The jail overnight stay between Jo and Kelly has been moved to chapter 13
Meanwhile, the third player in the food court video, Kimberly, was going through her own media mayhem. At her St. George home in Staten Island, the media and paparazzi swarmed her house. Every time she looked out of her window, there were more of them. She couldn't believe that she was trapped inside her own home. Her dad, Phillip Drummond, was also in astonishment with the frenzy going on. Since she was his primary caretaker, he was living with her. He had sold his penthouse in Manhattan a while back and moved to the quieter Staten Island neighborhood with his daughter. The older man hadn't experienced anything like this since Kim's tumultuous time in California. Mr. Drummond had thought that his bouts with unflattering press was over, but he was proven wrong.
"Oh, my God. Dad, this is crazy."
"I know, dear."
"Travis called, and he said the media keeps on asking questions about me. Such as 'How does it feel to have a mother who was once a porn star?' and 'How often was your mother drunk or high when she was raising you?' Stupid stuff like that."
"Listen, Kim, you can't let them get to you like this."
"I know, Dad. I see how they mess up some of my friends in Hollywood." Kimberly sighed. "Now I really regret even thinking about going out with Kelly."
"Now, dear, don't be so hard on her for that. She wasn't the one who provoked the attack."
"No, she wasn't, but I still can't believe she would leave me the way she did," Kimberly said as tears starting to flow down her cheeks. It still stung her.
"Dear, I don't think you should give up on her."
She looked at her dad with a mixture of befuddlement and anger, "Why not? She gave up on me. She walked out on me. Just like a lot of lesbians do when they find out that I'm pansexual or when I tell them I like men as well as women. Why are they so hung up on me being attracted to the opposite sex?"
"Because they probably think that you would leave them for a man, and that's probably due to society emphasizing that you'd be better off in a heterosexual relationship than a homosexual one."
"But that's so stupid. Most bisexual and pansexual women are not like that at all, including myself. Why are lesbians so insecure about that? I don't get it."
"I can't answer that question, honey. I don't know myself."
Finally, a black Cadillac Escalade arrived. The media quickly switched their attention to the luxury SUV and out came a rather calm yet seething Willis with his wife, who looked terrified by all the people surrounding her. Unlike Willis who had gotten used to the media's bombardment ever since he took over his father's company, the media frightened Sharon. Willis noticed his wife's apprehension and quickly held her by his side in an effort to shield her from the cameras. As the couple tried to walk their way through to the gate of the house, reporters start pestering them with questions.
"Sir, does your adopted sister still do porn?"
"First of all, she's my sister, period, so stop calling her 'adopted,' and no, she hasn't done porn in over twenty years."
"Are you ashamed of the fact that your sister has done porn?"
"No, I'm not. She moved on from the porn industry and became one the most sought-after make-up artists in the industry. In fact, she was once nominated for Best Makeup and Hairstylist at the Oscars. Now if you excuse me, we are going to see our family."
As soon as he got in, Kimberly opened the door for the couple and quickly slammed it shut.
"Are you okay, Kim?" Willis asked.
"No, I'm not. I can't believe how crazy things have turned for me in one day."
"Yeah, I understand, with this and that disastrous date with Kelly yesterday."
"Don't you ever mention that bitch's name to me ever again!" Kim shouted angrily, followed with a tear rolling down her cheek.
"Do you still have feelings for her?"
"Yes I do, Willis."
"I'm sure this can be dealt with. I'll talk to Kelly if I have to."
Mr. Drummond slowly walked down the steps and saw Willis and Sharon.
"Willis and Sharon, how are you two doing?"
"Fine, for now," Willis replied. Sharon just timidly nodded her head. The shy accountant was clearly frightened by all the unwanted attention.
"Any word from Arnold?"
"Yeah, Dad. They've been asking him questions about Kimberly too. He ended up taking a day off to deal with the mess down at DC." Willis' younger brother, Arnold, worked as an executive for Amtrak in Washington, DC. Thus, the media attention was clearly not confined to New York.
"This has gone too far," Willis continued.
"Willis, why are we friends with Blair again?" Kimberly asked the rhetorical question.
"Good question… I wonder what is going on with Jo. She just disappeared like that," he emphasized by snapping his fingers.
"I'm not surprised. Jo runs away a lot. What I am surprised by is how she has managed to put up with and stay with Blair for so long," said Kim.
"Maybe they were meant to be together," replied Mr. Drummond softly.
"Yeah, but look at where that got them. Blair's reputation is all but destroyed."
"Yeah," cut in Willis "and the others are going through the same thing. Tootie just called before we got here and told me how much her exec at Sony Pictures Television are pressuring her to have Blair on the show. Then Jamaal called, telling me that Molly was forced to take a day off from her job after she got a tongue lashing from her boss."
"I also got off the phone with Mrs. Garrett a few minutes ago and she said the Warner Hotel is packed with a horde of reporters who are asking her questions and making accusations against her," put in Mr. Drummond.
"Wow, it's gotten that crazy?"
"Yes. Very much so and I'm afraid that it's only the beginning."
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It was clear that the media wolves were targeting all the girls, but it didn't end there. Anyone who was associated with Blair seemed to be up for grabs. The Warner Hotel was being bombarded by the press. Mrs. Garrett was busy helping Chef Gaugan prepare lunch when her son, Raymond, burst into the kitchen and leaned against the door.
"Mother, it's a madhouse out there," Raymond said slightly out of breath.
"Well, what do you want me to do about it, son. You're the concierge."
