Уинстон Грум - Alabama Noir

Another thing nobody told you about being a mother: you never really stop.

Avondale, Birmingham

The sliver, a lone ray of sunlight, slipped inside the crack of the door, cutting into the pitch-black darkness inside the building, and shined on the thick black curtains she hid behind. Where in the hell was Justin?

She was scared! Pissed and scared. She had told herself she would not be, but... She had promised her therapist she would not be, but... Her brain raced uncontrollably. She could not slow it down. What ifs chased each other in circles. She had to face it. That was part of the agreement with her therapist. But... what if it was going to start all over again? What if they were all waiting outside, cameras and microphones? What if it was a joke?

“You leaving?” asked Arnold, the big reliable engineer, her bodyguard, the closest thing she had to a friend other than Justin.

Mentally occupied, she heard him but didn’t. She looked right through the massive Arnold, but didn’t see him. Would mass hysteria again be a part of her life?

“Yes, waiting on Justin,” she finally answered.

“You okay?” Even though Arnold knew the whole story, he pretended he didn’t. She pretended she didn’t want or need Arnold to be standing there looking after her. Arnold pretended he didn’t notice.

Arnold was a Birmingham native, and like many Birmingham natives he was a daily lunch customer at Niki’s West on Finley Avenue, a popular buffet restaurant featuring home-style cooking. It was part of his daily itinerary and his three-hundred-pound legend. When he wasn’t working, he was eating. When he wasn’t eating, he spent many hours in porn chat rooms where women knew him by name but not physical appearance. He used his handsome cousin’s photo to entice the older, more mature women he preferred.

Justin and Arnold were Xenia’s entourage, confidants, and support system. Arnold, a childhood friend with no family of his own, was a brother to both Justin and Xenia, as well as a part-time bodyguard to Xenia. Justin trusted Arnold with Xenia’s life. Arnold saw it as an honorable calling.

Arnold opened the curtains and let in the morning sunshine. It shined brightly in the big window that was blacked out from the outside. Xenia gave him a look.

“I’ll just be right here,” he reassured her as he stepped into the next room. “Get my phone and call Justin.”

Call Justin. That had not occurred to her. Fear does that , she thought.

The juxtaposition of the beautiful sunshine and the ugly fear crawling inside of her... would have made her laugh if she was not so terrified. Now that she was back, the terror, like last time... struck a nerve.

Where was Justin? He was supposed to be here! DAMNIT, JUSTIN!

Six hours earlier

The hands on the old-fashioned black circular Seth Thomas clock on the faded green wall sat still. No motion. Time literally stood still.

There had been so much anticipation of this night, the return of Xenia, Queen of the Dark. The Internet world buzzed. Websites and social media platforms crashed around the world. Media of all types descended onto Birmingham, where she had resurfaced to claim her crown.

A nervous twinge tickled her insides.

Slowly... but definitely, the big hand on the old clock shifted right, made a loud click, and covered the minute hand, striking midnight. The theme music kicked in.

“Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys brought the room and the international audience to life. The Queen was back! Arnold grinned at her through missing teeth, from his technical sanctuary in the accompanying booth. The new studio Justin had built for her, in a nondescript office park in Birmingham’s Avondale community, was perfect. Xenia had a condo she called home, with underground parking so she wouldn’t be seen outside. But she was so excited to be back; she often spent her days at the studio working.

Diana Krall’s aptly named “I’ve Changed My Address” was next.

It was almost as dark inside the building as it was outside. “The Queen of the Dark likes it that way,” she said.

She’d inherited her fondness of the dark from her dad, who had been one of the first black deejays in the 1970s to work at a white station in the city of Birmingham, when AM radio dominated the dials. His handle, “Ronnie Dodd up here in the dark,” fit his midnight-to-six shift in a downtown high-rise. Because of his tales, Xenia had never considered a daytime gig.

She knew they were all waiting: fans, friends, and newcomers.

Not yet ready to fully engage, and to pace herself for the next six hours, Xenia came back with “Everything Must Change” by Randy Crawford.

The worldwide promotion for her return had been off the charts. The big sponsors, their briefcases full of financial promises, hustled aboard their corporate jets and headed to Birmingham International Airport. They all wanted her: Good Morning America, The Today Show, Hollywood, the fashion houses. The same sponsors who’d abandoned her when the trouble arose now wanted back in. They would have to pay! Justin would see to that. He had the whip hand.

“Less is more!” bellowed Justin in one of their backyard sponsorship meetings over spicy Popeyes chicken and beer. “We make Xenia super exclusive!”

It had been shameless, but strategic. Xenia would be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. There would be no appearances — she would not be seen in public (without a disguise). No television interviews. Yet she would be seen all over television, social media, and heard on radio in carefully crafted messages promoting her return.

“Everyone will know Xenia, of the Dark, but no one will know Xenia, Queen of the Dark,” Justin bragged.

The strategy fit Xenia. She’d had enough of the spotlight the first time around. Besides... everything was changed, different. She didn’t need or want that anymore. Fear brings humility.

The show’s format would be the same. Xenia would command the midnight-to-dawn hours and she would talk, interact with her worldwide audience, play music, interview celebrities, interview whomever, until six a.m., five nights a week.

Arnold counted her down to the new beginning, their future: “And three... two... one.” He pointed his big stubby finger at her, and she went into full Xenia mode.

“Hey, everybody,” Xenia’s smooth melodious voice cooed across the Internet. She breathed seductively into the microphone, “I am Xenia, Queen of the Dark.”

The Queen was back! If it was possible, the world shook.

She had been born beautiful. Everyone in the hospital agreed. The green eyes set deeply in her mocha-colored skin and wavy, flowing, jet-black hair made her stand out among the other newborns. “What a beautiful baby!” the onlookers all exclaimed. They were Xenia’s first audience.

She grew to be more beautiful. Her smile, her full lips, her body cried out for attention. The charisma that flowed from her character, her personality, and her kindness highlighted her physical beauty. Kindness was the most important thing her dad had taught her.

As a teen and young woman, modeling was her foundation. It came easy to her. Stand there, put some nasty thought in your head about some boy you know, and pose. She was good at it and it paid her well. As one of the world’s most sought-after supermodels, she did promotions, advertising, and runways at all the major fashion stops in Paris, London, and New York. Her mixed ethnicity made her seem exotic and she was accepted all over the world. When asked about her background, Xenia exclaimed, “I am Xenia, I belong to the whole of humanity!” Until... she started to feel like a piece of meat.