Miss West Virginia

Lake

She stared at what was left of her martini, idly swirling the remains with a toothpick weighted with olives. Rick, her favorite bartender, quietly polished glasses at the other end of the bar, knowing not to disturb her.

It had been a long day.

Stephen’s middle-aged kids had stood a good distance from her during the burial service, their faces devoid of grief. Any feelings they’d once had for their father had evaporated during their parents’ acrimonious divorce proceedings.  She had been the other woman, an interloper who had destroyed a respectable marriage.  It was years ago, but the wounds endured. Like the Boston Brahmins they were, however, they stoically endured the brief service, their faces turned from hers.

They had no use for her.

Well, why the hell should they? She’d never been a part of their lives, nor had she wanted to be.

She was too busy being Stephen’s last acquisition.

Proper CEO of a huge soft drink conglomerate, the two had met during a promotional campaign.

For some time, her film career had been in decline; the same could be said for her fresh, pin-up girl beauty. Even so, she was still a name. Still recognized – and loved – by the public.

The Top Hat Company had hired her to pose for an advertising blitz, hoping to capitalize on her still sexy image. The day she’d met Stephen, she been filming the first of a series of TV commercials. Wearing a slinky floor-length dress, an ermine stole draped carelessly over one shoulder, she’d held a bottle of Top Hat Cola close to her cheek. She looked into the camera and murmured seductively, “Top Hat Cola is my drink of choice.” She then slowly, sensuously, lowered the bottle, giving the public a look at her two best assets.

Stephen had been entranced. Her beauty and the mystique of old Hollywood attracted the older man. In her early thirties, she’d retained just enough glamour and charm to mesmerize.

Marrying him had seemed a good career move.

The business journalists loved her story – the small town girl who had achieved great success.

Born in West Virginia to a miner and his teenage wife, she was ready to bolt town by her sixteenth birthday. Her friends used to laugh at her dreams of stardom, but she’d always been bigger on the inside, bigger than anyone knew. She’d had ambition, aspirations. She’d watched too many movies as a kid to settle for life in a poor mining community. From the start, she knew where she was going – to the bright lights of Hollywood.

A nice profile, blond hair and an outstanding pair of breasts enabled her to leave West Virginia behind.

She never looked back.

She got a job working as a shop girl in one of the Hollywood department stores. From there, she graduated to girl photographer at the Trocadero Nightclub. And then a few big breaks – casting calls where she exhibited her talent both on screen and off. Her best performances were given in the backroom of a producer’s large suite of offices. A girl had to swallow a lot to get ahead. She did what she had to.

And it had paid off. In the end, she’d achieved some notable success. On screen, she was magnetic, excelling in screwball comedies. Off screen, she made sure the public laughed with her – not at her.

As her career wound down, she achieved yet another incarnation: serious wife of one of the country’s leading executives. She’d played the role well. With Stephen, she boarded company jets and traveled the world, the ubiquitous bottle of cola always nearby for photo ops.

She was good for business. So good that she was given an honorary position on Top Hat’s board of directors. Of course, she was only a figurehead, never allowed any say in the decision-making process. Her role was to smile and gaze adoringly at a bottle of cola – and, on occasion, her husband.

Trophy wife and corporate symbol.

She was the best day’s work Top Hat’s CEO had ever done. She was a key acquisition on the corporate road to success, always a marketable commodity.

But that’s how it had always been. Her beauty had victimized her as much as it had opened doors. Four prior husbands, not one of them worth a damn. All actors or playboys.

But Stephen had class. Or so it had seemed.

He’d fooled her with his straight-laced ways.

He turned out to be a tough son of a bitch, perhaps the worst of all her husbands. It was his coldness.

You could forgive a passionate man for the trouble he brought your way.

It was hard to forgive a cold one.

After the fascination with her Hollywood past wore off, Stephen treated her with contempt, throwing her roots in her face, derisively christening her Miss West Virginia. Well, Miss West Virginia, like it or not,  had done damned well for herself, making a few films that won her recognition – if not respect.

Until Stephen, she’d always bounced back. Something about that stiff Bostonian broke her spirit. His steely way of looking at her made her feel like dirt. She quickly lost her way in the frozen wilderness of his disdain. To escape her bewilderment, she developed a passion for alcohol, and took to sleeping in the daytime; eyes wide open, nodding to polite inquiries, doing the necessary, never really there. The real Miss West Virginia had checked out due to disinterest.

The martinis made it bearable.

Several years into the marriage, a business reporter asked her about her Hollywood career, if she ever missed the opening nights, the glamour. She’d felt Stephen’s eyes on her as she answered. He didn’t like the question, she could tell.

Well, to be honest, I threw it away – willingly – when I met Stephen. None of that star stuff mattered after I fell in love with him.” She’d smiled, reaching for her husband’s hand, and gazed adoringly into his eyes.

A photographer captured the moment and it appeared on the cover of BUSINESS WEEK. It was a nice story. Top Hat’s stock had soared when the issue hit the stands.

She’d performed her role well.

But now Stephen was gone. So was her Hollywood glamour. Tastes had changed – in colas and in film stars. The company, now part of a larger conglomerate, had forced Stephen out years ago.