"No, Mother, you don't understand. There's like 100 reporters and cameramen all asking about Blair."
"Oh, come now Raymond," replied Mrs. Garrett as she crossed to the door. "I thought I'd go senile before you."
Raymond moved out of the way so Mrs. Garrett could look out at the spectacle in the hotel lobby.
"Oh, my," said Mrs. Garrett.
"What should we do, Mom?"
"Well, Raymond, I'm sure we can reason with them," said Mrs. Garrett as she began to open the door.
"But, Mother . . ." Raymond started, but it was too late. Mrs. Garrett was already through the door.
"Mrs. Mrs.," said one reporter as she tried to get Mrs. Garrett's attention. "Isn't it true that you're the one responsible for being gay?"
The question completely threw Mrs. Garrett for a loop. "Well," she said, "I never judged any of my girls . . ."
"And isn't it true that you even knew about Cindy and Sue Ann's relationship, but refused to tell the Eastland school's administration?" interrupted another reporter. "The two principals of the school during that time, Mr. Stephen Bradly and Mr. Tim Harris, said that you never informed them of any lesbian activities occurring in your dorm."
Mrs. Garrett was furious on the inside, but she didn't show it. Instead, she was firm and assertive with her answers. "I always told my girls to be honest with me and talk out their feelings."
"How is it that so many of the girls who were put under your supervision ended up being so screwed up?" inquired a third reported.
At that moment, she snapped because this reporter crossed the line. "Listen, those girls came to me with many problems. My job was to straighten them out the best I could," she defended herself as she pointed her left index finger at the rude reporter.
"Seems to us," replied another reporter as his cameraman zoomed in on Mrs. Garrett's face, "that girls come to you straight, but end up homosexualized."
"That's not even a word," chided Mrs. Garrett.
Despite the correction, the reporter continued, "Even Kimberly Drummond, whose family hired you as housekeeper prior to your employment with Eastland Academy, showed no indication of liking girls before you entered her life. Also, after your influence, she ended up doing porn movies in France during the 80s. It appears that you are grooming girls to be homosexuals and are pushing the lesbian lifestyle. As for Ms. Kimberly Drummond, you have accepted her decision to do porn and even encouraged her to engage in the business. Do you care to comment on that?" he asked as he shoved his microphone in her face.
Mrs. Garrett was totally speechless at the implication and Raymond couldn't take the ill treatment that his mother was receiving from the press anymore. She was a proper lady and no one ever dared question her motives. So, he puffed out his chest and stepped between his mother and the cameras.
"Mom," he whispered with his hands her shoulders and his back to the cameras, "I think you better call Blair and tell her what's going on. I think you should also call Mr. Drummond and give him a head's up as well."
"Raymond, I . . ."
"I'll take care of things here," he said as he turned back around to face the press.
Mrs. Garrett was so proud of her son. He was standing up for her and was willing to face those beasts on his own. As she headed to a phone, she heard him say, "There will be no further questions for Mrs. Garrett-Gaines. Okay, anyone who wants any business here better make a reservation or leave this property immediately," he said as he took his station behind the concierge desk. "That is, unless you want to be escorted out by our security team. You are taking up room from the paying customers."
Mrs. Garrett smiled as she left her son to hold down the fort. He had become such a strong man. Now, she needed to display the same bravery as she contacted her former employer and friend as well as her surrogate daughter. Something was really wrong, and she needed to find out what before it was too late.
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Back at Andy and Tootie's place, things continued to spiral out of control. Andy had to call security to remove the media from his front door because they were doing everything they could to get in. Then, things got harder when two of Andy's clients called to drop him as their agent.
"What? Now come on, not many people even know that Blair is my client, so you don't have to worry. …You already made up your mind? I hope you would reconsider. Okay, then. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors. Goodbye."
Andy showed his frustration, "I can't believe this is happening. This is so ridiculous."
"Yeah, things are getting hectic," said Geri.
"I think I better call mom and tell her that I'm sending someone to get her," said Andy. "I don't like her living alone."
"She can still drive herself, can't she?" asked Geri.
"Yeah, but that's all we don't need – her pulling in here with that RV of hers. No, I want to try to keep a low profile."
"I think I'll check on Nat and Molly," said Tootie. "Then, I'll see if they can contact Nancy, Cindy, and Sue Ann."
"I guess I should call Bailey," replied Blair. "I just got a text from Mrs. Garrett asking what's going on. I just can't believe these people are targeting my family and friends."
"Well, it's the nature of the business," replied Andy. "Why don't you tell Bailey to come over and pick up Mrs. G on the way? I think we need to regroup and all discuss this mess."
Andy looked really concerned. His normal air of confidence had faded away in light of the current events. He was obviously trying to take control, but the media feeding frenzy had clearly startled him.
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Nancy had yet to feel the sting of the craziness, but it would not be long before she too, fell victim to those vultures. Her kids had just finished lunch after a morning of watching cartoons. Although Nancy hated using the television to "babysit" her children, it did give her time to do the daily chores such as laundry. With so many kids, there always seemed to be mountains of laundry to do. After lunch, she told her kids to all meet in the living room and get ready for their lessons. One good thing about having doctorate degrees in both sociology and in psychology was getting her kids to do as she asked – most of the time. She felt that homeschooling her kids was the way to go in terms of education and Roger agreed because he didn't want his children to befriend deviants in public or private schools. In other words, he pushed for the idea of homeschooling so his kids wouldn't end up like Nancy.
"Settle down, children," said Nancy in her motherly voice. "Let me finish up in here, and I will be right there to start today's lesson. I think we will begin with math."
