Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 38.2: 1968, Georgina

Chapter 38.2: 1968, Georgina

 

"Oh, I don't care if the sun don't shine! I get my lovin' in the evening time, when I'm with my baby! Mm mm mm~ mm~ mm~ mmm~! That's when we kiss and kiss and kiss! And then we kiss some more! Don't ask how many times we kiss- Mm mm mm mmmm?"

I was leaned against the wall of the skinny hallway between the bathroom and office. Inside the bathroom, Paulie was singing to himself and it sounded like he was washing off his make-up, the water of the sink running full blast. Splashing interrupted his singing every now and then. 

"Baby, baby, baby!" he sang to no particular tune, then I heard him smacking the wall. 

What in the world was this? I started giggling. He sounded so happy. 

The sounds of water stopped and the door clicked unlocked. It opened and I peered inside. He was grabbing his suit bag off of the high purse hook on the wall, which contained his white organza dress. He was dressed handsomely in a long, tan trench coat and smart singularly creased black pants. His shiny black oxfords clicked on the tile as he walked around.

"Oh, hi," he sang to me, his grin wide. 

Then I noticed his pupils. Oh. My smile dropped away from my face. 

"What's wrong, darlin'?" he beamed, staring at me. 

"Nothing. Go home." I gave him the cold shoulder, bumping him as I entered the bathroom. I turned on the sink, doing my best to ignore him. He was like the elephant in the room now. With a click of my little purse, I had the key to the maintenance closet where we kept our personal things in my hand. Focusing on my task, I tried to pretend he wasn't there the best I could.

He was high and I wanted nothing to do with him when he was high. Hadn't he learned anything? Betrayal was filling my veins like fast moving water. On such a happy day, too. Why? 

"But I don't want to go home."

"Go home."

I removed my suitcase bag from the closet and pushed open the metal clasps. From it, I robotically took out a little blue washcloth and ran it under the faucet, getting a good soak. I could sense his presence over my shoulder. My eyes flicked to the mirror and I could see him there, exactly where I thought he'd be. He was still smiling, but his eyes looked a bit troubled.

"Why?" he had the audacity to ask.

"Because you're fucking high. I don't want Cha Cha to see you like this."

"He won't notice-"

"Oh, you did not," I sighed in broiling rage, trying to keep it down in my stomach, staring at him full on in the mirror now. My washcloth was abandoned in the sink. Our eyes locked on each other. His smile still did not waver. It felt so grossly inappropriate. Disgustingly awkward.

I turned to him, my eyes boring into him like twin drills. He seemed to shrink a little bit. "You think the kid can't tell if you're high? Does coke make you stupid? Wait, don't answer that."

"It was just a couple of bumps."

"Fuck you."

"Georgina."

"Fuck you!"

I turned off the sink, gathered up my things. I'd change later, when he wasn't here. I couldn't be around him anymore. How dare he. How dare he do this after what happened at that club, after what happened at my apartment! Pressing my bag to my body, I made my way to the closet, throwing it on the floor and slamming the door. He jumped a bit in the mirror at the sound and a feeling of gladness flowed through me. Feeling good that he was scared. Damn right!