Bridgeport Part 2

 

I left Verhoeven’s apartment at 6:30 that evening and went back to Bassy’s place.

He came home in his costume…I have to say, that suit is pretty sharp.  He says his character is Josh, the paranormal expert in the Zombies? Zombies! book. 

It was my idea to check the hangouts in Bridgeport.  Bassy showed me this little dive bar called Waylon’s. 

It was a dark and dinky little place which was empty when we got there but filled up quickly. 

I sat at one of the empty tables, trying to blend into the woodwork. 

Meanwhile, I looked over and Bassy had gotten on the drums. 

A crowd had slowly gathered to watch him play.  “Hey, Vanna,” he called out, “come join me!”

So, reluctantly, I did.  I hadn’t played guitar in public since Noah’s wedding. 

A few minutes later I got hungry so I went to the bartender and asked for a plate of food.  “Got any health food in here?” I asked.

“Health food?” he responded.  “Are you kidding?  You don’t sound like you’re from here –“

Screw my diet, I thought to myself.  “Gimme a plate of nachos.”

“Nachos, got it.”

Meanwhile, Bassy was signing autographs for a female fan.  I’m not sure if I could live HIS life, lol. 

So to my surprise I was recognized in Bridgeport, too.  “OMG it’s Savannah Plumb!” one lady screeched as she reached for her camera phone.  “I read your book cover to cover, goodness, Egypt sounds exciting!”

After eating I had to make a run to the ladies room, and while I was there I ran into a woman called Caroline Custard, who was a staffer at one of the many magazines based in Bridgeport. 

“Savannah Plumb, right?” she began.  “I’d recognize that face anywhere.  I remember that magazine spread a few simyears back.  You’re a lot prettier than I thought.  How did you manage to keep your skin moisturized in the desert?”

She gave me her business card and told me to drop by any time and “just make sure your handsome brother is in tow.”  I laughed. 

By the time Bassy and I drove away from Waylon’s it was nearly two in the morning.  I know I’m a night owl usually because of my ghost hunting gig, but this was unusual for me.

“You had a good time?” he asked me.  “Whoa, watch it!”

Before I knew it I was swerving off the road. 

“You want me to take the wheel?” he asked.

“No, I’m good,” I told him, “I’m, I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Vanna,” he laughed, “you’re drunk!  Let me drive.”

“Heyy…what…was… that in that drink?  I ordered a Spline Reticulator…”

“That’s it,” Bassy said, “I’m driving.”

Well, he didn’t get fully behind the wheel but he grabbed on to the other side while I was driving.  It was an … interesting … ride home. 

Bridgeport Part 1

Can I just begin by saying Bridgeport is not what I expected?

I got all these pictures and letters from my brother, but it really is to be experienced and not talked about.

Bassy’s rented house is in the Hills area, the wealthy section of town where all the celebrities live. It’s … green … and hilly, not unlike home, actually.

“You want to get there on time right?”

“Sure,” Bassy laughed nervously, “but in one piece.”

With my foot on the gas pedal, I sped across the Bay Bridge. It’s as exhilarating as he described.

I arrived at Ms. Verhoeven’s apartment building, the Crescent Bay Pied a Terre, at one-thirty in the afternoon.

I spied the call box but I had no clue how to use it. What the heck are these buttons, I thought,

After pressing the buttons, my job was to wait.

Pretty soon she came out of the elevator. “Is that book good?” she asked.

I turned around. “Oh, um, yeah, I suppose so. I was just looking over some stuff.”

“Savannah Plumb, right?” Her voice was deep, deeper than my husband’s, lol. “Sebastian’s sister, finally. He talks a lot about you.”

“He does?”

“All the time.”

My phone rang again. My agent. “Um, sorry, got to take this.”

My agent wanted me to do a signing at Wilki’s Books & Bath here in B’port. “Look,” I told her, “I’m in the middle of a meeting, could you call me back? Thanks.”

“So,” Verhoeven began, talking a mile a minute, “your aunt, Margaret Plumb, wrote this series of books about a colony on the moon. I adored those books, and I used to imagine myself as either Syna DeLorean or an imaginary lover of Syna. Unfortunately, I don’t have long flowing red hair and I’m not exactly thin…”

That elicited a chuckle.

“So, I thought it would be a great idea to write a screenplay – but I’m running into a few snags.”

Snags?

