Glo Noir: The Case of Lost Confidence

Foreword and Quote of the day:”So, before you think about hurting someone over this trifle of a movie, please remember that even God has a sense of humor. Just look at the platypus. P.S. We sincerely apologize to the platypus.” --Dogma


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The month: August. The place: My apartment. The weather: Clear with a chance of earthquake.

The cell phone chirped. “Glo, here. Talk to me.”

“The car wash. Bring the file.” The poorly muffled voice belonged to one of my celebrity clients.

I braided my hair into pigtails. Screw fashion, I thought to myself with a grin, feeling a rush of newly-instated self-assurance. It was good to have my composure back after a long, hard summer.

As I hit every stop light for 3 miles, I had plenty of time to remember the day I lost my confidence. It was hard to forget. I had written the wedding date application. Then the phone rang.

“It’s not working, kid,” the smooth, sexy voice informed me. “You’re just not what I expected. I know you’ll understand.”

I hung up the phone, relying on my customary aplomb to save me, but it was missing. Gone. I’d been robbed. I ransacked the house, expecting to find the comfort of my social life. Gone, too. Friends? None. All lost to the crime those of us in the industry call ‘Moving’.

The usual suspects had alibis. There were no fingerprints. No clues. The trail had gone cold. Dead as the exuberance I had once felt for knock-off Louis Vuitton.

Topher** called me, convinced that his cleaning lady had sold a story about him and a Spanish monkey to the French tabloids. It wasn’t her. It was me, but I was hardly going to confess. I kept the appointment because I needed to get out of the house.

Topher* pushed his plate closer to me, expecting me to partake of the Bolognaise. I waved it away.

“Something’s not right.” Topher* said simply. “I’ve never seen you pass by free food.”

I borrowed a line from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. “I feel strange. I’m strange to myself.”

Topher** took the weapon I was wielding out of my hand. “I think you’ve wrecked enough havoc. Ever thought of changing directions?”

“You mean, not selling you out just to fund my traveling habit?”

“Nah, that part’s fine. But are you really happy amidst all the glam of your life? What are you getting from being Cosmopolitan?”

I couldn’t answer, so he said, “Take stock. Keep what matters. Throw out what doesn’t. I’ll be checking in later.”

So, I closed up shop. Sure, I still sell out the upper echelon of Hollywood for a heads up about shoe sales and I love a good nightclub, but gone is the need to impress people who can’t accept an Idaho farm girl at face value.

Not long after that fateful meeting, a package arrived. Intrigued, I opened it to discover a box marked “Stuff by the phone.” Inside, I found my confidence, sense of humor, lust for adventure, need for social life, and flirtatiousness. There was no note.

Back in the current hour, I pulled into the car wash. Topher** was waiting for me. I walked up to him, grabbing the top off of his muffin. He grinned, “Screw the monkeys, eh?”

“Yessir,” I agreed, smiling over my décolletage. A nearby worker hissed, “Mamacita.” I turned to smile at him. He bowed a little.

Twenty minutes later, after sipping 64 ounces of Diet Coke while Topher** complained that he had once again been discovered in New York City, my car pulled out of the wash.

Topher** asked, “So, where you going from here?”

I shrugged, handing over his file. “Dunno. But it’s gonna be one helluva ride.”

The car door opened to the strains of Alabama. I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a little bit country.”

Topher** handed me into the car. “And more than a little rock and roll. Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

I threw the car into gear, waving at the worker who had given me a deal on the upgraded wash. “It’s good to be me,” I said to no one in particular as I sped off to join Mrs. Charlie for the weekend’s excitement.

*To all the people represented by Topher, thanks for your patience and advice. Now, let’s go play.
**Same as above but with more stars. Oh- and there was no Spanish monkey.