#like what happened after patrick was released from jail and why they never reached out to one another again

[countessgreytea]

I stumbled upon a forum and started reading through some MM threads.  One anonymous poster had some interesting things to share in a thread from late September 2018: 

So, I volunteered/worked for the DOS during the end of her toronto years and the transition. I don't like to bash black industry because I feel it's vital for us to make our own opportunities and grow our own wealth, but this tea is absolutely true, and then some. Certain power players would absolutely fawn over her when they met her with her ex husband and when she went to audition would literally laugh in her face. I will defend her against anyone calling her a hooker. That's absolutely untrue. She made a lot of her extra money by befriending fashion people and ultimately getting paid for appearances at dinners/red carpets. She was an opportunist, but honestly if it were a dude, we wouldn't be judging him the way people judge her. I can honestly say that the relationship timeline given to the public regarding Harry is false. If you find that interview with her ex's mom and read between the lines, you'll see it. She has historically not been great with timelines. If people have questions I can answer a few. I'm still in touch with her because I've moved on to work for her friend who is very much in touch with her.

.....

So she and CV (the ex) were as good as engaged even around the end of April - they were both at my birthday dinner. CV is engaged to a singer and they have a baby on the way - that's how ready he was to start a family. He's a really good guy. Even now when I go in to one of his joints and he's around we chat and he offered his family vacation home for me to take my mom for a week. I don't often say this about white men, but I really respect him, he reminds me of my dad. It's a little hard to believe now, but she was more of an earthy Cali girl pre-prince, so they weren't super serious about a formal engagement. CV was totally head over heels and the only reason they were waiting was bc meg really wanted to branch into movies and do something meaningful before settling down with kids and moving into a travel/food show. "Think Bourdain meets Nora Ephron meets hippie chic" is what I wrote in my notes when we were writing up a proposal. I was actually really excited about it, I was going to work on the show. Priyanka Chopra has sorta copied the idea and but changed it so she meets famous people lol. (I have PC tea too, someone point me to a thread and I'll post). Prinze was seeing someone. I hope you'll respect that I won't spill bc that could get me into real trouble. He and nutmeg actually met in the run up to invictus, she "wanted to help" but this is code for wanted to make connections. When they met sparks flew and basically she was like damn issa prince and made her moves accordingly. There was a month between the breakup and the first date and the breakup actually wasn't "final" it was "just a break." She said she was feeling like she was in a rut. From date #1 onwards it was a whirlwind. It was really lovely to watch two people fall in love but very tough bc I knew what had gone down prior. As far as I know she is not pregnant, she is doing IVF though and it has caused a little bloat. That's why her clothes are rarely fitted. She'll be pregnant towards the end of the Aussie tour if all goes as planned. She is very calculating but I really respect her game. For example, that story about the corgis laying at her feet was planted bc white people love anything to do with dogs (I mean, so do the rest of us but white people don't have great attention spans, let's be totally real). She has a natural strategic intelligence from her mother. I cannot say enough wonderful things about her mother. Oprah and Iyanla got nothing on her, imo. This prince thing is the first time ms.meg did someone dirty since I started working for her. She secured the bag, so good for her, I guess.

.....

Made moves - set up the Wimbledon appearance and "happened" to be at the soho house hotel so prinze and her could see each other again. It's a hotel that the public doesn't have the same kind of access too. 

.....

about the engagement interview, and the corgi anecdote:

Oh girl, you don't even know what I did for that interview. Just because Harry told the story doesn't mean it wasn't planted. They planted in the interview so that people would go "aww." Think about the placement of that anecdote - right after they spoke about meeting family and how they'd spent a lot of time together in the past 1.5 years. The story was to push that narrative over the edge by associating it with a sweet story.

.....

Someone replied that MM was in Mexico when PH was in Toronto ahead of IG:

My girl, this doesn't mean we didn't reach out and get in touch with the invictus team. The Internet issa crazy thing!

