The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 42

Mrs. Violet Jessop was a stewardess famous for surviving three ship sinkings. First on HMS Olympic in 1911, then the HMS Titanic, and finally the HMS Britannic in 1916. People frequently asked if, given her experience, she took any special actions when sailing. 'When I'm on a new ship, I find myself always rehearsing the route from my cabin to the nearest lifeboat,' she would tell people.

"Before you get started, I have to leave early," Rachel said. She had found out where they had moved Hunter and she wanted to briefly see him.

"Thats fine. How are you?" Dr. Cooper asked. They sat in a hospital consulting room. It was comfortable enough; Rachel thought she recognized it as the one she had met the lactation consultant in after Beth's 'birth.' Dr. Cooper would come to the hospital during one of Rachel's fake pregnancy checkups. Levant didn't want the press to find out his wife was seeing a therapist who specialized in transgender men and women. Dr. Cooper would support Levant's lie about Rachel, saying she wanted it in a court case. Rachel had transitioned, and he had signed the papers. So technically, his job was over; Levant probably liked Dr. Cooper's backdoor reports, so he kept Rachel's sessions up. Rachel might not have bothered, but she used Cooper as a misinformation channel to Levant. For Rachel, it seemed quite in keeping with their relationship that Levant hired someone specifically to allow them both to lie to each other.

In his defense, Cooper was very sympathetic after Rachel had recounted the christening story to him.

Rachel had slowly figured out why Levant had chosen Dr. Cooper. Mimi had the same therapist. She had heard from a friend that he had lost his license after his ex-wife had cited one of his clients as 'the other woman' in a divorce case. Dr. Cooper was desperate, and Levant had bought him. Then he paid the legal fees to argue his way back into practicing legally again. Levant owned him. Dr. Cooper was like most very intelligent people, able to articulate a well-reasoned argument to do whatever it was they felt like doing. The question was always, what did they feel like doing? In Dr. Cooper's case, he had rationalized that in exchange for helping Levant help Rachel, he, in turn, could help a good many trans people in a period of much personal turmoil. He had been appalled at what Levant had done.

"How am I? You know busy," Rachel said. "You know, mother, first lady stuff."

She was never sure how much Dr. Cooper knew he was being lied to.

"So what happened this week?" Cooper said. Occasionally, the room's calm was interrupted by the faint whispers of the hospital's tannoy system blurting out some message.

Rachel had made a big show of telling Cooper about the ending of Samantha's contract. She maintained it was just a professional matter. Levant was overly suspicious and overreacting. Hopefully, Levant would believe Cooper and refrain from hunting Samantha. That was more than a fortnight ago; Rachel was pulling herself back together again.

"Well, one thing was weird," Rachel said. "I ordered all my game stuff moved to a remote wing of the Asylum. I'm creating a new play space for Beth and Douglas the second. I hadn't played anything in weeks, months even. Beth is sitting up now. I want a space for her."

The clouds outside the hospital window seemed almost ethereal, as if painted on a canvas stretched taut across the sky. They meandered lazily, their fluffy tendrils reshaping with each passing moment like soft cotton undergoing the whims of an invisible hand. The sun behind them bathed the room in a transient, silvery light that flickered across the sterile walls, turning cold steel and antiseptic white into an ever-changing gallery of shadows and highlights.

"Anything else?"

"I was sitting in front of the mirror and for no reason tried a new look, like a radical new look. It made me realize how much Rachel is the look, you know? Like, have you seen Marilyn Monroe when she's not styled? Totally different--you wouldn't think it was her, just some normal woman on the street. I got curious," Rachel said.

The celebrity magazines would always pay for pictures of her. The fashion magazines would fill column inches discussing every change she made and every shop she visited. Her followers liked her new clothes, but Rachel missed Samantha's outfits. The last SFMOMA gala opening dress she wore didn't have anything like the impact of the first. She thought it was too complex, too decorated.

"I got that artisan bread you ordered," Dr. Cooper asked. "Why did you send it to me?"

"I'm thinking of switching bakers," Rachel explained. "I didn't know who to send it to. I wanted to know what it was like before I changed suppliers. I don't want an argument with the chef and then have to back down if he's right. Getting and keeping a Michelin-starred chef is so difficult sometimes, but we get so many important people turning up for dinner at the Asylum that we can't live without him," Rachel said, doing a slight parody of Levant's mother. Dr. Cooper didn't seem to get it, so it was time for Rachel to drop a bombshell. "I was thinking about it while Douglas was making love to me last week."