There were a few groans coming from the living room, but the kids did as they were told.
"Umm, Mom," said Gloria, one of the younger girls. "There are a lot of cameras outside."
Nancy went over to the window while drying her hands on a towel.
"Hmmm, I didn't think those guys were going to be here today. Production for this week isn't scheduled until tomorrow. Oh, well. I guess they could be preparing for the show. Those guys have to know what they're doing."
"Mom," came the voice of her son, Alan. "I don't think those reporters are from the show."
"Why do you say that, Alan?"
"Because our show is on TLC and those reporters are from rival networks."
"Well, maybe they're collaborating," reasoned Nancy.
"Trust me mom, network battles are like real life turf wars. The only difference is that they fight over the airways instead of in the trenches. Their weapon of choice is media technology. They shoot people with cameras instead of guns and artillery shells," said Richard – lovingly known as Rich. She refused to call him 'Dick' because that's the name she reserved for Roger when he was being a total ass. Nancy was slightly unnerved about her son's talk of violence, but the metaphor did its job.
Clair added, "Competition for ratings will more than likely keep them from working together. Only big stories will allow for cross-network alliances."
Nancy smiled at how intelligent her children sounded, but it was unsettling why people would be outside her front door if they weren't with the television show.
"Then, what are these people doing outside my house?" Nancy asked aloud, although she wasn't really expecting an answer.
"This may have something to do with it," said Jenna – one of the twins.
Nancy went over to her child's computer and read an article about Blair Warner's antics as caught on tape. She was in complete shock after reading the article, but it was only the beginning.
"There's an accompanying link," said Jerry – Jenna's twin brother.
They clicked on the link and it showed both the wedding rehearsal footage and the food fight video.
"Oh, this doesn't bode well," said Nancy.
No sooner did she make that declaration that her phone began to ring.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Mrs. Butler?"
"Yes, this is she."
"This is Mr. Foster from Realview Mirror Studios."
"Oh, of course, Mr. Foster. What can I do for you?"
"I regret to tell you Mrs. Butler that your show will be postponed indefinitely."
"What do you mean? There are cameramen outside my door."
Although Nancy knew that they were not from the same studio, she figured that if she feigned ignorance, things might work in her favor. After all, so many people only saw her as the dutiful housewife instead of the licensed psychologist. This would be a great opportunity to try out her powers of persuasion. However, Mr. Foster would not be swayed.
"Well, they are not with us," he said matter-of-factly. "Due to current circumstances surrounding your friends, we are forced to pull the plug on this project."
"Are you canceling the show?"
"We are postponing it until a decision can be made. As of right now, your contract is hereby terminated. Thank you for working with us."
Nancy was stunned as she hung up the phone. However, her problems were just beginning. At about 2 o'clock that afternoon, Roger came storming through the front door.
"Nancy," he bellowed.
"Hey, dear," she said as she came in to give him a kiss.
"Don't you dare, dear me. What the hell are all those cameras doing outside?"
"I don't really know, dear."
"Well, I do," he fumed with his arms folded across his chest.
"Oh?" said Nancy genuinely surprised.
"Yeah, it's because of those queer friends of yours. I told you they meant nothing but trouble, but you didn't listen to me. Do you know how many phone calls I got today regarding your association with those freaks? This bad publicity has really thrown me off my campaign run. You know I have to get back to DC in two days."
"But . . ."
"More than I care to admit. You are a disgrace to this family and I can't stand to be here. In fact, I just came home to get a few things and then I'm outta here."
"Where are you going to go?"
"As far away from you as I can get. At least until you distance yourself from those lesbians, liberals, and losers."
Roger grabbed a suitcase, packed what he needed, and headed out the door. Nancy was still so shell-shocked that she could think of only one thing to do – call Cindy and Sue Ann.
"Children, please go to your rooms," said Nancy as she was nearing tears. "I have an important private phone call to make."
"But, Mom," a few of the younger children whined.
"Please," begged Nancy.
"Oh, okay," they relented.
Once the children were out of the room, Nancy called Sue Ann who picked up on the second ring.
"Sue Ann Weaver."
"Oh, Sue Ann," Nancy sobbed. She couldn't keep it in anymore.
"Nancy? What's wrong?" Sue Ann asked a little concerned.
"Roger left me."
That news really shocked Sue Ann because Nancy and Roger always seemed attached at the hip – ever since Eastland. "What do you mean he left you?"
"He found out about the videos of Blair and he had been getting phone calls at work. When he got home, he took it out on me."
"He didn't hit you did he?" Sue Ann fumed.
"No, but he left. I don't know what to do," Nancy continued to sob.
"Oh, honey. Listen, the press has been hounding Cindy and me all day as well. Why don't we come and get you and the kids and come back to our place. I'm sure our kids will love a slumber party. It will be like the good old Eastland days."
"Won't Cindy mind?"
"I think Cindy will be fine with it," answered Sue Ann after getting the affirmative nod from her partner who was sitting by her side. "I don't think any of us need to be alone right now. Just get some overnight bags and we'll come get you in a couple hours. Okay?"
"Thank you, Sue Ann. Oh, but do be careful. There are swarms of reporters outside."
"Oh, trust me, I understand. See you soon."
"Okay, bye."
After hanging up the phone, Nancy called to her kids.
"Everybody grab some overnight bags, we're going to Aunt Cindy and Aunt Sue Ann's tonight."
