P.S. Has Puddin’ been two-timing me? :D
* * *
Ciao Scarlett Bellissima,
Doll! I love all of the pictures that you’ve been sending me. Paris seems like a ball! I bought one of those canvas boards, you know the ones you can pin stuff too? And I’ve been pinning all of your pictures. But I have the pretty box you sent me too, with all those wonderful perfumes! (Just so you can picture it. I dress up in gold sequins and spritz the good stuff in the air just so I can dance through clouds of sensual spices.)
Once my pinning board fills up, I’ll start tucking the older ones away in the Parisian box to save. Oh. Unless one of them is a favorite, then I’ll just have to tuck one of the newer ones away.
:(
Oh. Idea! Maybe I’ll just buy another pin board!
:)
You are so good to me. You send me in a delightful tizzy.
I’ve been thinking about your roomgirls, Emilia and Colette, and I was wondering…does Colette talk about sex a lot? I once knew this French girl and she had hair under her armpits and she talked about sex like it was an art. I thought about a question I might have about Emilia, but I never really thought about a German girl and what she might be like. Oh, does she like beer and sausage? That’s a German thing, right?
Your life fascinates me. It seems so shiny and glamorous.
I hired Jane (or is it Janet?) Jones. She was pretty eager to get started. She can’t clean worth a fly, but she’ll do. Brando isn’t the wiser. I don’t think he even sees her. She’s not shiny enough. Not that it’s a bad thing to have regular skin, but to catch his eye you have to shine like the stars. Not even sequins will do. ;)
Did I ever tell you that Luca Fausti used to dance with me? He’d take me out dancing from time to time. The music never was of our time. It was usually older. He told me that a girl like me should be romanced.
You gotta see, Scarlett Gorgeous, that there’s not a girl out there that hasn’t lost her heart before. But the show must still go on. Enjoy Paris, all of that fine dancing, and live your life. You’ll never get this time back. The second it’s over, it’s done. Even though love feels like it’s left, it hasn’t. It’s just waiting in another room in the house, preferably the bedroom.
I wrote this letter to Sinéad O'Connor’s “Love Letters.” Next time you write me, pop it in. Or do you have something more French that you listen to? Tell me all about it! I need to be turned on. Oh, that sounded naughty.
Secret: Everyone used to call me Magpie. I was too chatty and attracted to shiny things. I guess Brando gets that from me. Not the chatty gene, the attracted to shiny things gene.
And…
Promise: (She kissed the paper here, her lipstick pure red.)
For the next time I see you!
Don’t be a chicken, Scarlett Gorgeous. We are women with superpowers. Superwomen always pick both.
Love you forever, my dancing doll,
Maggie Beautiful
P.S. Puddin’ still has the crazy eyes for you.
Le Sigh.
Love lives on.
Chapter Three
Scarlett - Three and a half years later
Over three years had passed since Maggie Beautiful sent that letter. We’ve written since, of course, but only on the rare occasion does she mention Lucious ‘Luca’ Fausti. The man he once was with her. I kept those letters close to me, closer than the others. When she mentioned him, I felt a deeper connection to her. Though there was no comparison between Brando and his father, woman to woman, the loss of our great loves bonded us together.
I looked over her latest letter. The key necklace Brando had sent to me brushed against the paper. There was nothing to report on Jane either. Still. I released a breath that I didn’t even realize I had been holding in the chilly winter’s air. Releasing the worry, I rolled my eyes at Maggie Beautiful’s pestering aboutthis and that.Still.
Mysteries were a challenge to Maggie Beautiful, to her own curious nature.
