Milly Houston Pt. 03

"Yes, you are right about that. God Milly, how could you be so naïve?"

"Darling please only mention this to your mother – promise?"

"Yes of course."

"Just think how many extra books my short-lived notoriety will sell when we publish next month?"

"Oh god, you sly vixen. I love it."

"Actually I was quite sincere in my published comment about a collection of villages."

"Have you gone mad?"

* * *

After the advertising break Veronica began her introduction, saying many New Yorkers were outraged to have a newcomer describe New York as a collection of villages. The magazine cover came on screen and then turned to the first page of Milly's article headed, 'Enjoying Life in One of the Villages'.

Veronica: Good evening Milly. Milly Houston is a former newspaper journalist and now a biographer. How long have you lived in New York equipping you to make such a profound and one could speculate totally misguided observation that New York is a collection of villages?

Milly: Five minutes or more accurately three months but I mean no offence. My comment is based on what I've seen and experienced and surely I'm not the first to make such a wry observation. Perhaps I should have called them neighborhoods but what is the full name of Greenwich?"

Veronica: Er, Greenwich Village.

Milly: Ah yes.

Veronica: But you arrived here three months ago from Colorado of all places and...

Milly: Of all places you say. Is that a slur on Colorado?

Veronica: No, I don't think so. No, of course not.

Milly: Similarly I was not attempting to belittle New York. I believe it's a great city but I live in Chelsea and feel isolated from other neighborhoods. It's a fact, an indisputable fact, that in Chelsea I have this village feeling and I'd suggest so do a few million New Yorkers have that feeling about their own neighborhood. It's only a huge extension the other way of the belief of some people gathered in Time Square who honestly believe they are in the center of the universe. God, when I came out of JFK in a cab I thought I was going to be consumed by the traffic and then into the canyons of the city I felt my insignificance with increased apprehension. Then I arrived in Chelsea and into the protection of a wonderful family and once inside their home I felt little different than living in remoteness in Colorado or even my small home city in Nevada. I eat locally and owners and wait staff in my favorite restaurants call me Milly as soon as I enter. No way do I feel consumed by a mega-city.

Veronica: Why did you come to New York?

Milly: To write the biography of one of this city's great sportspersons – Susan Veronica Veitch, a teenage ski champion and an internationally recognized mountaineer. I live with my lover a couple of streets away from Susan and her family.

Veronica: Your lover? Is he or she famous?"

Milly (laughing): With me it's always male Veronica. He is a noted portrait painter Carlson Conway-Booth. I brought along his mugshot to screen and an example of his work – an exception painting of me, recently completed.

Veronica: Oooh, he looks nice. Oh-oh, close your eyes people who are watching if a woman's bared breast frightens you. Will you just look at that! I know art and I think this looks like gallery quality.

Milly: I love it too much to give it up. Actually Carlson's mother Joanna purchased it and it's on loan to me.

Veronica: Well this interview is going nowhere but I must ask are you repentant that you slammed New York that New Yorkers think is the world's greatest city?

Milly: No and if the rednecks attack me verbally so be it. People who are intelligent and cosmopolitan will understand what I'm saying and I'm confident will have no quarrel with me. I love my neighborhood of Chelsea that gives me a village life in this sprawling mega-city and I bet there are several million New Yorkers who are fiercely proud of their the localized environment and will accept that if I call it village life instead of neighborhood life then it's all right by them. Actually, if you think about it, what really big city is not an amalgam of villages? Just don't get emotionally overdone by the word village, huh?"

Veronica: Well thank you for defending your stance Milly and I'm sure before getting toey about your appellation, New Yorkers should first read your article in today's issue of 'News York Magazine.' Good night everyone.

Veronica wiping the sweat and excessive make-up off her face said, "Come Milly, let's get a beer."

"Dry white wine please."

"Oh yeah. God you are a tough bitch to crack. My producer was so worried she insisted I'd have to ease back once I'd staked you."

"Oh not to worry Veronica. Most of us have expectations higher than our abilities and I've had to learn that."

"Huh, was that a catty jab or was it what?"

"Veronica, please don't stress. Let's get a couple of beers into you. You've stirred the pot and right now journalists are gnashing teeth as they write viciously to send me running back to Colorado or Nevada to remain in oblivion under my disrespectful opinions. You have set the hounds baying."