As she heard a resounding "Yeah" from upstairs, Nancy couldn't help but wonder what the future held for her and Roger. He was so unreasonable. It was as if he blamed her for everything. Times had been tough before, but he was acting as if he had a better alternative this time. Nah, not Roger. Sure, he had a wandering eye in the past, but he would never act on it. He was one of the few honest politicians who didn't engage in sordid affairs. Nancy was just being paranoid. Oh, well. Some time apart may do them good and bring them closer together. She was just thankful that her "loser" friends were willing to stand by her side in this moment of crisis.
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Once Nancy and her children were settled at Cindy and Sue Ann's place and the kids went upstairs to play, the adults grabbed some coffee and sat down in the living room for a small discussion. Inside, Cindy and Sue Ann were slightly worried about the limited space in their house. Their house was nowhere as big as Nancy's, after all, and they wondered how their kids would react when they came home to all this. Normally, the whole family would sit down and discuss any decisions that could affect the family – and having the house overrun with Butlers was certainly a big decision. However, Cindy and Sue Ann hoped that their kids would understand since Nancy was their friend. Emily and Max might be able to take it in stride, but they weren't so sure about Yuji and Anna.
"So, what got into Roger's crawl?" asked Cindy.
"Oh," sniffed Nancy, "he got upset because he said that he had been fielding calls all day about Blair's antics. Since many of his colleagues know me from social functions and they also have seen me in Blair's presence as a friend, it just stands to reason that they would focus on the bad. Many of them just look for scandals, and this one just seemed to fall in their laps." Nancy put her head in her hands.
"Oh, hun," said Sue Ann reassuringly as she put her hand on Nancy's back, "Roger just needs to calm down. He knows you aren't to blame."
"But why does he do that?"
"Do what?" asked Sue Ann.
"Run away. He doesn't want to sit down and talk things out like adults. He just ups and walks out."
Cindy and Sue Ann exchanged glances.
"Umm," began Cindy, "maybe we're not the best people to ask about this."
"What do you mean?" asked Nancy. "You're my friends."
"Yes," affirmed Sue Ann, "but neither one of us run away when things get tough."
"And we're both good at running," said Cindy with a smile as she tried to lighten the mood.
"Stop it and be serious," admonished Sue Ann.
"Sorry, babe," said Cindy as she hung her head and looked away.
After a brief pause, Sue Ann said, "Nancy, I think you should talk to Blair."
"Why?" asked Nancy not connecting the dots.
"Because Jo's a runner," said Cindy. "She prefers to run away when things get rough instead of buckling down and discussing things. It sounds to me that Roger is the same way."
"Yeah," agreed Sue Ann. "If anyone knows how to deal with this sort of thing, it's Blair."
"Maybe I should call her and ask her about it. Thanks guys."
"No problemo, Nancy," said Cindy.
"Yeah. You know we're always here for you."
"I don't care what Roger says, you guys are awesome."
Cindy and Sue Ann just looked at each other. They wanted to do whatever they could to help Nancy, but Roger could be quite the jerk. Did they really want to help mend his and Nancy's relationship? They figured that they'd let Blair talk to her and then they could step in if need be.
Twenty minutes later, the 17-year old Max came in, looking like a beaten-up middle-aged man. Along with him were Emily, Yuji, and Anna. Usually, Yuji and Anna would take the bus home from Park Slope Day Camp, but due to all the negative attention they brought to the facilities, they were sent home early. The camp director, Ronny Schindler, was nice when he ordered Yuji and Anna to come to his office, but he said he couldn't allow them to stay and disrupt the activities for all of the other children. His camp was flexible and accommodating, but cameras and reporters hounding the children and staff along with all the attention that was directed to Yuji and Anna was too much to bear. So, Mr. Schindler – or Mr. Ron as the kids addressed him – called them in and asked if they could arrange a ride home. If, not, he would have one of the counselors drop them off since the buses weren't ready yet. Anna and Yuji were so upset that they used Anna's phone to call Max. They weren't sure if their brother could even do it because he and Emily had planned to spend the day at the local pool. They weren't sure he'd even have his phone on him, but they didn't want to cause any more trouble for the camp. Luckily, Max and Emily were just leaving the pool because they, too, had been fending off the media wolves all day. They couldn't even have 15 minutes to relax without someone asking about the videos or something equally embarrassing. So, Max picked them up in his Honda Accord and drove them home.
Cindy, Sue Ann, and Nancy looked at Max as if he came from a disaster.
"Are you okay?" Cindy asked.
Max looked at her like she was crazy. "Am I okay? What? Do you realize how crazy it is out there? Those reporters won't leave us alone!"
Emily stepped in. "They were harassing us so much, that Yuji started to cry. These guys are like animals!"
"Yeah, they were asking me a lot of dirty questions about you two," Anna said pointing to Cindy and Sue Ann, "and I'm only nine years old!"
Yuji was also there, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he coward behind Anna.
Cindy muttered under her breath so no one could hear, "Damn you, Blair."
"And why's Aunt Nancy here?" Max asked. Before the couple could answer, he figured it out. "Don't tell me that all her kids are here too?"
"Yes..." Sue Ann replied hesitantly.
Max, Emily, and Anna sighed while Nancy hung her head low, knowing that things weren't going to be easy.
"Where are we going to sleep?" Emily asked.
"How about you four go to Uncle Billy Ray's and stay there until everything dies down?" Sue Ann suggested. Billy Ray is Sue Ann's older brother who moved to New York. He works as an accountant in a firm in downtown Manhattan.
"But he lives in Queens!" Max elated. "That's too far to drive to hang with my friends. It's summer and we should be able to enjoy it before school starts again!"