.....

Whether PH knew about CV:

I actually don't know much about this side of the story - I worked for the DOS, not the prince. I never had access to her personal texts or anything. From what I felt though, I don't think he knew exactly how serious they were

.....

Sure! Auntie Dee has been through a lot in her own life. People haven't looked much into her own childhood, but there was family tension and abuse, but she never let that get her down. She was quick to compliment on good character "thank you for your honesty" "thank you for your grace" "i admire your strength." She really is crazy about yoga though, she says it helps preserve the body. She is not at all judgmental to people who do yoga the first time, including myself, and doesn't like that white women culture vulture yoga from Indians - she is fierce about respecting heritage. She loves gardening. She is lowkey a very strong Christian...idk how that fits with yoga tbh but she's cool with it. She is completely self-made and raised up several black women and other women of color in her professional life (yoga and social work and other artistic endeavours)

..... About the article with CV’s mom : “Mrs Vitiello surmises that Meghan and Cory had been apart for about three months before she first met Harry.”: 

Regarding that Daily Mail article: the specific wording is surmised. The meaning of the word surmise is to suppose something is true without having the evidence to confirm it. I know the person trying to poke holes in my tea won't believe it, but that specific word was fought over and eventually money was paid in order for that specific word to be used.

.....

I could be wrong here - I'm definitely not in her inner circle anymore (professionally there is no real room for upward movement, I started working for her blog so I could eventually work in digital publication and PR). I also know nothing about IVF - I just heard from my boss (her friend) that it causes bloat and it's really unfair that people judge her. I know for sure she is on IVF bc she needed an injection during her trip to Toronto and her PPOs were unhappy and my boss talked about it a lot.

.....

There are a lot of royal "rules" that the family must abide by that aren't normal for you and me, including medication. The physician must be present alongside the assistant to ensure that the shot has not been tampered with, etc. Remember, British royalty goes back to the days of people poisoning each other regularly, there are still archaic rules. I don't know more than that, I'm only peripherally in her life anymore. 

.....

someone asked about PH/MM’s dynamic:

I only saw the beginning, until the move to London. They are both demonstrative, but just from knowing her, I can tell she's a little more cautious in public - she doesn't want to seem too American/gauche. She'll probably relax as she has kids and sinks into her role, you know? It's tough to be totally yourself when you have so many eyes on you.

.....

Do the BRF like MM?

All I've been told is that they love her but they way it's been said seemed like the person who said it was trying to convince themselves as well as me. From emails and coordination purposes, "the firm" aka the staff took to her really well and Prince Chuck liked her a lot too. 

.....

What happened in Toronto with photographers before PH made his statement?

People were trying to break into her house and get onto the Suits set. She jetted to London one evening and eight hours later the statement had been released. It was released like 6 AM ET, I believe. 

.....

Her husband, as far as I know, was not a good dude. She never went into specifics but the person who worked for her prior alway said to forward any emails from him to her lawyer. Their relationship was not good. 

.....

About Suits, and were other family members at her wedding:

She speaks to the women and Rick, not so much Patrick and Gabe but was genuinely on good terms with everyone. I think she misses it, she tries to be normal by going about doing the same things she did in Toronto but I don't think it's the same. It's okay, she's a princess, she'll survive. Other family members were there, yes. 

.....

Oof, where you got all this sourness from? No bankruptcy, no jail (though she did work at correctional facilities). I think the living with her dad thing was just because of proximity to her school. I believe she spent Friday to Sunday evenings with her mom. 

.....

Her offering help with IG:

So she was not volunteering the way you or I would volunteer, but she was reaching out to ask whether she could lend her knowledge of Toronto and relationships with people there to help make things run smoothly. It's not really work, it's basically just talking lol. All these celebs who say they are the UN ambassador for whatever just go on paid vacations to poor folks' homes and film themselves being selfless aka playing with kids and then "lending their support" aka throwing a bit of money or "having high-level conversations." They were both in relationships at the time they first connected and the time they first met. She was looking to see if there was an opening for her, if that makes sense. The "first date" they talk about combines their first meeting and then the actual date after he expressed interest (they broke up with others to date, but remember, DOS told her ex that it was a break because she felt she was in a rut and not feeling connection with him). They definitely were texting a lot before the real first date.

