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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Sex, Money, and Fame - 9. Chapter 9- Mama Got a Death Card
Desdemona opens her eyes to wake for the nightmare before. She rolls to her nightstand and checks her phone. A text from her manager Jeff, saying to call him immediately. She rises up and grabs the phone. She walks into the bathroom, sits on the toilet, and reaches for a ponytail band.
She gathers her rough curly hair back, thinking she has too much hair to deal with, that maybe she should just cut it off. She flushes the toilet and dials Jeff.
“Hello,” Jeff says on speaker.
“What’s up?” She sits her phone down and starts to brush her teeth.
“Stay out of trouble, please.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Desi baby, maybe you should not be...hanging with certain people. From a certain family.”
She spits one last time and wipes her mouth.
“The Abrams?”
“Yes Desi, I know that girl seems nice..”
“That girl?” She puts the phone off speaker and presses the phone to her ear. “Her name is Caroline.”
“Caroline is a loose cannon. A barely legal loose cannon.”
“We’re not...doing anything.”
“Good.”
Desdemona leaves the bathroom and walks toward the kitchen.
“I’ve also been hearing some things about...Jesse.”
“What kind of things?”
“That...he’s been...partying a lot.”
“What is the harm in partying?” Desdemona smirks, while knowing the answer but not wanting to discuss with him.
She walks into the kitchen to see Jesse at her stove.
“Desi, you have to stay out of that family’s drama.”
Jesse looks at her and backs away like a scared little puppy, worried he’ll get punished for chewing up your shoes.
“I’ll call you later okay,” She whispers.
She hangs up the phone. Riley and Justin stare at them in the living room. Jesse quickly makes her plate of pancakes. He takes a breath and hands her a plate. She takes the plate and sits on the couch.
“So what happened last night Jesse?” She says.
Jesse sits down next to her.
“I’m sorry. I was drinking. Then molly. Then coke.”
“Coke?” Desdemona yells. “Cocaine, really?”
“Come on Desi,” Riley chimes in. “Cocaine isn’t that bad. Everyone does it.”
She shoots Riley a dirty look and then turns back to Jesse.
“Jes, you can’t get to the point, where...you passed out.”
“I know.” Jesse says, “It won’t happen again.”
“Promise?”
“I swear. And thank you, for dropping everything to help me. I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble.”
The three of them exchange glances.
“No trouble at all,” Desdemona says.
“Expect Caroline may never talk to you again,” Riley says sipping his coffee.
Justin kicks him.
“What happened with Caroline?” Jesse asks.
Desdemona shifts, “We were...hanging out when you called.”
“Did you tell her? Jesse bites.
“No. Of course not. I...led her to believe I was ditching her for a hookup.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t very much tell her, I'm going to save her drugged up big brother before he gets himself stabbed or something.”
“I know but...I know you two are friends, and I don’t want to ruin that.”
“You didn’t,” She says, addressing the room. “Caroline has probably cooled off by now.”
“Sure”, Jesse laughs. “But you don’t know my sister, she is stubborn. Call her right now and bet she won’t answer.”
Desdemona holds up her phone and dials Caroline. The phone rings twice then declines.
“See,” Jesse says.
Desdemona dials again. The phone rings once then denied. The boys smirk.
“I’ll think of something.”
***
Caroline stares up at her ceiling. Today she just wants to sink into her sheets and melt into her bed. She hugs her cover tight, hoping she wouldn’t start crying again. She LOVED writing that song. Sitting with Desdemona, coming up with these sounds. Putting together these words, that she didn’t even know...that she knew. Discovering new rhymes. Seeing in all being sewed together into a song. Hearing Desdemona Potts playing her song, was cathodic. Yet when she got on that stage, she didn’t...want to be up there.
She looks over the picture of her dad she kept on her nightstand.
Maybe she didn’t really want to be a singer?
Her phone rings. Desdemona again. Caroline pouts.
“Caroline!”
Her name screamed out from the outside. She rushes to her window.
Desdemona was outside at the gate of the mansion with her motorcycle.
“Hey Caroline, I got a surprise for you.” Desdemona yells.
She bangs her hands on the bars and screams, “Betta come down.”
Caroline grabs her phone and watches Desdemona pick her phone from her pocket.
“I see you.” Caroline says, “What is the surprise?”
Desdemona holds up her helmet. “You wanna ride Queen Esther?”
“I get to ride on the bike?” Caroline cheers.
“Yea, an honor bestowed upon very few people.”
Caroline sucks on her lip.
***
Desdemona bangs on the bars again and yells, “Come down.”
Then Celia Abrams stomps out in a white robe and big sunglasses, “What are you doing trespassing on my property?”
Celia stops when she recognizes Desdemona, “Of course. The famous Miss Potts.” Celia crosses her arms, “What are you doing trespassing on my property?”
Desdemona pulls her hands back, “I am just waiting on Caroline to come out.”
“No way is Caroline getting on that.” Celia points to the bike, “And I am about to go back into my house and call the police,” She steps forward. “I’m sure that you know how that will go.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I know about your...past.”
Desdemona takes a step back, “What do you know?”
“That you spent quite some time in juvie.”
Desdemona’s mind shifts in how to respond. Should she do the polite thing? Say “Have a good day ma’am”, ride off, and wait until Caroline calls her? Or should she do the bad thing? Tell this rich white woman to mind her own business, break these bars and go talk to Caroline herself?
Luckily, she didn’t have decided because the gate opened and Caroline was running toward her.
“That’s your bike? Awesome!” Caroline cheers. “Are you serious about letting me ride on it?”
Desdemona holds her helmet out.
“Caroline Alice Abrams, you are not going out with her.”