"I don't know what else to tell you, Max," said Sue Ann.
"I do, I' m gonna give Blair a call, because this has gone too far," said a rather miffed Cindy. She pulled out her iPhone and angrily punched in the number on the touchscreen.
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While Blair and everyone who was closest to her were feeling the wrath of the media feeding frenzy, the formation of the unholy trinity was about to be forged. Boots St. Claire was in her Manhattan penthouse waiting for her guests to arrive.
"Ms. St. Claire," came the voice of Boots' live-in housemaid, "is there anything else I can get for you?"
"No, no, Esmerelda," replied Boots with a wave of her hand, "everything is all honky dory. You can resign to your bedroom now. Ta."
"Thanks, Ms. St. Claire," said the petite woman as she bowed and headed down the hall to her room.
"Hmmm," thought Boots as she watched her housemaid walk down the hall, "there are some perks to being a single, multiple divorcee."
After waiting a few more minutes without any hint of someone showing up, Boots began to fidget. She grabbed her gold iPhone and saw that it was 4:00 pm. Her first guest should be arriving soon. When Boots called her earlier that day and invited her to meet up to discuss their utter destruction of the Blair Warner Empire, she seemed all to excited take part. As for her second guest, she wasn't so sure; however, if it was at Blair's expense the possibility was there. Punctuality was not the strong suit of her second guest, who sounded a little wigged-out when Boots called her. Yet, she could be wrong. As she was pondering the possibilities, her intercom buzzed – announcing the arrival of her first guest.
"Whammo! Right on time," said Boots as she rose and went to the door to ring in her guest.
As Boots opened the door, the Queen of Mean herself – Margo Thomas, nee Worthington – entered as if she owned the place. She had the same air of superiority as she did at Eastland. Some things never change.
"Do come in dear," said Boots although Margo had already pushed past her.
"My pleasure." Margo scanned her surroundings as if judging whether it was a good enough place to meet. There were certain places she wouldn't be caught dead in and she needed to be sure this environment lived up to her standards. Upon her approval, she continued, "Bootsie, darling. So glad to see you," proclaimed Margo as she air kissed both of Boots' cheeks. "I love your home. Simply grand." Margo was really a piece of work.
"Margo. I'm so happy to have you," said Boots as she took Margo's fur coat and put it in the closet. "Please, have a seat."
Boots couldn't imagine wearing a fur coat in the middle of summer, but some people were willing to undergo pain to keep up a certain image. Margo was one of them. After putting Margo's coat away, Boots went to the kitchen.
"Would you care for some wine, Margo? I have some Chateau Haut-Brion Pessac 1982. Simply top drawer."
"That's fine," said Margo as sat down on the sofa, "though I generally prefer 61."
"Splendid," Boots replied as she grabbed three glasses and poured two glasses of wine. She then put the bottle, the full glasses, the empty glass, and the bucket of ice on a tray and brought it into the sitting area.
Margo looked at Boots questioningly as the hostess put the tray on the table and settled in a chair. "Don't you have people for that?" asked the Mean Queen bluntly with a slight sneer.
Boots bit back the retort that rested on the tip of her tongue because she needed Margo on her side right now. "I do," replied Boots, "but I let Esmerelda retire early for the evening. I figured it'd give us some privacy."
Margo couldn't argue with Boots' logic, for it was a sensible answer, so she nodded in agreement. Almost instantly, she seemed to have noticed the empty glass. "Who's that for?" she asked pointing to the extra glass.
Boots didn't think it was the right time to drop the bomb just yet. "Umm, for another interested party," she said as nonchalantly as possible. Margo got immediately suspicious and wanted to say something, but she figured right now was not the time to rock the boat, so she remained quiet.
No more than half a minute later, something came to Margo's mind.
"I'm glad that you got that video of the heifer, the porn slut, and that redheaded hoodrat, but what were you doing in Westchester Mall? Didn't you know that a lot of those peasants shop there?"
"I know, Margo, but I was able to get these totally awesome Gucci leather boots that go so well with my leggings. Also, I know a woman who works at David Yurman's, and it's much easier to get the latest jewelry from her than from those twits on Fifth Avenue, like this bracelet here," she said as she waved her gold and diamond bracelet in front of Margo. The Mean Queen was clearly impressed.
"Hmm. I see. I've heard a few good things about that mall, but still, I can't be in an area filled with smelly commoners. I'm not Blair, after all."
"I think you should try it at least once. It's not that bad."
Margo shrugged, "Okay, maybe sometime later this month."
After taking a sip, Boots put down her wine and exclaimed, "Guess what, Margo!"
"What?" asked Margo as she expected some news about the Lez-plosion and subsequent feeding frenzy by the media wolves.
"Hope Solo actually favorited one of my tweets and sent me a direct message on Twitter."
Margo was caught off guard by Boots' declaration at first, but then her face lit up as realization seemed to hit. "Oh, that Harrison guy on that movie who hangs out with that furball? He's a hunk. Looks damn good in his tight pants, too. Although, I don't get what a big screen hottie from the 70s has to do with anything."
Boots rolled her eyes. It was nice to know that Margo was at least trying to take steps of becoming human. Her pampered upbringing and new lavish lifestyle usually kept her sheltered from such trivial things as the Star Wars movie series, so she was making progress. And of course she'd focus on what she considered a stud because movie plots went over her head, despite how high in the clouds it was. However, Boots couldn't believe how disconnected Margo was when it came to real life and relatively current events.
