JOURNAL OF TININTHEWIND

Oh, The Drama

A Short story reflecting the film “All About Eve”

She paused, knowing that all eyes were on her. Wisps of smoke escaped her crimson lips, and she turned. The polished banister gleamed as her delicate hand reached to steady herself. She wore a satin gown, the color of Ireland. Soft folds of the shimmering fabric fell away revealing ivory shoulders. A bouquet of diamonds accented her bodice. Her slender neck tensed as she tossed her chestnut hair away from her eyes. Those eyes. Piercing, judging, teasing. She ever so slightly dipped her chin as she scanned the crowded room. Sure that her beating heart could be heard, she ascended a step and then another. Trembling lips parted, she again turned to face her audience. A brilliant smile revealed perfect teeth as she recognized loyal fans.

Across the room, a girl stood. Young, innocent, beautiful. Margo knew her. Green eyes met blue. The smile became a faint scowl. The girl, ignoring the gesture, bowed lightly. Between exquisitely groomed fingers, Margo raised her smoldering cigarette to her lips and with a long lingering drag, her body relaxed. Her eyes continued to focus on the girl.

This beauty, queen of drama, was a star. Loved by millions. The thrill of opening night was near. Her beloved Bill watched her. He adored this woman, always in awe at her theatrics, on stage and off.

Bill knew the girl. He knew her as a scared young starlet. He was ignorant to the evil plans she had laid. Margo, loved by millions; envied by one. The emerald gown rustled, as the leading lady of broad way gathered her skirts. As she tipped her head to sip her martini, her lashes flashed open, revealing deep luminous eyes. She gave Bill a long loving look, raised her head high and announced, “Fasten your seat belts, its going to be a bumpy night.” Up the stairs, Margo continued, pushing the cigarette into a potted plant on the way. By the last step, the martini glass was empty. She eyed the crowd, scowling as the “girl” breezed to Bill’s side. Innocently Bill offered a drink. Tears in her eyes, Margo retreated to her room. Her housekeeper, Birdie, was at her side. “Margo honey, let me fluff your hair. Your guests are waiting.”

“Birdie, no. Please leave. I will not take their stares and whispers any longer. I am going to bed.”

“Margo? Margo darling.” Bill pushed the door open and strolled in. Not a hair on his head or a thread of his tailored suit was out of place. His dark eyes asking, “What is wrong?” he was instantly at her side.

Margo rose. Eyes flashing, she turned, a hairbrush in her hand. “If you think that I will smile and exchange pleasant lies with all of those phony friends of mine, you are terribly wrong Mr. Crane.” She spun around, sat back down and began vigorously brushing her thick waves of hair. “You, of all people, fussing over that child. She could be your daughter.” You of all people. Is she outside my door? Will she have free access to my bed room? Do you have free access to hers?” Birdie quietly disappeared with a tray of empty glasses.

In one step, Bill caught Margo and pulled her to him. She couldn’t resist his strength. She struggled to be free, Bill held on until she was in his arms. “Darling. My Darling Margo. My beautiful star of all broad way. How can you doubt my love for you? Don’t you know that that girl means nothing to me? I love you. Do you hear me, my pet? I love only you.”

Margo softened. She turned her face up to look into his eyes. She blinked her lashes, a fleeting look, questioning. Her lips pouted then turned into a teasing smile. She slid her arms around his strong shoulders. Bill’s embrace reassured her of his love. “The girl will lose,” Margo thought. “She will not have my fans. She will not have my Bill.”