Chapter Text
Chapter 11
Florence heard rushed steps behind her as she walked through the lobby of Olive’s building.
She seriously debated looking back to see who it was, especially since she was in the relative safety of an Upper West Side lobby with a janitor emptying the lobby’s trash cans inside.
Warily pulling out her trusty pepper spray, Florence slowly turned her head to see Mickey hurrying up to her.
“Mickey? Why are you following me?”
“Oh God, Florence, you’re talking again! I was starting to miss your voice.” Flo went white.
“Please don’t get too close to me, Mickey. Especially since you’re still married. Stan would not be happy if you were to get fresh with me.” Mickey stepped back, trying not to raise an eyebrow.
“Getting fresh with you? Why would I get fresh with you… oh .”
“It’s a logical fear to have these days, especially with the AIDS virus out infecting so many people.”
“AIDS? You’re really scared about AIDS, Florence? Last time I checked, neither of us was homosexual! You’ll be fine, Florence. Really.”
“I sure hope so, Mickey.” Florence turned her head and looked at the floor. God, it was hard staying quiet about Olive’s possible AIDS infection. But she knew Olive could lose her job for “being homosexual” if she were to let a member of the all-knowing NYPD know that Olive might have AIDS, since most people-like Mickey-still thought that only homosexuals were able to catch AIDS. Most people, that is, until their very, very straight loved ones got sick with AIDS and never got better.
“Why are you down here, Mickey? Doesn’t Olive still need defusing?”
“I’m here to prevent you from killing yourself, Florence, that’s why I’m down here.”
“Me? Kill myself?” This time Mickey did raise an eyebrow.
“That wasn’t your plan, even though something happened where you apparently made Olive very, very upset at you? Isn’t she your favorite person in the world now that Sidney’s out of the picture?” Florence felt her cheeks turning red with heat.
“I’m not going to kill myself just because Olive’s upset at me, Mickey. Otherwise I would’ve died back when Olive kicked me out in July.”
“Oh…okay. Could I still follow you back to your home, just to make sure you stay safe? I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Call it a cop thing.”
“It had better be just a cop thing, Mickey.”
—
“How late are you guys staying? I have to get my stitches out at 9 or 10 tomorrow-I forgot exactly when, but I know it’s fairly early tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t know for how long we will need to stay, Olive. Probably until Mickey calls us to certify that Florence is alright, which could take several hours,” responded Renee.
“Why does Florence have to be alright in order for you guys to leave me alone? It makes no sense.”
“Because you honestly don’t function well yourself when you’re worried about Florence, that’s why,” replied Renee.
“I function just fine even when I’m worried about Florence, which by the way I am not.”
“Yes, outright inviting Florence to live with you for weeks when most normal people could see that she would drive you up the wall within days is functioning well.”
“Where the hell was Florence supposed to go right when Sidney dumped her?”
“Where the hell was Florence supposed to go right when you dumped her?”
“ Renee. ”
“What? I distinctly remember you telling us after you had kicked Florence out that ‘you broke up.’”
“It was different then.”
“How?”
“Shit…things were a little different between us then.”
“Closer or not nearly as close as you are now?”
Olive pouted and narrowed her eyes in simmering rage at Renee. Vera looked uneasily between them.
—
“So…you live here? In this building?”
“You’re not going to take me right up to the building, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I do want you to stay safe, that’s all.”
“It just seems embarrassing for me to have a member of the NYPD personally escort me to my building.”
“We might as well park as closely as we can. I will be taking you to your apartment, after all.”
“Mickey…I’m not planning to kill myself. You can just drop me off and leave.”
“I’d much rather be safe than sorry, Florence. You know that.”
Florence sighed.
“Fine. When we get to my apartment I will go straight to bed and then you will see for yourself that I am absolutely not planning to kill myself.”
“Is that some sort of joke or what?”
“Do I ever joke, Mickey?”
Mickey found a parking spot about 20 feet in front of the building. She parked the police car.
The two women got out of the car and walked into Florence’s building, which appeared to have a total of about 9 or 10 floors.
Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone in the lobby when Flo and Mickey got into the elevator.
And then the elevator stopped on just the second floor.
An old white man stepped into the elevator. Florence eyed him nervously.
“Women get NYPD escorts all the time, Florence,” whispered Mickey reassuringly.
The elderly man got out on the 5th floor.
Florence’s apartment was on the 7th floor.
When Mickey and Florence got out of the elevator, Florence took another look around to make sure that no one was seeing her get “escorted” to her apartment by a uniformed member of the NYPD.
The two women walked through the cornflower-blue hall to Flo’s door, which was a bright, happy lime green. Florence unlocked her door.
“Spray your feet with Lysol and wipe them on the mat,” instructed Florence.
