Tonight we begin Part Seven: Divas and Drugs. We now get to see what happens when Shamiso Kachote makes her way to England looking for her twin sister Rudo.
She won't be hard to find. Everyone following the entertainment world knows that Rudo Love lives in the penthouse suite of a swank London hotel. Articles and news stories abound - even interviews conducted there with the famous pop star.
Contacting her however - specifically getting in to see her - might be the biggest challenge.
Tonight we begin Part Seven: Divas and Drugs. We now get to see what happens when Shamiso Kachote makes her way to England looking for her twin sister Rudo.
She won't be hard to find. Everyone following the entertainment world knows that Rudo Love lives in the penthouse suite of a swank London hotel. Articles and news stories abound - even interviews conducted there with the famous pop star.
Contacting her however - specifically getting in to see her - might be the biggest challenge.
Hello and welcome back to Season Two of Twin Paradox. I'm King Everett Medlin and what you're listening to is a SciFi trilogy I wrote four years ago under the pen name Purple Hazel. Twin Paradox follows my first podcast series entitled Deathwalker Colony, which is now a full length novel available for purchase on Amazon, along with the first two books in the Rijel 12 Series, the Rise of New Australia and Return of Anarchy. Go online and check 'em out!
Tonight we begin Part Seven: Divas and Drugs. We now get to see what happens when Shamiso Kachote makes her way to England looking for her twin sister Rudo. She won't be hard to find. Everyone following the entertainment world knows that Rudo Love lives in the penthouse suite of a swank London hotel. Articles and news stories abound - even interviews conducted there with the famous pop star. Contacting her however - specifically getting in to see her - might be the biggest challenge.
Twin Paradox is a SciFi series encompassing three full length novels, all of which can be found on Amazon.com. You can go online and purchase them, or, if you prefer, listen to me read them to you. Ladies and Gentlemen, Part 7: Divas and Drugs. Chapter 33: Miss Love.
Connecting with Shamiso's twin sister was unfortunately far more difficult to accomplish for Monika Steckel. It was much more complicated than locating Ozzie’s brother down in Texas; that was for sure. A brief electronic communiqué sent from Space Programme headquarters to the famous woman’s “inbox” simply wouldn’t do. No, contacting a pop music Diva, with layers and layers of staff, plus a tour management firm, a production company, and an entourage of handlers, assistants, backup dancers, choreographers, road crew, and musicians (just for starters), turned out to be quite complicated. She’d have had better luck reaching the Prime Minister.
Nevertheless, after firing off the official message to Práxedis Guerrero right before Ozzie left to travel to Houston, Monika hastily turned her attention to searching for Shamiso’s twin sister Rudo Kachote (now calling herself Rudo Love). She proceeded to spend the better part of an hour on the macronet searching for any feasible means of reaching the famous celebrity directly. Most every attempt she made ended in a dead-end, with people sometimes rudely telling her to fuck off or very nearly laughing at her requests for a direct method of contacting the superstar.
In fact she got nowhere with the search for some time - that is until she was directed by a kindly office worker at a concert hall that had recently hosted a performance by the singer, to send an official communiqué to her personally. The woman promised that she would see to it this reached Rudo Love's business manager. When Shamiso and Monika heard that, they were ecstatic, thanking the nice lady sincerely and hugging each other joyously after they ended transmission.
"Well my dear, I believe that's about all we can do for now," sighed Monika. "We know where she's living in London. I’ve sent the communiqué. Hopefully the message will reach your sister by tonight. Are you ready to go?"
Shamiso replied, "Yeah, I guess so. Ready as I'll ever be. Thanks for all you’ve done Monika. And don’t worry. If she's livin’ in that hotel somewhere, I'll find her one way or another.”
The young Ensign then got up to leave.
