Chapter 30
"I have only one friend, besides my son," Rickie said. "Her name is Judy. I was lucky to have her; Hershey didn't allow me any other friends. For the past five years, except for Judy, I've lived in total isolation. My only other acquaintance was our housekeeper, Juana, who speaks very little English. I might as well have been a dog in a kennel. Hershey actually kept me on a time clock. He had to know where I was at all times. My loneliness was unbearable."
Rickie arrived at Du-Par's restaurant to find Dr. Black's breakfast meeting well underway, with three other ladies besides herself halfway through assorted plates of high octane breakfast items, most notable of which were the pancakes slathered with extra blueberries and whipped cream, of which Rickie ordered a plateful. After short introductions from Black, dressed in a red power suit and three-inch red platform pumps, Rickie felt at home immediately, and wasted no time opening up to the sincere, welcoming spirits proffered by the group.
"My ex-husband was an abusive s.o.b. who used to constantly accuse me of cheating on him," Betty, a matronly woman in faded designer sweats, replied. "I remember once he slapped me at a party because he thought I was making eyes at his best friend. I probably was at that point."
"What I hated about my abusive relationship was the verbal degradation," Scotia, a tiny waif with short, wavy henna hair, volunteered. "After six months with this android, he'd nearly convinced me I was nothing more than a slut. That's part of the reason I elected to have an abortion when I became pregnant; a feeling I wasn't worthy to have a child. I finally realized after I entered therapy with Dr. Black the 'droid was the problem, not me. It took awhile to get my mind around the truth that the man who'd promised to love me forever was incapable of loving anyone or anything."
Rickie took a toothsome gobble of pancake, and sipped slowly from her thick mug of Du-Pars excellent urn-brewed coffee, grateful to be part of the forum, appreciative that, thus far, not a single remark in this no-holds-barred atmosphere was made of the fact that she'd shown up in a slightly damp robe and slippers.
"My life is in complete chaos," Rickie said. "Yesterday I tried to drown myself in front of Shutters hotel. I came back because of my responsibility to a new kitten. Would you believe right this very moment, in the trunk of my car, that kitten lies frozen inside a Gelson's shopping bag?"
"The runt is dead already?" Black asked.
Rickie nodded. "She drowned in an unfortunate turn of events. We're trying to set up a decent burial for her at the Los Angeles Pet Memorial Park, next to Hopalong Cassidy's horse."
Black sighed, and grimaced, as if the evoked mental picture of the frozen cat connected her to something unpleasantly strange. "Rickie, as you may have guessed, this group's core value is survival. It's the starting place for us, and the place from which we ultimately hope to work our way outward to the more rewarding areas of spirit and life. These ladies are the lucky ones; so far, they've all managed to escape their tormentors. Of course you, Rickie, are merely beginning the escape process. If you're going to survive, you've got to have caring friends from outside your immediate circle. Friends who will go the distance with you. The name of our group is Women Empowered. WE for short. We'd like you to join with us, in the hopes you will allow us to help you escape from the death threat you're under."
"I may not escape. I'm not certain it's possible. Today, just before I left, Hershey sent two men to scare me, to let me know even though he's in a hospital bed, he can still control me, can still hurt me. They told me they were coming back later to finish me off. After they left, I ice-picked the tires on his Rolls."
"He's doubtless having you followed," Betty said. "Before you leave, we should check the parking lot for the watchers."
"Oh my God. I'm sure you're right. I'm afraid it's a matter of time before he gets me."
"As long as you continue to think like that, Hirschfeld is going to remain in control of your life," Black said. "When is his abuse finally going to stop?"
"That's an easy question," Rickie said. "It'll stop when I'm dead."
"I've got a better idea," Jackie--a thin, model-type with super-short champagne hair--said. "Why not stop it by having him die first?"
"Been there, done that. I fired five shots and all five missed. He had a heart attack as a result and is in the hospital even as we speak. The problem is, I've lost my nerve to try again. It's a matter of time before he finishes me. I can feel it."
"We're not going to let that happen," Black said. She reached into her sizeable purse and pulled out a whopping revolver. "Every lady present here today carries a weapon. Members of WE are trained to fight back. The first step is to get you proficient with a personal firearm. I can set you up with an arms trainer for later today." Black replaced the revolver in her purse, the gesture well-practiced, as if the gun were nothing more than a lipstick.
"I appreciate your offer to help me. I don't have the guts to shoot anybody. That's why I've lost hope, even though I'm making this pathetic last ditch effort to break free."
"Rickie," Jackie said, "What you're doing is far from pathetic. It's real. Very real. Which is why I want to encourage you to give some serious thought as to how you're going to protect yourself now that you've made your escape."
"You mean like learning how to shoot? Are you ladies some kind of paramilitary organization or something? Is that it?"
"The escape is the riskiest and most dangerous time in the relationship," Jackie said. "That's why your husband sent the goons to pay you a visit. To let you know your life is on the line. We're not paramilitary, but we are militant. We believe a woman is worth defending."
"I met a man," Rickie said. "A couple of days ago. His name is Shank. From what I know of his past, I believe Shank is a dangerous man. I think deep down, I'm encouraging a relationship with Shank hoping he'll do something about Hershey for me."
She gave the group credit. Nobody blinked.
"That won't work," Scotia piped up. "Nicole Simpson tried doing it that way. Ron Goldman was a martial arts expert. He lost his cool when he came up the walkway and saw Nicole lying there unconscious. Point being, if you need a bodyguard, hire one, don't use a boyfriend."
"I tried the boyfriend approach myself," Jackie said. "I hooked up with a cop and a police dog when I was being stalked by a maniac. In the end, it all came down to me."
"Where's your lawman friend now?"
Jackie smiled in a way Rickie wished she herself could, it was a smile free and flowing, like a headstream of happiness. "I married my cop. Perhaps you'll wind up marrying your Shank."
"You're about my size," Black said, studying her critically. "I've got a clean outfit in the car you can put on before we leave this morning. I hope you like fuchsia."
"I'll join your group," Rickie said. "I'm not ready to start carrying a gun. If I could have a chance at getting healthy again, to be free from my grief and my troubles, it would be the most wonderful thing in the world. Perhaps soon I will become a woman empowered."
"We'll drink to that," Black said, hoisting her water glass. The ladies, like an informal court, likewise followed suit, as the sequence of events in Rickie's life continued to unfold, suggesting to her perhaps there was a place in the universe where Justice rode unfettered, and was even now hastening to her aid.