’Til the Fat Redhead Sleeps: A Big Apple Story

By Victoria Wilson

For the first time in years, Blaine Bishop will be spending Thanksgiving alone, and she cant wait. This year, she wont worry about the stress of travel or family dynamics. She wont stress the weekend away and wonder where her vacation went. Instead, she will spend Thanksgiving doing whatever she wants. But of course, as the saying goes, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

After completing a routine errand for her boss at a clients office, Blaine takes the buildings ancient elevator down to the main floor. The start of Blaines four-day holiday weekend is just minutes away when an obese redheaded woman joins her on the elevator. As luck would have it, the elevator suddenly stops, and Blaine finds herself trapped between floors with a stranger.

Blaines fantasy weekend is now destroyed, as they have no clue when they will be rescued. Even worse, the redhead seems determined to talk nonstop. Blaine finds herself a captive audience. As the hours pass and help does not arrive, she finds herself wondering just how long she can stand it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491705339

Victoria Wilson

Victoria Wilson lives in Queens, New York, and commutes to Manhattan for her job. She lives with her cat, Sheba, in a studio apartment but hopes to move to a bigger place soon. Sheba can’t wait; she has already packed away her toys. This is Wilson’s first novel.

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Copyright © 2013, 2014 by Victoria Wilson.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-0531-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0532-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0533-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013915828

iUniverse rev. date: 02/20/2014

Hotel California" (Felder, Henley, Frey, 1976)

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

About the Author

For you, Mom.

I love you.

People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do.

—Isaac Asimov

Acknowledgments

M Y DEEPEST GRATITUDE, FIRST AND foremost, to God and the divine inspiration provided me. My irreverence is strictly in fun, you understand, so please don’t go all Old Testament and medieval on me, okay?

To my entire family, not only my mother, my late father, and my three siblings, but my entire extended family, including cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and in-laws, I thank you all. My family has made me what I am today, for better or for worse, and I am grateful to everyone for his/her contribution. Here are a few individual acknowledgments:

A gigantic thank-you to my brothers, Henry and Javier. Our childhood never lacked adventure, twists, and turns. Looking back, I appreciate our having shared so much that we can laugh about now. I must apologize, from the bottom of my heart, for the physical pain I inflicted on both of you growing up. It breaks my heart to remember the two little boys with iodine-painted arms to prevent infection from my scratches. To say that I am sorry and ashamed of myself is a colossal understatement.

That we have become close and loving siblings, as well as good friends, speaks volumes of your character and nature. You are the stable influence in my life and the ones I turn to, along with Mara-Mara, for advice and counsel. I love, admire, and respect you both beyond measure, and I thank God every day for you.

I am in awe of my sweet little sister, Maria (Mara-Mara/Muchita), the best sister anyone could ever hope for. You have an amazing heart, and your energy and upbeat outlook infuse those around you with joy. You usually leave a group of people feeling better than they did before you joined them. Thank you for your constant, unwavering, unconditional love and affection, which made the bad times better and the good times exceptional. You are one of those special blessings that come along so infrequently; I love and respect you more than I’ve ever been able to express. So here it is, in writing:

I love you, Muchita!

To my two sisters-in-law, Ceil and Maggie, and my brother-in-law, John: it’s an honor having you in the family, and I thank you for your warmth and friendship. Through the years we have shared much and gotten through a lot. You are truly part of the strong fabric that makes this family what it is today. I love you guys.

To all my nieces and nephews, cousins, and aunts and uncles on both sides of the family who were always there for me and who provided additional guidance and support: I apologize that there are too many of you to mention individually, but know that your love, kindness, and affection meant the world to me growing up. You always made me feel special and wanted, and you provided much-needed changes of scenery at just the right time. I wish you lives rich in love, joy, and happiness.

To my dear friends from childhood, Mary Louise (Rogers) Tippins; her brother, Stacy Rogers; and their parents, the late Mary and Stacy Rogers Sr.: I will never forget your friendship, affection, and guidance during the good years and the tough ones. It is with a great deal of love and affection that I remember you, even if time and distance have prevented our meeting again. I wish infinite blessings for you and your families.

To Patricia and Joe LaForce and their children, Patty, Jimmy, and Janie: I haven’t the appropriate words to express my gratitude for the kindness you showed Henry and me. Your warmth and generosity made life a little brighter and less daunting for a couple of kids facing a bleak future. I will always think of you with great admiration and fondness. May your lives be filled with every happiness.

To my wonderful, present-day friends and colleagues, especially:

Cathy Melichar, for her friendship all these many years and her incredible kindness. I am in awe of her astounding talents for finding peaceful, diplomatic solutions to difficult problems. Also, I appreciate her giving me more credit than I sometimes deserved and for her never-ending encouragement. In addition, I will be forever grateful for the great idea that gave birth to this version of the story. You are phenomenal!

Yolanda Richardson (GW/SA), fellow admin and knower of all things, for her daily moral support, patience, amazing example, and inspiration. Above all, her friendship means more than I can properly express. Thank you also for another great idea, which tied up some loose ends in the story.