“I’m sure it won’t be that hard getting in to see her once I tell them who I am.” With that she gripped her duffel bag, all packed with toiletries and a brand new outfit to wear. Brand new cotton panties in assorted colors. New socks. And best of all a new brassiere (this had been especially well-received since she’d never had one that fit her comfortably while she’d been out in space all those years).
“Gut! See you in twelve months then Schatzi. Tchüβ!" said Monika, as she stood and gave Shamiso a big hug around the shoulders. "Now … are you certain you'll be alright? I can send a military detail with you to make sure you find the place if you like." Shamiso shook her head and smiled.
"Not to worry mate. London's me home town! I'll find it." Nevertheless, Monika ordered one anyway – just in case. London, after all, could be dangerous at night.
The communiqué sent by Monika was brief and to the point. "To Whom it May Concern," it began, and was followed by details of Shamiso's anticipated arrival at 22:00 hours later that evening. Shamiso would be traveling by air ship to London Heathrow, then escorted by a squad of Space Programme enlisted men and women. After her flight to London, they were to meet her at baggage claim and drive her to the front door of the hotel. In conclusion to her message, Monika signed off with, “Please take good care of our girl Shamiso. We know how excited she’s going to be to see her dear sister after all this time.”
Once again, no apology. No acknowledgment of what they might have put her twin through for so many years. Just polite salutations and heartfelt congratulations that her loved one had finally returned. Nothing more.
********
It had been raining that day intermittently, filling the gutters and washing away chalk drawings by local street artists out on the sidewalks in front of The Langham; a fancy, five-star hotel in downtown London. Days before when Shamiso had found out where Rudo was living, it made the young astronaut terribly excited. She researched this thoroughly on the Macronet. Read several articles pertaining to it.
Supposedly, her twin sister had been living there for several years; and coincidentally it had been a hotel where she'd once been employed (on the cleaning staff). She'd admitted this to a reporter early in her career (only to never bring it up again) and now, ironically, it was said she occupied a master suite on the top level. It had garden views, a separate seating area with sofas and coffee table - even had private quarters for a personal servant to live in the suite with her and attend to her every need. Very swank. Very posh. Indeed, it would have appeared to most anyone observing that she was living the life of luxury. That’s precisely what made Shamiso so thrilled to go visit her sister there.
But at the appointed hour, and despite Monika's bold efforts, there was very little in the way of a reception being planned for the Diva's twin sister as her airship touched down in England. Unfortunately her arrival was still quite unanticipated, it would seem, when the unmarked white solar passenger van from Space Programme picked her up at Heathrow. Even as it drove her across the city, up to the front of the old building - even as Shamiso hopped out onto that wet sidewalk - there was but a lone doorman standing guard out front, shielding himself beneath a covered porch. On this otherwise uneventful night, the man had pretty much nothing to do but just stare at her inquisitively. It would appear, at least for the time being, that no one knew she was coming.
Clive was the man's name. The doorman, that is. He'd been on the job just three months, and had taken over after his predecessor had been sacked for "failing to properly supervise" while on duty. Reality was the last poor fellow had been at his post when the hotel's most famous guest had scampered off to go partying. That “famous guest” was of course Rudo Love. She'd managed to “escape" the hotel in the middle of the night and was brought back early next morning wearing little more than a policeman's trench coat and a single red nylon stocking. The London police officer (who’d found her in a Soho alleyway) let her keep the coat as a souvenir. The previous doorman was let go that evening.
That's probably why Clive the new doorman paid particularly close attention to the van pulling up in front of his hotel. When Shamiso got out of the side panel door, he took immediate notice that it was a black woman with similar features to Rudo Love. Even moved like her! And though the rest of the unfolding scene didn’t make much sense – the woman dressed in a Space Programme Ensign’s uniform saluting her comrades inside - he still got that sinking feeling that this may be a brand-new incident he was going to have to deal with personally.
