OUTRAGEOUS: PART ONE
Anna Nicole Smith is American history. This is my version of her story, one episode at a time.
EPISODE ONE: VICKIE LYNN HOGAN
Synopsis: Vickie Lynn Hogan, 17, navigates life as a high school dropout in her small Texan town. Forever lonely, Vickie marries the teenage fry cook at Jim’s Krispy Fried Chicken. She has his baby so that she’ll never feel lonely again. When her abusive husband begins taking out his frustrations on their infant son Daniel, she leaves everything behind and flees to Houston with her baby. After juggling jobs at Walmart and Red Lobster, she finally gets hired at a strip club named Gigi’s. She believes getting breast implants will save her life. When she meets an oilman named J.Howard Marshall during a day shift at the club, she realizes she was right. The rest is American history.
HOUSTON, TEXAS -- Spring 1979
A chubby, cherubic 11-year old lounges in her family’s living room. This is Vickie LYNN HOGAN.
Legs draped over the couch, she reads STAR magazine and sips her soda through a straw.
A plus-sized police officer barrels into the room. This is Virgie Hogan, Vickie’s mom.
“Have you seen my baton?” Virgie asks. “You better not have been twirlin’ it again, Vickie.”
“You were polishin’ it in the kitchen last night,” Vickie answers, eyes glued to her magazine.
Virgie finds her baton and attaches it to her belt.
“Can you buy me this?” Vickie asks, pointing to an ad in the back of the tabloid. Virgie squints.
“It’s a special STAR investigation into the love life of Marilyn Monroe,” Vickie explains. “$3.99”
Virgie shakes her head, “No.”
“But it’s a book,” Vickie insists.
“Call your father and ask him to buy it,” Virgie says.
“I don’t even have his number!” Vickie says.
“Well then, I don’t know what to tell you,” Virgie says. “I’m bowling after work. Be good. Don’t answer the door for nobody.”
Vickie nods in agreement.
“And what else?” Virgie asks.
“Stay out of your bedroom,” Vickie answers. “Don’t go in your drawers.”
“And?” Virgie asks.
“Don’t mix soap and bleach when cleaning the floors again,” Vickie says. “Cuz that makes mustard gas.”
“And?” Virgie asks.
Vickie struggles to think of something to say.
“Don’t eat up all the snacks or there won’t be any when we watch Happy Days,” Virgie warns.
Vickie agrees. Virgie burrows out the door. No hug. No kiss.
Through the window, Vickie watches Virgie lower into her rusty police car.
As Virgie’s car disappears down the road, Vickie locks the door. She zips into her mom’s room.
Vickie tip toes over to her mom’s nightstand. Cautiously reaches in but comes up empty handed.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” little Vickie mutters to herself as she continues searching.
She looks under her mom’s pillow -- nothing.
Finally, Vickie slides open her mom’s closet and sees what she’s looking for in a shoe box:
A BIG, OLD VIBRATOR, HELD TOGETHER BY DUCT TAPE
We don’t see Vicki touch it. But we do see her tiptoe around and plug something into the wall.
We zoom out wide. Behind the couch, we can’t see her. Just her hand. She reaches for STAR Magazine. Flips to a photo of a teen boy with a mouth full of braces.
We hear extremely loud buzzing. The intensity gets higher. And higher. Until the vibrator’s plug falls right out of the wall. Ahhh….
TITLE CARD: OUTRAGEOUS
Little Vickie bounces into the kitchen and fills a bucket with hot water. Gets to mopping the floors.
TITLE CARD: 1984
Vickie (15, skinny, flat-chested) gazes out the window as her AUNT KAY (40s, homely) drives through a prairie town at sunrise.
Road signs read:
MEXIA, TEXAS: POPULATION 7,000
and
40 MILES ‘TILL WACO
There’s KKK graffiti on some of the plain buildings they pass. Kay turns down a country road with a name too disgustingly racist to print and parks in front of her double-wide.
Vickie carries road trip-snack trash in her hands and a backpack full of her only belongings.
Vickie’s almost six-feet-tall now, body strong and flat like an athlete.
“Welcome to Mexia, baby,” Kay says, squeezing her tightly. (Mexia sounds like Muh-hay-uh).
“You hug me better than my mama,” Vickie tells her. “Ever since I was little, I remember that.”
They shuffle inside the house. Drab. Cluttered. Claustrophobic.
“Thank you for saving me Aunt Kay,” Vickie says. “Really. I love it here.”
Aunt Kay nods. Points to the plastic-covered couch. Vickie kicks back on it. Relieved.
Later that day, Vickie wanders aimlessly down the town’s dusty main street.
“Where is everything?” Vickie asks herself aloud. “Is there anything?”
Finally, Vickie lays eyes on the only restaurant in town: JIM’S KRISPY FRIED CHICKEN
Vickie reaches into her pockets and finds a couple quarters.
“Just a lemonade, please,” Vickie tells the cashier inside. This is CRICKET (15, red-hair, spunky).
Vickie sips her lemonade but watches everyone else’s food like a hawk. She longs for the plates of chicken and biscuits everyone else has.
The next morning, Aunt Kay’s house buzzes with morning chaos. Cousins scramble to school.
Kay hands Vickie fifty cents and some food stamps before she drops her four kids at school.
“You get nice and situated before the high school starts,” Kay says. “But be careful.”
Vickie goes out exploring again. With nothing to see, she moseys back over to Krispy’s.
Vickie orders another lemonade, from the same red head as yesterday.
“I’m Cricket,” she tells Vickie.
“If your name is Cricket, I want to be Bug,” Vickie tells her.
“Ok Bug,” Cricket says. “Welcome to Mexia.”
“Do I stand out that bad?” Vickie asks.
“Everyone else here already knows each other,” Cricket says.
“But is anyone else here worth knowin’?” Vickie asks.
Cricket shakes her head “no” and they both laugh.
“Only me,” Cricket jokes.
At home that night, Vickie goes silent as her cousins fight over what to watch on TV.
The next day, Vickie returns to Krispy’s.
“You’re back!” Cricket exclaims.
“Did you miss me?” Vickie flirts.
“Of course,” Cricket says.
Vickie offers her coins for the lemonade and Cricket waves the money away.
“Here, I thought you may want to try more of our menu,” Cricket says. “It's so gourmet.”
The girls giggle. Cricket passes Vickie a tray full of fried chicken, biscuits, greens and more.
“Oh my gosh, I ---,” Vickie stammers.
“My treat Bug,” Cricket says.
“Thank you Cricket,” Vickie says.
Vickie goes to town on the food -- sucks her bones and clears her plate.
Cricket plops down across from Vickie. Hands her a Dr. Pepper.
