Why Do Fools Fall in Love?

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Part One

 

 

foolsbutton.jpgAuthor’s note:

 

 This story begins a new universe, Glimpses into the Future. This future uni takes place after the original ending of “Keeping Up With the Joneses” and after the stories in the “Boys Will Be Boys universe. So, Katie is dead, Jim was adopted by the Wheelers, and everything happened just as the series said. The bulk of this story occurs approximately 10 years after the Here and Now Universe. So, Trixie, Honey, and Di are 25, Mart and Dan are 26, Jim is 27, and Brian is 28.  Are you confused yet? Just wait till Bobby enters the picture…OY! Any age discrepancies I will blame on the tainted timeline.

 

 

The beginning of our future universe, eight years after Trixie’s senior prom…

Friday, July 23

         “Great job, detectives!” Ralph Keenan congratulated, shaking Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler’s hands. “I appreciated your help solving this case.”

         Ralph owned a profitable detective agency in Los Angeles. He’d tracked down a deadbeat dad to White Plains, New York and had enlisted the help of the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency for local assistance. Although Mr. Keenan looked the part of kindly, 50-ish gentleman, he had a relentless streak about him that frightened criminals and reassured clients. He didn’t stop until he got his man…or woman.

      “It was our pleasure, Mr. Keenan,” Trixie told him. “Let us know if we can ever be of assistance again.”

      “I’ll do that,” Ralph replied. “I’m glad Hank recommended you.”

      Hank Carpenter had been the private investigator under whom Trixie and Honey had interned. He’d run a detective agency for several years in White Plains. After Trixie and Honey had graduated from the criminal justice program at Niagara University, they had worked at Hank’s agency to gain the experience needed to obtain their PI licenses. Hank had retired last year after a heart attack, but he still kept in touch. When Ralph Keenan contacted him about help with this case, Hank referred him to the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency, which the girls had started once they had both turned twenty-five.

      “Don’t let the fact that they’re young and pretty dissuade you,” Hank had told Ralph over the phone. “They’re two of the finest detectives I’ve ever had the pleasure of training.”

      So, based on his friend’s recommendation, Ralph contacted the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency and enlisted their help. And he hadn’t been sorry. Though they met the age requirement by the skin of their teeth, Beatrix Belden and Madeleine Wheeler were old pros at solving cases. After doing some detective work of his own about his prospective investigators, Ralph had learned that while they were teenagers, the young ladies had cracked some high profile cases. Often, they had solved the whole thing themselves before the authorities could figure it out.

      Ralph wasn’t disappointed with their performance during this case. Beatrix and Madeleine were good. They knew their stuff. The fact that they were young and pretty only helped them in the business, he thought. Ralph grinned, remembering how the little blonde had coerced information from the deadbeat’s friend. It was something he never could’ve done, that was for sure. In his opinion, Beatrix and Madeleine were wasting their time in this small town.

Ralph retrieved a business card out of his suit jacket’s pocket and slapped it down on Trixie’s desk. “If you ladies ever move to California and need a job, let me know. My agency’s always looking for upcoming private investigators. You two are some of the best I’ve ever had the privilege of working with.”

      Trixie beamed proudly from the compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Keenan,” she said. “I’m glad you felt confident enough to ask for our services. We only opened our agency recently, so we’re trying to build up our reputation.”

      “Don’t worry, ladies,” he assured them. “As talented as you both are, you’ll have no trouble finding clients. Of course, the work might be more exciting and plentiful where I am. Detectives are a dime a dozen in New York City, and your services aren’t needed very often in a small town like Sleepyside.”

      “Thank you again for the kind offer, but I think we’re happy here,” Honey replied, watching Trixie out of the corner of her eye. Was that unrest she saw in her friend’s eye? “Aren’t we, Beatrix?”

      “Uh, yeah,” Trixie hesitantly answered. She nonchalantly put the business card inside the top drawer of her desk in a safe spot.

      “Oh, I’m sure you have a lot of exciting cases around here, as well,” Ralph said as he gathered briefcase. “But the offer still stands, if you ever change your mind.”

      “What kind of cases do you get?” Trixie inquired curiously.