“Blimey,” he blurted out in frustration, “How in bloody hell did she get out?” It didn't add up, yet could this be her? Could it be she'd snuck out earlier that evening and was just now getting back? His blood ran cold … like ice water in his veins. He felt his stomach turning over like he was going to vomit. "Good God ... not again," he muttered to himself. It was time to act.
"Oy ... you there!" he called out. "Miss Love? Are you ... uh ... I mean ... how did you get here? You okay, Miss Love?" The young look-alike turned to face him after she finished bidding goodnight to her driver and his crew. A few military personnel could be seen inside the van waving to her. Clive heard her thanking them and telling them she'd be alright. Shortly thereafter she was facing him with a curious look on her face; a duffel bag at her feet.
"Yes?" she replied inquisitively as he approached her. Clive opened an umbrella to hold over her head. The rain had stopped by now but there was still rainwater draining off the stone pillared porch out in front of the hotel. In block letters it read, "THE LANGHAM". The place was so massive, Shamiso felt like it would topple over onto her, as the upper floors seemed to disappear into the night sky. She looked up at the building then back toward the man, sniffing the air of her home town - taking the time to breathe it in - for the first time in 24 years.
"What do you want?" she asked, then added more bluntly, "And while we’re at it ‘ew are ya’?" Obviously she had no earthly idea, or at least no recollection, of what a hotel doorman was - nor the function they served. Meanwhile behind her the van door slid shut as the vehicle drove off down the wet streets of London toward the Soho district, leaving her alone with the very nervous fellow on that rain-soaked sidewalk.
"Uh … er …,” stammered Clive, “Terribly sorry Miss Love, but I'm afraid I'll be needing to get you back to your room before I, uh – well, before it gets too late, let’s put it that way.” He was trying to be tactful enough to coax her inside without provoking a temper tantrum. “Would you please, ma'am?" And as he said this he reached out to gently grasp her upper arm.
This proved to be quite ineffective however in getting the woman to cooperate. Shamiso, being rather short but quite wiry from working out with Ozzie in the gym back on the Santa Maria, wrenched her arm away, retorting, "Hey, what are you, Gert ‘n Daisy? Ew the fuck are you - grabbin’ me arm like that?" Clive tensed up and his eyes widened with apprehension, this being the last thing he needed right now, to get her riled up right in front of his hotel.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry Miss Love. Really I am. I was just concerned for your safety. It's a rainy night 'n all, you know?"
He thrust out the other arm with the umbrella and offered to hold it over her head in a gentlemanly gesture. Shamiso wasn't buying it.
"And what’s more, why in blazes do you keep calling me that? Who the hell is Miss Love?" Clive cocked his head to one side wondering why she would ask such a thing. Everyone at the hotel addressed Rudo in this way; and that's precisely who he thought it was out there arguing with him. Had no doubt.
This had been Shamiso's first experience with such a thing. The airship she'd ridden on from Frankfurt? No one from among the crew or passengers confused her with her twin sister. Not even once. This, at the time, she’d chalked up to the fact that on stage, Rudo Love's heavy makeup and outrageous costumes served to disguise her natural appearance. Once, she even performed a concert in little more than a g-string, sparkling, glittery high-heel pumps, pasties over her nipples, and shiny, silvery body paint (applied from head to toe). She also wore outlandish wigs and displayed bizarre hairdos whenever in public. Sometimes shaved her head or sported an old Mohawk hair style which she colored like a rainbow (or bright yellow-green) to offset her shimmering black skin.
Perhaps that's why – at least in the first class cabin of the ship - no one paid much attention to Shamiso. In her military uniform with Afro cropped short, bubbling out the sides of her Space Programme beret, people didn't make the connection. Commuters they were mostly, making their way back home to London or the suburbs to be with their families for the weekend. There were also a few German soccer fans heading over to London to watch the big game she heard was going down Saturday night between West Ham United and Mönchengladbach. They failed to detect the resemblance, or didn't seem to care one way or another. Now it was becoming clearer.