“Did you know Dr. Pepper originated in Waco, Texas?” Cricket asks.
Vickie nods “no.”
“This is my lunch,” Cricket says. “An all-liquid diet so I can look skinny for school tomorrow.”
Vickie stops sucking on her last bone.
“Are you going to Mexia High?” Vickie asks.
“Ya, silly. There’s nowhere else to go,” Cricket says. “Believe me, I’ve looked.”
“I’ll be there too,” Vickie says.
“I hoped so,” Cricket tells her. “You have such pretty eyes.”
Vickie smiles. She excuses herself to Krispy’s bathroom and vomits up her food.
At school the next day, Vickie scans the campus for Cricket but can’t find her anywhere.
“Would you like to join the 4-H club?” a blonde nerd asks her. “We cultivate life skills. And soil.”
Vickie shakes her head no.
Vickie mopes into her English class but comes alive when she spots Cricket.
They gossip a million miles a minute as they set up their desks. Even as a teacher walks in…
“You two,” he says. “Dictation.”
Vickie and Cricket look at him in shock. Motion-less.
“You heard me,” he says. “It’s a lesson for everyone. Be quiet when you enter this room.”
He begins writing on the board in chalk: I WILL ENTER CLASS QUIETLY EVERY DAY
Vickie and Cricket stare at each other, both in shock.
“Get writing girls,” he instructs them.
“Yeah, get to writing girls,” a male classmate taunts.
Vickie copies the sentence over and over again in her spiral notebook. Rubs her hand in pain.
Finally, the bell rings.
“That was so messed up,” Vickie tells Cricket in the hall during the passing period. “Is that normal?”
“I mean, my sixth grade teacher used a belt on kids and told us not to tell anyone,” Cricket says.
“Sounds just like my mama,” Vickie deadpans.
We cut to English class the next day. Vickie and Cricket enter in silence. A group of guys chat. Including the guy who rubbed in Vickie’s punishment the day before.
The teacher enters the room and the boys drop their chatter to a whisper.
“Who's talking?” the teacher asks.
Vickie points to the ringleader, the one who taunted her. She grins at him, teasing, as the teacher assigns him dictation.
Class ends and Vickie and Cricket stroll down the hall together.
“I walked into the wrong science room yesterday,” Vickie complains.
“Sat down and everything?” Cricket asks.
Vickie nods and they laugh.
“Hey! Vickie!” a guy’s voice calls.
As soon as Vickie turns around to see who's calling her, that same male classmate punches her hard across the face. She drops to the floor and he kicks the shit out of her. Another guy joins in too.
Cricket screams “Stop!”
“Don’t you ever fucking try to embarass me again,” the first guy tells her. He spits on her.
Students watch but do nothing. No teachers witness or intervene. The guy runs off.
Vickie squirms on the floor. Cricket tries to pull Vickie up but can’t. Students walk right by.
After school, Kay pours Vickie a glass of Dr. Pepper. Younger kids play nearby.
“Gal-dang it, what’s going on with you? Can’t you say something?,” Kay asks.
Vickie wants to talk but can’t.
“What’s wrong Vickie Lynn?” Kay asks. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m not going back to school,” Vickie whispers.
“What?” Kay asks.
“I’m not going back to school,” Vickie whispers again. “I can’t.”
“Honey, you just started,” Kay assures her. “You just have to get used to it. You’ll be ok.”
Vickie shakes her head no.
“Vickie Lynn, I’m not callin’ your mama and sayin’ you dropped out of school the minute you got here,” Kay says. “She didn’t even want you coming here.”
“She knows why I left,” Vickie says.
“What happened at that school today?” Kay asks.
Vickie removes her sunglasses and shows her the bruise.
“Nobody even helped me,” Vickie sobs. “Why does this always happen to me? I guarantee you for the rest of my life, whenever I’m hurting, I’ll be all alone.”
“Vickie, you’re only a sophomore,” Kay says. “You’re a smart girl. You’re not quitting school.”
“I’m not goin’ back,” Vickie cries. “I didn’t come here to get beat and abused even more.”
Kay wraps her arms around Vickie and holds her while she fumes.
We cut to a few weeks later. Vickie tiptoes into a room full of her sleeping cousins before sunrise. She puts on her work uniform in the dark, careful not to wake anyone.
As the sun rises, she leaves the house and walks through Mexia until she reaches her destination -- Jim's Krispy Fried Chicken.
Vickie opens the restaurant. She cooks vats of okra, sheets of biscuits, and big pans of eggs.
She batters pieces of chicken. She holds a floury drumstick to her mouth like her microphone.
“A kiss on the hand may be... quite continental… but diamonds are a girl's best friend,” Vickie sings into it.
Vickie gets into her fantasy, loosening up her body, recreating Marilyn’s moves like a showgirl.
“A kiss may be grand, but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat or help you at the automat,” Vickie sings.
She tosses the drumstick into the fryer and it sizzles. Vickie pokes her skin like she’s the hot one. She winks to her imaginary audience.
Vickie doesn’t notice she has a real audience -- BILLY SMITH, (blonde, 15) watching her moves.
She spins around and he ducks into another part of the restaurant.
Krispy’s opens and Vickie fulfills orders with ease as the breakfast cook. It looks like just about everyone in Mexia eats breakfast there.
Later, Vickie plays with makeup in the employee bathroom alongside Cricket.
“You’re so lucky you quit school,” Cricket says. “I swear, it’s only gotten worse.”
Vickie examines her lipstick in the mirror. Blows a kiss.
“How did you get so pretty?,” Cricket asks Vickie.
Vickie shakes away the compliment.
“I want to be blonde,” Vickie says. “Then, maybe, I could be pretty.”
“Let’s dye it then,” Cricket says.
Cricket drives to the market with Vickie in her front seat. Cricket dashes in and steals hair bleach.
Back in the bathroom at Krispy’s, Vickie leans into the sink as Cricket rubs her head with it.
“Don’t blame me if your hair falls out,” Cricket jokes.
“I sure will!” Vickie says. “I’ve begged for blonde since I was 8, but my mama never let me.”
“What’s Aunt Kay gonna say,” Cricket says. “And what should we do tonight?”
“Hmmm, let’s see, we have so many options….” Vickie jokes.
“What good is getting your hair done if nobody sees it?” Cricket asks. “We’re doing the drag.”
We cut to sundown on the main street in Mexia. Driving up and down it is “doing the drag.”
Cricket drives and Vickie sticks her head out the window. Her newly platinum blonde hair shines.
“I feel like a dog,” Vickie says, hair blowing in the wind. “I love it.”
