Til the Fat Redhead Sleeps: A Big Apple Story - Softcover

Wilson, Victoria

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1491705310 ISBN 13: 9781491705315

Publisher: iUniverse, 2013

Synopsis

For the first time in years, Blaine Bishop will be spending Thanksgiving alone, and she can't wait. This year, she won't worry about the stress of travel or family dynamics. She won't stress the weekend away and wonder where her vacation went. Instead, she will spend Thanksgiving doing whatever she wants. But of course, as the saying goes, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. After completing a routine errand for her boss at a client's office, Blaine takes the building's ancient elevator down to the main floor. The start of Blaine's four-day holiday weekend is just minutes away when an obese redheaded woman joins her on the elevator. As luck would have it, the elevator suddenly stops, and Blaine finds herself trapped between floors with a stranger. Blaine's fantasy weekend is now destroyed, as they have no clue when they will be rescued. Even worse, the redhead seems determined to talk nonstop. Blaine finds herself a captive audience. As the hours pass and help does not arrive, she finds herself wondering just how long she can stand it.

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

'Til the Fat Redhead Sleeps

A Big Apple Story

By Victoria Wilson

iUniverse LLC

Copyright © 2013 Victoria Wilson
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0531-5

CHAPTER 1

Hour One: 2:00 to 3:00 p.m.

Blaine's smartphone said the time was 2:07 p.m. EST. Shediscovered that telling time was all the smartphone was goodfor in this aged mahogany-inlaid jail. Since hearing from Emmett,she had been trying to phone, text, and send e-mails, first to 911 andthen to various friends, but the same messages appeared on the screen:"Unable to send mail," or "Message not delivered," or "No signal." Shefelt like crying.

"It's a waste of time, I'm afraid," the fat redhead said, pointing atthe smartphone with her stubby index finger. "This building is in oneof the worst areas for cell phone reception in the world," she averred.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to suspect that," Blaine said with a grimace.Why me?

For several minutes, neither woman said anything. Finally, theredhead broke the silence.

"This is just typical. Just typical," the fat redhead said, shaking herhead. "For once I was gonna leave work early so I could get home at adecent hour and start enjoying the holiday weekend, but nooooooh,this has to happen—again!"

"Yeah, you mentioned that this is the third time this week. That'sterrible," Blaine said.

"Tell me about it. And they won't do a damn thing about it. Won'tspend the money. I should sue the shit out of 'em for mental distress orsomething."

Blaine smiled weakly and nodded. She was beginning to feel alittle mental distress herself, being trapped in an elevator with anagitated three-hundred-pound-plus woman. Who knew what thisperson would do if she became desperate? Would she take her angerout on her? On the chair in the corner? She had to be ready foranything, she decided.

"I know why this is happening, though," the woman said. "This ishappening because I'm God's little cat toy."

"Huh?"

"Yeah," the woman said, the hint of a smile on her face.

"You ever see a cat with a balled-up piece of aluminum foil? Thecat will bat that ball around a room at breakneck speed, catch it in itsmouth, toss it up in the air, stalk it, pounce on it, purposely let it rollunder the sofa, go after it, catch it with its front paws, and then, withthe ball clamped firmly in its mouth, will furiously kick at it with itsback paws, let the ball roll away again, bat it around some more, andfinally, after repeating this sequence several more times, the cat willtrot proudly, ball in mouth, to a dark corner of the bedroom closetyou've forgotten to close and deposit its prize deep inside the toe of anunsuspecting shoe or the partner of your favorite pair of boots." Thewoman paused briefly to catch her breath.

"Once this is done, the cat will promptly tire of this game andforget all about it as it saunters off to see what kind of treats canbe finagled out of its human by the sheer force of its cute face."The woman's face was flushed as if she had been chasing after thealuminum ball herself.

