customers … the planet. And then they run a contest like this to show how much they care about regular folk and education and stuff like that, but really all they care about’s money,” Delila goes on, though it’s obvious that Beth has more important things on her mind than corporate greed and planetary degradation. “But I said, ‘Listen up, old man. If they want to give your granddaughter a big scholarship to go to college, then that’s fine by me. So long as they wipe the blood off it first.’”
Beth shuts her case, carries it across the possibly infected carpet, opens the closet and sets it down on the stand. There are already several items of clothing hanging from the rail. Like the clothes Delila’s wearing, these are so bright they could stop traffic in a tunnel on a starless night. Beth puts her own things – including a dress bought especially for the occasion – on the opposite side.
“Hey, how much stuff did you bring, girl?” Delila props herself on one elbow, scattering tiny crumbs laced with artificial flavourings and salt into the air. “We’re only here till Sunday, you know.”
Beth looks over her shoulder. “Well, I… Not that much really…” Just everything she needs to survive the next two days. “I have an outfit for tonight and for tomorrow… And, you know, back-ups in case the weather changes.” Even when she doesn’t think she has anything to apologize for, Beth sounds apologetic. “And another outfit for the presentation ceremony on Sunday, and I brought a jacket in case it gets cold…” She shuts the closet, deciding not to mention the raincoat in case it rains and the sweater and flannel pyjamas in case it gets
“What’s in there?” Delila points at the bags Beth has put on the desk.
“Oh, you know…” The smell of mesquite is making her feel slightly nauseous; the sight of the chip crumbs makes her think of her mother, who disapproves of eating on beds because it attracts insects. “My toiletries and vitamins and supplements and—”
“Vitamins and supplements?” Delila has a laugh like a bear hug. “What are you supplementing? The whole west coast?”
Beth is looking at Delila’s smile, but she is hearing her mother at the airport.
“Well, not
“A
Beth straightens out the last bottle, making sure it’s perfectly aligned with the others. “My mother doesn’t think it’ll rain that much. She’s more worried about earthquakes.”
“My grandma’s just the opposite,” says Delila. “She says she’s had so much trouble in her life, she’s stopped worrying altogether. What’s the point? Bad luck’s like cockroaches, no matter what you do it always comes back. And anyway, she figures we all have angels looking out for us.”
“Angels?” Beth has enough to worry about in the observable world without involving other dimensions.
“Yeah, you know, hanging around to keep an eye on things.”
“It doesn’t seem to me that they’re doing a very good job,” says Beth.
“You don’t know…” Delila shrugs. “Maybe things would be even worse if they weren’t around. Think about that.”
“Well, my mom definitely doesn’t believe in angels.” If Lillian Beeby had an angel, she’d be fretting about it getting its wings caught in something. “My mom says you can never be too careful.” When her mother dies, those words are going to be etched on her gravestone:
“Man, it staggers me that you finalled with a short story,” laughs Delila. “I would’ve bet anything you specialized in Prophecies of Doom!”
Gabriela enjoyed the flight to Los Angeles so much that you might think she and Beth had travelled on different planes. And they might as well have. Gabriela was the last passenger to board, and by that time Beth already had her eyes closed and her head on her knees. While Beth went over emergency procedures in her mind and tried not to be sick, Gabriela chatted to the people sitting on either side of her, telling them all about the contest and the weekend, and receiving their wishes of good luck in return. Forty minutes before they landed, while Beth was just beginning to believe that the plane wasn’t going to crash and resumed worrying about the weekend itself, Gabriela took over one of the toilets to repair any damage done to her clothes and make-up by the journey, only coming out when the stewardess banged on the door to tell her to return to her seat for landing.
And now here she is at one of the most glamorous hotels in a city of glamour. And so do dreams come true.
“Can you believe it, Gab? Why is this happening to me
Gabriela, who is kneeling in front of the tiny table between the beds like a supplicant at an altar, keeps her eyes on her reflection. “This room’s way too small.” This is less a statement of fact than a complaint. After all, even Paradise had its serpents. “I know The Xanadu’s supposed to be the last word in cool and everything. But, really, there are cells bigger than this room.”
“Oh, but this is still a really awesome place,” says Lucinda. “I mean, celebrities and billionaires and people like that stay here all the time – I heard Galatea—”
“Galatea?” Gabriela makes a discouraging sound. “You can bet your last pair of boots that if Galatea stayed here, she wasn’t in this room.” Gabriela, who is adding individual lashes to her own with the precision of a surgeon changing the valve of a heart, drops another into place. “She’d be in a big suite, Lucinda. I mean, look at this place! Galatea wouldn’t even be able to get her hand luggage in here. You can hardly move.”
This is a slight exaggeration. You can move, but not easily or far. For although this room is identical to the one Beth and Delila are in – but on a different floor and in a different colour – it is so crowded that getting from the balcony to the bathroom is something of a trek, even for girls who follow a regular programme of exercise and have been on diets since the age of twelve. The information that Gabriela has left out, however, is that all the things that crowd the room belong to her and Lucinda. Each girl brought with her one very large suitcase crammed with clothes, a medium-sized suitcase packed with indispensable appliances, a smaller suitcase full of shoes, and a metal make-up case. Gabriela, as we know, has put her mirror where the lamp and hotel phone used to be. Lucinda’s is on top of the desk. Also on the desk are a box of heated curlers, curling irons, hair straighteners, three hairdryers (one bonnet and two hand), two manicure-pedicure kits, two facial saunas and the two cosmetic cases. The hanging toiletry bags are hanging – one on the back of the bathroom door and one on the closet door; some of their clothes are stuffed in the closet and the rest are piled on the chairs and the floor for lack of anywhere else for them to be.
“You can’t find anything either. At least I can’t.” Lucinda sighs. “What am I going to do? I had it all planned to wear the green tonight. This throws everything off.” She stares at the green skirt appraisingly. “Maybe it’s not that bad. Do you think I should risk wearing it without the belt?”
“Are you nuts?” Gabriela watches herself blink in the mirrors. “Weren’t you in the limo with me?” All six contestants were picked up from the airport by a Cadillac Escalade driven by a character actor named Ru Morgenstern. By the end of the drive it was clear that, as well as having impeccable taste and knowing more about fashion than Einstein knew about physics, the other girls are competitive in a scorched-earth-policy kind of way.