give in. She's Evil. And Evil always wins.”
“I don't believe that. In my world, Evil never wins.”
“Your world is fantasy. Like the Dodgers beating the Yankees.” He pulled her toward him and kissed her forehead.
Inside the hearing room at Judge Walker’s court, Ace, Natasha, Elisabeth, and her attorney, Barbara Tate, sat across from Judge Walker. Natasha's pocket watch was lying open, in front of her, on the table.
“Your mother has pretty much been managing your life. A very successful life, I must say. Why attempt this change?” The Judge said.
“I have no life.”
“No life! You spoiled brat. Your face is on the cover of every major magazine,” her mother said, “you can pick and choose projects.”
“I'm dying! Mother.”
“Your Honor, this scheming little brat will say anything to get her way.”
“Your Honor,” Barbara Tate said. “I have medical proof that my client may have less than thirty days to live.”
Natasha didn’t flinch at the news. “Your Honor, Barbara Tate has a reputation of exploiting young starlets. She's probably sleeping with her. She can get a Doctor to say anything. Thirty days go by and Elisabeth's still around, it's too late if you've already made a decision that devastates my life. Managing Elisabeth is my only income.”
“Let me see the X rays,” Barbara handed the Judge the envelope. The Judge extracted the X rays and held one up to the light. “Who's the Doctor?”
“Doctor Matt Voss.”
“He's a quack. Five years ago he diagnosed Elisabeth with a kidney disease. It was bull crap.”
“Are there any other medical opinions?
“Yes, your Honor. Here are opinions from three other Board Certified Physicians. She handed the Judge the letters.
He handed copies to Ace. Natasha stared at Elisabeth. Elisabeth looked away.
“Elisabeth, you understand this is a Competency Hearing, these documents backup your mother's petition. In your state of health, you're not in a position to make million-dollar decisions. I wouldn't nominate her for Mother of the Year. But your mother's been a darn good manager. Unless you have additional arguments, I'm going have to approve the petition.”
“Your Honor, Elisabeth understands that her health would affect her competency. She will stipulate to being incompetent as long as you appoint me as Trustee of her estate. An estate which is outlined in this Will.” She handed the Will to the Judge and a copy to Ace.
Natasha snatched Ace's copy. She read it. Wadded it up, and then threw the wad at the Judge, grabed her pocket watch from the table, and stormed from the hearing room.
“Your Honor, please forgive my client I'm sure you understand she's in shock. She's reacting to the news of her daughter's health. She only wants what's good for Elisabeth and the cast and crew of Wednesday's Child. If Elisabeth takes the next thirty days off, it will devastate the show. It's Sweeps Week.”
“So, you and your client, Elisabeth's mother, you're asking me to force Elisabeth to return to work even though she's dying?”
“Yes, your Honor.”
“You and your client are both pond scum.”
“Your Honor, he's right. I need to be written out of the show. I can do a couple more weeks.”
In the studio hallway, Elisabeth was on her cell phone. She spoke softly, “But I don't understand, Doc.”
It's radical. But there's a chance. It involves lasers and drugs and open heart surgery.
“What are the odds?”
"Fifty fifty. But it's illegal in the States. We have to go to Mexico.”
“When?”
“I’ll pick you up tonight at your house.”
Inside the writers’ room, three writers, a producer, a director, and Elisabeth sat at a long table. Elisabeth stood and paced. She swooned but recovered. The director and producer stood and moved to the shadows. “And that's about it. So we need to write me out of the show.”
“We can't exploit your death, Elisabeth.”
“It would be the highest rated show in Sweeps Week history," Elisabeth said.
“The public would never forgive us.”
“She could go off to college or something.”
“That would be too choppy. The audience wouldn't buy it.”
“I know what they would buy.” Elisabeth said. “What they've been waiting for.”
“You and Travis.”
“Me and Travis. You always show us on the beach. We could marry on the beach. It'd be a blockbuster. When I'm gone, it'd get heavy syndication.”
“You sound like your mother.”
“God help me.”
Natasha entered, she closed a wet umbrella and brushed rain drops from her shoulders. T.J. followed in a yellow slicker and rain hat. “Hope that's a complement. I'm going to need lots of complements. You write Elisabeth out of the show, the law suit will close this studio.”
“Mother! I want to do something to try to insure the show will survive when I'm gone.”
“Your not going to be gone. It's not in the cards.” She took her watch out. Checked the time. Put it back in her pocket.
“Mother!”
“Sit down and shut up!” She rushed Elisabeth and pushed her. Elisabeth fell into a light stand. The light crashed to the floor and exploded.
Elisabeth got up and limped from the stage.
Natasha turned to the writers. “Now! Write! Twenty-two more shows!” She exited.
Natasha lead T.J. down the hallway. T.J. tried to pull away. “I'm going after Beath!”
“You're coming home with me!”
T.J. twisted away from her mother and darted down the hall and exited.
Rain poured down on Elisabeth huddled in a fetal position against a rough, brick wall. Her thin dress was soaked through. T.J ran up and plopped down next to Elisabeth. She placed Elisabeth head on her lap. “Elisabeth! Don't die!” T.J. started to get up.
“Stay with me. Take this necklace. Remember me.”
The Glass Heart necklace swung back and forth on Elisabeth's neck as T.J. rocked her back and forth.
Standing at the corner of the building, with rain hammering at her umbrella, Natasha pulled the pocket watch from her coat. She checked the time. And then she threw the watch against the studio wall. The watch crashed against the wall. Natasha moved toward her daughters, T.J. and Elisabeth.
The end
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