“There’s nobody even here yet,” Cricket says. “We’re too early.”
Vickie spots a couple of young male officers leaning against their police car, smoking cigarettes.
“Let’s go talk to those cops,” Vickie tells Cricket.
“Why?” Cricket asks. “The police here are scary. They drowned a group of guys a few years ago for no reason at all. Well…no good reason.”
Lucky for Vickie, the cops pull up next to them. On her side of the car.
Vickie rolls down her window.
“Hi there,” Vickie flirts. “My name is Vickie Lynn. Would you be able to help me?”
She sticks out her ass and wiggles it in Cricket’s face.
“My friend and I need help with something,” Vickie says.
“Well what’s the issue?” one cop asks.
“Don’t you dare go askin’ us for cigarettes or liquor or anything like that,” the other cop says.
“Well that would be stupid,” Vickie says. “Come closer and I’ll whisper it.”
She whispers in one cop’s ear, just sexy enough. Then he whispers to his partner. They nod in agreement. Apparently just as bored as these teenage girls.
Cricket veers off down a backroad and Vickie cackles.
“What the hell did you say to them, Bug?” Cricket asks. “Where’d you learn to flirt like that?”
“Blondes can do anything,” Vickie says. “Don’t be scared, ok? No matter what happens, it’s ok.”
“Uh-oh,” Cricket says.
By the time they loop back around to the main street, “the drag,” the sky is dark and all the other kids have shown up. A little country parade of trucks and sedans, filled with kids with nowhere else to go.
Vickie cracks open a beer and gives Cricket a sip. Vickie hangs out of the window and dances.
Suddenly, sirens sound. That police car tails them. Right in the center of the crowd.
“Pull over,” one of the cops says on his megahorn.
Cricket pulls over. Screams with terror. Not Vickie. She plays it tough.
Both cops approach the passenger side of the car, pull Vickie out and handcuff her.
Everyone on the drag pauses to watch the cops arrest Vickie. She throws elbows and kicks.
As she appears to resist arrest, her hair glows brilliantly. Vickie roars with power for all to see.
Cars slow down and stare. Vickie rejoices in captivating everyone’s attention.
The police car speeds away, sirens on, and Cricket struggles to follow it without running reds.
“Wheeeeeee,” Vickie screams excitedly in the back.
The cop who’s driving looks at Vickie in his rearview mirror.
“How’d we do?” he asks Vickie. She just smiles. The other cop undoes her cuffs.
Finally, in the middle of nowhere, Cricket catches up. Vickie gets out of the cop car.
“Hey Vickie,” one of the cops calls after her. He palms her a card with his phone number.
She kisses his cheek and slips into Cricket’s front seat. Cricket drives them away like a bat out of hell.
“Oh my god!” Cricket screams. “You’re too much! You really think life’s a movie, don’t you?”
“How was my performance?” Vickie says. “Did anyone buy it? Do I have a future as an actor?”
“Are you kidding? Everyone bought it!” Cricket shouts. “You seemed crazy.”
“Well, you said my new hair needed an audience,” Vickie says.
Vickie and Cricket howl with laughter.
“I think I peed my pants,” Cricket says. “You scare me, Vickie Lynn.”
We cut to another morning at Krispy’s. Alone in the kitchen, Vickie pops a tape in the player.
She chops and stirs like a showgirl once again, lip syncing along to Madonna:
“Some boys try and some boys lie but I don't let them play (no way), only boys who save their pennies make my rainy day. 'Cause we're living in a material world, and I am a material girl. You know that we are living in a mat---.”
Vickie spots Billy and stops singing.
“Sorry,” Vickie says. “Hi.”
“Mornin’,” Billy says. “So you’re a material girl huh?”
“Well, uh, Madonna doesn’t even end up with the rich guy in the video,” Vickie says.
Billy laughs.
“Can I get you something to eat?” Vickie asks. “I could pour the bacon gravy over some biscuits for you, with some sausage and scrambled eggs. If you’d like that. That’s what I like..”
“I’d love that,” Billy answers.
Vickie beams. She catches a glimpse of herself in the stove’s reflective surface, and checks her teeth.
Vickie makes him a plate and he devours it in front of her.
“Do you want a bite?” he asks her.
“Sure,” Vickie says.
She opens her mouth like Marilyn would and swallows a forkful of pork sausage.
She chews and swallows. Then he kisses her.
We cut to Vickie and Billy’s wedding day. Cricket curls Vickie’s hair before the ceremony.
“I’m an adult Cricket, I’m 18 years old, I can get married if I want to,” Vickie says.
“He’s 17,” Cricket reminds Vickie. “What’s the rush? What about acting?”
“Stop Cricket, you know I love him,” Vickie says. “We want to live together. I’m not giving up.”
Cricket bites her tongue.
“I wish I had a daddy to walk me down the aisle,” Vickie says. “I wish he was here.”
During the ceremony, the bride towers over the groom. She leans over to kiss him.
They pose for their first photo as man and wife, then eat Krispy’s chicken at the reception.
The next morning, we see Vickie slither out of her “little spoon” position in bed next to Billy.
She gets ready for the breakfast shift and heads into work.
As she clocks out before noon, Billy clocks in.
“Hello my wife,” he says.
“Hello, husband,” Vickie says.
They kiss in the kitchen like they’re on their honeymoon. Until another employee walks in…
“I’ll see you back at home baby,” Vickie says.
She walks back to their apartment. Hangs out in their apartment. Tries to enjoy alone time.
The phone rings. When Vickie answers, she hears Cricket on the other line.
“Hey girl, want me to come do your roots?” Cricket asks.
“Why, they look bad last time you saw me?” Vickie jokes.
“No, no, I just mixed too much,” Cricket says. “I’ve still got my foil in.”
“Come finish here,” Vickie says. “I’m home alone.”
“Perfect,” Cricket says.
She arrives at Vickie’s and they have fun drinking beer and lightening their hair.
“If you’re pregnant, we shouldn’t be bleaching your hair,” Cricket warns Vickie. “I know he’s got that young sperm.”
“No ma'am, I’m still on my little pills from the planned parenthood in Waco,” Vickie says. “The little pink case reminds me of where Polly Pocket lives.”
“Ok, Bug,” Cricket says.
Later, Cricket leaves and Vickie cleans up their mess.
Billy marches in and discovers Vickie changing the trash bag.
“What are you messing with that for?” Billy asks. “Who was over here?”
“ Cricket, baby,” Vickie says. “I just don’t want the house smellin’ like bleach. Do you like my hair?”
“I’m supposed to believe you?”
“Yeah baby, I’m your wife,” Vickie says.
“I’m not your baby,” he tells her.