      “We get all kinds,” he answered. “We do the standard PI thing of investigating cheating spouses. But the majority of our work is more exciting. We track down men who are delinquent on their child support or alimony, as we did in this instance. We help locate criminals who’ve escaped from prison or jumped bail. We have a few detectives who are specialized in corporate matters, and they do a lot of anti-fraud work. We help people find kidnapped or missing loved ones. We work for families of murder victims tracking down the killer. Sometimes, the family wants a separate investigation from the police to track down any leads. And we also work with law enforcement officials when our help is requested. It’s never a boring job, that’s for sure.”

      “Sounds exciting,” Trixie murmured, avoiding Honey’s stare. “We mostly get calls about cheating spouses.”

      “Like I said, give me a call if you’re ever looking for a job,” Ralph said, walking out the door.

 

Later that day, after lunch…

      Honey neatly placed the fat folder they’d started for their most recent case back in the filing cabinet by her desk. She glanced over at her curly-haired friend, who was staring holes in the ceiling.  “Hello? Earth to Trixie? Do you see a cobweb that our cleaning lady missed?”

      Trixie looked at Honey with feigned hurt. “Hey, I’m the one that does all the cleaning around here.”

      “Like you’re known for your dusting prowess,” Honey teased good-naturedly. “I’ve watched you dust, Miss Belden. A lick and a promise were your specialty, and that hasn’t changed.” Her expression sobered as she noted that Trixie was deep in thought. “What’s wrong, Trix? You’ve been quiet ever since Ralph left this morning.”

      “Oh, I don’t know, Hon,” Trixie answered with a heavy sigh. “I’ve just been kind of down lately.”

      “Why? What’s bothering you?”

      Trixie shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t explain it. After all the years I dreamed of opening our detective agency, you’d think I’d be happier than I am. But, now that the dream has come true, it’s empty.”

      “Have you changed your mind about the agency?” Honey inquired nervously.

      “No, not really. I love being a detective. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Even though I thought it would be more exciting than it is, I wouldn’t be anything else.”

        “It’ll just take some time to build our clientele.”

        Trixie lifted her chin stubbornly. “I know, but that doesn’t keep me from getting bored.” She absentmindedly picked up a framed photograph of all the Bob-Whites from her desk.  Although she meant to look at the entire group, her eyes fell on a certain redheaded fellow. Her eyes grew wistful.

      “Maybe being a detective was only part of your dream,” Honey suggested softly, noticing where Trixie’s gaze had wandered. “Maybe your dream feels empty because the whole dream hasn’t come true.”

      Trixie hastily slammed the picture down on her desk. “That dream died a long time ago.”

      “It isn’t dead. It’s just sleeping.” Honey smiled and shook her head. “I don’t care what either of you say, you still care deeply for one another.”

      Trixie snorted. “Tell that to Jim. I used to think he had special feelings for me, but now . . .” She shook her head, leaving her sentence unfinished.

      “What happened between you two, anyway?”

      Trixie sighed and looked once more at the picture. Her eyes were full of longing for the man who’d claimed her long so long ago. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Hon. I don’t know.” She ran her finger over the familiar face in the picture. “I always thought he was waiting for me to graduate high school and then he’d get serious. But something happened after my senior year of high school. We’d always gone to the movies or parties together when he was home from college. But out of the blue, he brought home a girlfriend, and I soon figured out that I wasn’t his ‘special girl’ anymore,” she continued, her voice slightly cracking.

       “It just doesn’t make sense,” Honey remarked. “Jim was crazy about you. A person can’t be so in love one moment, and then be so remote the next.”

      Trixie wiped a tear with the back of her hand.  “Maybe he never cared about me to begin with.”

      “I might not know why Jim changed, but there’s one thing I’m sure of,” Honey began. “Jim loved you, and I believe he still does. It’s why he’s never been able to settle down.”

      “You know, I always thought we’d end up together someday,” Trixie commented. “It’s a mystery to me what went wrong. And it’s the first mystery I haven’t been able to solve.”

      Honey crossed over to her best friend’s desk and gave her a hug. “Sometimes love is the greatest mystery of all.”

      “And of course, that would be the one that throws me,” Trixie sniffled. “Love bites!”

      Honey giggled madly, in spite of the woebegone expression on her friend’s face. “Love doesn’t bite, Trixie. Well, unless you’re into that sort of thing, that is.”