They lived in unhappy silence, tolerating each other. She hid her face behind martini glasses; he hid his behind newspapers. The silence was heavy with hostility. She wondered if perhaps she was psychic; paper held between his spotted and shaking, wrinkled hands seem to speak to her: You threw it away, all of it, for this…

“Mrs. Harrington?”

Startled from her thoughts, she looked up from the martini. Rick was facing her. “Would you like another?” he asked, pointing to her almost empty glass.

I should give up drinking, she thought in a brief moment of fantasy. Stephen’s gone… I could jumpstart my career… give up the cigarettes, get to bed at a reasonable hour.

So easy… just stop the martinis…

I still have contacts… The parts would be different now… Someone’s mother… God, not grandmothers, not yet…

But first, have to stop the drinking… then get work…

“Mrs. Harington?” repeated Rick, tilting his head, staring at her.

Who was she kidding?

She’d thrown it all away, years ago. She’d already had her nine lives – shop girl, movie star, business mogul’s wife.

And now? Her final role, the grieving widow.

Another metamorphosis. Well, she was good at that.

With a quick, practiced movement, she finished off the martini and slid the glass toward Rick.

“Hit me again, friend.”

images3DD0APSB

__________________
Word Count: 1,287
Author’s Note: This week’s story is based on two challenges. One is ThainInVain’s challenge to write a flash fiction story based on the phrase, “Well, to be honest, I threw it away…” Sorry, TiV – I couldn’t hold this to 500 words, but it was your phrase that gave me the idea for the story, so I’m crediting your prompt.

The other challenge was issued by BeKindRewrite to craft a story utilizing the following words: metamorphosis; psychic paper; bigger on the inside; shop girl; sleeping in the daytime.

Both challenges can be found here: ThainInVain and BeKindRewrite. Check them out – and be part of the challenge!

All prompts utilized are bolded throughout the story.  The photo used above is of Veronica Lake, a long-ago star; the story, however, is not about Miss Lake.

About Kate Loveton

Aspiring novelist. Avid reader of fiction. Reviewer of books. By day, my undercover identity is that of meek, mild-mannered legal assistant, Kate Loveton, working in the confines of a stuffy corporate law office; by night, however, I'm a super hero: Kate Loveton, Aspiring Novelist and Spinner of Tales. My favorite words are 'Once upon a time... ' Won't you join me on my journey as I attempt to turn a hobby into something more?
This entry was posted in My Fiction and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

31 Responses to Miss West Virginia

  1. Lucy says:

    You excel in women wronged or miserable or both. Nicely done. Hit me again, friend. Lucy

  2. markbialczak says:

    Complete arc of sadness, Kate, the climb, the pinnacle, the descent. Very nice tiny crumb of hope until the flick of dismissal. Great piece.

  3. This was a joy to read, Kate. I’m not sure how you keep doing it, but you put out one stellar story after another. I bow to your greatness! ❤

  4. M. C. Dulac says:

    Ooh, that was a gripping tale! I really knew and felt for that character by the end.

    And very clever use of the prompts. The prompts sound fun. I might have to try this challenge too!

    • Kate Loveton says:

      Thank you! To have you say you felt something for the character and perhaps understood her by the end of the story really made my day. 😀

      Please do try the challenges! They are great fun.

  5. A little late getting to this, but it was everything I expected – clever, sultry, despondent – and the bartender is named Rick. What more could you want! Another great job Kate – I could almost hear “You must remember this…”

    • Kate Loveton says:

      Hi Noelle, no worries about being ‘late’ – I’m grateful that you found time to read the story. 🙂 I liked your comments and comparison. I hadn’t thought about it at the time… but perhaps there was a slight bow to Rick… 😀 I’m glad you enjoyed the story!

  6. Loved this story!! It grabbed and held on until the last minute. You captured the life arch of an aging starlet and what that looks like behind the scenes, behind the glamour. A real joy to read! And I forgive you for the word count!! TiV

    • Kate Loveton says:

      Hi TiV – thank you! It was a difficult story to tell in 500 words, but your prompt was responsible for the story – so thanks for forgiving me for going way past the word limit. 😀

  7. I like the setup. Everyone hates the widow because Daddy was such a sweetie. Ha. It’s the widow who’s been wronged. This is a smooth-as-silk and sweet-as-honey of a read. Fabulous use of all the prompts. 🙂 🙂

  8. I’m always amazed at how cleverly you use prompts. Great piece! 🙂

  9. Superbly developed character and a lot of story in such a small word count.

  10. So well written, Kate, so well. i enjoyed it lots

  11. Way to build a story gradually, but quickly! I was surprised to find that I sympathized with her even though she’s not the kind of character I’d normally like.

    • Kate Loveton says:

      Hi Stephanie, she does start out as an unsympathetic character – and as the story goes on, perhaps we gain a little more insight into her character. Your prompts always encourage me to come up with something!

  12. Really liked this one. Some very clever observations in there.

  13. willow1945 says:

    Another good one, Kate–I really enjoyed it, and I liked how you used the bolded prompts, especially the twist on “sleeping in the daytime.” And how true that for so many Hollywood actresses, and other beautiful women too, “Her beauty had victimized her as much as it had opened doors.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s