"No, no, no, Margo," said Boots as she shook her head. "Hope Solo, not Han Solo. She's an awesome athlete. A goalie – uh, that's for soccer – to be specific. Hope was the goalie in the 2007 FIFA Women's World Cup, but that moron, Greg Ryan, benched her in favor of a 36-year-old has-been. That's why they lost to Brazil in the semis. Then people get mad Hope her for blasting her teammates. I don't blame her for being mad. Idiots."
"Um, Boots, I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."
Boots sighed before continuing, "Hope Solo is a celebrity soccer player, Margo. And she does look damn hot in her uniform. The point is, she favorited a tweet I sent out about the Blair/TMZ thing. It was something like: 'The moment when your enemy gets played. #SweetRevenge #Victory #Pumped.' The tweet went with a picture of Blair with more than just pie on her face."
That comment brought back memories when Blair slammed a pie in Margo's face. Finally, Blair knew how it felt. Suddenly something struck Margo about what Boots just said. Did she say that another woman looked hot? The thought nearly made Margo puke, as she wanted to be as far away from lesbians as she could, which would make things interesting when the lesbian Tumpy arrives.
Boots continued, "Not only that, but she totally messaged me back. It was sooooo ta da because it was a direct message saying she liked my competitive spirit. I mean, how gravy is that? Hope Solo favorited me, followed me, and actually messaged me. I could just toss my seat."
"That's great, Bootsie."
"Great? It's superb. Don't you know what this means?"
"No. What?"
"We have celebrity support. Whammo! Like, total success."
Boots was so happy that she was practically jumping for joy. Margo just couldn't bring herself to tell Boots that celebrities like that tend to do that sort of thing for fans sometimes. Well, she could, but she needed Boots on her side right now.
"That's great, Boots," she repeated.
"Yeah, like totally top drawer news."
After a few minutes of Margo sipping her wine and Boots calming down from her exciting news, the latter exclaimed, "Can you believe what's going on with Warnsie and her Nimrod friends?"
Margo then got excited. "No! I can't believe it. This is beyond my wildest dreams! Blair and her butch bitch are going through hell right now, as well as those loser cunt friends of hers. Especially that liberal bitch, Molly. It's about damn time!"
"I'm not familiar with Molly myself," said Boots a little confused, "though I heard through the grapevine that she's like a total bra-burner."
"Oh, she is, Bootsie. We were friends for a short time in high school, but it ended when I told Jo and Blair to go fuck themselves."
"I guess they took that piece of advice quite literally," replied Boots with a small, amused smile on her face.
That made Margo chuckle a bit. "You know, I never thought about that. All I know is that's one part of my life I wish I could do over again. I can't believe I was hanging out with a Democrat voter! What the fuck was I on? That redheaded bitch doesn't even date white guys. All I ever see her with is some thuggish, savage black or some junkie Hispanic, or even one of those nerdy, pencil-necked geek Asians.""
Boots tried to comfort Margo who had put her head in her hands and was shaking her head. "Yeah," she said, "all Democrats are losers, but for some reason Blair likes to hang around with them. She must be brainwashed."
Margo abruptly raised her head, "Hang around with them? Bootsie, she's about to marry one! Jo is a rock-solid libtard Democrat! Blair may belong to that joke of a group called Log Cabin Republicans, but she's a true RINO. There's no conservative in that bleach-blonde head, muff-diver at all! She isn't brainwashed, Bootsie, she's simply déclassé."
It seemed to be the perfect opening to mention the other expected guest. "Speaking of lower class, gay Republicans, Tumpy's coming over."
Margo nearly spilled her drink when she heard that bit of news.
"WHAT! Why did you invite Ms. Stonehead lezbo here! You know I don't like that bitch one bit! Ever since she and those closet-case dykes in the Group kicked me and Alison out back at Eastland."
"Simmer down, girl. Tumpy wanted to come because she doesn't like Blair and she sure as hell hates Kelly."
Margo sneered her nose when she heard Kelly's name. "I told Dina not to hire that homo hoodlum. I had a feeling that she'd ruin her, and she did!"
"But how'd you guess Kelly was bad news?"
"First of all, she's Jo's buddy. That says it all. Those two dirty dykes probably lick each other's sardines all the time."
Boots had to really restrain herself from slapping Margo every time she said something homophobic because Boots liked women as much as men; especially her housemaid and secret lover, Esmeralda.
"Second, that bitch pulled a knife on me and threatened to cut me if I kept fucking with her. I simply told her I'd never be so hard up."
"Margo, she said fucking with her not . . ."
"I know, Bootsie. But that leaping lezbo had her sights on Dina and I was trying to chase her out of our neighborhood. I wanted that sewer rat to know that none of us high society girls were into stooping to the slum level. Except for Blair, that is."
"What happened?" asked Boots clearly interested.
"Dina took her side and took her in. All I got was a smile from that redheaded devil bitch, Kelly, and warning from Dina that I could accept her taste in company or distance myself completely. I can never forget that hoodlum for driving a wedge between me and one of my best friends, and for turning Dina into a dyke."
Boots had to use every fiber of her being to keep herself from choking Margo for her homophobic ignorance. Instead, she replied, "Well, then how could I say no to Tumpy? Don't you see, we need to band together to discredit these cretins."
"I guess," relented Margo.
"Hey, at least Kelly's going through hell as well. Can you say payback's a bitch?"
Margo smiled. "Yeah, you're right. This is great indeed. Seeing those cunts suffer, especially Blair, Jo, Molly, and the dynamic dyke duo, Cindy and Sue Ann."
"Cindy and Sue Ann? What's your tiff with them?"