      “TMI, Honey Wheeler!” Trixie shrieked, sticking her fingers in her ears. “ICK factor! I really don’t want to know what you and my brother have been doing in your spare time.”

      “Brian doesn’t bite, Trixie!” Honey teased, happy to see her friend return to her good humor. “He may nibble a bit, but—”

      “All right, let’s talk about something else,” Trixie interrupted.

      “What do you want to talk about?”

      “Anything other than what we were talking about.” Trixie shivered. “You know it grosses me out when you and Di moon over my dopey brothers. I’ll never know what you two see in those goons.”

      “All right, then. Would you rather talk about what you’re wearing to the party tonight?” Honey asked with a grin.

       The Wheelers were having a celebration that evening in honor of the opening of Jim’s school. The building was completed, the staff had been hired, students were enrolled, and school was going to begin in a week. It was the culmination of all Jim’s hard work, and at long last his dream would be realized.

      “Let’s see,” Trixie snorted. “What would I rather talk about? Clothes or my best friend sucking face with my brother?  Gee, that’s a tough call, but I’m going to have to go with the clothes. And to answer your question, I don’t know what I’m wearing.”

       “You have to wear something.”

       Trixie braced herself for the upcoming eruption. “Actually, I thought about staying home,” she admitted.

      “You can’t!” Honey cried. “All the Bob-Whites will be there! You know how important this is to Jim. Trixie, I know you’ve had problems, but you can’t miss this. You’d break his heart!”

      It was on the tip of Trixie’s tongue to point out that Jim had already broken hers, but she kept that to herself. “I know, but I’m sure a certain person I don’t like will be there.”

      Honey nodded sympathetically. “Yes, she’ll be there. With bells on.”

      “And probably hung from strategic locations,” Trixie said cattily.

      “Now, Trixie, play nicely. Amanda isn’t that bad.”

      Trixie winced at the name. Amanda Woodward was Jim’s current girlfriend. They’d been dating over a year now, much to Trixie’s chagrin. In spite of Jim’s supposed intelligence, Trixie couldn’t help but think that he was really dumb when it came to dating.

       “What’s that smirk for?” Honey demanded.

        Trixie leaned back in her office chair and propped her feet on her cluttered desk, a Cheshire grin on her face. “Oh, I was just thinking that for someone so smart, Jim’s awfully stupid about picking a girlfriend. Amanda might be pretty, but she’s just about the most annoying person on earth.”

       “Trixie!” Honey said in a scolding tone. “There has to be something you like about Amanda.”

       “Well, I must admit that I like Amanda a lot less than I liked the rest of Jim’s girlfriends,” Trixie retorted.

      Honey giggled and threw a wadded-up piece of paper at her friend. “Umm…Trixie, you haven’t liked any of Jim’s girlfriends.”

      “I know, and I like Amanda even less than the rest of them.” Trixie picked the paper wad out of her hair and tossed it into her already overflowing trashcan. “I’m sorry but Jim has extraordinarily bad taste in women,” she added with a sniff.

      Honey smiled knowingly. “Maybe you’ll have to rescue him from the evil wench.” Honey, out of loyalty to Trixie’s secret feelings for Jim, was the only other Bob-White to openly discuss her dislike Amanda. The rest were at least attempting to get along with her and tried not to talk about how the air-headed socialite got on their nerves.

      Trixie sat up in her seat and began pecking on her computer keyboard, ignoring Honey’s comment.

      “If I were you, I’d come tonight and go out of my way to look totally smashing,” Honey suggested brightly.

      Trixie looked up with her brows raised in a perplexed expression. “Have you ever noticed that people often use violent terms in a complimentary manner? Smashing? Striking? Drop dead gorgeous?”

        Honey shrugged. “So?”

        “Well, I don’t want to assault Jim. I just wish, for once…well, never mind.” With a shake of her head, she turned back to her computer.

      “What, Trix?” Honey prodded.

       “I get sick of being called cute,” Trixie mumbled. “And I don’t like being called perky. But the phrase that I really hate is that ‘I have natural beauty.’ That’s just a cop-out. What they mean is that I’m not gorgeous like you and Di.”

       “Oh, Trixie,” Honey murmured sadly. “You underestimate yourself. You’re very pretty—”

        “But I want more than that,” Trixie interjected.

      “You want to look glamorous?”

       Trixie nodded sadly.

