I open the mini bar. Vodka, definitely. A Baby Ruth bar, why not? Cranberry juice, probably a good idea. I pour the vodka and absentmindedly bite into the candy bar. The view outside is of the ski lifts rising and coming back from the top of the mountain, the dozens of spots of color are the skiers descending the slope, but nowhere within miles and miles of me is my daughter.
What have we done to each other? No, question I should have had Angelica, but why with Bette? And now I question anything further with Henry. I read the PI’s report Joyce had sent to Bette summarizing the unpleasantries in Henry’s background. It’s in my purse. I may talk to Henry about it, or I may not. My priorities have now changed from getting away from this hotel and Shane’s botched wedding fast enough – to finding my daughter, then dealing with Bette, and lastly talking with Henry.
She has changed everything.
Of course, she would. Bette is game theory personified when she sharpens her senses and goes in for the kill. That is where she is now. I saw it in her eyes yesterday and felt it in shockwaves coming off her body. My forehead throbs. I lean against the cool glass of the window and remember that is one reason I chose her. Fierceness.
It goes back so long ago with me when I needed someone like her when I was a child, years before Allsweld, Lucy and the fair. I knew for certain I had a wolf protector who lived alone on the ridge behind my house. But by then it was too late.
My scar itches and it hasn’t in years, and now memories about Lucy, and the Gypsy, and Bette, and Allsweld gets out of prison in thirty days. My paradox is not lost on me: I need Bette’s fierceness to solve the very thing she’s created. A gulf, a chasm, and I still love her, and now I hate her even more.
I drink vodka. The cold liquor shoots through me. I press my face against the cold glass again. The winter sky, the barren forests, the whiteness of snow in the morning light – I shouldn’t be here anymore. I need to get the fuck on a plane and leave now. Someone, somewhere in LA has a finger on her movements even if they are broad. The battlefield is elsewhere. I down my drink and begin to pack.