watering hole. At all hours of the day could be found lonely, desperate people drinking their meals, hugging the bar. Sandi did her best to remain upbeat, at least on the outside, but after a few months the thought that she'd be serving drinks to the dejected unemployed for the rest of her days started to wear on her.
One of her regular customers was a man called Dave who had a thing for her. He said he was a professional photographer. He said she was pretty. He could make her some money if she'd sit for him. Dave wasn't too hard on the eyes and she figured, hell, why not.
.x.
"You've got such gorgeous eyes," he said, peering through the lense and frequently over it. "Such long lashes. You look great in that blouse. They're gonna love this." Sandi wore a pink top with spaghetti straps. It had cute gathers and bows on the front that accentuated her fairly large breasts. "Turn a little more to the right, honey. Maybe if we…" he came out from behind the camera and made some adjustments. He ran a hand through her hair and dropped one of the straps off of her shoulder. "Yeah, try that. Looks good."
Sandi blushed and ate it up. "Ya want me to do this?" she asked and rolled her shoulders forward, increasing the depth of her cleavage.
Dave froze for a moment. "Uh, yeah!" He chuckled to himself. "You got it, honey. You're damn gorgeous, you know that? Maybe, lean forward a little. That's it. And…" he froze again as Sandi batted her eyes and gave the camera a sultry yet innocent look. "Oh yeah. That's it, honey. You got this. You are so good…"
She tried hard not to grin. "You like that?" she asked.
"Oh yeah…" Dave drawled. "Ya know, there's a guy I know could use a girl like you for a special shoot. You free tomorrow?"
Sandi's heart raced. She wasn't smart, but most people didn't know she was clever. Thanks to her ex-boyfriend Carl's more depraved proclivities, she knew a thing or two about what men wanted and that if you gave them a little of it (just a little—too much and you were a slut) you got 'honey'. "Oh, I think so," she replied. "Is it for a magazine?" she asked, putting a finger on her lower lip.
"You bet," he muttered, shooting away. "You're gonna be perfect, honey. Just perfect."
At the bar, Sandi never saw young, pretty women looking dejected and desperate. She only ever saw them on the arms of men who were paying for their drinks. They wore new, pretty dresses, their hair was done up, and they laughed at the men's jokes. She watched Dave press his crotch against the camera's tripod and could see that she'd had an effect on him and it drove her wild. "Oh, good," Sandi breathed, doing her best Marilyn Monroe impression. "I could use the exposure. Say, do you think I'd make a good blond?"
"Oh yeah, honey. Blond. Great," he said. "Tomorrow, yeah?"
"Yeah, sure," she agreed, smiling sweetly for the camera and dropped the other strap. She wouldn't have to pay for the hair dye, or much else for that matter, for a long while.
Meadowvale, Ohio - April 1975
The summer before, Juniper Hatfield gave birth to a baby girl they called Cindy. While Bert was concerned that Juniper wouldn't be able to be a good mother and go to class, she was amazingly able to handle all aspects of her life with calm and grace—at least, on the outside. Bert grew more and more demanding, in the home and out, when it came to meals, or Cindy, or the bedroom, and soon Juniper felt her facade start to crack. Pleasing him was becoming harder and harder to do without giving up what she felt was her true purpose in life. But her parents were pleased, her daughter was well cared for, and for the most part her marriage was stable. Soon, she'd have more reason to keep up her end of the bargain.
On a lovely spring day in April, she made Bert a great meal complete with cherries jubilee for dessert and after he had finished the last bite Juniper cleared his plate and passed him a folded piece of paper.
"What's this?" he asked, not touching it.
"Great news," she said softly and pushed it a little closer.
He hesitated and raised a brow before taking it and unfolding it. Bert squinted. "West Coast Tech?"
"Yeah!"
"You don't go there."
"I will starting September, Sug. I got in!"
He blinked at her. "You already got a school. You almost done widdit, remember?"
Juniper's heart raced but she sat firm. "Undergraduate, yes. This is grad school. I'm pursuing a doctorate. You remember. Well, I got in! We're going to California!" she cheered, but her nerves were stretched taut and her voice came out at a reedy trill. "Remember our deal? I get to pursue an education…?"
"You done," Bert said, slapping the letter down on the table. "Come June you done with that, Juniper."
"No, you see…" Juniper flinched as he suddenly stood up. She suppressed a shiver as her plan came undone. She had thought that if she filled him with good food and kept him in a good mood all week that he would be able to accept the change. He would remember the deal they had made at the altar. But too much time had passed and he had become bitter and unyielding. And now, she had slipped up. Of all the things to say, 'no' was not a word she was allowed to use.
He crossed to the 'living room' in a few steps and picked up the handgun he kept on top of the television. "I see. Oh, I see alright. I seen it comin', inch by inch I give you 'n now you take a mile." He sat back down across from his wife and placed the gun in front of him on the table. "California? You lost your mind, woman?!"