       Honey sighed as she studied her friend’s forlorn expression. She understood Trixie’s deep-seated insecurities better than anyone. Trixie rarely talked about her issues, but when she did, they centered around the fact that she didn’t consider herself to be a blonde bombshell.

      “Sometimes, it stinks being comfortable,” Trixie murmured. Her thoughts went back several years ago to a dance in Iowa…

 

          Trixie hesitantly entered the gymnasium at Riverdale High School. She glanced around for her friends. She spied Honey and Di, surrounded by a crowd of smitten boys. There was nothing unusual about that; her friends always had a crowd of admirers around them. Some boys had also gathered around her; however, they weren’t admiring her. They merely wanted to talk about basketball. She was sure the boys around Honey and Di weren’t talking about sports.

      She absentmindedly listened to talk about lay-ups and slam-dunks while she scanned the gym for any sight of Jim…and her brothers, of course. She finally spotted the boys among a crowd of some of the most attractive girls she’d ever seen.

      The prettiest girl of all, a tall, slender blonde, hooked her arm through Jim’s and led him to a secluded spot at a nearby table. Trixie’s cheeks burned as she watched the blonde bombshell flirt with Jim. She kept waiting for Jim to politely, yet firmly, ease out of her clutches, but to Trixie’s disappointment, Jim seemed quite content to bask in the beautiful girl’s presence.

      Ned Shultz came over and spoke to Trixie. She listened halfheartedly and tried to comment when she could, but it was hard since she was keeping one eye on Jim and the tall blonde. Her redheaded friend certainly was charming the Iowa beauty at his side! Trixie tried to give Ned a bewitching smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her heart was across the room, smiling at a girl with silky blonde hair and a perfect figure.

      Trixie’s blue eyes grew wide (and turned a little green) as she watched Jim put his arm around the blonde girl’s slender shoulders. She tried to concentrate on Ned, but as handsome as he was, he couldn’t take her mind off of a certain couple across the room.

      Ned asked Trixie to dance. She agreed, sadly watching Jim hold the graceful blonde in his arms on the dance floor. They moved perfectly with one another. Jim held her slender form securely in his arms, her head only slightly lower than his. The blonde was at least five-foot-eight, and in heels, she could almost look Jim evenly in the eyes.

      Though Ned was an expert dancer, he could not take Trixie’s mind off of Jim and the blonde bimbo. She kept glancing at them, growing more and more furious by the minute. She was overcome by a strange feeling. Could it be? Yes, it was— jealousy.

      Ned was trying to make conversation with Trixie, but she couldn’t hear a word he said. I just don’t care if I ever speak to Jim again in my life, she thought. When the band finished their song, Trixie came face to face with Jim and the bombshell.

      They casually talked for a minute, and Jim introduced Trixie to the girl. Dot? What kind of a name is that? Trixie thought with an indignant sniff, all the while keeping a friendly smile on her face. If Trixie could hear Dot’s thoughts, she would see that Dot was thinking similar things about her.

      “Next dance, Trix?” Jim asked, flashing that lopsided grin that Trixie so adored.

      “Yes, Jim,” Trixie said, putting her hand in his.

      Later, on the dance floor with Jim, Trixie closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his embrace. For a moment, all thoughts of the tall blonde disappeared, and she was happy. However, when she thought she caught Jim glancing in Dot’s direction, that happiness vanished.

      “Ned Shultz seems to have the Indian sign on you,” she heard Jim saying.

      “And Dot seems to have the Indian sign on you. You’ve been her slave all evening!”

      “Why, Trixie.” Jim stopped dancing right in the middle of the floor and led Trixie to a bench at the middle of the room. “You’re fooling!”

      “I’m not! If you like that glamour type best, you’re just welcomed to her. I mean it!”

      “I like both kinds,” Jim said. “Dot is glamorous. She’s really glamorous. She went out of her way to be nice to me, and I appreciate it.”

      I’m sure she was! Trixie thought with a smirk. She was angry that Jim so readily agreed that Dot was glamorous. He may as well have said she was a homely old toad!

      “I can see that you do,” she said out loud. Then she added wistfully, “Oh, Jim, I wish I’d been born beautiful!”

      “The other kind of girl,” Jim went on as if he hadn’t heard her, “didn’t dress up just to impress me or any other boy. She never does. She’s genuine and so comfortable to be around. She’s my choice of the two. Right now her sandy curls need combing, and she sure could use some lipstick!”