This poor old Sod thinks I’m me sister, she thought. That’s when she responded with, "Right. I see. You seem to think I'm Ru - " at which point she caught herself. Figured she shouldn’t reveal her identity just yet. Then again perhaps she just wanted to see how far she could take this before the man would notice the difference between them. Maybe he wouldn't! Maybe he'd treat her like a real, bona fide pop music star the whole night! It certainly looked at the time like he honestly believed she was her sister. Clive continued to appear awkward and painfully off-balance. She figured she'd better not finish that sentence. "Let's play along with this shall we?" she decided instead. "Can't hurt, I reckon."
"Never mind, sorry. You were saying?" she asked daintily.
Clive blinked nervously and continued, "Well, Miss Love, if you please mad ‘am, let's get you up to your room. The cold night air - not good for your luvverly singing voice." His accent was clearly that of an East Londoner. Shamiso noticed this and it gave her a chuckle. "Sounds like a local boy," she mused privately; and that was quite correct. Clive had grown up on the mean streets of Whitechapel. And to that end, getting this gig was a Godsend. It meant bringing home wads of Euros from big-spending hotel guests. All he had to do was hop to it whenever a fancy car pulled up, get their door for them, get the front door open before they tried reaching for the massive chrome handles, smile again, then say something warm and friendly to welcome them inside. They'd lavish him with money sometimes. The really nice ones that is. Even the not-so-nice ones would shove cash into his hand. It was an easy job and he endeavored to hold onto it for as long as possible.
"Therefore, my dear, if you'll be so good as to accompany me (he reached out with his right arm, only this time bent at the elbow to offer her a courtly escort), let's get you up to your suite, shall we?" Shamiso paused for a second or two, looking down at the arm and then up into his smiling face.
"Uh ... sure!" she replied, then adjusted her beret and cocked it over her brow to one side in the military fashion. She didn't take his arm, just nodded slightly toward the front door, clasped her hands behind her back, and proceeded to follow him in like she was a visiting diplomat. Clive snapped his boot heels together and bowed slightly at the shoulders.
"We'll take the service elevator," he said with a warm smile. He then hastily picked up her duffel bag sitting on the wet sidewalk and scurried up to the front door to let her in.
What caught her eye next practically blew her mind. She’d never seen a place like this in her life. Walking across the massive lobby, with its brown and white marble pillars and tile floors, Shamiso unclasped and dropped her hands to her side. She stared in awe up at the tall ceiling above. Looked around at the ornate decorations, the brass hand railings, the polished floor, and took it all in with amazement. Yes, this was the most wondrous building she’d ever been inside of, at least as far as she could remember, last time she’d been in London.
She still walked like she did when on the surface of Kapteyn B however, as she continued to adjust to Earth's gravity. Onboard the Santa Maria they'd reduced the interior gravity to a very low setting to let everyone recover from the alien planet's harsh environment. Because of this, her gait was much like that of a marching soldier. It almost looked comical the way she lifted her feet slightly higher than a person normally would strolling through the lobby of a grand hotel; and it necessarily caused her footfalls to echo throughout the corridors. That said, it never occurred to her the noise she was making as she followed Clive.
What sights she beheld though! She could see an upscale gourmet restaurant off to one side, then a fancy barroom next door to it, which had butterflies sketched in black on the white walls of its marble-topped serving counter. A shiny brass foot rail ran along the base - plus behind the bar stood racks and racks of liquor bottles, framed inside of wooden wall cases which were topped with what looked like little Japanese pagodas. It all made for a strange combination, but Shamiso found it to be delightful.
Meanwhile her feet striking the tiled lobby floor was plenty loud enough to draw more than a few looks from patrons inside the barroom enjoying a cocktail or two. She never made the connection that it was her footfalls which were getting their attention however. She just kept up with the shuffle-stepping doorman who wound his way down a nearby hallway to the old-style service elevator.
