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Whatever Gets You Through The NightChapter 30 free porn video
“Dry your eyes, my little friend.
Let me take you by the hand.
Freddie, get ready. Rock steady.
When Johnny strikes up the band.”
-Warren Zevon, “When Johnny Strikes Up The Band“
Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat at her second funeral in three days. Next to her in the back row so that others could see, Nigel Mander sat in a black suit of his own. A string quartet played somber, funereal versions of the film scores of John Williams as Eliot Silverman was laid to rest.
She’d worn a different veil and dress at the service for Arturo Lopez back in San Finzione than she was now wearing in Los Angeles. In the distance, photographers were being kept away, and Helen knew that it was because she was there. A part of being Contessa that Helen disliked more than having to attend so many more funerals than she used to. Because of who she was and the circumstances of Eliot’s death, paparazzi were trying to hop the fence in hope of getting a picture of La Contessa in a moment of personal grief. Catching her in the same outfit, even for two services this close together, would make the tabloid press go nuts. That would fuel the people determined to always have a problem with a woman in power and looking for anything to criticize. Her wardrobe was a primary target. The people who construe things like “What’s La Contessa wearing today” as news wouldn’t shut up about it until another “scandal” took their attention away. That these people even needed to be factored into her life for something like this offended her; but she couldn’t show it because that’s how this game is played.
Helen watched family and friends walk up to the grave marker and place stones. She didn’t think she had the right to participate at Arturo Lopez’s funeral. His family insisted, so she tossed her handful of dirt onto the coffin and said a prayer she could remember; in English in case she got it wrong.
She still thought she had no right to participate in Eliot’s until Mander nudged her and motioned for Helen to see that Mr. and Mrs. Silverman were looking at her. It took Helen a moment to recognize their looks as an invitation to come forward.
Helen stood and turned, collecting her purse and seeing the members of the cast and crew who’d come to Los Angeles with her standing behind the seated guests. Enough of them requested time off to travel to LA for the service that she offered to cover the airfare and hotel stay of any who asked to attend. Fifty-seven accepted.
A few people ahead of her in line, Helen’s eyes lit on Tad Chase placing his stone. She looked at the sad actor honoring the man that he would never know was murdered by his own grandfather. Or that he’d even had a living grandfather up until a few days prior. He returned to his seat with his parents, whom La Contessa had also seen fit to bring to LA to be with him. Robert Chase looked to her. She gave him a tiny smile and a nod to let him know it was done. He gave a relieved and thankful version of the same look back.
Helen collected one of the stones provided. She looked at the grave and saw that the other item she’d brought to place had also been thought of by others. She was pleased that she hadn’t been the only one to think of it. When she reached the marker, Helen placed her stone upon it, then opened her purse, produced a can of SpaghettiOs, and placed it on top of the small pyramid already present.
The service concluded. Helen joined the crowd of mourners filing quietly past the family. Some stopped and offered words. Helen had heard them enough times to know what they were saying and how well-meaning but completely unhelpful the things they were saying would be. One that she grew to hate after Vincenzo died was “He’s in a better place.” “Yes,” she’d think, but not say. “It’s a better place because HE is there!”
She’d said what she needed to the Silvermans over the phone. She knew they were already overwhelmed with grief and promises of support. She wasn’t going to add to the pile and was just going to leave with her head bowed when Eliot’s mother approached her. She looked at the departing line of people, then back to Helen with eyes red from too much crying already this day.
“Contessa,” Mrs. Silverman said to her. “Thank you for everything.”
“Helena’s fine.” Helena replied. “And there’s no need to thank me.”
“You paid for the funeral. You brought all these people. My son’s life touched yours. There must be something WE can do for YOU.”
Helen gave that a bit of thought.
“Well, there’s one thing.”
San Finzione One was returning home. Helen regretted that she was only a couple hours away and didn’t have time to stop in at Troy, Julie, and Susan’s house to pick up Jeanne and the boys, but she still had other matters to resolve. Jeanne would fly back with the twins tomorrow. Helen hoped the rest of her family would make it to San Finzione, or she’d make it to Federal Way soon. Their next planned trip was for her private screening of the finished picture. Once everyone was back from the funeral, filming would resume and the release date would be held back, but Vincenzo’s movie would happen.
It was late and Mander had gone to sleep in one of the rooms. Helen sat up at her desk, reading about matters she’d have to see to once she got home and tagged Maria. She had another stop she needed to make on the way back.
Her phone rang with Jeanne’s tone. Since Helen was somewhere over the Atlantic, she couldn’t calculate the time difference but knew it must be late there. She answered.
“The twins, Contessa.” Jeanne said on the other end. “They are fussing and not going to sleep. I believe they want to hear their mother’s voice.”
Helen asked Jeanne to put the phone on speaker and set it next to the crib.
“Hi, Little Loves.” Helen cooed to her sons. The crying stopped for a confused moment before resuming. “Mommy’s here. Well, she’s not ‘here’ here, but she’ll be with you soon. We’ve talked about how this is gonna happen sometimes; Mommy doesn’t like it any more than you.”
Vincenzo and Byroni let their mother know that they still weren’t accustomed to the idea.