Both women sprayed their feet with Lysol and wiped them on the turquoise welcome mat.
“And now you will see me literally go right to bed and not kill myself,” said Florence as they walked through the extremely orderly and clean apartment to its sole bedroom.
Mickey watched Florence take off her jacket, hang the jacket in the closet with care, take off her shoes, set the shoes down neatly in the hanging shoe display with all of her other shoes, walk over to her bed, primly open the precisely-made pale pink covers, and then climb into the bed underneath the covers. She stared at Mickey once she was laying in her bed.
“See, Mickey. Look how safe and not-killing myself I am.”
Then Florence closed her eyes to go to sleep.
Mickey watched as the blonde squirmed tensely trying to force herself to sleep without clearing her sinuses first. She walked over to the bed and stared at Florence’s face.
It took at least a good hour and a half for Florence to finally relax enough to fall asleep. Mickey had become confident that that wouldn’t actually happen.
After waving her hands right in front of Flo’s face in order to make sure that she was totally unconscious, Mickey walked out of the bedroom and back out into the living room. She pulled out her walkie-talkie.
—
Back at Olive’s apartment, the walkie-talkie on the table beeped loudly before Mickey’s voice blared out of it.
“Hi, girls. I am glad to report that Florence is now safely asleep in her own bed. Unfortunately, since Florence is the only one with the keys to lock her own apartment it looks like I’m stuck here guarding the place with my gun for the rest of the night. Call Stan for me and explain where I am. Olive, I’ll be back in the morning to pick up my other walkie-talkie. Over.”
Renee, Vera, and even Olive leaned in to listen to what Mickey had to say.
“So now that Flo’s safe and sound, can we end things for the night?”
“Depends, Olive, are you safe and sound right now?” asked Renee.
“What the fuck makes you think I’m not?”
“I don’t know, this entire past evening?”
“We’ve been over this, Renee. I am perfectly fine, with or without Florence.”
“Yeah, something tells me that you’re not, Olive.”
“What? Your spidey senses?”
“So, are we now supposed to help Olive go to bed?” asked Vera. Olive and Renee both looked at her. Olive started quietly laughing.
“Do you even hear yourself, Vera? Some of your word choices are a bit highly suspect for tonight,” chuckled Olive.
“How are they highly suspect, Olive? We are supposed to be helping you into bed to ensure that you’re also safe and sound, aren’t we?” Olive kept cracking up and laughing.
“Olive, I think this is all flying over Vera’s head,” pointed out Renee.
“You’re right, I’m sorry for laughing at you Vera. You do realize that ‘helping someone to bed’ sounds a lot more intimate than you think it does, Vera, right?”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you for letting me know, Olive.”
“But seriously, Olive,” said Renee, “how do we know that you won’t go on another drinking binge and drunkenly fall out of a window like you did after Phil left?”
“Well, for starters, Florence didn’t dump me tonight like Phil did then. Second of all…you all heard Mickey, right? Florence is safe and sound and resting up to bother me again tomorrow. Everything’ll turn out fine, guys.”
“Yeah…I’m not buying it.”
“What the fuck would have to happen for you to buy it, Renee?”
“I don’t know, Olive…maybe you opening up to someone about what is going on with you and Florence and your health issues.”
“Which obviously isn’t happening tonight, so what are you and Vera gonna do? Sleep over at my place?”
“Well…that actually doesn’t sound like the worst idea you’ve had, Olive.”
“That was a rhetorical question, Renee. Vera has a husband she should probably be heading home to about now.” They both looked at Vera. Vera looked back.
“You’re really going to be fine if we both leave, Olive?” asked Renee.
“Yes, I am. Go home. Rest in your own beds, both of you. I’ll still be here and kicking in the morning.” Vera looked at Olive doubtfully as she picked up her bag and jacket.
“You’ll really be fine, Olive?”
“Yes, Vera, I will.”
“Well…whatever you say, Olive. Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite,” smiled Vera.
Renee continued to look at Olive as Vera put on her jacket and exited the apartment.
“When Mickey gets here in the morning to pick up her walkie-talkie, you had better be sober and in one piece, Olive.”
“And? What’s the punishment if I’m not?”
“I wouldn’t know, I’m not your mother. Only your accountant.”
“Nice to know you’re finally recognizing your boundaries, Renee.”
“Good night, Olive. Hopefully you’ll be in a better mood by next week,” bade Renee as she put on her own jacket and picked up her bag.
Olive watched wordlessly as Renee walked out of her apartment.
“...who the fuck do these people think they are?” Olive quietly asked herself aloud when she was sure Renee wouldn’t hear her through the walls.
New Sources Introduced in Chapter 11
“nypd cars 1985.” Google Search. Search performed October 16, 2022. https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-d&q=nypd+cars+1985 .