21-04-2019, 01:12 PM
"For the same reason I needed you and Julie today, Susan. If I'd been doing all the stuff we did today on my own, it would have been totally transparent. The press would've seen what I was trying to do, said 'thanks for the free lunch,' and then the story would be 'Contessa Helena de San Finzione is sucking up to us for some reason. What's she out to distract us from?' Butting in on a day out with my best gal-pals, on the other hand, means that they're getting 'the REAL me.' Especially if those gal-pals are 'Nobodies,' and I apologize again for the phrasing there, but you hopefully get the idea I was going for. The illusion of intrusion is mainly for delusion, ya might say."
I nodded. I wouldn't have said that, but I think I got it.
"If it'd been you with a couple of mega-celebrities or other world leaders blowing off the conference to go on a shopping spree, that would just be Tuesday. You and 'some Nobodies,' even ones they don't find worthy of filming, is a curiosity. And no, I wasn't hurt by it at all. We wanted them to ignore us, and Contessa Helena de San Finzione did what she does to everyone: she spoke to them in their own language."
I think she matched my Spock reference smile. I looked out the window.
"We're here." I told them, stepping in. "Unless what you have planned is another kung-fu brawl like yesterday, it's time for whatever The Next Thing is, Helen."
"Ok, the armrest on your left, Susan, should have reading material; couple books, newspapers, and a couple of magazines. What I need you two to do is sit in the back seat and hold them up like you're pretending to read them to hide your faces. Because that's what you'll be doing." Helen sighed. "These are different photographers from this morning, and it's a big crowd with more coming; so I won't be able to keep throwing The Thing around out there. That means Mander has to stay in the car, too; and puts us back on the Shoe Plan for you guys, but we're giving them some leg, too, because it's night time, and it's suggestive. I'm going to go in, do a thing, and come back out. And it'll work better if I look like I'm not a friendless loser and I've got my gal-pals waiting back in the car for me."
Helen saw Julie and I both opening our mouths to protest her statement about being a friendless loser when she looked to have caught herself and held up her hand in an "I know" gesture.
"Bad choice of words there. I know I have friends. The best ones ever." She opened her cigarette case and it was empty. Helen opened another compartment filled with cartons of her brand, and opened a new pack of cigarettes, a real smile on her face as she fiddled with the cellophane tab and her recently-done nails, reloading her case.
"What I meant was, I want to show this world that Contessa Helena de San Finzione KNOWS that she is not alone in it."
We stopped protesting and smiled.
"Neither is Helena Medina." Julie said.
"Or Helen Parker." I added.
She won the smile contest.
We pulled up to the entrance. Helen put a more stylish pair of sunglasses than her daytime pair on and loaded the new cigarette into her holder. We held up our magazines. She waved at one of the photographers outside behind the velvet ropes. The man couldn't have seen her through the tinted windows, but gave a subtle wave to the limo door. Helen gave a little wave back, again invisible to the man.
"You got another cool thing ready to say before you get out this time?" I asked her.
"Stop me if you've heard this one." She replied, already in character. "A Contessa walks into a bar."
Without another word, Contessa Helena de San Finzione proceeded to step out of the limo to walk into a bar.
* * *
Contessa Helena de San Finzione emerged from her limousine and felt the slightest of raindrops from the gap between the roof of the stretch and the canopy that had been put over the entrance to the club. It was another item that wasn't usually at the entrance, but had been put up because word had gotten out that a VIP was coming. One who had a reputation for stopping into clubs like this one, finding them "charming," and deciding to buy the joint before the night was through.
The shades protected her from the flash bulbs that probably would have blinded her during her first year with Vincenzo without them. From behind the press line, the people waiting to get into the club who could see her cheered. The cheer swept back into the crowd to the ones that couldn't even see her when Helena gave a wave to the public, and a nod to the man who was standing a few feet away from the others, whom she'd waved to before stepping out of the car.
I nodded. I wouldn't have said that, but I think I got it.
"If it'd been you with a couple of mega-celebrities or other world leaders blowing off the conference to go on a shopping spree, that would just be Tuesday. You and 'some Nobodies,' even ones they don't find worthy of filming, is a curiosity. And no, I wasn't hurt by it at all. We wanted them to ignore us, and Contessa Helena de San Finzione did what she does to everyone: she spoke to them in their own language."
I think she matched my Spock reference smile. I looked out the window.
"We're here." I told them, stepping in. "Unless what you have planned is another kung-fu brawl like yesterday, it's time for whatever The Next Thing is, Helen."
"Ok, the armrest on your left, Susan, should have reading material; couple books, newspapers, and a couple of magazines. What I need you two to do is sit in the back seat and hold them up like you're pretending to read them to hide your faces. Because that's what you'll be doing." Helen sighed. "These are different photographers from this morning, and it's a big crowd with more coming; so I won't be able to keep throwing The Thing around out there. That means Mander has to stay in the car, too; and puts us back on the Shoe Plan for you guys, but we're giving them some leg, too, because it's night time, and it's suggestive. I'm going to go in, do a thing, and come back out. And it'll work better if I look like I'm not a friendless loser and I've got my gal-pals waiting back in the car for me."
Helen saw Julie and I both opening our mouths to protest her statement about being a friendless loser when she looked to have caught herself and held up her hand in an "I know" gesture.
"Bad choice of words there. I know I have friends. The best ones ever." She opened her cigarette case and it was empty. Helen opened another compartment filled with cartons of her brand, and opened a new pack of cigarettes, a real smile on her face as she fiddled with the cellophane tab and her recently-done nails, reloading her case.
"What I meant was, I want to show this world that Contessa Helena de San Finzione KNOWS that she is not alone in it."
We stopped protesting and smiled.
"Neither is Helena Medina." Julie said.
"Or Helen Parker." I added.
She won the smile contest.
We pulled up to the entrance. Helen put a more stylish pair of sunglasses than her daytime pair on and loaded the new cigarette into her holder. We held up our magazines. She waved at one of the photographers outside behind the velvet ropes. The man couldn't have seen her through the tinted windows, but gave a subtle wave to the limo door. Helen gave a little wave back, again invisible to the man.
"You got another cool thing ready to say before you get out this time?" I asked her.
"Stop me if you've heard this one." She replied, already in character. "A Contessa walks into a bar."
Without another word, Contessa Helena de San Finzione proceeded to step out of the limo to walk into a bar.
* * *
Contessa Helena de San Finzione emerged from her limousine and felt the slightest of raindrops from the gap between the roof of the stretch and the canopy that had been put over the entrance to the club. It was another item that wasn't usually at the entrance, but had been put up because word had gotten out that a VIP was coming. One who had a reputation for stopping into clubs like this one, finding them "charming," and deciding to buy the joint before the night was through.
The shades protected her from the flash bulbs that probably would have blinded her during her first year with Vincenzo without them. From behind the press line, the people waiting to get into the club who could see her cheered. The cheer swept back into the crowd to the ones that couldn't even see her when Helena gave a wave to the public, and a nod to the man who was standing a few feet away from the others, whom she'd waved to before stepping out of the car.
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