Milly Houston Pt. 03

"It's all under control," Joanne assured "I was told traffic and crowd control are the issues, not raising revenue from permits. All stops will be pulled out."

People in Joanne's house fanned out to the TV sets and radios to monitor the midday news.

It soon became apparent that the media was treating the controversy as a media picnic.

"Sassy Milly Houston chooses Grand Army Plaza for her showdown with the media at 2:00 this afternoon," read one grinning TV female newsreader.

"Controversial journalist Milly Houston has arrogantly called a news conference at Grand Army Plaza at 2:00 pm today. Just who she thinks she is we've not sure but will are sending out a team to film it live, just in case."

"New York's airwaves today have been filled with people scraping over a piece of lightweight journalism from a nobody from Nevada who calls herself Milly Houston," laughed radio talkback host Harry Hope. " Well get down to Grand Army Plaza. The insolent chick has called a media conference to allow her detractors to question her. They'll tear her apart. It's at 2:00 pm and I'll be there working voluntarily because it's during my home time, broadcasting live. If you ask me she breezed into New York like summer's sun."

Madeline who lived in the Plaza on 59th Street had made a call and after exchanging notes on the media reports, the eight women boarded cabs and regrouped at the Palm Court restaurant at the Plaza for lunch and that was only a short walk from the Grand Amy Plaza. When they were seated Milly made the joke of the day, "I do hope none of us is wearing jeans!"

* * *

The media reports of the crowd that gathered ranged wildly from 3000 to 13,000 thousand. The police estimate was 5500. Milly wore a black trouser suit, long black coat and wide-brimmed black hat and a very long purple scarf. She spotted Pearl and went to her and they kissed, the crowd realizing who it was either cheered or booed. Pearl had been given a police bullhorn and the police kept a small circle in front of them clear for the TV cameras already in position and broadcasters and print journalists who showed their accreditation.

"Oh my, what a lovely turnout on a lovely day on the fringe of perhaps the greatest shopping street in the world, Fifth Avenue," said Pearl. "It's so lovely some many of your in the media and the public have turned out and so many of your are so beautifully dressed. This is just like a carnival. Well, I'm Pearl Whitehead, editor/publisher of 'News York Magazine' and am responsible to engaging this brilliant journalist standing alongside me who's dared to be different. I'll pause now to allow you to boo."

Perhaps the boos did outweigh the cheers.

"Now let's be fair media, one question at a time. Someone has set up a microphone for you. Please use it so everyone can hear. Let's have the first question.

A woman magazine writer asked what did Milly have against jeans.

"Nothing. I own thirteen of them. But when I shop on Fifth Avenue I attempt to dress like what I'm wearing now, to try to look elegant."

Another journalist asked why should people dress up to shop on the Fifth.

"Look at the motley dressed people walking down the Fifth even today; it is far worse in summer, so I'm told. They look as if they've come straight off a fishing wharf. It just won't do if we pride ourselves in having one of the great shopping streets of the world."

A male journalist asked did Milly want dress control imposed on Fifth Avenue.

"Of course not. I just want New Yorkers to care and dress well when shopping on their finest retail streets and in prime malls. It's a matter of pride. And a matter of respect."

"Respect" called several journalists incredulously.

"Yes, obviously you guys haven't read my article in 'News York Magazine'. I believe it's completely disrespectful, a disgrace, for some asshole in torn jeans, dirty sneakers and a shirt hanging out or a woman in grubby shorts and top walking into stores such as Saks and Tiffany's. God, how gross."

A bushy-chin guy took the microphone. Some of us think you are up yourself lady."

"You'll have that microphone up your ass in a second if you continued talking to me like that."

A huge cheer went up.

The journalist grinned and said, "You have guts Milly Houston."

A female journalist said sneeringly, "Milly Houston. What a contrived name. What's your real name honey?"

"Come here babe," Milly said to the fifty-something senior journalist, a well-known magazine writer. Milly dug out her passport and showed the woman.

"Okay, what does that prove? You could have changed your name."

"Well that's not illegal Dianne. I put something in inside the back cover in case a journalism took me on like this."

Dianne Kelly walked back to the microphone. "She is who she says she is folk. That's a copy of her birth certificated dated thirty-three years back and yes, Milly Houston was born in Nevada."

