Thursday, March 15, 2012

"You made a fool of me, but them broken dreams have got to end."*

Evil Woman Part VII (The End)
    I've decided to end the suspense and give you the seventh and FINAL chapter in the Evil Woman series (my story of a trip to New York City with a famous musician and his heinous bitch of a wife). You may find earlier installments as follows: one, two, three, four, five, and six.  I didn't really think you were in suspense, I just kind of forgot I was telling this story. Ha ha.

From 2009:

-THURSDAY!!!! Lucia and I have spent the day numbering the hours until we leave for the airport.
-Once again, we are left at the hotel all day, but this time there is no free period. Or at least, no designated time for ourselves. Poor John is sick and poor Beth’s massage didn’t help her ailing back and it’s raining, so we’ll all just sit here all fucking day long. I managed to get time to run outside and grab a coffee and call my parents, and then after I’d gotten back into the hotel room John called me and asked where I was. I said I was in the playroom and I’d walk to their room. They wanted nose drops for the baby. I gladly volunteered to trudge back out into the night. Not that they were grateful, just expectant. I was plenty happy to leave the room again, so long as I wasn’t with them. And New York City in the rain is far preferable to anywhere else in the sunshine. Okay, huge exaggeration, but you see what I mean (I like how the word “exaggeration” has two g’s: like the word itself is exaggerating).
-They decide to order room service and let Lucia and I eat some as well. I scanned the menu in a paranoid frenzy trying to find something that wasn’t a sandwich, a soup or pizza (the only things I’ve eaten here) and yet something that wasn’t too expensive. I settled on the $29 hamburger and crossed my fingers as I requested it. It was the most delicious thing I’d tasted in nearly two weeks.
-I checked my bank account first thing this morning and discovered that I’d been underpaid for our trip to New York by $1386. I showed Lucia and she immediately faked a bathroom trip so she could check her account by phone (she doesn’t have an online account). We then spent a good half hour trying to figure out exactly what we were owed after taxes. Ugh.
-Before we left the hotel for the airport (one of the happiest hours of my life), Lucia snatched a bunch of great stuff out of the mini bar and shoved it in our bags! I love this gal.
-Beth brought up the surfer boyfriend again at JFK. Lucia and I talked about the potential significance of that. (She’s clearly mourning the loss of the man she ACTUALLY loved but gave up for the security of tens of millions of dollars. Sigh. Poor Beth.)
-Conor woke up from his nap on the airplane and Beth asked Lucia to take him to the bathroom. Since Beth left her enormous Prada purse in the middle of the aisle, Lucia tripped over it, spilling Beth’s piping hot decaf on her (Beth's) pants. Poor Beth, I wonder what it’s like to have on wet, filthy pants. Oh wait: I do know what it’s like. Except in my case, it was blood. Coffee would have been a pleasure. Beth screamed at Lucia to watch where she was going and then got up in a huff to go change into alternate pants. 
-Lucia sat down next to me after returning from Conor’s bathroom trip, and started crying. I was rubbing her back when Beth returned. Beth leaned over the aisle to say things like, “It’s not your fault,” and “We just all need to watch where we’re going.” Then, in a fit of conciliatory inspiration, Beth said, “You know what, Lucia? Your money for the trip was deposited today!” And Lucia, god love her, responded with something along the lines of “Actually, it wasn’t.” She even whipped out our handy-dandy paperwork to prove it. That doesn’t, of course, have anything to do with me, so I know I’ll have to have my own conversation with Beth, but I feel good knowing it’s out there in the ether. Beth promises that it will be taken care of in the upcoming week. She also notes that in order for Lucia to be paid what she claims she’s owed, she will have to stay until 8:15 that evening (making it 11:15 in NY). BITCH, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Back home and never happier.
-On the way home from LAX in hellacious traffic, Beth yells at the driver repeatedly and doesn’t tip him. I apologize in the driveway, after she’s gone inside, wishing I could give him a tip myself. But I’m broke. Then I carry all the suitcases upstairs because it seems clear that Beth is going to keep Lucia working but send me home. I refuse to leave Lucia (because I am a saint-like human being). But seriously, there's no way I'm leaving a soldier behind.
-I wait for Lucia in the driveway and when Beth FINALLY lets her leave, we drive to a picnic table on Mulholland and have a cigarette. I tell her how I would have lost my mind without her. We hug and drive home our separate ways.**

    I quit working for the Hitlers about two weeks later. When I quit, I was terrified. My heart was beating out of my chest like I was about to go onstage. At a strip club. I told Beth that I didn’t feel like I was the right fit for Conor, that he didn’t seem to care for me and that maybe he was better off with someone he liked better and respected more. I had enough self-control not to mention that he was Satan’s spawn and by Satan I meant her.
    She said that she and John had already been discussing replacing me, so this worked out perfectly for her. I assume she was lying. Bitches like her can’t ever show weakness. Which is too bad, because weakness at that point might have made me think she was a human being and not the devil incarnate.
    I remember saying something like, “You’re children are wonderful and bright and beautiful.” All of which were (pretty much) lies.
    She responded, “I know how amazing my children are. I don’t need you to tell me that.”
    Oooooookay. Thanks, Beth! I love you, too.
    I gave her two weeks notice, but she sent me a text saying that I shouldn’t show up for my next shift. That it would be "too confusing" for the kids. I'm sure. I missed out on some money, but it was worth it to get my sanity back.
    And then came the depression of unemployment. But that’s a story for another time.
*Electric Light Orchestra's "Evil Woman."
**I'm still friends with Lucia, so there was some good that came out of the experience. She's a delightful human being, and she's taken me out dancing a couple times at some of the Latin clubs around town. I'll have to get into that more later, because it's worth discussing. But sadly, she's still working for Beth (who now has a third child). Last I talked to Lucia, she said she went to Europe (various cities in Germany, Italy, and The Netherlands) for another band tour (or tour of duty, as I like to think of it), but managed to get a day off each week and all her pay in cash. She paid off her car and all her credit cards. Happy ending!     


  1. Wow. I'm exhausted just reading this!

  2. I do not recall the torch "Beth" held for the surfer boyfriend that you allude to; I will have to reread the older posts, which is both fun and as Melina says, exhausting. I was with you in spirit on that trip and I never felt more desperate in my life as when you were in this situation and I couldn't extricate you. It is akin, in some way, to how I am sure some families feel when a love one is taken hostage and they can't pay the ransom. If I had it to do over, I would have paid to get you sprung. The only loss then would have been the experience that you gained here, and in many ways, that is irreplaceable. You will never be someone's doormat again.