“What do you need help with? I’m not exactly an expert on screen writing –“

“Oh, it’s not format I’m having trouble with. You see, since Miss Plumb is deceased but copyright is still in effect, I need clearance from her estate, which is why I contacted you. Sebastian told me you were in charge of it. Also, Emmitt Stanley – the teenage son of the head of the studio – is working on his own version. I happened to find out about it by accident, and it’s pretty much a race against time as he’s well ahead. I did read a few paragraphs of his adaptation and I have to say, he’s completely botching the story. He made Syna a blond and said she was half-alien. If I remember the book correctly, Syna is the daughter of the NASA chief –“

“Do you know who gave Emmitt Stanley permission to do a screenplay based on my aunt’s book? Because, based on what I know about the law, unless he’s doing a derivative fanfic for his own entertainment purposes, what he’s doing is illegal. At least you followed the proper procedure in contacting her estate before proceeding on your version.”

I walked away from her apartment, and I swear, she was checking me out. Note to anyone wishing I was single, male or female, I am very much taken.

"Hey," she yelled as I was leaving, "you thought about being an actress?"

Off to Bridgeport!

I was helping Satis with her world history assignment when my cell phone rang.

It was my agent, brokering a meeting with Sebastian’s boss, Kristy Verhoeven. 

Apparently Ms. Verhoeven wants to write a screenplay based on my Aunt Margaret’s Moon Colony books, with an eye for an eventual translation to the silver screen.  And of course, since the Moon Colony books are my favorite of hers, and since I’m in charge of my Aunt Margaret’s estate, I want to make sure it’s done right. 

Soooo… it’s off to Bridgeport I go, in a rented Margaret Vaguester (how apropos, eh?)

Another Bassy letter

 

Hey sis,

Sorry I haven’t written in awhile.  Things have gotten real crazy this end.  And there are two main reasons for it.

First of all, filming’s set to begin on the Zombies? Zombies! movie. It’s an adaptation of a novel of the same name.  I got Kris’ finalized script yesterday and it’s a doozy.  My character, Josh, is an expert in paranormal studies (sound familiar?) and be prepared if I ask you questions about what you do.  Except his field of expertise is zombies, not ghosts. 

Even got my costume.

Oh, and there’s something else I think you should know – I mean, before the tabloids tell you first, haha.

This is Kyra Foster – my new girlfriend.  She’s one of Lola Belle’s backup singers.  We met at a party at Lola’s place – in fact she’s the one who introduced us.  We’re still in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage right now, but please, don’t tell Daisy.  I know she’s getting all these letters, but I’m not ready to reveal all right now.  I feel guilty about the fact that I didn’t say goodbye to her before I left.  I’m not even sure if I can show my face back in the S.V.

Oh, before I go… wanted to tell you that the boss sent me to the salon today.  Apparently the role of Josh requires me to cut my hair.  I really didn’t want to… but I guess those are the kinds of sacrifices (sp?) you make in the name of art.  lol

The barber is named Bronson Littler, and he came highly recommended by Lola.  Actually he kinda gives me the creeps. 

“Mr. Plumb,” he asked in his high pitched diffident voice.  “Are you wanting the Bieber cut?  Really popular now.  Every male client I’ve had has asked for it and I think it would look good on your face.”

“Um –“

“We’ll try it and see…”

He didn’t exactly give me a Bieber but a modified version of it.  It’s okay but I can’t wait for it to grow out. 

Oops, that’s my phone.  It’s Kris.  I’ll talk more later.

Love, Bassy

Mishmash

AJ has a little bit of an entitlement complex.  He always has to be first, whether it’s getting breakfast in the morning or getting on the bus to go to school.  Imsety and Satis basically humor him.

Speaking of AJ, his teacher asked for a common relic from Egypt or China for the archaeology display.  He has to be the luckiest kid at school because of what his mom does for a living, eh? So I gave him one of my Egyptian fossilized apples to use. 

Today he had a play date at Sammy Kincaid’s house (Sammy is Maeve’s younger brother).  He’s like me in that he can be friendly but mostly prefers to do his own thing.  I’ve heard Sammy Kincaid is REALLY smart and makes straight A’s.  I’m secretly hoping Sammy rubs off on him, even though he has asked for a telescope.  I have promised AJ that I will get his telescope if he shows me an A report card.  Right now he has a B. 