"Cool place," she uttered absent-mindedly, not realizing how odd that might have sounded if she had been the real Rudo. Nevertheless, Clive didn't seem to notice. He quickly produced a key to unlock the service elevator control panel, then waited while motors could be heard kicking into gear and the "lift" soon arrived to carry them upstairs.
When the car stopped on the main floor after having ascended from the basement level, Clive then pulled open the metal safety cage which scratched and screeched as it opened. They then prepared to step inside together, to ride the old-fashioned machine right up to the tenth floor. Nonstop too. It was Clive’s little way of keeping anyone else among the hotel staff from possibly recognizing her.
“Here’s our ride, Miss Love," he then commented as he reached down to pick up her duffel bag once more, "Express service to the penthouse suite. Courtesy of your ‘ole chum Clive."
Shamiso smiled and giggled. She began to wonder just how awesome of a life her sister now led. This was just too much fun getting the white glove treatment - especially after all she'd been through as of late ….
The trial? The strange looks back at Space Programme when she'd first arrived? Seemed like everyone at headquarters looked upon them with disdain or at least mild suspicion – all her fellow crewmembers from Santa Maria that is. Of course one would have thought they’d be returning to Earth as conquering heroes; what with all they’d accomplished. Yet after the controversy surrounding the accusations against Captain Stehter, many among the headquarters staff appeared quite wary of the returning explorers for some reason. As if they were outcasts or something; it felt like to Shamiso anyway. Indeed, it was a rather strange, upside-down world she’d found herself arriving in just over three weeks prior.
Assigned to local barracks and given a bunk to sleep on - which frankly wasn't much more comfortable than a sleeping birth on a space ship – she got stared at wherever she went, once folks at headquarters identified her as one of the original crew. She spent those first few weeks feeling like some annoying houseguest who’d long since worn out her welcome. Moreover it felt like she and her fellow crewmates were now more of an embarrassment to their colleagues at headquarters, rather than respected fellow officers.
The demotions back to Ensign for those who’d been field-promoted on board didn’t help much either in maintaining respect for them among the other officers back in Darmstadt.
But not anymore! Oh no, this was already looking like it would be ever so much better. Living in the lap of luxury. She couldn't wait to see the "suite" Rudo lived in. Had seen the incredible video of it on the macronet. Had seen the posh furnishings, the view of the city skyline outside three large windows in the suite which extended quite nearly to the ceiling. The wait was all but over. Now she was about to enter the real thing ….
"And uh, Miss Love … just one more little thing, if you please. Eh … how about we sorta let this all remain our little secret, you and me?" Clive asked nervously. "I mean, when we get you back to your room. What say we just tell 'em you went for a little walk in the lobby and well … now you're back? How ‘bout that, eh? If you would, that is." He then chuckled a bit while tipping his tophat and added, "No need to get ourselves in trouble with the boss, if you know what I mean?"
Shamiso had no idea what he was referring to. Who cared if she - that is Rudo - went for a stroll around London? Her sister was now pushing 35 years old, she'd calculated. She was a grown woman. Could go anywhere she damn well pleased.
"No, I'm afraid I don't understand mate," she said, not even trying to cover up her Cockney accent. "Why? Am I in some kind of Barney Rubble?"
Clive laughed nervously. He'd heard the rumors regarding Rudo's occasional "spells" from time to time: where she'd leave her room and try to go out on the town (allegedly) to score drugs. In fact, this absurd military uniform she was wearing? Was this some disguise she'd used? Or had she slipped out to a party and met up with some soldier to go have dirty sex in some backroom ... then put on his uniform to make her way back through London to her hotel? He began to wonder if perhaps some terribly nervous serviceman might show up in the morning, having awakened and realized she'd stolen his clothes. Poor bloke. He'd be out front next day imploring old Clive to help him find his uniform.