“Then stop acting like one,” she jokes.
“What?” Billy asks.
Billy slaps Vickie across the face.
“You’re not smart. So don’t have a smart mouth,” Billy tells her.
In bed that night, Vickie lays awake as a snoring Billy spoons her.
Next, Vickie watches The Young and The Restless while home alone. Folds laundry in her lap.
“Oh my gosh, Terry Lester,” Vickie says to the TV. “If I wasn’t a married woman….”
Vickie flings the closet door open and places some of her and Billy’s laundry into it. It’s sparse.
Vickie examines herself in the full-length mirror -- messy bun and oversized top.
“Shoot, I better get myself together before my man gets home,” Vickie says aloud.
She mutes her TV. Assess her closet. Tries on one of Billy’s button-ups.
“No,” she says aloud, takes it off, hangs it back up.
She finds a pack of black nylons. Rolls them up her legs. Slips on a bra and purple sweater.
“My name is Lolita and I'm not supposed to play with boys,” Vickie says into the mirror.
She wiggles her hips with her hands behind her head. More Marilyn choreo for another Marilyn tune.
“That little old man, he just treats it so good!” Vickie squeals into the mirror. This is “My Heart Belongs to Daddy.”
She takes off her sweater and lassos it with one hand. Swings her body. Points her toes.
“Enchilada,” Vickie coos, a poem of a word. She winks to her imaginary audience yet again.
She keeps performing for her make-believe spectators, traipsing around the apartment like it’s her stage, her bra and tights looking like a jumpsuit. She dances down every inch of the space.
Finally, Vickie collapses onto the couch. Before she knows it, she’s asleep. ‘Til Billy finds her….
Vickie awakes to Billy shaking her awake, both hands on her shoulders.
“Did you have fun?” Billy yells. “You fucking whore!”
Vickie can’t make sense of what’s happening. Stays silent. Is she dreaming?
“Answer me Vickie Lynn,” Billy screams. “You dirty bitch.”
He keeps shaking her, digging his fingers into her.
“What the hell did you do today that you had to get all dressed up like a slut?” he asks.
Her mouth opens but she says nothing. He wraps his hands around her throat to choke her.
“I was just playin’ dress up,” Vickie spits out. “For you.”
“Don’t lie to me Vickie Lynn,” Billy roars. “Do not lie to me. You’re not smart enough to lie to me.”
“I’m not, I just took a nap,” Vickie whispers. “I was waiting for you.”
Billy relaxes his hand around her neck but her body stays stiff. He pets her legs.
“I like these tights,” he says into her ear.
He grabs at her crotch and rips them open. Sticks his fingers inside her. She lets it happen.
Vickie loses sense of her body, Billy, the apartment. Goes blank in the face. There but not there.
Billy begins penetrating her but she doesn’t notice.She’s stuck under a pane of glass. Trapped in a transparent chamber. Walls only she can feel.
He reaches orgasm.
“That feel good, baby?” he asks.
As if she could feel anything at all...
The next day, Billy gets ready to head out. Phone rings. Vickie waits for his permission to answer.
“Go ahead and get it,” he tells her.
She answers and hears Cricket’s “hello” on the other line.
“Hi,” Vickie says, watching Billy watch her.
“I just heard a video rental place opened up about 45 minutes from here,” Cricket says. “Wanna go rent some movies and have a little marathon? It’s called Blockbuster. I’ll buy the snacks and we can --”
“Sorry, I can’t,” Vickie says. Billy nods his head in agreement and walks out the door.
“Oh, ok,” Cricket says. “Um, how about tomorrow?”
“Umm, I’m not sure,” Vickie says. “I might be busy.”
“You get off everyday at 11 am and we live in Mexia,” Cricket says. “How busy could you be?”
“Bye Cricket,” Vickie says. “I love you lots.” She hangs up. Sobs.
Later that day, Vickie calls Billy at Krispy’s.
“What’s the matter?” he barks.
“Can I go to the market real quick? I want to make us dinner,” Vickie says. “Romantically.”
“Goddamnit Vickie,” Billy whispers into the phone. “No. You’re not going’ nowhere without me.”
That night, Billy pulls up and honks. Vickie hurries down and they grocery shop together.
As the weeks pass, solitude drives Vickie crazy.
One day, she prays in silence in the living room. On her knees.
A prayer comes to her and feels so good she must repeat it out loud:
“Please God give me a baby. Please God give me a little best friend, so I'll never be lonely again,” Vickie says. “I promise I will love my baby like crazy. Please God. I don’t wanna be alone.”
Vickie seals her prayer with the sign of the cross and proceeds into the bathroom, where she pops all her birth control pills into the toilet. Flushes them down all at once.
That night, Vickie awaits Billy’s arrival home.
As he walks through the door, she jumps into his arms to ravage him.
“Hey, hey, careful,” he says. “You’re too heavy to surprise a guy like that. You could kill me.”
Vickie flips the lights off and keeps putting the moves on him.
We see nothing, but hear him orgasm again. He flips the light back.
For the first time in a long time, we see Vickie smile. A big ol’ smile.
We cut to Vickie as she gives birth to Daniel Smith. Mommy and baby’s cries merge into one.
JANUARY 22, 1986
Vickie holds Daniel close to her chest. Skin to skin. High on her own oxytocin, DMT and love.
Billy grabs Daniel from her arms. Holds him in happy silence. Vickie looks on, hopeful.
“Thank God he’s a boy,” Daniel tells Vickie.
Vickie takes Daniel back and cradles him. She breastfeeds until they fall asleep. Billy leaves.
The next morning, Vickie finds newborn Daniel in her arms. They wake up together.
“I love you forever, I like you for always, my baby you’ll always be,” Vickie whispers to him.
She rubs her nose on his, tinier than a pencil eraser.
Vickie and Billy bring the baby home. The phone rings and rings -- loved ones want to meet him.
“How about we do a BBQ Saturday afternoon?” Aunt Kay asks over the phone. “In honor of Mr. Daniel Wayne Smith.”
“Um, I can’t Saturday, Billy will be working,” Vickie says into the phone.
“Can’t he meet up with us after? We’ll go till after sundown, watch football,” she says. “I can come pick you and Daniel up earlier in the day and help you with everything. I want to --”
“I’m sorry Aunt Kay, we can’t Saturday, we’ll talk to you soon,” Vickie says. Hangs up.
We cut to Billy towering over Vickie, but only because he stands on the couch.
“When did you become so brainless?” Billy shouts. “It smells like coal in here!”
“I’m sorry, I was worried about Daniel having a little fever earlier and totally forgot about the roast,” Vickie says. “I’m still a homemaker-in-training.”