“OK, what I can do is tell you some more story and I’ll have to snuggle you twice as much when you get home. If that sounds fair, act like you’re not old enough to understand and keep crying.”
They did so. Helen reached for a cigarette, then decided against it. She leaned back in her office chair and picked up the story she often told them from where they last left off.
“So, one night, the dragon was full of evil potions and rampaging around his lair, as he often was. You know how the Half-Dragon Girl sometimes had to run from the lair? It was one of those times. She fled into the night, into the pouring rain. She didn’t even have time to put on shoes. She had to run on wet, muddy ground.
“Now, you remember that the Half-Dragon Girl can’t fly, right? But she can run really fast and really far. She escaped from the dragon and ran through the rain to the house where the girl I told you about before lived. She knew the girl’s father was a soldier and might protect her from the dragon. The girl and her parents were not home that night, but she saw the lights on in the wizard’s tower next door. The Half-Dragon Girl knew that was where the boy lived; so, she ran there instead.”
Helen leaned forward and gave the boys a stage whisper.
“The boy’s your daddy, if you haven’t guessed by now. Not for a while yet, though. Sorry if that spoils anything. You might know the girl better as Also Mommy. Other Mommy doesn’t show up for a long time.
“The boy let her in and introduced her to the wizard. The wizard told the girl that she was safe and went to hug her. She was scared because she knew what an evil dragon was but hadn’t met a kind wizard before. She backed away. The wizard saw her do this and understood everything; that the girl lived with an evil dragon who should never have been allowed to have children, but that didn’t make her evil, too.
“He let the Half-Dragon Girl stay out of the rain. The girl next door went home to get dry clothes for her. That girl’s parents fed her better things than the Half-Dragon Girl’s, so the clothes were a bit big, but the Half-Dragon Girl wasn’t wearing wet stuff anymore. The boy showed her where to get cleaned up and the wizard brewed a potion that wasn’t a bad one like the others we’ve discussed. This was a very good potion. The best one in the world! And even today, it always makes things better.
“The Half-Dragon Girl and the wizard made each other happy. She liked hearing the wizard’s stories and he liked having her listen. She wanted to stay safe with him forever. He wanted that, too, but the law said that the dragon was her father, and there were still kings and magistrates and guards who would not allow it to be so, because legally, she belonged to the dragon.
“The law knew that there was a dragon in her home, but all they cared about was sending her back to it. The girl went back to the lair, but whenever she could, she would escape to the wizard’s tower. Soon the wizard had a key made for her, and they hid it in a place where she could find it if she ever needed to hide from the dragon and the wizard and the boy weren’t home.”
She paused. She didn’t hear anything on the other end until Jeanne picked it up and took it off speaker.
“They are asleep, Contessa.” Jeanne told her. “It worked.”
“Good.” Helen replied happily. “Now, you and them get back here ok. I miss them and ... well, Nunzio hasn’t been taking care of ALL your duties.”
The two ladies laughed, and she ended the call.
Interpol Headquarters in Lyon received a visitor. This was not, in itself, unusual. The unusual part was the visitor demanding to see Detective Inspector Luc Tomas Allaine’s supervisor. With a few commands, the receptionist went from apologizing that he couldn’t call the supervisor out front for her to agreeing to escort Helen to his office.
She didn’t see Luc’s office on the way because the supervisor kept his office at the opposite corner of the building, where he didn’t have to think about Luc at all. She walked through the department and saw what she expected from what she’d been told. The rest of Luc’s department looked like they’d been selected not for any talent at their job, but for their ability to look good in a black trenchcoat at a crime scene.
“Good morning.” Contessa Helena de San Finzione said to the supervisor. “I’ve come to have a word with you about one of your detectives.”
“Oh?” The supervisor asked. He recognized her from television and tried to figure out who the ruler of San Finzione might be talking about. Then he recalled that someone he didn’t care for had recently taken leave to go to San Finzione and groaned.
“Allaine? What happened?” He asked eagerly, his hope for something bad apparent on his face. Helen walked past the chairs and sofa to his desk, shoved some papers off it, and sat on the corner.
“Shut up and don’t move!” Helen commanded him in French before he could say anything. “Yes, I’m here to speak to you about Luc Allaine and his problems with you. He’s not a complainer and I think you’ve been counting on that fact. Oh, he didn’t tell me about it; not directly. A friend told me a couple things and it wasn’t too hard to figure out the rest. And WHY you’ve got such a problem with him. See, that’s called ‘detective work.’
“I did some more; read up on your department before I arrived. Did you know that a full 80% of the cases this department closes are solved by Luc? Of course, you know. That’s why you’d keep someone you obviously despise around: he makes you look good. I can tell that’s very important to you. The only reason you’ve had him at your disposal at all was because his partner didn’t want him endangering himself in the field anymore. So, he shut his mouth and didn’t make a fuss or report your ass all this time. But that relationship is over. And so is this one.
“I picked Luc up after he handed Dietz over to the British authorities and we talked on the flight here. I told him I was going to see you. He knew he couldn’t stop me, but I want you to know that it’s entirely because he asked that I not do anything to you that I won’t. You owe him the fact that when I leave this room, you’ll still be the same ignorant fuck you were when I entered.”
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