A big cheer went up.

An elegantly dressed journalist said she was listening all morning to talkback radio and switching between stations. She said the speakers had been running three to one against Milly. What had astonished her was the considerable number of people who were in favor of her putting a stake in the ground to suggest people dress better when they shop just as they dress up when they go to a classy restaurant. "Do you feel better when you dress to shop?"

"Yes I do – you're Marcia Roberts, editor of 'America In Fashion Magazine' aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for such an elegant question."

"I feel in love when I go shopping dressed up. Mind you I shop in jeans and a top – at present under my thick coat - when shopping in my village. As I say in my article the downside to dressing up to shop and getting those endorphins galloping is you tend to spend a whole lot more. But girls, that's what shopping is about, isn't it."

She was cheered and the questions continued and were answered for another forty minutes. Then a police lieutenant spoke to Pearl who whispered to Milly to take one last question because the police wanted the area cleared before late afternoon traffic began to build.

"I'll take one more question – perhaps from some totally opposed to my article about dressing up."

"Steve Ross, Daily News. Are you going to continue tearing down everything we love about our city? In the first article in "News York" you attempted to dehumanize we urban dwellers by claiming we live in villages and now you are sneering at the way we shop. What can we expect next?"

"We'll Steve. Read about it in 30 days when the next issue of 'News York' is published. Where do you live Steve?

"Um, er, oh crap. East Village."

Everyone roared in laughter.

"You dress well Steve. Would you go into Saks Fifth Avenue wearing jeans and a sweater to buy a suit?"

"No. You have me there Milly. I must say I like your style and the way you write. My girlfriend is already a big fan of yours and says I should be like you and write interesting stuff. I asked her what she was interested in reading and she gave it to me in three words, 'Read Milly Houston.' My editor will swat me for saying that publicly."

"Or you editor might give you the chance to go out lone wolf to find stories you think your readers would be delighted with. Ask, Steve – you editor might be human after all and give you a chance. Let's hope he's watching this telecast. Well that's all folk. The police want this area cleared so they can get traffic flowing again. A big hand for the police and City Hall for allowing this impromptu meeting to take place. Please remember to dress up when you wish to shop with love."

A smartly dressed woman from 'Vanity Fair' wanted to arrange time for a full interview. Pearl gasped when Milly turned down the journalist saying sweetly, "Thanks but no thanks. Not now. The time to approach me will be when I'm halfway towards becoming a celebrity. Try me again in six months – here's my card."

Representatives of two TV channels approached her but she turned them down, saying she did not wish to have to defend herself on everything she wrote. Suggest to your superiors they try me on guest panels. I am attempting to make a name for myself so will perform toward achieving that end." She gave them both her card.

"Which is radio broadcaster Harry Hope?" Milly asked Pearl who pointed him out. Harry was helping his technicians pack gear into a van.

"Hi Harry."

"Hi babe," his said, glancing at Milly and then he looked back and said, "Fuck, it's you."

"Oooh Harry, that word... you don't even know me."

"What word... oh," he said lamely. She smiled and he grinned. Milly startled herself by thinking the rough-neck looked cute when he grinned.

"I'm attempting to help promote our magazine Harry but not being a commercial person there's not a great deal I can do. But you could talk to me about it on your show. You often do five minute interviews."

"Yeah but they are usually babes trying to make it as singers or guys aiming big with their band."

"I know but you to could talk to me about...about...about reading tastes...about why you can't tell some New Yorkers anything...about the problem of being promiscuous." Milly included the last topic as an after-thought thinking Harry would drop on that like a stone.

He came right up to her, looking very interested. God, thought Milly, what do I know about promiscuity problems?

"That's a novel though. You mean you could talk to me for thirty minutes with breaks for ads about that subject?"

"Which topic – I gave you several," Milly blustered, trying for time to think of at least one problem associated with promiscuity."

"You can't tell some New Yorkers anything?"

Milly almost wet herself in relief. This guy was currently number one in talkback...the Mr Big. Even fifteen minutes on his programs would stagger Pearl, as the free publicity would be worth ten's of thousands of dollars of unpaid advertising. Harry's following was heavy with the so-called sophisticates in the twenty-four to forty-four age group. Presumable under twenty-four you were insignificant and at forty-five you were thinking of the cemetery. Milly almost laughed at her own joke.