"That balled-up piece of aluminum foil will remain undisturbed,lodged in the toe of that shoe or boot until days, or even weeks laterwhen you decide your boots will be the perfect choice with that day'soutfit." The woman continued. "After you realize there's something inthe toe of the left boot, you'll start tapping and striking and reachingin to get whatever it is out, until finally, the metal orb rolls into theheel part, and you turn the boot upside down, freeing the ball fromits suede jail to merrily roll, roll, roll on the floor toward the freedomof the hallway." To illustrate this, the woman made a rolling motionwith her hand. "The cat, upon hearing this, will utter a joyful chirpthat means, 'Yay! Where have you been, my long-lost friend?' and thegame will start all over again."

Blaine smiled at the thought of this woman comparing herself toan aluminum ball rolling around the floor. She'd pay money to seethat, for sure. Her smile encouraged the fat redhead to continue hermonologue.

"See, I've long suspected God of deriving much amusement fromthe situations in which I find myself and the people who cross mypath. I believe he creates those situations and causes those people tofind their way to me just so he can see my reaction. There's just noother explanation for some of the things I've witnessed and gonethrough. Many times, I've been the only witness to some bizarre stuff,so I have my suspicions, like I said." The woman looked at Blaine forwhat? Agreement? Approval? Blaine couldn't read her expression,but it didn't matter because the woman continued with her train ofthought.

"Of course, it could also be karma. I happen to believe in karma,and in my mind, it boils down to the same thing: God or karma,payback's a bitch, you know?"

"Uh-huh," Blaine said, nodding again. She realized her fellowrider needed very little encouragement to speak her mind. Or maybeit was the woman's way of coping with the situation. It could be shewas nervous being trapped in a stalled elevator. Whatever the case,this behemoth certainly wasn't shy about telling a complete strangerexactly what was on her mind.

Full speed ahead, the woman continued. "I often wonder whoI was in previous lives. Yes, I believe in reincarnation too," she said,noticing Blaine's skeptical expression. "But I think I must have ametaphysical learning disability or something because I keep comingback. I've reincarnated many times already, and I'll probably comeback a few more times after this life. Maybe one of these lifetimes I'llget it right. In the meantime, here I am, God's little cat toy."

Nothing little about you, Shamu.

They fell back into silence. Blaine looked at her smartphone again.It was 2:35. It felt later than that, probably because of her colorfulelevator friend, but that was good. If the firemen rescued themquickly, the afternoon wouldn't be a total waste. She could still gethome relatively early. Maybe she'd even stop at the corner liquor storeand get a bottle of wine to celebrate her release. Yeah. That's exactlywhat she was going to do. She deserved it after this.

"Hello, miss?" Emmett's voice came through the intercom. "Miss?Are you there? Can you hear me?"

"Well, where the hell else would we be? Moron!" the fat redheadsaid.

Blaine pressed the intercom button and spoke into the speaker."Yes, Emmett, hello!" she called out.

"Miss, the firemen are here, but there's a problem. The way theelevator's wedged between the seventh and eighth floors, it's gonnatake awhile to get it running again."

"Well, what's a while, Emmett?" Blaine said, her voice wavering alittle. She had to keep it together.

"They're not really sure, miss. Maybe a couple of hours or so, butthey're working on it; I just wanted you to know."

"Thanks, Emmett. We appreciate the update."

Her heart sank. The joy she had felt earlier at the thought of thelong holiday weekend evaporated. She needed to keep her cool. Staycalm, she told herself. This will be over soon. Maybe the elevator will berepaired faster than the firemen thought.

"Well, looks like we'll be here for a while," the woman said, almostcheerfully. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna use the chair. My knees arekilling me. We can take turns sitting, okay?"

"No problem; go ahead. I can just sit here," Blaine said, pointingdown, simultaneously letting her body slide down the wall of theelevator until her derriere made contact with the floor. Good thing shehad chosen to wear comfortable slacks and her flat ankle boots thatmorning. Blaine sat with her back leaning against the wall of the car,her knees drawn up to her chest. She watched as the fat redhead slowlylowered her hugeness onto the chair, which creaked in protest.

"There," the fat redhead said, sighing. "That's better." Blaine smiledweakly at the woman.