"That muff-diving dyke Cindy once punched me in the nose for calling Sue Ann a pig-fingering, Hillbilly Redneck hick."
"But Sue Ann is all that and more. Just because she now runs a multi-million dollar agency doesn't mean that she has chance. She's still a backward yokel. The truth hurts a smidge when it comes to light, huh?"
"True, and look at all those girls in their agency. They all look like something you find on a street corner! They're supposed to be 'exotic beauties,' but they just look like Third World whores and ghetto hoochies to me. Cheap ass skanks. Plus, what were they thinking getting those fucking plus-sized models? They have no taste whatsoever. Those idiots are saying fat is beautiful, and encouraging people to be fat. I guess it makes sense with the company they keep, just look at Natalie – or should I say Fatalie – but isn't this country full of fat, obese slobs already?"
"Yeah, puleeez!" Bootsie scoffed. "I looked more desirable in my knee-high socks and plaid skirts in college."
"Hell, even our Eastland uniforms beat what those harlots wear," Margo added.
Boots then smiled. "Well, they're all losers and they're getting just what they deserve. Blair is forever tarnished and her dumb-ass friends are all getting their just desserts. Cheers!" ended Boots as she offered a toast.
"Cheers!" replied Margo as she clinked Boots' glass before downing the rest of her drink. As she was refilling her glass, the doorbell rang.
"Whoosh, our other guest has arrived. I'll be back in a tick," said Boots as she rose from her chair to answer the door.
This meeting was going to take more liquid courage so Margo quickly downed two more glasses of wine before refilling it again.
Boots buzzed Tumpy in.
"Hey, what's shakin, man?" asked Tumpy as she entered the living room. She was wearing a leather jacket over a green blouse and jeans. Boots thought she detected a hint of alcohol on Tumpy's breath, but she wasn't going to ask any questions.
Just as she stepped in, Tumpy went from her usual mellow tone to complete rage, as she saw one of her old nemesis sitting in the living room. "What the hell's that bitch doin' here?" asked Tumpy as she stopped in her tracks.
"How dare you call me a bitch, you sick drugged-out lezzie dyke," yelled Margo.
Tumpy walked up to within an arm length of Margo and sneered, "Call me that again and see if you don't get a mark on your throat like what that redheaded bitch, Kelly, nearly did to ya," threatened Tumpy.
Margo huffed and downed another glass of wine.
"And ya didn't answer my question," shouted Tumpy. "What the hell are ya doin' here?"
Suddenly Margo smiled. "I'm just chillin,'" said Margo as she held up her glass and hiccupped. "Umm, Bootsie, you may need to get another bottle."
"Yeah, booze," said Tumpy. "Ya got any hard stuff? Gonna need it if we're gonna talk turkey without plucking each other," declared Tumpy as she sat in the chair furthest from Margo.
"I don't do that," responded Margo.
"I said plucking you airhead snob, not . . ."
Tumpy's voice faded as Boots went into the kitchen and grabbed another couple bottles of Chateau Haut-Brion Pessac and a bottle of Whyte & Mackay's "Original" 40 Year Old Aged Blended Scotch Whisky for Tumpy. The years may not be the best, but Boots had a feeling that by the end of the night, it wouldn't matter.
When Boots returned to the living room, Margo was downing yet another glass of wine and Tumpy was sitting in the chair with her foot on the table, glaring at Margo.
"Come on guys, we're here to celebrate our victory. No awkward poohs allowed," said Boots as she sat down with a glass of wine. "So, Tumpy, we were discussing how successful Operation Discharge Warnsie was. What do you think?"
"I think they're gettin' what they deserve, man. Better than I ever thought. I even got the number of the cute reporter who interviewed me. Once you jump the Tump, ya know all others are chumps."
Margo wanted to say something back to Tumpy, but Boots quickly gave her that look to warn her against it, then she faced Tumpy.
"Okay," replied Boots.
"Oh, by the way," Tumpy added, "did you hear about Sondra Levitt?"
"Oh yeah! The woman Blair beat up a long time ago?"
"Yeah, man! It's totally funny!"
Margo was too scared at the moment to say anything. Suddenly her phone went off and indicated that she had just received a text message. After she looked at it, she finally broke her silence.
"Oh, my God," she claimed. "Guess who just texted me and asked if he could crash in my guest bedroom."
"Who?" asked Boots.
"Congressman Roger Butler."
You mean Nancy's old man?" asked Tumpy.
"Yeah, isn't that a hoot?" asked Margo imitating Boots.
"Why would he contact you?" asked Boots.
"Because he and my old man know each other and we have an extra bedroom."
"Whatcha goin' do, man?" asked Tumpy.
"What else? Try to bag him of course. You know that they say, always on the prowl for my next ex," said Margo as she shot a glance to Boots. "Besides, it could destroy Nancy."
"But you're married," said Boots.
"Yeah, so. The ring doesn't mean I can't have a fling. It'll mean nothing. Just some quick pics then he can hit the bricks. Besides, do you think my husband, Georgie, could satisfy me? Hell, his old ass is only good for one thing – living high on the hog."
"What's with all the rhyming?" asked Boots.
"Maybe it's something in the water," mused Margo looking at her glass as she downed yet another glass of wine.
"Speaking of wine," interrupted Tumpy, "I wonder if that old bag Garrett has hit the booze trail yet."
"Yeah, she was always nipping the cooking cherry," added Margo.
"Really?" asked Boots.
"She had to. After all, she was running that lesbian brothel of hers. Cindy and Sue Ann, Blair and Jo, and who knows how many other sex-crazed girls under her roof," replied Margo.