"Oh god, Milly do you realize what you are saying – if you are correct my personal ratings with management will go up, not down."

"That's quite true darling. You need to spend much more time on sharpening your sword but overlaying your brutal questions with honey and don't comment derisively on the answers given; allow your viewers to do that."

"Oh Milly, you are so inspirational. Is it really true you don't date women?"

* * *

Milly arrived home and her heart sank. Carlson was laughing and about to fuck a woman he was drinking with. But then inexplicably they rose to their feet still laughing but devoid of guilt. What was this?

"Darling, meet Pearl Whitehead. She's a real scream."

"We already know one another," Milly said.

"Hello Pearl. God you look so chic. May I kiss you – I'm not gay?"

Pearl's eyes said it all and without a word they kissed, delicately.

"I watched the interview sitting with my husband Sam. You were wonderful. He said recruit you as a regular writer and I am authorized to change from bi-monthly to monthly publication but if that is to happen I must do it now – so here I am. Get a drink for darling please Carlson. Oh Carlson has agreed to paint me when he can fit me in."

Within the hour Milly had agreed to write a 5000-word feature article once a month on anything she wished to write about. She'd be paid a top columnist's rate but her contract would prevent her writing for any other print publication without Pearl's written permission. She was encouraged to accept TV appearances and radio interviews and to be interviewed by the print media.

"Sam is a leading stockbroker so finances the magazine with the hope that rising circulation and increasing paid subscriptions and advertising will gradually reduce his financial support. I keep tight rein on expenditure. I'd like you to try to promote yourself as our star columnist. Is that asking too much?"

"No, but I would expect you to spend money on selected media to publicize just me as writing in your next issue, but only this once. That should do it. I want to be referred only as Milly Houston in the magazine and in your normal promotion of the magazine."

"Very well, but why?"

"In my first fulltime post on a newspaper I was told I'd never make it as a journalist. Well I've taken a somewhat painful route and now you present me with the opportunity of getting back on track. The time has come to make Milly Houston a star. I want to be known as Milly Houston, not Milly who? And I want that to happen through my journalism and not by fancy titles dreamed up within advertising agencies."

"I like your thinking Milly. It spells money for my magazine if you succeed. I agree we'll use just your name. My husband's a multi-millionaire so if you fail you won't bring down my magazine. Please remember that. And please remember I'm taking the ride with you to make you a star. I want New Yorkers buying my magazine to find what Milly Houston is up to this month. Go girl. I love it."

"Yeah, you've nothing to lose Milly," Carlson said. "You don't have a reputation."

Pearl laughed uncontrollably at Carlson's face when Milly threw her scarcely touched glass of wine over him. Milly's inscrutable expression prolonged her laughter.

Carlson grinned and said he'd change and take them out to dinner.

"But only if we eat within the village where Milly is known," Pearl said, opening her handbag and pulling out a mirror.

CHAPTER 9

Milly and Joanna were having their weekly lunch. It was Joanna's turn to host and they were eating French near her apartment in Upper East Side 'village'.

"Darling," Joanne whispered nervously, looking around at the expensively over-dressed older women, "I'd really appreciate if you don't call Upper East Side a village in anything more than the lowest of whispers."

Minutes later she boggled when two women came up to their table.

"Excuse us but isn't it lovely in here away from the horrible weather?"

"Yes, this is indeed a virtual oasis," Milly said brightly, making Joanne squirm, wondering what the next thing from Milly would be. "Did you dine well?"

"Yes dear," said the friendlier looking of the two women. "This is one of our favorite restaurants."

"Are you Milly Houston?" growled the elder of the two women in their late fifties; possibly they were sisters.

"Yes, how lovely of you to recognize me."

Joanne gripped her fork, knuckles showing red.

"You're not here to downgrade us to village status are you? We watched you on TV the other evening."

"Oh no, whether you live within a walled city, a prison, a castle or wide-open spaces of great beauty it's what you think of it that matters, not what anyone else thinks."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Milly screwed up her nose. "Now let me see. Have you read Annie Dillard?"

"Yes, 'For the Time Being' moved me profoundly."

"Well fancy that. I've yet to read that but 'Teaching a Stone to Talk' supremely impressed me. Have you read that?"

"No."