Rachel surrendered herself to him on a regular basis. There were always these vague hints about Beth's sister or sisters or the Princes's hit squad. Then there was Bunny. The old Levant wouldn't have threatened like that. Rachel had paid a private investigator in cash from the Save Hunter fund to look into all potential births near Beth's birthday, but it was time-consuming. Rachel was becoming more certain that Beth wasn't an only child. There were strange gaps in the birth certificate records numbering.

Levant's love making was perfunctory. Rachel would lie back like dead meat while Levant pumped away. When he was done the experience was over. While he rocked, Rachel generally thought of some fun treat to do with Beth. She had her best ideas, like this. At the end, Levant would roll over calm in the knowledge he had all the cards and could do what he liked now.

While she talked to Dr Cooper, Rachel noticed the old National Geographic magazine sitting on the table. Last week, while waiting, she had flicked through some articles and noticed one about crime Lords in Venezuela and another about how some African tribespeople decorated themselves with sea shells. That had given her an idea.

"What are you thinking about most of the time?" Cooper asked.

Rachel paused; the real answer was how to escape. The divorce was going badly. The lawyers were speaking to each other directly, fighting it out but at a glacial rate between them. Now that Rachel wanted to leave with Beth, which complicated things. She also worried about Samantha. If Rachel tried to run and hide Levant would hunt her down. There seemed to be only one real solution to this.

"This and that. Turns out the cliff below the asylum is eroding. That needs to be sorted. I met the woman carrying Beth's brother; she seems nice enough," Rachel said.

"Any worries?" Dr. Cooper asked.

"I worry about Samantha. She's in Europe somewhere, Paris, I guess. After I fired her she just walked into Re, delegated all her business to her office manager, then left, saying she needed inspiration and would be back in a year," Rachel said. "I hope it wasn't my rejection. Douglas had insisted."

In practice, Samantha was still hiding in San Francisco, possibly with Kayla and Jessey K. Sometimes at the Asylum, a ball with a heart or a unicorn drawn on it would land on the tennis court. Rachel would sometimes buy a phone for cash, send a message to Samantha's number, get a reply, and then, smiling, she would throw the phone away. She had sent a very productive set of texts a few days ago.

"I miss her more than I miss being Denver," Rachel admitted. "Strange, right? You start off pretending to be someone, and then at some undefined point, you realize you are them."

"So, if you could go back to being Denver, would you?" Cooper asked.

Rachel took a breath. "No, I guess not. Denver seems so long ago, so far away. Looking back, I think the only attraction was the lack of a certain Governor. Like when he was on death's door, I was kind of very inclined to stay as Rachel. Have you heard of Brexit? When I was in exile in the United Kingdom with my stealth pregnancy last time, they kept talking about it. So they left despite all the economists saying, 'it will be an economic disaster.' Then they left, and surprise, it's an economic disaster. Now, when I was last there, you would think there would be a big move to undo the huge mistake and rejoin, but no, there isn't. Kind of like me and my parts."

Rachel checked the clock. She had found out where they had moved Hunter. She had just enough time to see him during her pretend checkup with Dr. Grant.

There was a cry outside.

"Sounds like Beth is waking up," Rachel said and started to adjust her bra. "She will need a feed."

"You're still breastfeeding?" Dr. Cooper asked.

"Yeah, I have a tube which attaches for extra supply," Rachel said. She did it because partly it helped Beth's cognitive development and partly it really annoyed Levant and his mother. They were revolted by breast feeding, and the more shocked they were, the more she did it.

"If I'm being brutal with myself, it's partly an excuse to have some time with Beth," Rachel said. It was surprising what your mind got up to in those quiet moments. It was a time to stop and think about the future.

"Douglas says, 'What's the point in having the best nannies in the bay when I'm doing all the work myself? I mean, I even wake up in the middle of the night for feeds. I don't have to, but I do."

Rachel paused.

It also gave Rachel the excuse not to share a bed with Douglas.

"Douglas complains about a lot of things like he didn't like me driving Beth around in the Tesla Roadster -- no space for the bodyguard, he said."

