Read Online Somewhat Saved by Pat G'Orge-Walker - Free Book Online
Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker
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clutter off a table next to a bathroom. The table was small and the chair lopsided, much like her life. It took her a moment to balance the chair as well as what had transpired during the interview and audition. Idly picking at a side order of french fries so cold the grease had already started to congeal on her plate, Zipporah let her mind retrace that afternoon.
âZipporah Moses, number thirty, Zipporah Moses, youâre next.â The pasty-colored, thirty-something woman called out. Seated on her high-back throne behind her desk, sheâd let her coral-colored glasses rest on the tip of her pointed nose and pursed her lips.
âYouâre Zipporah?â sheâd asked with a touch of sarcasm. Her tinny voice was unapologetic as she let her blue eyes travel over the mismatched ensemble hanging for dear life on Zipporahâs hidden and shapely body.
Without so much as a note sung or another question asked, the pasty-colored snob on the throne with the tinny voice, outdated glasses, and no decorum announced that magically the position was filled. To further her insult, she tossed Zipporahâs application into the wastebasket. A quick flip of the womanâs hand dismissed her without ceremony. She hadnât even bothered with an introduction. Zipporah felt lower than a street curb.
Adolescent giggling from the next table interrupted Zipporahâs dismal replay. A young girl of about fifteen wearing too much makeup and not enough clothing flirted with a man several years older. To whatever the older man said, the young girl responded with over-the-top laughter while under the table she stroked his upper thigh, teasingly along the inside seam of his pants.
Zipporah fought the urge to go over and drag the stupid girl away before her youth betrayed her, as Zipporahâs had done. Her inexperience and lust for a singing career had led her to entertain men she wouldnât have normally shared the same air with.
The sound of trays slamming took Zipporahâs attention away from the young girl and her destiny of disappointment. She put her head back down and picked at the cold french fries.
âWe didnât come all the way to Las Vegas to eat at a low-class place like this!â Sasha had fussed all the way from the hotel to the spot where they now stood.
âSasha,â Bea snapped, âwe need to save what we can to play bingo and gamble.â
The reference to her favorite pastimes calmed Sasha. âOkay, Bea. Letâs find a table and eat this crap so we can get on with our vacation and keep our Mothers Board positions.â
Bea and Sashaâs loud bickering suddenly invaded Zipporahâs attention. She slowly looked up. It was just in time to recognize the two old women from the elevator and the fray outside the hotel. How much worse can this day get? she wondered, quickly turning her head slightly toward the wall to avoid eye contact with the crabby old women, or anyone for that matter.
Sasha stopped sniping for a moment and nibbled on the crust of her tomato, okra, and mustard sandwich.
Meanwhile Bea, trying to gnaw at a hamburger that oozed more oil than sauce, leaned forward suddenly and found Zipporah in her view. She focused intensely as she tried to recall where sheâd seen the young woman seated at a table nearby. Iâve never been to Las Vegas before so where do I know that young lady from? And, if I donât know her, then whom does she remind me of?
Something about the young woman caught Beaâs attention. She suddenly became agitated. She hadnât come all the way to Las Vegas to do anything but retain her Mothers Board position at the conference, and add some monetary blessings to her purse. Yet, she felt compelled to stare at the young woman.
âBea!â Sasha hissed, shooting bits of tomato and okra from the corner of her mouth.
âWhat?â Bea barked, wiping the dripping oil from the cuff of her sweater and glaring. She
âZipporah Moses, number thirty, Zipporah Moses, youâre next.â The pasty-colored, thirty-something woman called out. Seated on her high-back throne behind her desk, sheâd let her coral-colored glasses rest on the tip of her pointed nose and pursed her lips.
âYouâre Zipporah?â sheâd asked with a touch of sarcasm. Her tinny voice was unapologetic as she let her blue eyes travel over the mismatched ensemble hanging for dear life on Zipporahâs hidden and shapely body.
Without so much as a note sung or another question asked, the pasty-colored snob on the throne with the tinny voice, outdated glasses, and no decorum announced that magically the position was filled. To further her insult, she tossed Zipporahâs application into the wastebasket. A quick flip of the womanâs hand dismissed her without ceremony. She hadnât even bothered with an introduction. Zipporah felt lower than a street curb.
Adolescent giggling from the next table interrupted Zipporahâs dismal replay. A young girl of about fifteen wearing too much makeup and not enough clothing flirted with a man several years older. To whatever the older man said, the young girl responded with over-the-top laughter while under the table she stroked his upper thigh, teasingly along the inside seam of his pants.
Zipporah fought the urge to go over and drag the stupid girl away before her youth betrayed her, as Zipporahâs had done. Her inexperience and lust for a singing career had led her to entertain men she wouldnât have normally shared the same air with.
The sound of trays slamming took Zipporahâs attention away from the young girl and her destiny of disappointment. She put her head back down and picked at the cold french fries.
âWe didnât come all the way to Las Vegas to eat at a low-class place like this!â Sasha had fussed all the way from the hotel to the spot where they now stood.
âSasha,â Bea snapped, âwe need to save what we can to play bingo and gamble.â
The reference to her favorite pastimes calmed Sasha. âOkay, Bea. Letâs find a table and eat this crap so we can get on with our vacation and keep our Mothers Board positions.â
Bea and Sashaâs loud bickering suddenly invaded Zipporahâs attention. She slowly looked up. It was just in time to recognize the two old women from the elevator and the fray outside the hotel. How much worse can this day get? she wondered, quickly turning her head slightly toward the wall to avoid eye contact with the crabby old women, or anyone for that matter.
Sasha stopped sniping for a moment and nibbled on the crust of her tomato, okra, and mustard sandwich.
Meanwhile Bea, trying to gnaw at a hamburger that oozed more oil than sauce, leaned forward suddenly and found Zipporah in her view. She focused intensely as she tried to recall where sheâd seen the young woman seated at a table nearby. Iâve never been to Las Vegas before so where do I know that young lady from? And, if I donât know her, then whom does she remind me of?
Something about the young woman caught Beaâs attention. She suddenly became agitated. She hadnât come all the way to Las Vegas to do anything but retain her Mothers Board position at the conference, and add some monetary blessings to her purse. Yet, she felt compelled to stare at the young woman.
âBea!â Sasha hissed, shooting bits of tomato and okra from the corner of her mouth.
âWhat?â Bea barked, wiping the dripping oil from the cuff of her sweater and glaring. She