"Yeah," added Tumpy, "Maybe that's the real reason her husband left her old ass. They say she dumped him for being a gambler, but she's the one who was really tossing her chips."
"True. What other guy would have a dyke dealing bitch who hid the truth from everyone," replied Margo. Tumpy and Boots gave Margo a cold glare, and she immediately backtracked. "I didn't mean dyke."
"So, I guess she did more than cooking quiche," input Boots just to be part of the conversation. Unlike Margo and Tumpy, she didn't know about Mrs. Garrett prior to the opening of Edna's Edibles in Peekskill.
"Maybe she was closeted herself," suggested Margo. Boots and Tumpy simply shrugged in agreement. In their minds, that was a very good possibility.
"And when she wasn't encouraging lesbian sexcapades or drowning in booze she was allowing the girls to gorge themselves on drugs and food."
Tumpy looked away at Margo's remark because she was one of the girls who were dismissed for doing drugs, but she didn't let anyone see her reaction. "Yeah, that fat ass Natalie and Thunder Thighs Sue Ann proves that point."
Boots then asked, "Natalie's a Jew, right?"
"Yeah," replied Margo and Tumpy in unison.
"Then, how come she's such a porker?"
"Who knows?" said Tumpy. "Maybe she gave up her Jewish values about food for lent."
Margo inserted, "Hell, I'm surprised the upstairs ever survived under the weight of those two fat pigs and that fat cow Mrs. Garrett herself. Even Blair got chunky there for a little while."
Margo then pulled out her gold iPhone and went to the gallery app. After a few swipes, she reached a photo of Blair from 1982, when she was at her heaviest. The three started to laugh at the unflattering image of a chunky Blair attired in a granny dress.
"I once showed it to Joan Rivers, who never really liked the Warner family because David once called her a horrible bitch, and she was laughing up a storm!" They were laughing it up even more before Boots spoke.
"Then you have that short stack, Andy, marrying Aunt Jemima!" put in Boots. "Not to mention Cindy and Sue Ann procreating."
"Great," said Margo. "That's all we need – a whole new generation of baby dykes. They already adopted two mongrel children from other countries, like most typical liberal Hollywood celebrities who hate their own race."
Boots and Tumpy looked away. They knew that Margo could be mean, but this was almost over the line, plus it was hitting too close to home. Boots could see the rage in Tumpy's eyes, but her calming glance kept Tumpy from overreacting. Then, she directed her attack onto Kimberly's family.
"How about porno queen, Kim?" asked Boots. She's getting her dues as well.
"I wonder how that old saggy ass Drummond's taking this press," said Margo.
"Man, he's probably totally buggin," replied Tumpy. "His rep's being dragged through the mud again by that porno slut daughter of his."
"Yeah, who knew someone could fall so far. Such a waste," chided Boots.
"Well, serves that family right."
"What do you mean, Margo?" asked Boots.
Margo answered, "That old do-gooder. He takes in two black kids from the projects. That's when his troubles started. He shouldn't have adopted those two savage thugs."
Tumpy wanted to knock Margo out for saying that, but she knew she had to keep her cool. Instead, she decided to joke back in an effort to maintain peace.
"I wonder if Willis tried tapping that ass."
"Tumpy!" Boots said in shock.
"Well, think about it, man. Kim and Willis were the same age. Willis coulda tried to make that snowflake his shorty. That's what coulda turned her away from men."
"But if what they say about black lovers is true," said Margo "that shouldn't be the case. Of course, it's bullshit about black lovers. They're uncontrollable savages in the sack and in everything else for that matter."
"That's not always true. It's just like the stereotype that all Asian men are on the 'short end' of the stick. However," claimed Tumpy in an effort to mask her true feelings and avoiding a clash with Margo for defending "the Others," "maybe Willis didn't rise to the occasion, so Kim switched teams."
Boots looked on in apparent awe – trying to live up to her prim and proper image.
"You mean . . ." asked Boots.
Tumpy simply replied, "Yeah. Brother may not have been able to stand up to the expectations."
Margo laughed. "Well," put in Margo "a limp noodle could totally turn Kim to women."
"And that other brother of hers?" said Tumpy. "If Willis was bad, that shrimpo was worse."
"Yeah, it'd be like an inch-worm," laughed Margo.
"It would explain why he fled the Big Apple, man," chortled Tumpy.
The two enemies started laughing and acting cordial toward each other. Boots didn't know if it was the alcohol or their mutual disdain for Blair and her friends, but this was a step in the right direction.
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Back at Andy and Tootie's apartment, there was a sudden knock at the door. Fearing that it was a member of the press, Andy slowly approached the door and looked out the peephole. He saw his adopted mother, Beverly Ann Stickle, standing there with two security guards who were trying to fend off the press.
He opened the door and greeted his mother.
"Hi, Mom, thanks for coming." Then he gave his thanks to the security and shut the door behind him. He was still paranoid of the media and paparazzi.
"No problem. It's bananas out there!"
"I know mom. I know."
"How's my grandson doing?" asked Beverly Ann with a hint of concern.
"Brian's fine. He's sleeping now," Tootie replied.
"I think it's time we call a meeting," said Andy. "We all need to get together and work this out."
"All of us?" asked Geri. "Even . . ." she looked over at her cousin afraid to say Kim's name. Although Kimberly and Kelly had had a falling out, she knew that Blair would still be upset that Kimberly chose Kelly over her.
Blair then spoke up without argument, "I know the perfect place."