Caroline walks past her mother, “Don’t wait up mom.”
Caroline grabs Desdemona’s helmet.
“I don’t know. I don’t think you should make her mad,” Desdemona whispers.
Caroline gets on the bike, “She’s not the one I’m getting my trust fund from.”
Caroline puts on the helmet and gets on the bike.
Desdemona gets on the bike. Desdemona awkwardly chuckles and drives off.
***
Desdemona pulls into the parking lot of her apartment complex.
“So is your mom going to call the cops on me?”
“Of course not,” Caroline takes off the helmet. “Trust me she may not like it but if she takes any legal action, it will be in the press. And she wants to stay away from bad press as much as possible.”
Desdemona gets off the bike, “Maybe sometime I could, like, to talk to her, about my true intentions.”
“Aren’t you a southern gentleman?” Caroline mocks.
“Stop.” Desdemona chuckles.
Caroline sticks her tongue out.
***
Caroline and Desdemona sit in front of the TV. Caroline has her head on Desdemona’s shoulder and her arms wrapped around her body. She is so happy to get to cuddle up with her. Desdemona lets her, saying that it’s her way making up for the other day and says she feels no pleasure from it.
Desdemona lowers the volume on the TV.
“Can I talk to you about something?” she asks.
“Anything.”
“I’m worried that, someone...I care about....might be overdoing it, on drugs.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you, but it’s...someone we both know.”
“Is it... you? If it’s you...”
“It’s not me. I don’t want to be a hypocrite because I do drugs too. But I’m afraid if he...they... my friend will go down a bad road if I don’t read the signs.”
“Well, I’m no good at reading the signs. I didn’t even know my own father was...using.”
Desdemona takes a deep breath and blinks, “Yea, Jesse told me about it.”
“I guess ignorance is bliss.”
Caroline was right. Ignorance is bliss. Caroline was too fragile and too pure to know the truth.
“And I can’t do this again. ” Desdemona says.
“Again?”
Caroline’s phone beeps. It’s a text from Celia.
Desdemona puts her hand on her forehead and takes a breath, “My mother was a heroin addict.”
“Oh,” Caroline flips her phone over.
“She always drank and stuff. But when dad walked out...she got bad,” She takes a deep breath. “One day I got home from school and she was dead.”
“Oh my god, you found her?” Caroline asks, putting her hand on her mouth.
“Yea, I was the only one who would,” Desdemona whispered staring down.“First I thought she was sleeping, but then I saw how pale she was. Then I saw this needle sticking out of her arm. I just stood there for, like, a while, trying to put it together. Then, once I was able to move, I called 9-11.”
Desdemona isn’t looking at her, but Caroline can tell by her sniffing that she’s crying.
“I sat there in the ambiance as they tried to put her soul back in her body,” Desdemona pushes her curls back, her eyes red. “But it had been gone for hours. Nobody knew what to do with me, I just sat there in the ER waiting room, alone. Everyone staring at me like...like I was an...orphan. Eventually, my grandparents showed up. My grandmother was a raging bitch, complaining about how irresponsible my mother was for dying.”
“Right there? The day she died?”
“Yep right there. ...But my papa, my grandfather, sat next to me and put his arm around me.”
“What did he say?” Caroline’s phone beeps again.
“He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. My grandma didn’t allow anyone to talk about my mother, she didn’t like to talk about anything that was...unpleasant. She would always say to just pray and problems will go away. I still think that’s bullshit.”
Caroline’s phone beeps again.
Caroline ignores it.
Desdemona blinks, “You...wanna see a picture of her?”
“Yea.” Caroline nodded, “I would love to see a picture of your mom.”
Desdemona gets up and walks to her bedroom. To her guitar case where she keeps the only photo she has left of her mother. It’s a photo of her and mother in front of their trailer, when she was about five. Seeing her mother’s big blonde hair and her bright, blue eyed face, makes her lungs sink. She was a Texas beauty queen. Desdemona walks back into the living room, her nerves rattling. She is about to show Caroline where she really comes from. That she is trailer trash.
She sits back down and hands the old photo to Caroline. Caroline pushes her lips in.
“She’s beautiful.” Caroline smiles, “Is that you? You’re so cute.”
Desdemona tries to maintain her breath. Caroline didn’t even mention the ratty trailer.
Caroline looks down then at her, “Her veins were blue? When the body dies, the veins really pop out.”
Desdemona exhales, “How you do…”
“I’ve seen a dead body too.” Caroline whispers.
“Yea.” Desdemona nodded, “Her veins were as blue as her eyes once were.”
After she spoke those words, it was as if there was a clicking noise in her head. A slow melody plays through her brain.
“Her veins were as blue as her eyes once were,” she sings.
She looks up at Caroline. Caroline's eyes stare back at her. Caroline felt the click too.
“Her veins were as blue as her eyes once were.” Caroline sang, wagging her finger, “The happy needle sticking out from her arm…..And though the paramedics tried. She was already dead inside.”
Desdemona smiles, though the tears, “That good.”
Desdemona hits her hands on her coffee table, drumming a repeated beat.
“Mama got a death card. She got a death card….” She sang before stopping. Stuck.
Caroline perks up her finger, “It came. In mail. Today...maybe she was happy...so very happy...she got to go away.”
Desdemona moves her mouth, but nothing comes out.
That’s kind of brilliant!
Caroline rushes to get up to find a piece of paper. Desdemona watches her then...something suddenly changes.
Caroline’s eyes were shining sky blue. Caroline’s lips were big and beautiful. There was a gleaming halo around her that made Desdemona unable to see anything else.
Desdemona knew she couldn’t tell Caroline this. But maybe the tragedy of their lives...made them soul mates.
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1
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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