My Daughter, Audrey [ON HOLD]

The Guard and the Driver

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find an inn?”  Jennie asked the passing people outside of the plane station.   But none turned to help her or even hand her a map; they were all too busy with their concerns and they had labeled her as a “bugging tourist.”   Jennie got into a fluster and stomped one foot.   At a raised voice that was high enough to get the attention of the security guards but firm enough to be understood, Jennie shouted, “I am looking for my daughter, I need help!”

               A middle-age security guard made his way over to her, smiling kindly.  “I’m sorry, miss, what can I do for you?”

               “Yes, thank you.  I don’t like shouting, it’s very rude.  But I’m looking for my daughter, Audrey.   She’s the daughter of Helen Trapp--,”

               “Wait, miss,” the security guard barked over her, waving a large hand in front of her face.  “She has two mothers?”

               “Well, it’s not what you think.  You see, her father is my husband who had a love history with Helen Trapp.  And, well, Ms. Trapp said I could visit Helen—I mean, Audrey.  Sorry, I haven’t traveled before, and I’m usually not this talkative around strangers, and I haven’t had anything to eat either!”

               “Oh well, you mean Helen Trapp the model?”

               “Yes, sir.”

               “Well, she’s a huge name here—we can’t just let anyone in.”

               Jennie felt like throwing a fit, but she knew very well she couldn’t let her emotions dampen her social skills.  “I understand, sir, but if you told her who I am, then can I go?”

               “I can’t even go without going through another security branch.  But, I will escort you to a place you can stay in the meantime and give you all the information I know in order to see her.  Perhaps you can go to one of those dinner events the models and agents have?  They do invite people to audit, as I believe they also have a short fashion show or something.  I’m not positive.”

               “Thank you kindly, sir.  I would enjoy a place to rest and eat.  I hope I’m not much of a bother.”

               “Oh, you’re fine.  Let me help you catch a cab, he’ll know where to take you.”  The security guard picked up Jennie’s one suit case and began walking with her to the sidewalk.   He couldn’t help but admire her petite face and figure; she was indeed a beautiful woman, and men naturally looked upon her.  “So,” the guard began through a wide smile, “You from England?”

               “London, actually.  But I resided in Liverpool with my husband,” Jennie replied in a sweet, mousey tone.   She hoped he would stop talking to her, she didn’t like talking much, and the more she was forced to talk with someone, the shyer she became.

               “Really?  You ever been to the States?”

               “No.  First time.”

               “Well, it’s probably a lot louder and more colorful than England, wouldn’t you say?”

               Jennie smiled at his ignorance.  “England has it’s loud and colorful moments.”

               “Oh yeah, those Beatle boys are taking over the music industry.”

               “And I hear you have the Beach Boys,” Jennie replied in a looser tone.  She enjoyed talking about music, especially with those who have good taste.

               “Oh yeah, they formed here in California a year ago: 1961.   They’re something, I’m telling you!”

               “I would like to hear more records by them.  But, I’ve been too busy to relax,” Jennie chuckled.

               The two of them made it to the sidewalk and the guard set down her suitcase.  “Well, I got a copy of their newest album; you can borrow it if you want?”

               Jennie’s immediate response was to jump up and down and clap her hands. But she knew better than to bother a stranger into getting an album—she could get it herself easily once she found the time.  “Thank you, sir, you’ve been too helpful.  I think I’ll pass this time, but if I am in need of a record, I’ll certainly give you a ring.”   

               The guard let out another wide goofy grin and tipped his hat.  “Alright, ma’am.  Tell the taxi driver to take you to the hotel off of 3rd Avenue.  Have a safe trip!  Glad I could help!”   The guard headed back to the station.

               “Oh yes, same here.  Ta!” Jennie called out to him before cringing at her London slang—she hadn’t used “ta” since her mother had used it!  It was an informal cockney slang.  She must have been reminded of it when had told the guard she had lived in London.  But, seeing that the guard didn’t no the difference, Jennie didn’t fret over it much after. 

               A cab pulled up and Jennie got inside.   “Thank you, sir.  I’ll be going the 3rd hotel—or was it the hotel off of 3rd Avenue?”  Jennie struggled to remember.

               “It’s Angeles’s Inn, you’re talking about?  The hotel off of 3rd Avenue?”

               “Yes, sir, that’s correct.  Goodness, I’m sorry about my mind.”

               The driver shrugged and pulled out of the lot.  “You’re from England?”

               “Yes, sir.  London.”

               “Ah,” the driver grunted as he pulled out another cigarette. 

               Jennie looked out the window, taking in the new city.  She loved how bustling and “in-a-hurry” all the Americans looked.  They seemed more at ease than some of the people back home.  But Jennie could also see they were diligent and had their own economy trials and government foibles—what country didn’t?   Jennie exhaled and settled in with the idea that she would be in America for awhile.  She believed she could find more work in the city as well as visit Audrey, that is, if she could see her.