“Last one in the house is a rotten egg!” I heard Michael Falcon, one of Sety’s school chums, say.  Poor Satis was bringing up the rear, struggling to keep up with the boys. 

Andy used his day off to help Sety with his Simlish literature homework.  I am beginning to suspect that he is dyslexic.

I brought my concerns about Sety to Andy at breakfast. 

“Have you talked to his teacher?” Andy asked. 
“Talking to the administration is like talking to a brick wall sometimes.”

Then he suggested that I get on the school board. 

“The school board?”  I said.  “When am I going to have time for it, between my job and my archaeological work?”

“It’s an at-large position, last I remember it.  My step-grandma was on the school board in her day.”

Andy had rarely mentioned his family to me, so this surprised me. 

Even though I am apolitical, the school board does make some sense.  It’s not a political position, but if I get on I won’t feel so damn powerless while my children are being abused by the people in charge just because they are different.  I mean, damn it, I was born and raised in Sunset Valley.  I grew up here.  My father, my aunt, and all my siblings were educated in this school system.  If anyone knows how things should work here, it’s me. 

I still am hesitating about doing it.  What I’m not hesitating about is getting Sety tested for dyslexia. 

Meanwhile, Toya has had most of the Sage duties, especially since we put the baby crib in her room so she wouldn’t wake us up at night.  Hey, if we’re paying her $1200 simoleans to live under our roof…

Meanwhile, she and Andy have been getting to know each other.  He is slowly warming up to the idea of a butler being in the house.  With his soccer games more and more often and with my situation being in flux all the time, though he misses Halima, he’s beginning to appreciate Toya being around.  I love being right. 

For a little bit of Sunset Valley gossip:  There’s a new stylist in town.  Francy is still the main coiffeur but she now has an assistant, Jhonnie.  I found out about him when I took Sety to get a haircut.  Fran says she has Jhonnie on board to handle mostly male styles since her clientele is growing by leaps and bounds. 

Last but not least, my brother Sebastian (Bassy) sent me this glossy he had taken.  Remember, he’s now an actor in Bridgeport.  I kinda knew he’d go into show business, just not the branch he chose.  Mom is still ticked off at him for leaving Sunset Valley, as she thinks he could have done the same thing here.  Now that I am a parent myself, I can say Mom is just being protective.  I actually can’t say I blame him for leaving.  Obviously from his letters he felt like he needed to branch out and figure out what he wanted out of life. 

Satis

Remember when I said things were going swimmingly with the butler?  I kinda fibbed… a little.  And it’s because of Satis.

The butler went to get Sage out of the high chair when Satis raced to get her before the butler could get there.  Satis gets really possessive when it comes to Sage.  Funny, I don’t remember her behaving this way when AJ was little.  She shoots the butler this look – I mean, you really don’t want to mess around with her when she gives that look. 

I had to explain to Satis that Toya now has most of the duties with Sage, and that her only duty was to improve her grades in school.

To that end, I sat on the opposite end of the table while she and Imsety were doing their homework.  Sety levied his usual complaint about school – in Arabic – and I heard them speaking in Arabic about the assignment.

Then, emphatically, I heard Satis grumble, “World history sucks!”

Of course, I pretended not to hear while I was re-reading a trashy romance novel.  It’s as bad as I remember it, lol.  The prose is trite and rife with clichés. 

“What did you say about world history, Satis?”  I asked her.

“It sucks.  Our teacher wants us to write an essay.”

I took a deep breath.  I knew that world history would be a sore subject for my kids, given that, well, they’re Egyptian.  They cannot possibly give an unbiased opinion, and I knew that I in my own Anglo prism could not possibly comprehend their heritage and history. 

“Satis, I’m sure your teacher might appreciate your unique perspective,” I said.

And that isn’t all.  Satis’ teacher is recruiting her for the writing club, the same club I was recruited for back in the day.  I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again – when Satis is ready to talk, she will.  That simple.

I have told the school authorities some of my story.  But I have not told them everything.  I am not the kind of woman most people expect to have adopted children from a foreign country, but I am richer for it. 

I think I understand now why Samir Amin fought tooth and nail to keep his kids away from me.  I am a pale, blond, green-eyed Anglo, and thus, in his eyes, not to be trusted.  The last I heard of him, he was in prison.  I dare not tell the kids that he is still alive.  They were afraid of him and had every reason to be.