"Please, Bert, the baby…" Juniper whispered staring hard at the grey metal before her. Cindy had been sleeping in her crib not far from where they ate in their tiny apartment, but began to fuss as she heard her father shout.
Bert's mouth screwed up into a frustrated pout and he took a deep breath. "Don't you tell me what to do in my house!" he cried and reached for the gun.
Time slowed. Juniper thought only of her baby daughter and reached out for her husband's hands. They fumbled for control but he was too fast. He pulled the trigger and the shot nearly missed its mark, grazing her underarm close to the shoulder but missing her chest. The baby started to cry. Juniper fell backwards, taking the chair with her and scrambled to get up. "Cindy!" she screamed as Bert made for the crib.
"Shut it!" he shouted and took aim at the red-faced infant lying inside. Juniper lunged at him and though she was not one hundred and ten pounds, she threw him off balance. He crashed against the doorframe leading to the bedroom, smacking his head on the woodwork, and went down in a heap.
Juniper paused for only a moment to make sure he was out before grabbing Cindy and her purse and fleeing the apartment, screaming for help.
.x.
In a few months Bert Hatfield was convicted and sentenced to ten years for attempted murder and assault with a deadly weapon. Through the trial Juniper continued to attend class, finding that learning and caring for her daughter were life-savers. Before moving to California that September, she visited the County Clerk's office.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" the clerk asked, raising a quizzical brow at the young woman.
"A woman has to do what she has to do, sir. And he's never gonna know to look for someone named 'Fiddlefern McGucket'!"
.x.
Fiddlefern (the former Mrs. Hatfield) finished the program for advanced quantum physics and computer science at West Coast Tech in 1979, but struggled to find grant money to do what she was capable of. Ever the social butterfly, Fiddlefern met a woman at a party who said she knew a recent grad who had been given a large grant and was looking for an assistant in the middle of nowhere in the Pacific Northwest.
"Things are lookin' up, Tater-tot!" Fiddlefern beamed at her little daughter when she read the letter of greeting from Dr. Sandra Pines. "We're movin' to Oregon!"
Silver Lake, Los Angeles, CA - March, 1977
Carolina Chalfonte sauntered from her brand new, gold-painted Pontiac Grand Prix (license plate "SNDIMBL") a short distance to her apartment door. She wore six-inch red patent leather heels, a tiny black leather miniskirt and a red-and-gold low-cut cowlneck top and carried a big brown paper bag. She tossed her head back to get the large, bleach-blond bangs out of her face as she fumbled for her keys. The apartment was well-appointed and stylish, but it was clear that the kitchen was the most unused room in the house. The contents of the bag were removed: a bottle of vodka, cranberry juice, some TV dinners, and a bunch of bananas. She put the dinners in the freezer (which save for ice was empty) poured herself a vodka-cran and deposited herself on the couch. When about half of the large glass was empty, Carolina sighed and pulled the telephone on the end table to her left into her lap. "Ok, baby, let's do this." She cleared her throat and dialed a long-distance number.
"Hi, Ma. Yeah, it's me, who else would it be? Oh right, like that's gonna happen. What? I'm being honest. No. No! Of course not, she can keep her nose shoved right up her…I'm sorry. No you're right, it's just hard bein' the bigger person when she won't even visit for Christmas for Christ's sakes. Sorry. I will. Ten Hail Marys, sure Ma. How's Pop? Uhuh. Not much. Got a new commercial I'm in. No, just the local channels here in LA. I know. I can't afford a betamax, Ma and you ain't got a player, anyways. Besides, you wouldn't wanna see 'em. Because they're stupid, that's why. Ok. No, I'm with Glenn now. Mike was a jerk, that's why. No, that was Fred. That was last year. I dunno if there is such a thing as Mr. Right, Ma, they're all bastards. Sorry. Another ten, I got it. I will. I can't promise that, but I'll try to get to church, ok? I go at Christmas! So everything good? Good. Well, I just wanted to check in. Sure thing, Ma. Love you too. Buh-bye." She hung up and slumped back against the plush couch and remained motionless for a moment. Before she could reach for the vodka-cran again, the phone rang. She cleared her throat. "Hello? Oh hey, Steve. Nothin'. What? Tonight?" She looked at the clock. It was nearly eight. "I guess. But, I dunno if Glenn would like that, much. Yeah, kinda. You need a girl for that shoot? The plot sounds fun. Ha ha. Yes, plot. Well, if you think I'd be perfect, then I guess we can hang out tonight. Sure. See you then, Steve." Carolina hung up. "Fuck," she whispered. "Poor Glenn. He was nice, too."
.x.
Breaking it off with Glenn went just about as smoothly as it had for Mike, or Fred, or any number of other guys Carolina had been with in the last five years. After the first two or three, she learned not to bother getting attached. They were all after the same thing and if she wasn't the careful manipulator, she got manipulated. Her lifestyle may have been unsavory, but she made damn certain she got what she wanted out of each encounter. Although her life had fallen into a fairly boring pattern of late, the steady influx of cash and attention served her needs just perfectly. Who cared if she didn't find Mr. Right like her mother back in Jersey wanted? She could play Mr. Wrong over and over again for at least another ten years. By then, she'd have enough saved to not have to worry so much and maybe then she'd look for one guy to hold on to. Not now. There was no way she could manage that now.
