Remember the Time

Chapter 72

“No, you idiot! Michael’s an American treasure. He has nothing to do with this. Besides, his mother hates Patricia. He’s on our side. You’ve gotta get him to befriend you.” Richard responded.

“Why do we have to be friends?”

Richard was getting frustrated with Dale.

“Because- It could help our case. If she suspects anything, he can come in and tell her to trust us.” Richard took a swig of his Scotch. “Plus, he’s the coolest guy on the planet.”

The other man chuckled. “So let me get this straight, we infiltrate her circle so that we can get the brother the prison time he deserves, all the while getting into Mariah’s head about how shitty her family is. Once Butterfly hits rock bottom, we get the money out of her and waltz into the sunset, scot-free.”

“Bingo. That way there’s no way she can pin it on us because the whole thing would be her own fault. We did nothing illegal!”

The other man stood up from his seat. “Mr. Hathaway, you’ve still got it.”

Richard chuckled, sipping his Scotch.

“Oh I never lost it.”

October 19th, 1998

Elizabeth Taylor had arrived in from her travels to finally meet Nicole and Noelle in the flesh. After seeing the twins and having a short conversation with Mariah, Elizabeth sat down with Michael to talk over lemonade.

“So how have you been?” Michael asked.

“Oh, I’ve been excellent. You have to visit Persia when you get a chance, Michael. There’s nothing like it when you’re there for yourself. You can very much open your third eye.” Elizabeth replied.

“Persia? You mean like India and stuff? And third eye? Is that a widespread thing there?”

“I don’t know exactly. But we did yoga. Very peaceful.” Elizabeth explained.

Michael smiled, but his face looked as if he had to use the bathroom. “Interesting.”

“Ya know, while I was over there I saw so many things. The spirituality is very high and the landscapes are quite beautiful. But you know, that country is very poor. I went into the slums and saw the starving children. They didn’t even have clean water, Michael. Even the more, em, developed areas looked so rundown. Very poor standard of living.”

Michael raised a worried eyebrow. “Is it really that bad all over?”

“Yes! It’s like Detroit over there, but, you know, with more Arabs.”

“I don’t think Arabs and Indians are the same, Liz…” Michael responded.

“Oh? Well they all have the traditional headscarves and things. Oh! I got this little paint on my hand while I was there. The woman told me it meant something about good fortune.”

“You mean henna?” Michael asked.

“You know about it?”

“Yeah, well, my brothers have dated Indian women. I don’t know much about it but I don’t think you’re supposed to wear it if you’re not a part of that culture.” Michael explained. As much as he loved Elizabeth, he found it painstakingly difficult to hear her speak about ‘other’ cultures at times.

“Well, I don’t know about all of that. But I do know that it was disheartening to see all those pot-bellied children. You know they starve so their bodies start to eat themselves and they get these weird looking stomachs. It’s so peculiar. I just wish there was a way we could help them.”