      For the rest of the evening that comment made her feel better. She enjoyed the rest of the dance and managed to erase thoughts of Dot out of her head.

      But later that night, all her insecurities once again emerged. She began analyzing what Jim had said. So, Dot is glamorous and beautiful, and I’m genuine and comfortable?

       Comfortable?! Trixie repeated in her mind. Makes me sound like an old shoe! And he didn’t deny liking Dot. And what did he mean by saying my hair needed combing and that I needed lipstick? Liking two kinds of girls, indeed! Why, it sounded as if Jim doesn’t like me at all!

      The rest of the trip, Trixie battled her jealousy over Dot. She wouldn’t even admit to herself how happy she was to finally be on the airplane, heading miles and miles away from the Iowa beauty. Then, Jim had given her a silver ID bracelet with his name engraved on it.

      After Trixie opened the box, she smiled shyly at Jim. “It has your name on it, Jim. Put it on for me, will you?”

      “You know what it means, don’t you?” Jim asked.

      “Tell me,” Trixie answered.

      “It means that you’re my special girl, Trixie,” Jim said. “As if you didn’t know that already.”

      But deep in her heart, Trixie hadn’t known it. Yes, she knew that Jim thought fondly of her. Their friends teased her that she and Jim were each other’s favorites, but still, Trixie had doubts. Especially after seeing Jim with Dot. After all, how could she compete with a girl like Dot?

      For a while, Trixie was content to wear her bracelet, smell her orchids, and blush at fond glances. But it wasn’t long until another tall blonde by the name of Laura Ramsey came by and brought back all of Trixie’s insecurities. Trixie had to admit that turning Laura Ramsey over to the police had given her a great amount of personal satisfaction.

      As time passed, the Bob-Whites seemed to couple off more and more. Mart and Di were the first. Mart, never shy about his feelings, wooed the fair Diana, sweeping her off her feet with his charm and blond good looks. Eventually, Brian and Honey made their relationship more official. Dan, although the seventh wheel, so to speak, was never deprived of female companionship. Most of the lovely young ladies in Sleepyside were clambering for a date with the mysterious former gang member.

       That left Trixie and Jim to attend dances, games, and other activities together. Trixie was pleased with how it worked out. This pattern continued even after Jim went to college. Trixie knew that she could always count on Jim to escort her to a dance or party. And there was no one with whom she would rather go.

      But then, it all changed. Jim wasn’t able to be there for her senior prom. Tad Webster volunteered to stand in, teasing her the entire night that maybe he could dye his hair red so that she would have a better time. As sweet as Tad had been that night, he was no comparison to Jim. Trixie had a fun time that evening but could not help thinking that something was wrong.

      Jim had returned weeks later with news of a girlfriend at college. He’d decided to stay for the summer term, since Alison (the aforementioned girlfriend) would be there, as well. At the mention of a “girlfriend”, Trixie’s world started reeling. At one time, she’d been safe in the knowledge that while she and Jim weren’t going steady, he hadn’t ever dated anyone else. However, that ended with the mention of this Alison person. Trixie was left to wonder about Jim’s whereabouts during her prom. Maybe he didn’t have a counseling session, after all; maybe he was Alison all along.

 

        When she’d finally met Alison a couple of weeks later, a sense of irony washed over her. Alison was a tall and had a model’s figure. She had long, silky blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her personality left much to be desired, but Trixie guessed Jim wasn’t dating her for her conversational abilities.

       By the end of the summer term, Alison was history, and Trixie was humming a victory anthem. She abruptly choked on the next note when she saw Alison’s replacement. Brittney was tall and willowy with long, silky hair the color of sunshine. However, she had green eyes instead of blue. And her personality was even more grating. No worries, however. A couple of months later, Brittney was a thing of the past.

      Of course, replacing her was another flaxen-haired, vertically-blessed beauty by the name of Chrissy. Chrissy spent Thanksgiving break at Manor House. Trixie thought for sure she would rather be deaf than hear Chrissy’s high-pitched giggle and her endless prattling about “how Sleepyside was so inferior to her hometown”, and “where, oh where, did one find a decent stylist in this hick town?” All the Bob-Whites breathed a sigh of relief when Jim ever-so gentlemanly kicked Chrissy to the curb.