Andrea Nicoletti, who, along with Yolanda and Cathy, laughed at practically everything I said or wrote and whose amusement at my antics motivated me to push on to complete the story. If I ever do stand-up, I’m bringing all three of you to every one of my gigs; you guys are a great audience.

To my corporate family, Terrence F. Tangney, Timothy B. MacGuire, and Lauren Liles: thank you for your tolerance, patience, and indulgence. It’s been quite a ride we’ve all been on—sometimes rough, other times unpredictable, always challenging. May you and your families enjoy lives filled with joy, happiness, laughter, and excellence. I love you guys!

Millie Figueredo and Zeke Delgado: I wish I could see you more often; our time together never lasts long enough. I love and admire you for your warmth, humor, and the way you deal with whatever appears on the horizon. Millie, thank you for your invaluable technical assistance; I was able to clarify certain points in the story as a result. God bless you both!

Debby Melichar, sensitive Cancerian and a great, fun-loving, hangout reveler—when she shows up, that is. Thank you for your friendship and the times you listened and offered great advice. I will never forget the laughter and stories we shared. My most fervent wish is for you to beat the crap out of life—to stand there and yell, You want a piece of me? Come on; bring it on, motherfucker! I will pay good money to see that, so think about it.

Cindy Adams-Johnson, aboard the same corporate boat as me and whose ears I bent on more than one occasion to the point of their almost melting off her head. Thank you for letting me rant and rave like a total lunatic, even when your situation was ten times more difficult than mine. I wish you much joy, peace, and happiness.

Gina Manzino, fellow animal lover and fighter for animal rights: your great sense of humor always made the workplace fun; your level-headedness and talent for getting to the crux of the matter in record time are truly amazing. Wishing you nothing but the very best; you are good people!

Liz Payne, whose calm, efficient, get it done approach to any project or matter are traits that would serve this country well as the first US female leader of the free world: Madam President, you are the only person I would wholeheartedly endorse and give my vote to. I believe the planet would benefit from your diplomatic talents. If you ever decide to make a career change, please let me know. I would very much like to work on your campaign.

Vivien and Wayne Kanemitsu, two of the most spiritual people I’ve ever known: I don’t have the appropriate words to express how much your friendship has meant to me through the years. Your accepting and tolerant ways have had a great influence on me, believe it or not, even if I’m still a wild, rabid wolverine. It saddens me that you’re so far away geographically. But even with so many miles between us, I consider you close friends and hope one day to see you both again.

Britt Vice, who always knew just when to tell a joke or funny story to lessen the stress at the O.K. Corral: thank you for putting actions behind your belief in my talent and commissioning the jackets. I appreciate your confidence in my abilities more than I can express. I hope our paths cross again one day. In the meantime, I wish you the very best life has to offer.

Tracy Merckling, former coworker lucky enough to have gotten out of the rat race when she did: thank you for your friendship and moral support. I promise we will get together for that dinner soon. I appreciate your enthusiastic encouragement, and I admire your strength and positive attitude, even while going through difficult times. That you have not only survived but thrived is admirable. I wish you and your family many blessings.

Diane (Sample) Minshew, great friend from Florida days: there isn’t a family get-together at Thanksgiving or Christmas that doesn’t include at least one story about adventures at the Sample home or pond. Good times! I’m so happy we’ve kept in touch through the years. I appreciate your friendship and humor, and I wish you and your family all the happiness in the world.

Finally, a great big "thank you!" to the city of New York and its people. You have enriched my life immeasurably. If not for your providing such a wealth of material, this book wouldn’t have been possible.

Oh, yeah, and to all you nuns and kids who made my life a living hell all those years in Catholic school and whose names I have consequently blocked out:

BITE ME.

Introduction

Noon, Thanksgiving Eve

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

B LAINE BISHOP WAS EXCITED. AT long last her favorite time of year had arrived. With Thanksgiving less than twenty-four hours away, the holidays would officially begin. She could feel the energy in the air, the same way one could feel when snow or rain was headed your way. The office would be closed on Thursday, of course, and since everyone knew she always traveled out of state to spend this holiday with her family, her having Friday off was a given.

This year, however, due to various circumstances, Blaine would be spending Thanksgiving alone. For one, her roommate was away on vacation for another week; for another, finding themselves empty nesters, her folks had booked a Caribbean cruise for the first time in their married lives. In view of their parents’ Thanksgiving plans, Blaine’s siblings, who lived in other states, decided to stay home and spend Thanksgiving with their own families or at their in-laws’.

She didn’t tell anyone at work that her customary holiday plans had changed. And she didn’t let on to her family that she was ecstatic at this unexpected turn of events. She was looking forward to a nice, long, relaxing weekend of doing whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. This thought brought on a wave of happiness exactly like the kind Blaine experienced as a child the day before summer vacation began.

Every time Blaine thought about the next few days, she became giddy, with giant butterflies flapping around in her stomach. It was all she could do not to giggle. Four days of freedom! No alarm clock. No rushing around getting ready for work, struggling to get to the office on time. No rushing to the airport this Wednesday afternoon or evening to encounter all the hassles of modern-day travel, surrounded by the hordes trying to get away. No worrying about canceled flights due to weather or losing her seat because the airline overbooked her flight.