“Just shut up and make me something else,” Billy barks. “And let me deal with him for once.”
Vickie places Daniel in Billy’s arms. Daniel whimpers.
“Shhh,” Billy tells him.
Vickie winces.
We cut to a color field of pink and green -- abstracted, ribbony. James Turrel meets Mark Rothko, but more feminine. Curvy. Silent. Empty space. Safe from everything.
In the blink of an eye, Vickie snaps out of this disassociation and back into her living room. She sees the blood on his knuckles and feels the bruises on her face.
Beating after beating, night after night, Vickie zones out. Wherever she goes is beautiful.
Every morning, Vickie wakes up early to conceal her cuts and bruises with foundation.
One morning, Billy tries to come pee in the bathroom while she does her makeup.
“No,” Vickie says, locking the door. She wants to hide the damage from everyone, but especially from Billy.
She finishes concealing the signs of his abuse on her face before she lets him see her.
Vickie prays over Daniel in his crib before she leaves for Krispy’s.
In the afternoons, Vickie watches “The Young and The Restless” with him in her arms. She hears the phone and hesitates, but answers.
“Hello, Billy and Vickie Smith residence,” Vickie says. In case it’s Billy calling. Testing her.
“Hey Bug,” Cricket says into the phone. “Can I come kiss that baby of yours?”
“Hi Cricket, I wish, but we can’t today,” Vickie says into her receiver. “Daniel misses you.”
“What’s he doing to you over there Vickie?” Cricket asks. “I don’t get it.”
“What?,” Vickie says. “I weigh about 50 pounds more than him. And I’m older. I’d kick his ass.”
“Ok Bug, I love you,” Cricket says. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. Call me anytime.”
“Thank you,” Vickie mutters.
One morning during her shift at Krispy’s, Vickie answers the restaurant phone and hears Daniel’s shrieks before any words.
“Billy? What happened?” Vickie asks. “Why is he so upset?”
Silence.
Then, Vickie hears Billy crying on the other line.
“Billy, what’s going on? Please talk to me,” Vickie says. “Why are the both of you crying?”
“I couldn’t get him to stop,” Billy says. “He wouldn’t be quiet. So now -”
“What did you do Billy? It’s ok,” Vickie says. “Whatever you did, just tell me. It’s ok.”
“I’m sorry,” Billy says. He sobs.
Vickie hitchhikes a ride home, so she doesn’t have to walk.
As she gets to the apartment door, Billy rushes out without saying a word. No eye contact.
“Billy! Where are you going?” Vickie calls after him. “You come up here! Please! I need you!”
Billy revs his engine and pulls out of his parking spot. Takes off down the road.
Vickie runs toward a crying Daniel in his bassinet.
She picks him up and the crying mellows. She unswaddles him to examine his body for bruises.
We don’t see what she finds, but we see her reaction -- distraught. This has gone too far.
The next morning, Vickie cooks Billy an elaborate breakfast before work -- bacon and the works.
“I love when you have the day off,” Billy says. “Then you get to be my very own breakfast cook.”
“That’s right honey,” Vickie says, serving him heaping portions. “All yours.”
Vickie lets Daniel pick at a piece of egg on his high chair. Billy kisses him bye. Then Vickie.
“Bye, bye Billy,” Vickie says, eyes glued to him as he exits.
As soon as she sees the truck speed off, she picks up the phone.
“Ok, it’s time,” she says into the receiver.
Cricket arrives at Vickie’s front door in an instant. Suitcase in hand. She packs up Daniel’s things.
“Packin’ up your whole life is pretty easy when you don’t got much, huh?,” Vickie asks.
Cricket kisses Daniel and helps him pack.
We cut to Cricket’s car. She drives. Vickie and Daniel lay in the back seat. Blanket over them.
“Don’t suffocate us,” Vickie says.
“We’re not out of Mexia,” Cricket says. “Not yet. I’ll tell you when we’re halfway to Houston.”
Later, Vickie rides shotgun. Daniel sleeps in his car seat in the back.
“I hate him,” Cricket says. “I’m sorry, but I just hate him. I’m gonna have to quit Krispy’s.”
“I pity him,” Vickie says. “He’s weak. There’s a lot of weak people like that.”
“How could you take it?,” Cricket says.
“Believe me,” Vickie says. “I’ve survived worse. A lot worse.”
“I kinda got the feeling you came to Mexia to escape something,” Cricket says.
“It’s one of those things -- I would tell you if I could,” Vickie says.
“Whatcha mean?” Cricket asks. Her eyes dart between Vickie and the road ahead.
“It’s hard to remember which of my nightmares happened and which are just bad dreams,” Vickie says. “My mom always had guys around, guys I didn’t like.”
Cricket nods, just listening.
“I’ve been tough since I was little,” Vickie says. “I don’t want Daniel to ever have to be that strong.”
Vickie reaches back and squeezes Daniel’s little foot.
HOUSTON 1987
We cut to a montage -- Vickie works her ass off as a single mom in Houston. She serves cheddar bay biscuits at Red Lobster. Chats up the customers in her line at Walmart. Waits in line to cash her checks -- neither over $60.
One night, a co-worker drops Vickie off in front of her mom’s house. She trudges inside.
Virgie watches TV in the living room. Daniel sleeps on the couch.
“Pick your feet up, will ya? Stop stomping around,” Virgie says. “You’ll wake him up.”
“Jeez, my legs are just tired,” Vickie says. “If only we had a bathtub.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Virgie says.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Vickie retorts quietly.
“What?” Virgie asks.
“Oh jeez, nothin,” Vickie says. “I appreciate you taking care of Daniel while I work, mama. Really.”
Virgie rises toward Vickie. For a second, Vickie anticipates a big hug from her mom. She needs it.
But when Virgie extends her arm toward Vickie, it’s to slap her across the face. Hard.
“Don’t talk to me with that smart mouth of yours,” Virgie says. “Not in my house.”
Daniel wakes up from his sleep-- crying. Vickie struggles to breathe.
We cut to the breakroom at Walmart. Vickie eats Jack in the Box and talks to two of her colleagues, a middle aged woman and a 25 year-old-guy.
“I’m barely getting by now,” Vickie says. “There’s no way I could pay rent too.”
“I’m sick of living at home,” the guy says. “But I like spending all my money on my car.”
“Have you thought about other jobs?” the woman asks.
“I can’t get a third job,” Vickie says. “I already feel like Cinderella. At the beginning of the movie.”
“Stripclubs are big here. And you’re so pretty…” the woman says.
“What?” Vickie snaps. “Me? Strip? No way.”
Vickie eats her curly fries.