      Exit Chrissy, enter Darla. Or was Erica next? The stream of beautiful tall blondes seemed to mesh together after a while. Trixie never liked any of them. Her only consolation was that none of them ever lasted long.

      Until Amanda Woodward. She was perhaps the most exquisite of them all. Her requisite blonde tresses were always perfectly coifed and seemingly never in need of combing. Her eyes were large and gray and perfectly spaced on her perfect face. Her nose had surely been sculpted by a plastic surgeon, for Trixie was sure that nobody was born with a nose that looked that good. She had generous lips covering toothpaste-commercial quality teeth. And she was tall and very shapely. Trixie suspected Amanda’s legs were as long as Trixie was tall.

      Not only was she beautiful, she was intelligent, articulate, and seemingly friendly. She possessed a great deal of tact and grace. She always seemed to say the right thing at the right time. She contributed to charitable causes, and was genuinely interested in Jim’s plans for the school. She had a flawless sense of style, her outfits always looking smart and fashionable, even after a three-hour ride in the car. In essence, she was perfect.

      And Trixie hated her.

     All the other Bob-Whites, save Honey out of devotion to Trixie, seemed willing to give Amanda a chance. Their friends were relieved that Jim had finally found someone with whom they could have an intelligent conversation, and were trying to like her for Jim’s sake. Amanda appeared to enjoy their company as well. So, Trixie gritted her teeth and waited for the music to stop and for the next tall blonde to take Amanda’s seat. But now, a year later, she was still waiting.

      While she waited for Jim to suddenly come to his senses, Trixie dated occasionally. It seemed Honey and Di were constantly fixing her up with someone. Brian’s medical student friends, artists Di knew from the museum, good-looking strangers they drug off the street…

      Mart called them her one-hit wonders; Trixie went out with them one time, and then found some excuse, no matter how laughable, to never go out with them ever again.

      Marcus had no ambition. Steve wasn’t out-doorsy enough. Rick was very nice, but he didn’t have green eyes. Craig was handsome, but he didn’t have any freckles. Chad had red hair, but it was kind of carroty red and not dark and thick like…

      “Trixie?” Honey repeated, trying to get her friend’s attention. “What did you say about being comfortable?”

      Trixie looked up and tried to remember what they had been talking about. It didn’t take her long to remember; the topic was one she pondered on a regular basis. “I want to be more than comfortable,” she whispered. “I want to be Dot Murray-Laura Ramsey-Amanda Woodward beautiful.”

       “Trix, you are beautiful,” Honey said, with a big smile. “You just need some confidence.”

       “No, what I need is a miracle,” Trixie remarked dryly.

       Honey glanced at her watch. “It’s 1:00, and I suggest we make a quick run into the city. I think you’re in need of a new formal dress, complete with uncomfortable shoes and bothersome accessories. Then, we’ll go to Elizabeth Arden and have facials, manicures, and pedicures. Afterward, if you haven’t already gotten us thrown out of the salon because of your complaining, I’ll ask Roberto to do your hair and makeup.”

      Trixie frowned. “Do I have to buy a fancy dress that’s itchy?”

      “Probably,” Honey answered.

      “Do I have to get heels that will not only pinch, but also will be a hazard to me and all those in my path?”

      “Most definitely.”

      “Do I have to carry around some stupid excuse for a purse that won’t even hold my pistol?”

      “Possibly.”

      “They’re not going to put cucumbers on my eyes, are they?” Trixie skeptically questioned. “I hate the cucumber-on-the-eye-thing.”

      “It’s likely.”

      “They won’t put fake, acrylic tips on my stubby nails and sand them down evenly until my cuticles are bloody, will they?”

      Honey smiled sweetly. “Yes, that’s something you can look forward to.”

      “They wouldn’t dare paint my toenails some ridiculous shade of Pepto-Bismol pink, would they?”

      “That’s probably the shade the pedicurist will use.”

      “Roberto won’t fix my hair all fancy and then spray it with so much hair spray that Hurricane Ivan couldn’t budge it, will he?”

      “That’s what he does best.”

      “Roberto won’t glob a bunch of mascara on my eyelashes, will he?” Trixie looked truly frightened at the possibility. “You remember what happened the last time I wore mascara. I thought my eyelashes were going to be permanently melded together. It’s a miracle I can see today.”