"So what did you do?" Cooper asked.

"I got a Polestar 6. Four seats. Convertible open top when the weather is good. The wind in my face is pureity. You smell the sea, hear the world," Rachel said. "I did notice something this week."

"What's that?"

"Well, it's odd how you don't notice something until you need it." Rachel began "Like I was looking for a place to get party supplies -- you know, balloons, toys, masks, novelty tricks, funny wigs, cards, that kind of stuff. I looked a place up on the internet and discovered it was right next door to a shop I've been going to for years, but I'd never noticed. I guess I never thought about kids' parties before. Well, that was the big revelation: sometimes you don't see something until you need it. It's always been there, in plain sight, just invisible."

"How is your relationship with your mother going?" Cooper probed.

"Good. Actually, much better," Rachel said. "She's recovered and getting her strength back. She's more relaxed around me now. I've stopped telling her Denver is coming back. She's stopped asking. She hasn't told anyone else in the family yet, but like they said, baby steps at first. You know what is crazy?"

"Tell me." Cooper said sitting back.

"She does the whole fake crystal healing gig better than I thought," Rachel said. "She did her homework and can come up with all the new age talk pretty well. Total natural. No, actually, she got a couple of other gigs. People approached her when she was leaving the Thronbury. I had to tell her what to charge and she could hardly form the words. It's good money, better than she was getting. More flexible too. If she's feeling too weak, she can just make something up. Like last week, she was telling everyone there is a very bad aura around at the moment, the earth's energy is misaligned... Everyone should protect their kids. Nothing to do with wanting a week off to hide in her flat with a migraine."

"What about you and Beth?" Cooper asked.

"You get a lot of time to think about things when you breastfeed. I work on lines for my next book. Did you get the invite to the second book launch? That's coming up soon. I feel that gender is like this anvil you're tied to when you're born. This huge, heavy thing you drag around with you all the time, chained to your ankle. We carry this enormous weight with us all the time. So you know, we make the best of whichever anvil we are given. Do we accept the anvil because, let's face it, we are never going to escape it? Then what happens when someone breaks the chain? I mean, I look at Beth, and I wonder. I mean, what is making her a girl? Is it me and her nanny Zelda doing it to her? Or is she doing it to herself? So hard to decide."

Cooper nodded and wrote something down.

"Douglas is going to announce a public poll about California leaving the United States," Rachel said looking intently at Cooper, "I've told him it's a bad idea, but he won't listen. Between us he's doing it to deflect attention away from how badly things are going. He won't listen to anyone. Devlin has stepped down already. I mean, technically, it's treason right? I don't know how much I should do something about it.... Is that the time?"

Rachel said looking at her Rolex, she knew what she had to do. The her direction was obvious.

"You have to leave early," Cooper said.

Rachel put her hand out. "It's been nice knowing you."

Then she left, picking up Beth in her travel seat. Cooper looked as Rachel, still standing in stilettos, managed to pick up the baby cot. Then, with the nanny in tow, she headed for the hospital's 13th floor where the coma cases were kept.

Rachel walked along and looked at Beth.

"Let's go and see Uncle Hunter for a minute Beth" Rachel said smiling "It's OK to cry. It might wake him up."

***********************************************

Interview

In the dimly lit suite of the Thornbury Hotel, a hushed air of anticipation hung in the air, mingling with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The walls were adorned with understated, abstract paintings that added a touch of unnecessary sophistication to the space. The soft, plush carpet beneath the table absorbed the muffled sound of footsteps, creating an ambiance of discreet elegance.

As Agent Farow leaned forward, his crisp white shirt caught the ambient light, revealing the subtle sheen of expensive fabric. The room's carefully chosen lighting played off the angles of his black chiseled features, accentuating the seriousness etched into his youthful countenance. The faintest hint of aftershave lingered in his wake, adding a layer of refinement to his overall demeanor.

Across the table, Charlie Bechtel sat attentively. Farow judged her a poised and capable woman with an air of authority. Her well-tailored business attire spoke of professionalism, and her neatly styled hair framed her face with a touch of Cosmopolitanism. She couldn't help but notice the slight reflection of her own expression in the polished surface of the table, a reminder of the gravity of the situation.