“I just want you to be comfortable,” the woman says. “And consider your options. My husband does ok for us. I spend my little checks on bingo. I don’t have a face like yours. Or a baby. ”
“Me a stripper? What would people say?” Vickie asks.
“What? This is Houston. Everyone’s got a sister who's a stripper,” the guy says.
“Really?” Vickie asks.
“Yeah, but not everyone has three sisters who dance,” he says. “That’s just me. Different clubs too. Good thing there’s about 200 other ones or else I’d have nowhere to go.”
Vickie throws out her lunch and lurches toward the employee bathroom. She locks the door and pulls up her shirt. She examines her stomach -- too curvy. And her boobs -- not curvy enough.
“I’m not so sure anyone would pay to look at this,” Vickie tells herself, gazing into the mirror.
She continues taking stock of her body. Unsatisfied. But curious…
At home that week, Vickie practices her stripper moves as much as she can with limited space and privacy. Crawls around the living room like a kitty kat before her mom returns home with groceries. Leans against the kitchen counter and shakes her ass. Circles her hips in the mirror.
Vickie opens a cabinet and finds one of her old Marilyn VHS tapes. She watches a musical number and imitates the moves, like the good ol’ days. Vickie smiles and dances.
The next day, Vickie taps her foot in front of Gigi’s strip club, awaiting her audition. She stretches.
When a big guy waves her in, Vickie tiptoes inside and locks eyes with the owner.
Anna walks up a few stairs so he can get a better look at her.
“What’s your name sweetheart?” he asks.
“Nicki,” Vickie says.
“Nice to meet you Nicki, can you take off your dress for me?” he asks.
“Oh. Yeah. I was going to do that in my dance,” she says.
“You can just show me,” he says.
Vickie spots the wad of cash in his shirt pocket. Takes a deep breath and disrobes.
“If you put some music on, I can dance,” Vickie says.
“This isn’t Julliard sweetheart. I’m going to put you on the day shift. Personally, you’re a lot sexier than I would have thought, but your waist is a little wide and your tits are kinda small,” he says. “You’re still a babe though. You’ve got a little something. Good enough for the lunch shift.”
Vickie stops for ice cream on the way home. A pink cone for her. A pint of vanilla for Daniel.
She licks her cone on the street. A flamboyant old man in all pink spots her.
“Your ice cream looks good with my outfit,” he tells Vickie.
“I love it,” she says. “I love pink.”
“Hey, you look like Jayne Mansfield,” he says.
“Didn’t she have a pink house?” Vickie asks.
“And a pink wedding dress!” he says. “I wish you a very pink life. Just like Jayne’s. Except, you know…”
Vickie just licks her ice cream and smiles.
Vickie adjusts to her new career. Sorry, Nicki’s new career. We watch it unfold through montage. She gets acrylic nails put on and braves her first bikini wax at the salon. She browses a jukebox for songs to dance to. Practices dance moves in the mirror. Dances or small crowds of chatty men. Shops for stagewear at a sex store. Buys the same antiquated vibrator her mom had while she’s there....
After a long day dancing, Vickie changes out of her Gigi’s outfit and into her Red Lobster uniform.
She rides her bike over to Red Lobster and gets straight to waitressing tables.
Pay day after pay day, she shoves wads of cash into a cookie jar she keeps at her bedside.
We cut to her spending cash at McDonald’s. She sits a Happy Meal in front of Daniel and snaps his photo with a disposable Kodak.
“Pumpkin’s first Happy Meal!” Vickie squeals.
She cuts up his burger with a fork and knife and lets him grab the pieces.
At home, she bathes him. Then strokes his arm softly to lull him to sleep. Kisses his forehead.
We cut to Red Lobster. Vickie’s boss assigns her a table of 20+ corporate conference attendees.
Vickie takes drink orders and delivers them in a few batches with ease. The diners ask questions.
“How many grams of fat is in the shrimp scampi?” one asks.
“What’s better, the crab alfredo or the salmon alfredo?” another asks.
“What do you order when you eat here?” a third asks.
“Um, I like the beer battered fried fish filets,” Vickie answers.
“Fish sticks? That’s really your recommendation?,” the diner scoffs in response.
Vickie laughs off any attitude she receives. Hustling like crazy to serve the huge group and other tables in her section. Her wink goes over well with many of the male and female diners alike.
When the table finally clears, a couple diners hug her goodbye. Once the coast is clear, she rushes over to the check and searches for her tip. Finds a $5 bill.
“Their bill was over $300,” Vickie complains to another waitress. “Don’t they know tips are everything for us?”
“They know, they just don’t care,” her coworker says.
“I’d rather be home with my baby then keep working for $2.13 an hour,” Vickie says.
“Hang in there, babe. Some nights are better than others,” her coworker says.
“That’s what they tell me at my other job,” Vickie sneers.
We cut to Vickie in a plastic surgeon’s office. She cradles the cookie jar in her lap. She feels the receptionist’s eyes.
“I’m investing in my future,” Vickie tells the receptionist matter-of-factly. She pulls cash out of the jar.
We see Vickie on an operating table. Anesthesia. She undergoes her first breast augmentation.
The doctor rips open her chest cavity and removes tissue, lobs silicone implants into the pockets. Sews her skin back together with sutures like ribbons on a corset.
Two weeks later, Vickie debuts her new breasts at Gigi’s. Well, Nicki does. 42DDs.
Under the pink spotlight at Gigi’s, shimmer all over new breasts, Nicki feels like a star on stage.
HOUSTON 1991
We cut to an elderly man shooting a tiny cordial of Jack Daniel’s in the back of his limo. Sulking.
This is J.Howard Marshall (85). Dan Manning (55), his hot but dopy driver, keeps an eye on him.
“Are you sure you don’t want some music?” Dan asks.
J. Howard shakes his head “no.”
The closer we get on Marshall, the worse he looks. Scratches on his arms. Liver spot on his hands. Thin skin filled with cuts and beads of blood.
Dan twists in his seat to come face to face with Marshall.
“I’m just going to say this plainly. Because I was asked to do this, or else I wouldn’t be doing this. The others say you’re suicidal and they wanted me to, uh, ask, if you’re ok,” Dan asks.
Marshall pouts, wordless.
“What if we go find some female company? Would you like that? You’ve been grieving long enough, no disrespect,” Dan says. “Wanna go have lunch at Gigi’s?”
Marshall nods his head “yes.”
At Gigi’s, Vickie agonizes in pain backstage. She opens a prescription bottle with her teeth, shakes a single pill onto her tongue and washes it down with Dr. Pepper.
Another dancer notices.
“Hey now,” she tells Vickie. “Everything ok?”