"Are there two people in this conversation?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry. I was being attacked by a stray thought. There's no need to humor me that you are interested in intellectual discussion about the behavior of New Yorkers."

Harry grinned, as she knew he would. "Everyone is calling you sassy, and I can see why."

"Everyone. Oh come on Harry. You sit locked up in a cubicle communicating with people, mainly with dysfunctionals, locked up in their homes."

"Oh yeah, then why are you greasing up trying to get on to my show?"

"Oh Harry, you've got me there. I dug a hole for myself and you pushed me into it."

He grinned and said like hell, calling her sassy and crafty. "Okay, I can slot you in at 6:05 tomorrow morning."

"Sorry, can't do. I am engaged in something unmentionable with my lover between 6:00 and 7:00."

"Oh you sexy thing. Then name your time?"

"Peak listening time."

Harry rubbed his beer belly affectionately. "I bet you really can kick ass so I won't ask for money. Wear something sexy at the top and make up good, as you'll be sitting opposite to me. But don't have your tits hanging out as we'll take some photos for publicity purposes as my instinct tells me you are railroading yourself into becoming one of the next big things."

"What does that mean?"

"I hadn't figured you were stupid."

Milly patted the 40-something on the cheek and cooed, "Good boy Harry, you're such as sweetie. Too sharp for me."

"So?"

"Your peak time and best offer Harry."

"That's 8:30 to 9:00 Wednesdays."

"Thank you Harry."

Harry snorted that he wasn't offering that. The studio required a payment of $5000 for people to chat during that half-hour."

"Well that's the slot for me, Harry, and I'm not paying money. Your station can do promos that I'm on air 8:00 to 8:30 next Wednesday."

"Have you been on talkback before?"

"No, I'm an airwaves virgin Harry."

He grinned and walked away opening his cell phone without excusing himself. Rather than feel insulted Milly theorized it was unreasonable to expect a person with a big ego to display good manners.

Harry called out, "You're on if you'll do 8:00 to 9:00, take phone-in questions and allow us to quote you for the pre-show promos, "I'm an air-waves virgin."

"Of course, anything you say Harry. I thought that virgin quote would appeal."

He gave her the fingers, barked into his phone and snapped it shut.

"All done, give me your card and get out of here. We must be off. Someone on my team will be in touch."

"Thank you Harry. Don't forget to pick up the litter you guys are responsible for."

Milly knew Harry would be standing watching her walk away, probably scratching his unruly hair. She didn't look back but swayed her ass. The total seduction of Harry was complete.

Milly rejoined her female support group to find Pearl was added. Pearl and Joanne were in a couple of organizations together.

"I'm to appear on radio talkback," she said. Most of the women nodded but Pearl was all ears.

"With Harry?"

"Yes."

"What at an early graveyard time just after 6:00?"

"No 8:00 through 9:00 next Wednesday."

"Ohmigod!"

The other women appeared interested. Peal said Milly had just announced she'd broken into the heartland of their magazine's readership. "Milly has negotiated an entire hour on the Harry Hope Morning Show."

The women looked at Pearl blankly.

"That's the top hour on New York morning radio – absolute prime time. Milly will receive oh, I don't know...possibly $100,000 of air time to promote herself."

The women listening now knew the significant of this and looked at Milly in admiration.

"Right, back to the Plaza for sandwiches and champagne," Joanne said. By then traffic was flowing again and two grinning cops saluted Milly and the older women smiled at her huge blush.

When Carlson arrived home he was greeted with the kiss and went on and on and was rather wet. As they broke away and wiped their chins he said, "God, you're drunk."

"Only half drunk and exhilarated. How did you day go?"

"Very well actually. Made good progress on my next commission. Although it's Friday night I don't feel like going out."

"That's fine. Your father is away this weekend so I've told your mother we would take her out for breakfast and we'd stay, giving you a good run at her portrait over the two days and then next weekend I'm taking you upstate to stay at a cabin in the hills. It's been snowing up there but the cabin owners say it's rare to be snowed in. I've decided we both need a wee break. We can fuck, eat, fuck, read, fuck and go for walks and of course listen to music."

"Sounds my kind of weekend."