"Recording has started. In attendance: Special Agent Farrow and Special Agent Serena Lane, Case 404. With me is Ms. Charlie Bechtel, Manager of the Thornbury Group. It's T plus eighteen hours. Can you go over your statement, Ms. Bechtel? Can you go over it again from the beginning?"

Agent Farow's voice, measured and confident, cut through the room's quiet. The smooth, velvety tone of his speech contrasted with the tension in the room. The elegant pen he held with his large hand seemed almost out of place amidst the technological gadgets and cables strewn across the table.

Gazing at the audio recorder that stood as a silent witness to the unfolding conversation, Charlie's thoughts momentarily drifted. The grandeur of the suite seemed ill-suited for the task at hand. The Thornbury Hotel, known for its luxurious accommodations and sweeping city views, was now an unexpected backdrop for an efficient FBI operation, its opulence juxtaposed with the seriousness of the matter being discussed.

"Well.. I was speaking to Rachel on the phone," Charlie said.

"Was speaking to the First Lady common?" Agent Farrow asked.

"Pretty common," Charlie replied. "We are friends; we talk quite a lot. She told me she was going to a meeting with the architects for her house."

"By house do you men The Asylum." Agent Farrow said. "Or do you mean the Governors house?"

Agent Farrow remembered watching the opening of it on YouTube with his girlfriend. His curiosity seemed to be driving him forward as he sought to uncover the truth behind the events described. Charlie's thoughts flitted between her own words and the scene around her, the weight of her recollections bearing down on her as she continued to provide her statement.

"The Asylum. Turns out that it's slowly sinking into the sea," Charlie said, slightly misled by his demeanor. "The cliff face is falling apart. Rachel was amused, saying that this was why Levant managed to get such a good deal on it. She was telling me that the sea surveyors or something had mentioned that if Mr. Levant had allowed the construction of wind turbines, they probably would have saved it. She found that pretty ironic."

Agent Farrow made a few more notes, some of which ended with question marks.

"Then what happened?"

In that moment, within the walls of the Thornbury Hotel suite, an intricate web of personalities, motives, and stories began to unfold, all tied together by a simple phone call that held the potential to unravel much more than met the eye.

"Well, she was saying she was off to a meeting with the architects, conservation people, wildlife experts, a few neighbors, the coastal erosion experts--you name it, and it might take some time. She would be back for Beth, in time for her daughter's bedtime, and suggested we meet up after. I said that sounded good."

Agent Farrow looked up from his pad. "Do you know when this conversation was?" the agent asked.

"About two-ish. I can check my phone. We had lunch; Rachel had just fed Beth, and we had talked about how well her second book was doing. I'm not sure; we can check the CCTV. I think she left about twenty minutes before it happened."

Agent Farrow's focused gaze held a touch of curiosity as he listened to Charlie's account, his pen poised over the notebook as he scribbled down the details. The ambient light caught the glint of Charlie's determined expression, adding a layer of earnestness to her words. The room's atmosphere, tense yet contemplative, seemed to mirror the weight of the situation being discussed.

"Then," the Agent prompted, his understanding brown eyes fixed on Charlie, his demeanor a mixture of professionalism and empathy.

"Like I said, after a late lunch, she went off with, err, Jerry... no, Peter as a bodyguard. Peter, I think. She should have left Beth with the nanny, but at the last minute, decided to take her with her. Rachel can be spontaneous sometimes. She doesn't like splitting with Beth. Then I get a call. She was asking about Logan... my boyfriend. Bret Logan," Charlie continued.

"The actor Bret Logan?" Agent Farrow interjected.

Charlie nodded.

Agent Farrow looked up from his pad, a touch of intrigue coloring his expression. "For the record Ms Bechtel. He's your boyfriend? The one on that Netflix movie?"

Charlie nodded again "Yeah, we've been dating since college," Charlie replied. "His acting put me through my MBA. We are engaged."

Agent Farrow nodded, absorbing the new piece of information. "Right. So, you get a phone call from the First Lady. She mentions Logan. Then what happened? Try to remember in order."

The room's stillness was broken only by the hum of the air conditioning, creating a backdrop of quiet as Charlie's thoughts gathered and ordered themselves, ready to continue playing out the events that had transpired on that fateful day. The interplay between Agent Farrow's professional presence and Charlie's retelling added a layer of tension to the scene.