Her gold Pontiac purred into the parking lot of a nearly vacant motel one sunny afternoon a few days after she went on a date with Steve. She got out wearing large, glamorous sunglasses and a long, low-cut bright blue summer dress. The note in her hand said 'Room 219, 1 PM'.
The door was propped open and inside was a hive of activity. Five people, four men and a woman did not immediately acknowledge her as she entered. On one end of the room tall stands with lights pointed toward the bed and the front door. One man wore a jumpsuit with the name 'Daryl' embroidered on the right breast and he chatted with another man tending the lights and another standing by a large film camera. The blond woman was getting her makeup done in the bathroom and had her back to Carolina. Steve turned and greeted her. "Care! Oh, you look great. That dress is perfect. Hey, Josie? This is Care—Carolina Chalfonte. Big star. You should be impressed." He winked as the woman got up and joined them.
"Hi. Josie," the woman said, shyly.
Steve wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Isn't she perfect?"
Carolina blinked at the woman. Her blond hair was tied up in a bun and she wore oversized glasses and an unflattering pantsuit, but the striking thing about her was her face.
"Y-you replacin' me?" Carolina asked, stammering. "She looks just like me!"
Steve made a confused face for a moment then brightened. "Oh! That's right. We changed the script yesterday. When I saw Josie here I just knew we had to do this! New twist. You and Daryl are gonna be goin' at it, right? And instead of the cleaning lady bargin' in on you and makin' the threesome, it's your twin sister! Sexy, right?"
Carolina took a step backward and all the blood drained from her face.
"Care?"
Her response was firm, clear and shocking. "No."
"What?"
Josie looked genuinely hurt. Carolina thought it must have been her first shoot, poor kid. Oh well, she wasn't going to let this waif's feelings change her mind about this. "No, Steve. No. I can't."
His features darkened. "You what?"
The other three men stopped chatting and stared.
Carolina looked from Steve's uncaring face, to the puppy-dog eyes on the kid Josie, to the perplexed cameraman and lighting guy, to 'Daryl' whose name she forgot but had 'starred' with a few times before, and just shook her head. They didn't want or need her excuses. There was nothing else to say. That was it. She grabbed her purse and fled the motel.
.x.
"Care, you were just here!" the receptionist at the hairdresser's declared as she saw her enter.
"Yeah, I gotta change it up. Can you fit me in?"
Her usual gal, Jessica, had an opening shortly, so Carolina didn't have long to wait. By the time she was shampooed, she was ready.
"Whaddaya need, hun? We just did this!" Jessica, a woman in her mid thirties, round and with rosy cheeks and jet black hair plucked at her damp feathered blond bangs. "You don't like my work?" she teased.
"I got a new role. I gotta play a real dormouse, type. Need it brown. Plain old brown."
"We say brunette!" Jessica pretended to chastise her and draped a smock over her.
"Ok."
"So what's the role?" she asked as she got her equipment ready.
"Well," Carolina averted her eyes from her own reflection. "It's sort of a tragedy, I guess. Sad sack of a gal. Never found love, moved far from home, didn't know nobody. But she had a sister who didn't live that far away. See, five-six years ago they had a fight. Well, she got mad at somethin' her sister done, and they ain't talked since."
"Is she from Jersey? You have got that accent down perfectly!"
Carolina, the perfect actress, laughed. "Yeah! I sure do!"
Jessica started to apply the dye. "So, is this girl going to tell her sister that she's sorry and make up?"
"If her sister would get her head out of her ass, maybe!" She took a deep breath. "But she's an intellectual," she said, drawing out the word to pronounce each syllable. "Cares more about writin' papers and crap than she does about what happened to her poor sister, even though her sister did everything she could to make sure that she wouldn't worry about her! See, they were so tight when they were younger that they didn't spend a moment apart. And the sister had a deformity, see. A weird thing where she…she has six fingers on both her hands, the sister does. And she was so smart people always teased her and so her sister always stood up for her. And the one I'm playing, the 'normal' one, she wasn't that bright. Like, barely passed school. Barely." She chuckled lightly. "So her sister helped her and stood up for her against people who thought she was dumb. Turns out she was so dumb that she didn't know what to do about her sister goin' away to college, far, far away. So she tried to get married real fast so that she'd be secure and the sister wouldn't have to worry. She didn't care if he was maybe not great, as long as Sandra didn't have to worry and could study and get what she wanted. It didn't matter. But Sandra screwed it up. She wrecked my plans…"
Jessica paused her work and looked at Sandi's reflection in the mirror. "You ok, hun?"
Her eyes brimmed over. "And they haven't spoken since," she whispered.