“It’s a prescription,” Vickie laughs.
She grabs her boobs from underneath and exaggerates being unable to hold them -- too heavy.
“The doctor gave me these for the pain after surgery,” Vickie says.
“Ouch. Your boobs are still hurting that bad?” the other dancer asks.
“They’ve healed a lot but they’re heavy,” Vickie says. “My back isn’t used to it yet.”
“Nicki, you’re up!” someone yells off screen.
Vickie grabs things through her own mess.
“Gosh darn it, I need my gown,” Vickie says.
She finds a wrinkled red dress from her shitty little tote bag and throws it over head fast.
Vickie hears her song -- Chris de Burgh’s “The Lady in Red -- and saunters onstage.
“I've never seen you shine so bright, I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance, they're looking for a little romance, given half a chance”
Vickie begins a slow striptease. Improvisational. Hypnotic. Sedated but so alive.
Dan rolls Marshall’s wheelchair into Gigi’s at exactly the right time.
Right as Marshall gets a look at Vickie, she lifts up her gown and exposes those huge, new breasts in a red lace bra.
Marshall stirs. He barely blinks.
Dan watches Vickie too, mesmerized.
Vickie bends over in her red thong and points her heart-shaped ass toward Marshall.
As the song ends, she unhooks her bra, liberates her bosom and shakes her tits for tips.
The crowd claps. Gigi’s is a little busier than usual.
Marshall waves his hand to get her attention like a kindergartner in class.
Vickie notices him and points her own way, wordlessly asking “Me?” He nods.
Vickie’s breasts swing as she sashays toward him.
“Hi there,” she says.
Marshall extends both hands and grabs her nipples. He twists them gently. Like he owns them.
“Hi,” he tells her. “What’s your name?”
We cut to them in the champagne room. Vickie, Marshall, Dan, and a brunette of his liking. There’s no champagne tho -- just a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label on ice.
Vickie drapes her legs over Marshall’s lap, lays back sexily.
“I’m buying up the rest of the afternoon,” Marshall says. “No ifs, ands or buts.”
“How about mine?” Vickie asks, poking her butt up in the air. Marshall smacks it. Smiles.
When Vickie takes a break in the bathroom, she pops another painkiller.
She returns to Marshall.
“Sit down on my lap like a good girl,” Marshall says.
“Isn’t my butt too big? I don’t wanna hurt you,” Vickie says.
Dan interrupts his own lapdance to double check Marshall’s wheel chair is locked.
“No, no, I love it,” Marshall says. “I want to feel you on me.”
Vickie sits down on his lap. Assumes the lapdance position. Winds on him forever.
Later, they sip their whiskey and chit chat.
“You’re the most gorgeous girl in here,” Marshall says. “You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen in here. Or anywhere. I think you were made for me.”
Vickie nods toward a skinny brunette with boobs bigger than her head.
“She’s most popular during the day,” Vickie says. “Then there’s Barbie at night…”
“Anyone can buy tits,” Marshall says. “But only God can make a face like yours.”
Perpetually thirsty for love and attention, Vickie drinks all of this up. She lays her head on him.
“See that man over there?” Vickie asks him.
Marshall nods.
“I can tell he’s a preacher, cuz he always asks the girls for the most perverted shit,” she says. “Then he leaves those little paper prayer books behind.”
“You’re smart,” Marshall tells her.
Vickie smiles, certain nobody’s ever told her that before.
“Did you go to college?” Marshall asks.
Before she can answer, Dan interrupts them. Keys in hand.
“Let’s go, my guy,” Dan says. “It’s almost time for your dinner.”
“Are you ok to drive?” Vickie asks.
“Yep,” Dan says. “I’m a professional.”
“You ever been to Red Lobster? That’s where we’re headed,” Marshall tells Vickie.
“What? Which one?” she asks.
“The little one at the mall,” he says.
“Oh,” Vickie says. She whispers in his ear.
“I work at the big one on Main. Ask for Vickie, not Nicki,” she tells him.
Marshall pets the edges of her pussy. He slips a stack of hundreds into the crotch of her thong.
“That’s my favorite restaurant,” Marshall whispers back.
They peck on the lips and Dan rolls him out.
Backstage, Vickie waves her money in front of the mirror and takes a good look at herself. She feels beautiful. At least, more beautiful than she did before!
“Good shift?” another dancer asks. “You were busy with that one, girl.”
“He was so nice and generous,” Vickie says. “He gave me all this.”
“Nicki, he owns part of Koch. He’s a billionaire. That’s chump change to him,” the dancer says. “He didn’t give you anything -- you earned it.”
We move tight toward Marshall’s window. He rolls it down; lets the breeze pummel his face.
He opens his eyes and smiles as wide as the Cheshire Cat.
“I’m feeling better already,” Marshall says.
Later, Vickie wanders Houston’s Montrose district. Bohemian. Busy. Art galleries, tattoo parlors.
Vickie dawdles outside a gay bar. The pride flag waves. Vickie freezes up before entering. Rubs the cash in her pocket like a lucky rabbit’s foot.
A beefy security guard comes out of the door and holds it open for her.
“Welcome in, beautiful,” he tells her.
She strides inside. The space is large and neon-lit. Sports on TV. Pop music blares.
Vickie turns every head in the building. The crowd is full of every age, race, subculture and sexuality and all are mesmerized by her beauty.
“Stunning! Just stunning!” a young guy calls out.
“Supermodel,” his friend remarks in awe. “Face, height, body!”
Vickie finds her seat at the bar. A hunky cowboy bartender pours her a glass of water.
“In case all that attention makes you thirsty,” he jokes.
“Y’all sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself,” she tells him.
“I think you’ve got every guy in here questioning their sexuality right about now,” he says.
“I’m sick of men and their sexualities to be honest,” she says.
“What are we drinking dollface?” he asks.
“A double shot of tequila and a Shirley Temple,” Vickie says.
While he makes her drink, Vickie feels someone’s eyes on her. This is Sandi Powledge, a sandy haired butch lesbian in a cap and sweats. She sips beer and steals looks at Vickie.
Vickie knocks back a few rounds at the bar; dances in her seat. Sandi shoots her shot.
“Can I buy you a shot?” Sandi asks.
Vickie gets up and scoots onto the bar.
“Take my seat,” she tells Sandi.
Sandi sits down and Vickie’s legs dangle on either side of her, almost straddling her.
Sandi plays it cool but boils inside. Orders two shots. They clink glasses and knock ‘em back.
“Another shot?” Sandi asks Vickie.
“Get up,” Vickie tells Sandi.
They both do.
Vickie holds on to Sandi’s shoulders.