Neither one said anything for a while. The silence felt good toBlaine. It felt even better to sit. She realized she had been standingfor roughly an hour without moving around. She was surprised atthe ache in her legs and feet. This is what sitting at a desk for eight toten hours a day did to the body. She would make it a point when shegot back to work to be more active during the course of her day. Shewould get up and stretch her legs and walk around more. Her thoughtswere suddenly interrupted.

"Look," her corpulent companion said, "this could take awhile.Why don't we pass the time getting to know each other? What do yousay?"

"Sure, why not?" Blaine replied, shrugging. She would havepreferred the silence.

"Well, you don't have to sound so thrilled about it," the redheadsaid, and made a short snorting sound that Blaine realized was achuckle. "I'm just trying to make things easier." Blaine smiled hertight-lipped smile. Then why don't you just shut up?

"Okay, so what's your name? I bet you have one of those coolnames, don't you? You look like you have a cool name. Everybody intheir twenties has a cool name. You're in your twenties, right?"

Blaine nodded. "I'm twenty-five. It's Blaine; my name is Blaine."

"Blaine. See? It's a cool name. I thought `Blaine' was a man's name,though."

"It's for both men and women, like `Kelly.'" Blaine sounded a littledefensive to herself. "It's an old family name."

"Oh. Yeah, that seems to be a trend lately, giving kids unisexnames. Kinda confusing, if you ask me. No offense."

"None taken."

"My name's Zelda."

Blaine raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah, that's right, Zelda. Named after F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife,"the woman's tone seemed bitter. "I mean, who in their right mindnames a kid `Zelda'? And that was my mother's second choice formy name. She originally wanted to name me Isadora, after IsadoraDuncan."

"Who?"

"Isadora Duncan. She was a dancer in the 1920s. I think she wasthe first modern dancer—way ahead of her time. Scandalized societyby dancing barefooted and naked underneath gauzy robes."

"Oh. So why did your mom name you Zelda instead?"

"Because my mother was very superstitious, and she was afraidthat if she named me Isadora, I would die like she did."

"How did she die?"

"Isadora Duncan loved to wear very long scarves. She died whenthe scarf she was wearing while riding in a convertible in Paris gotcaught in the spokes of the wheel of the car. Broke her neck," Zeldaexplained.

"Oh, wow, that's awful!"

Zelda nodded.

"Yeah. Funny thing, though, my mother didn't seem to besuperstitious about the way Zelda Fitzgerald lived and died." Fat Zeldapaused and looked at Blaine expectantly. "You know, she was marriedto F. Scott Fitzgerald and had a very tumultuous relationship with him.They were jealous of each other's careers, and both abused drugs andalcohol. They were both alcoholics, really, but she was also diagnosedas being schizophrenic and spent time in several mental institutions.For all her fame, beauty, and talents, Mrs. Fitzgerald seems to have ledsuch a miserable life, you know? She died when the mental hospitalshe was in caught fire. She was one of nine patients who died in thatfire. She was only forty-eight." Zelda sighed and went on.

"But the name 'Zelda' itself conjures up a negative image. Like, ifI had to call you up for business and told you it was Zelda speaking,what would you picture I look like in your mind? Not a supermodel, Ican tell you that. I'm sure there are Zeldas out there who are beautiful,but the name doesn't automatically suggest beauty, you know?"

Blaine was beginning to feel sorry for fat Zelda. The woman didhave a point; "Zelda" wasn't on anybody's short list of baby names tochoose from.

"Also, I'm a firm believer in good luck names and bad luck names,and Zelda is definitely in the latter batch."

After a few seconds, Zelda continued. "But I think the worst of thebad luck names is Anne and any derivative of that name: Anna, Anita,etc. I would never saddle any child of mine with that name."

"I think Anne is a pretty name."

"It may be a pretty name," Zelda said slowly, as if explainingsomething to a slow-witted child, "but it's a bad luck name. DoesAnne Boleyn ring a bell? Anne of Cleves? How about Anne Frank?And even in movies most of the time the Anne character is leftfor a younger, prettier woman, or is portrayed as a total bitch or anunsuitable sort like Apple Annie. Even in literature, Annabelle Leecomes immediately to mind as an unlucky sort."