And no third-degree from parents and other relatives once she got home, either. No interrogations about boyfriends, past or present. No leading questions about work or finances. No earnest talks about her future happiness. No irrational need to prove to everyone in the family that her life was fine as it was, even if she was nowhere near getting married and raising a family like her siblings had done several years before. What a relief, for once. Here was one more thing to be thankful for this year.

She had it all planned: Thanksgiving Day she would sleep late—maybe into the afternoon. What did she care? Maybe she’d even stay in bed all day, watching the parade on TV, reading the fashion magazines she’d received in the mail or that mystery novel gathering dust on the shelf. She even had all day to work on a crossword or two.

The only reason for getting out of bed would be to use the bathroom and later to heat up and eat the ready-made Thanksgiving dinner she’d picked up at the store the weekend before. Household chores and projects could wait until later in the weekend, but Thanksgiving Day was hers to enjoy as she pleased.

Now if the powers that be would just hurry up and send them home, Blaine thought, her idyllic weekend could commence. Her department usually received an e-mail the day before a major holiday advising a time for early departure. That e-mail hadn’t arrived yet, but reception had already sent theirs: no front-desk coverage would be provided after 2:00 p.m. today. Now, how did the receptionists manage to leave earlier than the other departments?

The phones had been silent most of the day, as expected. Blaine used the quiet time to catch up on the pile of overdue work, every so often stealing a glance at the clock. Time seemed to crawl by. At almost 1:00 p.m. Blaine’s boss stopped by her desk.

I have a big favor to ask you, he said, his tone apologetic.

What is it?

In a few minutes, I’ll have documents ready for our new clients to sign. The thing is, I could messenger the papers over, but with the holiday and all, I don’t trust our messengers to get the paperwork to them before they shut down operations today at three. They’re also closed on Friday, and I want to make sure they have the account agreement docs today. Would you take them over? You can take a cab and get reimbursed, and once you drop the papers off, you can just go home from there, okay?

Sure. Where are their offices?

They’re down on Thirty-Second Street, between Fifth and Sixth. The full address will be on the envelope I give you. I really appreciate your doing this. You’re flying out to your folks’ tonight, right?

Uh. No worries. It’s no problem; glad to help, Blaine said, silently calculating how quickly she would get home that afternoon.

How great was this, she thought. She would hop in a cab, quickly travel down nineteen blocks, drop off the documents, and in no time at all find herself in her apartment. With any luck, she could start her weekend by 2:00 p.m. Blaine had to make a concerted effort not to do a happy dance at her desk. When her boss handed her a large envelope containing the documents at 1:20 p.m., Blaine Bishop wished everyone a happy holiday and sprinted out the door.

By one thirty she was in a taxi quickly traveling down a nearly deserted Fifth Avenue.

Never seen the avenue this empty this time of day, the driver said, looking at Blaine from the rearview mirror.

Yeah, she said and nodded, while looking out the window. Just hurry up and get me there.

All the action is over at Herald Square and the blocks around Macy’s and along Sixth and Seventh, the driver continued. They’re all setting up for the parade tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be over there; it’s probably already a mess all over the west side. He looked at her again from the mirror.

Yeah, I bet, Blaine said, returning the cabby’s gaze and giving him a tight-lipped smile.

It’s nice, the parade, with all the balloons and floats and celebrities, right? You like the parade?

Aw, jeez, a talker.

Sure, Blaine said, smiling again. It’s real nice. I watch it on TV every year.

Yeah, me too. It’s a great tradition, and it’s great for the city, you know, brings in revenue and free advertising and tourists. I really like the parade. He smiled.

Blaine nodded again and said, Yeah, I do too, and smiled broadly. Just shut up and drive, for Pete’s sake.

Arriving at her destination, Blaine paid the driver and miraculously remembered to ask for a receipt before scrambling out of the cab. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment and looked at the building she was about to enter. Staring back at her was a dirty, scary-looking primeval structure that looked to have the crud of several decades encrusted in its facade.

Blaine pushed the heavy revolving door and found herself in a narrow, dimly lit vestibule. On the right was an ancient desk, behind which sat an equally ancient man in a frayed, stained uniform. His deeply lined, weather-beaten face was a deep copper, as if he had a year-round tan. Several days of white stubble covered his cheeks, jowls, and chin. Under bushy white eyebrows his eyes were heavy-lidded, almost bulbous. The old man wore a bus driver’s cap over a full head of thick, white hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb or brush in some time. Above his breast pocket was pinned a narrow ceramic tag. Etched in a script font on the rectangular badge was the name Emmett.

Hello, Blaine said.

The old man looked like he’d just awakened from a nap.

Hello, miss, he said. Who are you here to see?

I have to drop off these documents at National Enterprises, Blaine said, showing the old man the envelope.

They’re up on the twelfth floor. That’s the top floor. Take the last car, Emmett said and pointed a gnarled finger in the direction of the elevators.

Okay. Thank you.