“How about I buy you a tequila, but only after you dance with me,” Vickie says.
As Vickie leads them to the dancefloor, the DJ shines a spotlight and plays a slow country ballad.
“Damnit Hank,” Sandi sneers at the DJ. Embarrassed by all the attention. Vickie loves it.
They slow dance. Sandi holds her tight. Vickie leans her head on Sandi’s shoulder.
“I like it here,” Vickie whispers to her.
We cut to Vickie and Marshall at the River Oaks Country Club -- an elite golf club. Shrimp cocktails on ice, deviled eggs on silver trays and other food fills the table. Champagne too.
“I like it here,” Vickie shouts to Marshall. So he can hear her.
She cracks open a crab leg and sucks the inside.
“I’m still working. Still working with Koch,” Marshall says.
“Coke? I love Coca Cola, I drink it everyday,” Vickie says. “Even though you can dissolve chicken bones in it. So I’ve heard.”
“You’re gonna have to sneak me a Coca Cola sometime. Dan doesn’t let me,” Marshall says. “I have a stake in Koch Industries. I’m just another boring ol’ oil man.”
“How’d you get into the oil business?” Vickie asks.
“I went to Yale law. Got into the legal side of planning of petroleum production. Moved to California to become chief council at Standard Oil. Then I got the call from the White House during WWII and went to DC to develop energy policy. That was my way to serve,” Marshall says. “After that came Kock and blah blah blah. I know I’m blabbing. Work’s been my life.”
“Wow, Yale. The White House. California,” Vickie says. “That sounds amazing.”
“You don’t know Koch from Coca Cola,” Marshall says.
“You probably think I’m dumb,” Vickie says.
Marshall grabs her hand and stares into her eyes.
“Not at all,” he says. Vickie’s heart flutters.
The maitre d’ carries a huge vase of long stemmed red roses to the table.
“For the light of my life,” Marshall tells Vickie. “I thank God for sending me your way.”
Vickie inhales the floral aroma and kisses his lips.
“I love you,” Vickie tells him.
She means it. She doesn’t want to fuck him, but she loves him. And she loves how he loves her.
After lunch, Dan drops Vickie off at her mother’s house. Marshall waves out the window.
Vickie strolls into the house, picks Daniel up off his play rug and kisses him loads.
Virgie appears from the kitchen and looks Vickie up and down -- her short skirt and tight top.
“You would think someone who can’t afford rent or daycare wouldn’t be able to afford big fake tits, wouldn’t ya?” Virgie asks the room. Cracks another beer.
Vickie holds Daniel closer.
“Again? Why do we have to do this again?” Vickie asks.
“The least you could do is spend time with Daniel on your day off,” Virgie says.
“I was gone for a couple hours,” Vickie says. She kisses Daniel and puts him down with a toy.
Vickie lurches toward Virgie.
“You’re not going to make me feel like a bad mother,” Vickie says. “Just cuz you know you were a bad mother. The only reason you’re generous now is cuz you know how guilty you’ve been!”
Virgie slaps Vickie across the face.
“You’re weak,” Vickie roars. “You’re a weak, miserable bitch. You will never come between me and my son.The minute we can leave, we will, believe me!”
Virgie grabs Vickie by the shoulders and shoves a knee into her torso. She punches Vickie’s face.
Vickie smiles in between punches, calmer and stronger than before. Not hitting back.
“You’re gonna miss us,” Vickie taunts Virgie. “You’re gonna miss us one day.”
Virgie punches her once more. We hear a wail. Daniel cries.
We move to a montage: Marshall takes care of Vickie, upgrades the foundation of her life:
J. Howard presents Vickie her first car -- a Toyota Celica. Dan teaches her to drive.
Marshall signs the lease on her first apartment. Vickie moves in with Daniel.
Marshall and Dan dine in Vickie’s section at Red Lobster and tip her hundreds of dollars.
Vickie rides a horse topless around Marshall’s ranch.
In the backyard at Marshall’s Houston mansion, Vickie swims with Daniel. They have tea parties under water, race each other down the pool, and jump in off the diving board.
While Daniel dunks balls into his Playskool hoop, Marshall and Vickie drink whiskey and watch.
“You’re raising a great little guy,” Marshall tells Vickie.
“Thank you Paw Paw. He’s the reason I’m alive,” Vickie says.
“You’re the reason I’m alive,” Marshall says. “I must have done something right to meet you.”
“You’re my guardian angel Paw-Paw,” Vickie says. “You’re the only one I have.”
She pecks his lips.
“Watch! Watch!” Daniel yells as he does the same basketball trick over and over again. Smiling.
Another evening -- alone in a Houston hotel room -- Vickie crouches down so Marshall can string her new diamond necklace around her neck.
She wears nothing but the necklace. Lays in front of the mirror. The cold diamonds on her skin turn her on.
“Show me how pretty you are,” Marshall says.
Vickie spreads her legs so he has a nice view of her prettiest part. He watches with baited breath.
She touches herself until she climaxes. Gazes into his eyes as her orgasm washes over her.
We cut to her hands putting together a romantic gift basket-- whiskey, cigars, a bow tie, a handkerchief. Fit for a gentleman.
Soon after, we see a limo pull up to a shitty little apartment complex.
An elderly driver approaches the front door and knocks. Dogs bark.
“Yeah?” Sandi asks as she throws the door open.
“Sandi? This is for you,” he says.
“I don’t think so,” Sandi says.
He hands her the gift basket, the bow tied with a little card. Sandi opens it and reads:
YOUR DINNER DATE AWAITS. DON’T BE LATE! XO Vickie
Sandi smiles. But then her brain kicks in… she points to the garden supply uniform she wears.
“I just can’t. I don’t have anything to wear,” Sandi says.
“One moment,” the driver says.
He traipses over to the limo and pulls out a garment bag on a hanger.
“Please don’t be some frilly frickin’ dress,” she says. She unzips the bag and looks thrilled.
Before the driver can finish smoking a cigarette, Sandi reemerges in a smart, black suit.
She gets into the limo. It arrives in front of Del Frisco's SteakHouse.
Pop music blasts -- Madonna’s “Justify My Love” with sexy ass Lenny Kravitz doing the falsetto behind the lyrics.
Sandi rounds a corner, trailing behind the host, and then she sees her ---
Vickie in a red dress, in a red booth, sucking the olive from her martini under the candlelight.
The ultimate sex symbol.
Later, in the limo, Vickie slips her dress down her shoulders and Sandi kisses her breasts. Sucks.
“Everything I have is because of them,” Vickie tells Sandi.
Vickie tosses her head back in the throes of pleasure.
OUTRAGEOUS: ANNA NICOLE SMITH
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