"So we are not on common ground then, but we both like Annie as a writer don't we?"

"It appears so."

"Well if I call New York a collection of villages it doesn't mean I don't like New York."

"Of course not. Oh, I see where this has taken us. You have a very lively mind young lady. Good afternoon and to you Mrs Conway-Booth."

"Thank you. Do you know me?" Joanne asked in surprise.

"Not personally. But everyone around here knows you I should think."

The livelier of the two chipped in and said, "Yes, after all we do live in a village."

"Come on Mary. That is your half-witted utterance for the day."

Joanne sat back on her chair relaxing. Milly thoughtfully handed Joanne's wine glass to her. "I won't intentionally greatly embarrass you in your village," she laughed.

"I have just learned that and I think you have rather impressed Judge Helen Grayson."

"A judge. I wondered why the tart didn't smile."

Joanne smiled nervously.

Milly held up her glass and toasted, saying good health. Joanne responded.

Milly continued, "You are my confidante in New York Joanne. May I say something in utmost confidence, to remain just between you and me?"

Joanne's grip on her glass stem tightened. God, the girl was pregnant.

"Would you mind if I made you my mother-in-law."

Joanne's glass shattered on the floorboards. Two wait staff came running.

* * *

When Milly returned home Carlson snarled throwing two cuttings from that morning's newspapers in front of her, "Look what these bastards are saying about you."

"Place them neatly on my desk darling. I'll read them sometime. You're home early?"

"Yes I've finished Dyson Robinson's sittings. I can finish it off here. I allowed him to see it and he's very pleased. He called his wife in and said it failed to show what a slime-ball he was, and that made Dyson even more pleased."

There were two phone messages that Carlson had not bothered to clear. Milly returned the calls and turned down the offers to write for a leading magazine's and the city's second largest newspaper.

"Going back to those published articles, those writers were bad-mouthing you."

"Don't worry darling. That's the kind of thing that makes one famous."

Carlson swept back his fringe, making Milly think of bed, and he said, "Okay, I'll accept that and will take you to restaurants where you can throw plates and abuse fellow diners but turning down those two jobs offers I simply cannot see merit in that. Bad decisions."

"Darling, they are major publications. Anything I wrote would not significantly lift their circulation – they would be no hope of that happening. The 'News York' is a small magazine and if Pearl does back me to the hilt we have the chance of making it sizzle."

"Sizzle?"

"Yes, but don't ask me what I mean. Your mom and I hit the booze and I had to help her to bed."

"My mom never drinks outrageously in public."

"Well she did today."

"Oh fuck, what did you say to her?"

"Oh nothing really. I just sounded her out about me becoming my mother-in-law."

Carlson's half finished bottle of beer hit the floorboards and as it bounced Milly caught it, displaying marvelous coordinated reaction. She handed it back to him.

"Now please Carlson, you're not to say anything to anyone about that. It was only exploratory."

"No, no, of course not," Carlson said, going to the bathroom and pulling out his phone before he reached the doorway.

Milly smiled. He'd be calling his mom, just as she'd planned. That is, if the ringing of the phone managed to wake up Joanne.

Before starting work on the biography Milly called Pearl and arranged to have a photographer meet Milly outside Saks on Fifth Avenue at 3:00.

"Is this the scene of your next article?"

"Yes."

"Good choice. Want to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Bitch."

Milly couriered off her completed biography manuscript with all editing changes done and that evening took Carlson, Debrecini and husband Dirk and Susan and her fiancée to dinner with Carlson's parents to a famous restaurant where late in the evening Milly threw her glass at a wall to the horror of her dining companions. It was the wall leading out to the restrooms so no one was threatened. The maitre d' hurried over with three dinner plates and everyone cheered as a lurking photographer photographed Milly doing her thing. She sat the photographer down with a drink and said, "I don't have to behave badly to become famous and didn't do it because it's tradition. I did it because I've just finished my biography on Susan Veitch and needed to let it all hang out. Here, I've written that down for you. Here's four hundred bucks. Get that photo into the 'Daily News.'

Milly jumped up and standing amid the broken crockery shouted "Yippee!" Posing long enough for the photographer to take six shots of her with her top pulled down. She wasn't wearing a bra. She then attempted to give the maitre d' money but he refused so she order two bottles of champagne for her table.