"You? Oh, no, no. Me Miss Love. I'm supposed to look after you, see?" he answered with a sheepish grin. "Tell you what, how about I go see them folks down in the hotel kitchen and fetch you up some ice cream? Or ... if you like ... I could get you a bottle of gin from the bar. Whatever you like. Just keep it all hush-hush, eh?"
Shamiso giggled, "Sure. No problem Clive. ‘N what's gin by the way? Is that a candy?"
"He-he. No, it's a drink. Wait … you don't know what gin is?" he asked with an eyebrow cocked. "You're telling me porkies."
To this Shamiso gulped with embarrassment. Up to now she'd been carrying it off perfectly. Now she'd just slipped up and revealed her naiveté. Poor girl. She had never had liquor before returning to Earth. They didn't allow alcohol on board Santa Maria. In fact, her first experience with booze had been at B.J.'s wedding when they toasted the happy couple with champagne. She thought it tasted foul; plus it tickled her nose since she'd never experienced carbonated beverages before. That said ... she most certainly remembered ice cream! Remembered it quite fondly as a matter of fact. It had been served to her at Disney Universe when she was ten; right before the crew had gone up to the Santa Maria back in 2086 and blasted off into space.
"Er … I'm just having you on,” she said quickly, in an attempt to cover for herself. “Sorry ‘bout that Clive. But ice cream, yes. That would be wonderful.”
Clive nodded and smiled, "Very good then madam. I'll have some sent up to you straight away."
Shortly after that, the elevator arrived at the tenth floor.
"Well, I believe we're here. Let me get the gate for you … ‘n soon you’ll be on your way."
When Shamiso stepped off the elevator, she instinctively reached down and grabbed her duffel bag, ignoring the doorman as he lurched forward at the shoulders to move toward it. "Oi. Uh … get your bag for you Miss Love?" he asked politely. She waved him off.
"Nah. I can handle it. Thanks Clive."
But when she walked out from the elevator a few steps, she then stopped and realized she had yet another new problem to deal with. She had not the foggiest idea which way was her sister's suite! What’s worse, that doorman was still standing there, wondering why she was hesitating. First she looked left. Then she looked right. Clive watched her and wondered to himself why she was so confused. Wondered what was in that duffel bag too! Probably had her outfit that she'd worn to the party earlier, he figured, and God knows what else – probably drugs!
"Uh ... is there anything else you need Miss Love?" asked Clive patiently. But Shamiso continued to stand there confused. Clive assumed she was still disoriented. Maybe she was having one of her "spells" again, like the other staff members had told him about. That was indeed something that other employees had run into with the young celebrity. There were times she didn't seem to know just where she was, and they'd have to help her find her way back to her room.
"Penthouse, Miss Love. You know that right? Down the hall to your left? Has the letter ‘P’ on the door?" he coached her patiently. Shamiso turned back to him and smiled.
"Oh yes, I know,” she lied - glancing toward the hallway to her left. “'P' for Penthouse, yes. I'll be okay now. Thanks again Clive." Then she smiled at him over her shoulder for being so kind. She’d be hard pressed to remember ever being treated so politely by a fellow Londoner.
As he stepped back into the elevator he added, "Any particular flavor ice cream? Mint chocolate chip? Banana? Rocky Road? What's your pleasure?" Shamiso giggled.
"Anything you like Clive. Cheers mate." Then she faced left again, and started walking down the hallway, slinging the duffel bag over her shoulder as she marched off. Clive stood there and gave out a deep, long sigh of relief. Hopefully by morning – if all this worked out - he'd still have a job.
This concludes tonight's presentation of Chapter Thirty-Three: Miss Love. I hope you enjoyed it. Watch for Chapter 34, which I'll be posting very soon.
Also, and don't forget, my latest full length novel, Deathwalker Colony, is available for purchase right now on Amazon.com, along with the first two books in the Rijel 12 Series: The Rise of New Australia and Return of Anarchy. A link to these is included in the transcript for this episode. Go online and check 'em out!
I'm King Everett Medlin. Thanks for tuning in.
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