      “I remember, he will, and they won’t this time.”

      “And why would I subject myself to such torture?” Trixie moaned.

      “Because you love Jim, and you want to remove him from the clutches of that high-class hussy?” Honey suggested hopefully.

      Trixie took a deep breath and thought for a moment. With a determined nod, she replied, “All right. Bring it on. Good-bye comfortable shoe. Hello glamour girl!”

 

 

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foolsbutton.jpgCredits:

Be sure to check out the outtakes on the Blooper Reel! I wasn’t going to include them, but since one of my very favorite fanfic writers likes them, and I decided to include a few. Gotta keep my favorite authors happy! Hopefully, these bloopers will inspire her to write. How they could inspire anyone, I don’t know, but I thought I would give it a try. J 

I am a realist. I can’t help it. It’s in my genes. Blame my dad. Therefore, being a realist, I can’t help but feel Jim would have definite issues that might hinder him a bit in having a serious relationship. And being the type of person I am, I can’t ignore those issues. I’m determined to face them head on!  Jim-baby is supple, honorable, handsome, and can slide off clubhouse roof in a stealthy motion, but he’s not perfect. Well, not quite. J  Don’t worry. I am not deserting my favorite redhead. I am still a member in good standing of the Cult of Jim. J

A lot of Happy Valley was quoted in this story, without permission, I might add. Do you think I’m really going to ask for permission now? *snort* I probably should have become a profiler or something comparable since I am obsessed with analyzing people, but instead, I’ve chosen to be a teacher and write fanfic where I can analyze the dickens out of imaginary people who never pay their bill. In my opinion, Trixie has a few insecurity issues herself, and they will be popping up, as well. As feisty as she is, I just couldn’t understand why she didn’t slug Jim after the Dot incident and the comfortable comments. J  I’m not sure if I would have appreciated being called ‘comfortable and genuine’ after hearing him talk about Dot being ‘glamorous.’ Of course, men look at things differently than we ladies do, and looking back, Jim told me he wished he had never said that, so he has asked me to explain what he meant about Trixie being ‘comfortable and genuine.’  And I will. Eventually. J  And yes, I have a few issues myself, so that would explain why I am ‘issues’ crazy!

I’m ducking from all the tomatoes being hurled by the Nick Roberts fans. Yes, I think Jim-baby could beat him up. J  But IMHO, Jim could take Tad Webster, too! Jim is just too modest to say that. And I couldn’t help but always be suspicious of Tad in the books. Maybe that’s because he reminded me of too many ex-boyfriends. J  

Ralph Keenan and Hank Carpenter are figments of my imagination. I hope I got all the requirements for becoming a licensed PI in New York correct. If I didn’t, it’s my own fault. According to my astute editor, Kaye, Niagara University does have a very good Criminal Justice program.

My apologies to those of you who share the names of Jim’s past girlfriends. I chose them at random. Only two have significance, and only one will play a major role in this story. Have you ever met one of those girls who only like a guy after he’s taken, so she can have the thrill of stealing him from someone else? Well, I knew a girl like that once, and I didn’t like her. J  So I took her first name and based my fanfic bad girl on her. And for the record, she didn’t get MY man! And also for the record, she wasn’t nearly as pretty as I’ve made her be in my fanfic. But I had to make her fit the mold. J

Elizabeth Arden is a real salon, but I have no idea if Roberto works there or not. If he does, tell him I said hi. Since I have never been there (although I do dream about it!), I do not know if in fact they actually put cucumbers on your eyes or use Pepto-Bismol pink nail polish. And I don’t getting tips put on normally hurts, but I had a bad experience once. It felt like they shredded my cuticles, then applied turpentine to what was left of them. 

And finally, thank you so much to my wonderful editors, Kaye, Kathy W, and Cathy W. I decided to cover all my bases I get Cathy W with a ‘C’, in addition to Kathy W with a ‘K.’ If there are any other variations out there of (C)(K)athy W that want to edit, e-mail me, and I’ll see what I can do. J Seriously, thank you ladies so much for your suggestions, comments, and hard work! Big hugs to you all! Poor Kaye and Kathy deserve a medal for keeping all my universes straight! But I am rewarding them in part two of this story…

 

 

 

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