She returned to the table. The males looked at her disapprovingly but the females were still giggling.

"That was outrageous behavior Milly, irresponsible and patently staged," Joanne sternly, and then she and the other women went into another round of giggling.

"No newspaper in the land would use that plate-smashing photo," said Dirk. "You're not famous."

Next morning Dirk stared in wonder at the page three picture of bare-breasted Milly as did hundreds of thousand's other readers of that newspaper. The caption read:

'Oh boy did we make a good decision not to engage currently hot freelance journalist Milly Houston, seen here in action at Fontayne's Restaurant last night. She stupidly finished the plate-throwing exhibition for our freelance photographer Steve Bryce but then he snapped this little extra example of disgraceful conduct by rather well-endowed writer Milly Houston. She was celebrating completing her biography of famous New Yorker, skier and mountaineer Susan Veronica Veitch due to be launched by publisher Bestow & Johnson at the end of next month. We in the villages of New York may not have heard or seen the last of Milly Houston.'

Dirk just had to grin.

Pearl gaped in disbelief and sent Milly flowers.

In Colorado Katherine, living with her fiancé, called her mother Jennifer to open the newspaper's website and look for someone they knew under the title 'Outrageous behavior."

In the office of the Diablo Chronicle a day later Sharon and Matt looked at page three of the newspaper that had arrived that morning and she said, "Don't fret Matt, a girl like her just has to fly. She would have outgrown you."

"Okay, but I hate to admit we let her slip through our fingers."

"You didn't darling. Her forte is anything but bread and butter journalism that we are into here."

"Shall we invited her to the wedding?"

"No Matt, the cow will take the limelight off me."

The very next day Manhattan rocked in outrage. The article at the back of 'News York Magazine' was headed with a three-deck headline, 'Let's Get Elegance Back Into Fifth Avenue – No More Jeans and Shirt Tails No Matter How Cool Your Butt Is.'

The airwaves turned blue with the outrage:

'Who the [Bleep] does Milly Houston think she is?

'Send the bitch back to Kansas or wherever she comes from.'

'I'll wear my [bleep] jeans wherever I like.'

'It's the village idiot shooting off her mouth again.'

Emails flooded into newspaper offices and TV stations. New York media suddenly realized a news bomb had hit New York.

"Bring me the head of Milly Houston," news editors roared metaphorically.

Milly had been expecting this and was holed up at Joanne's apartment with a half a dozen of Joanne's friends, having bagels and coffee and listening to talk-back radio.

Then from 10:00 a change occurred, leaving hardened news people gaping in astonishment. The 'beautiful people' launched a counter-attack, praising Milly Houston for her insight and courage. Women of note – socialites, super models, actresses, ballet and opera stars – never before known to have been heard on talkback radio and to email the media began telling the louts and philistines to pull their heads in and take note. Some even pointed the finger at poorly dressed tourists as lowering the standard of dress on Fifth Avenue. That brought the city and state tourism authorities into the fray.

By 11:00, aware the debate on the airwaves had peaked, Milly called Pearl.

"Hi Pearl. Having a bad day?"

"Oh Milly. The media is in a frenzy to talk to you. I really don't..."

"It's cool Pearl. Listen I want you to call these three radio stations I've been listening to and also contact main TV stations and newspapers to advise you are calling a media conference to allow me to answer questions. It's a fine but chilly day. Tell them the venue is under the Soldiers and Sailors Arch at the Grand Army Plaza at 2:00 pm."

"Very well, but why there?"

"Pearl I know you are an executive, not a frontline journalist so please don't be discouraged that I'm doing the thinking for you. Ask the radio and TV stations to repeatedly announce the time and place of the media conference. I think people will turn up."

"People, how many people?"

"Get your media contacts working Pearl and I'm sure people will turn up. My friend here will have contacts in high places at City Hall and the police department. If permits are required she'll look after that."

"But advance notice will be required."

"Then if she fails I'll have to go to jail. Here are the details of those radio stations. Move fast please darling. Remember to wear something sexy."

Joanne made a call to City Hall but told what she was asking was impossible. So she called someone very high up the tree and was told to leave it to him, that her charitable work within the city had gone unanswered for years and this was the opportunity to do something for Mrs Joanne Conway-Booth.