Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Pursuing Mrs. Regrets - Ch. 20.1

March

“Miss Briscoe, once again, I don’t give interviews. Not even phone interviews. Sorry,” Delia told the persistent news reporter for the fourth time this week.

This Vanna Briscoe woman had called her every day for the last four days. It was always with the same request. She always got the same answer – no interviews.

“I suggest you reconsider unless you want me to go with a less flattering story about you,” Vanna said, revealing her impatience. She’d hoped to have her interview by now and a few other things. Yet with Delia shunning the spotlight like the plague, Vanna’s attempts at using flattery to entrap her into a meeting had been futile. Now it was time to play hardball.

“What could you possibly say unflattering about that miraculous birth at my store?” Delia asked, growing increasingly annoyed by this woman. She was about to hang up on her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be talking about that birth. I’d be talking about a certain person’s death in my article. A certain Esteban ‘E-Blade’ Jackwood. You remember him, don’t you?” Vanna chuckled spitefully. “Imagine what the good citizens of London Bridge would think of their new town heroine if they knew she was actually a murderer,” she added with envy joining the spitefulness of her words.

Delia frowned. “Be at my office in ten minutes,” she said, incorporating a few things that she’d learned from her days with E-Blade.

Never, ever discuss delicate issues over the phone. Too many bugs. Too much room for entrapment. Always meet in person, and even then make sure the person isn’t wired.

“I’ll be there in five,” Vanna replied gleefully. “After all, I’m just outside of your store in the parking lot.”

“Cool,” Delia replied. Then she slammed the phone down with one hand while the other hand balled into a fist.

I knew posing for those pictures was a bad idea, Delia mused, regretting ever listening to her mother on that issue.

At the time, Valena thought it would be a boost to Delia’s self-confidence if she saw her name and face in the newspaper on a positive note. Now it seemed to have backfired on her.

Now some crazy reporter chick is stalking me. But why? Delia stood to her feet and headed to her private bathroom. She had to look her best before meeting this newfound enemy.

Never let them see you sweat, girl, Delia thought, recalling what she’d learned from Bonz’s wife. Aisha was always cool, calm, and collected in times of adversity. She seldom reacted emotionally even when deliberately provoked.

Lord, I’m really gonna need Your help with my temper on this one. You know how rowdy I can get sometimes, Delia prayed, recognizing her own weakness and seeking help for it.

© 2008 by Suprina Frazier

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