I guess you may have thought about this once or twice.

"I see what you mean," Blaine said, unsure who some of thewomen mentioned were. "What would be a good luck name?"

"Jennifer," Zelda said without hesitation. "In my opinion, Jenniferis a really good, lucky name. Alison is another. Also, Brooke, Heather,Jessica, Kim, and yeah, Kelly, even if it is used for both men andwomen nowadays."

"Well, why not change your name, if you hate it so much?"

"I should have done that a long time ago, but I knew if I did, itwould upset my mother. She passed away a couple of years ago, and Icoulda done it then, but it's okay; I've made my peace with my name,so it's not an issue anymore."

I think I beg to differ.

CHAPTER 2

Hour Two: 3:00 to 4:00 p.m.

There was a lull in the conversation. Blaine took hersmartphone out of her bag and looked at the time. It was 3:03p.m. She tried to keep her anxiety under control. She promised herselfnot to look at the time again, at least not until they were rescued.Checking the time would only upset her further. She had to accept thecurrent circumstances. They would get out whenever they got out, andno amount of checking the time would make a bit of difference, shetold herself.

"Forget it, Blaine; stop torturing yourself. Live in the now!" Zeldasaid and made her short, snorting, chuckling sound.

Startled, Blaine looked up from her smartphone and found Zelda'sbulging eyes studying her. Zelda's head was slightly tilted to the side ina questioning pose.

"You know where that's from?" Zelda asked.

"Where what's from?"

"'Live in the now,'" Zelda answered.

"I don't know. Some Zen saying or something?"

"No!" Zelda exclaimed. "Well, yeah, it is a Zen principle. No. That'sa line from the first Wayne's World. You ever see that movie?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right. I've only seen parts of that movie. It waspretty good, though."

"You've only seen parts of that movie? What's wrong with you?How can somebody only see parts of a movie?"

"I don't really have the patience to sit through a whole movie."

"Oh. My. God," Zelda said, emphasizing each word. "How is thispossible? Don't you like movies?"

"Sure, they're okay. I just don't have the patience to sit for over anhour doing nothing when I could be doing other things."

"Doing nothing? Aren't you entertained by what you're looking aton the screen? Don't you follow the story along? Get involved with thecharacters and their situation?" Zelda demanded.

Blaine shrugged. "I guess so." Jeez, calm down.

The response seemed to provoke Zelda. "I don't understand that,"she said, frowning and slowly shaking her head, "but, come to think ofit, this isn't the first time I've heard someone in their twenties say thatthey don't have the patience to sit through a movie all the way." Zeldasounded out of breath. She paused for a moment and then continued."I know what it is, though. It's the whole instant gratification,information-at-the-speed-of-light, want-it, get-it-yesterday attitudethat's to blame for producing a whole generation with the attentionspan of a flea," Zelda said forcefully. After a moment, she said in asofter voice, "I love movies."

Really? I couldn't tell.

"I guess movies have been an obsession of mine ever sinceI was a kid. Every Sunday after church my parents used to drop offmy brothers, cousins, and me at the local theater, and we'd have agrand old time for a couple of hours. It was magical," Zelda sighed, afaraway look in her eyes. "I'm sure a lot of people feel the same wayas I do about movies. Not you, of course, but other people. Unlikeother movie fans, though, I guess I take it a couple of steps further.For instance, whenever I watch a movie, I'm in it. For the duration ofthe movie I'm every character on the screen; whatever's happeningto them is happening to me, for real. You know what I mean?" Zeldalooked at Blaine intensely.

Just nod and smile like you know exactly what she's talking about.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from 'Til the Fat Redhead Sleeps by Victoria Wilson. Copyright © 2013 Victoria Wilson. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: iUniverse
• Publication date: 2013
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1491705310
• ISBN 13: 9781491705315
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 176