"Good, you open the wine and I'll dash out and get take-outs. And then if you are up to it we can go to bed early. You know what I like doing when half-drunk."

"Yeah, and I like doing you in that condition. It's like trying to fuck a slippery snake."

"Oh, so you know that for a fact do you? Personally I think under those circumstances I act like a seal. I'm beginning to think more and more about children, but not until I'm married."

"So you do wish to marry me?"

"You could say that."

"I just did."

"Well let's talk about it between seductions in the cabin."

"Oh, you are planning enough time to talk?" Carlson grinned.

During lunch on Saturday Joanne asked bluntly, "When can I expect an invitation to a wedding from you two?"

Carlson looked at Milly.

"Well, I have been thinking of babies – er, a baby or two."

"Oh darling," Joanne said, scooting around the table to hug Milly.

"Mom cut it out. Milly only said she's thinking."

"Oh, how disappointing."

"Please understand Joanne, there is no pressure. The way we think about it is marriage is just a piece of paper. We feel we are married."

"Oh, it's so different these days now that women are so uppity."

"You mean you don't like the way I am?"

"Oh darling no, definitely that's a big no. I just want you married so you don't slip through Carlson's fingers."

Carlson had both women look at him in astonishment when he muttered, "The truth is mom you want me to marry Milly so you know she's safely in your arms."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about Carlson. Milly, help me out here."

But Milly was staring at Carlson. "That is very astute thinking for a guy."

"Are you saying you having thought of it?"

"No, not at all. I often think about it but always without forcing a conclusion because I knew if I did I'd have to tell you about it. As a floating concept I would feel under no such obligation."

"The way you think amazes me."

Joanne was unable to stand this meandering. "Milly, tell me. What are your guys saying?"

"We agree you are in love with me."

Joanne burst into tears. "You weren't supposed to know. I knew Carlson would never figure it out."

"But he did, two minutes ago when muttering the concept of you wanting me safely in your arms. He's not talking about sex Joanne; he's talking spiritual love. I've been feeling it for a long time but have avoided thinking about it as I was uncertain how Carlson would react when I felt bound to tell him. But the good boy has worked it out for himself. He has your sensitive side Joanne."

"More wine anyone?"

The women eyed Carlson unkindly.

Wiping her eyes Joanne said acidly, "What was that you were saying about sensitivity Milly?"

"Oh with Carlson it comes and goes."

The women laughed and Carlson just shook his head.

"Love in the spiritual sense you said?"

"Yes Joanne. That's one way of describing it. Another way would be to call it mother and daughter love."

"Oooh, I like the sound of that. Now poor Carlson is looking if he'd prefer to be outside playing. Let's talk about your weekend away. Could you give me the address Milly in case of emergencies."

"What kind of emergencies?" Carlson asked.

"Oh I could inadvertently announce Milly's engagement to the media or your father, absolutely sober, could declare he loves me."

"This has become way over my head – I'm off outside to play...er to practice a few chip shots on the lawn.

"Stay where you are please Carlson, I'm serving apple tart next with clotted cream."

"Oh great mom. Now you're talking sense."

Returning home on Sunday evening, Carlson asked did Milly think his mom still engaged in sex.

"I have no reason to think otherwise but if you think she is thinking of teaming up with me forget it, you're way off beam. I truly meant mother-daughter love – a super level of affection. That's all."

"Well that's a relief. Do you do it with women?"

"Rarely. Elaine and I were lovers at college."

"I have wondered about that. You both touch a lot?"

"On god really?"

"Yeah, I imagine sex dripping off your fingers."

"Oh no!"

"Just joking. I've previously only thought of it as deep affection."

"Well yes, but rather subconscious feeling I must say. I remain aware that I still have a deeper feeling for her than any other of my friends."

"Well don't stop the touching. There's nothing wrong with it and in case you were thinking the answer is no, I don't have sex with men and yes if I am seduced in working long days over weeks with a client I will wear a condom as earlier agreed with you."

"Thank you again. What's on for you tomorrow?"

"I'll book a hire car for the weekend."

"Oh god no; don't do that. I have a car?"

"Where?"

"Stored at Colorado Springs. I didn't bring it here because I expected driving and parking to be such a fag and can see I wasn't wrong about that. But if we are to start having weekends away it would become an asset."