.....

I never heard anything about this - if it's true, my apologies to the poster. I did not know everything about their lives. Doria did not strike me as someone who would file for bankruptcy but I know that many people "aren't the type"

.....

As far as I know Kate is cordial to DOS but you would really expect her to make more of an effort. There seemed to be some jealousy/distrust apparently. 

....

is she close with doria?:

I think they played up the closeness a bit during the "courtship" but from what I saw, they certainly became closer during that time too. I can say that she had been taking care of her mom financially when I was around.

.....

I know when she gets angry she tears up and gets very quiet. 

[talesofthestarlightroyals-blog]

Black Star Saga: Chapter 4 part 1: The Seed

Time Frame: St. Patrick’s Day 2k17

Spring had arrived and with it an abundance of lush greenery and colorful blossoms.The skies were bright and clear after what had been a rather active and wet winter. As St. Patrick's day approached, so too came the mysterious return of the Animated. To say the least with all that was happening Gaia was a buzz of excitement, everyone finding something to enjoy. Well, almost everyone. Carefully slipping through the marketplace was a red haired woman, half perusing the endless selection of Gaian goods, while half keeping an eye out for the representative of this time of year's festivities. While she normally had no qualm over her name, she quickly learned the trouble of having the name "Lucky" when Odanodan was about. The green clad little man appeared literally anywhere and everywhere, despite her attempts to explain personal space. Ultimately she had decided the best method for avoiding him was to just not go out around St. Patrick's day at all. As tempting as that was, her charge bobbing only slightly ahead kept her from doing so. The tiny star, like other luck stars, had forgotten once again to keep their shine to themselves during the holiday of another luck giver. Despite no longer holding the title of Starlight Princess, Lucky respected the tradition, and would keep them from causing issues with their neighbors. This particular tiny star had been only one of about a dozen she had found this day, but appeared to be the last of them floating about. There had been no issues this time around caused by the luck stars nor the mysterious black dwarf who still evaded the Starlight kingdom after its partner was captured during Christmas. Where it had gone was a mystery. The other continued to remain silent, which was a problem in more ways than one. For one, they still knew nothing of the motive. Why attack its brethren and steal their light? What was the purpose of the sludge? Where did it come from? And more importantly, where did they come from? She watched the star bob and sway ahead as she kept up with a casual pace. She was still coming to terms with the whole idea of a black dwarf actually existing. Well, theoretically they always could, but not for another few billion years. Even the prince was taken aback by this discovery, and with Astraeus's connection to the stars' constant chatter, something that always reminded the redhead of something just shy of a hive mindset, it likely meant they were more than just overlooked. As far as the stars were concerned, typically someone somewhere knew something, and if they knew they shared with everyone else. How was it that no one knew about these guys? If something happened to them, at least one star would have spotted it. If they had been this way all along, where had they been hiding? Why come out now? Lucky was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely noticed the star up ahead pause before swooping over a rather crowded booth. It flickered in excitement and swirled around, dropping glittering stardust all over the merchandise. "Hey!" the vendor cried, drawing Lucky's attention as he pulled out a fly swatter and waved it threateningly at the star. "Unless you want to become merchandise, you stay away from my products!" She rushed over and cupped her charge, pulling it away. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." "That thing belongs to you?" the vendor asked crossly. "It's dropping glitter all over my shop!" "It's just dust," Lucky tried to explain, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief with her free hand and gently dusting off a bluish orb that had the star's glittering magic had sprinkled. "See? It comes right off-" "You touched it, you buy it." "Pardon me?" she started. "And no returns." "But I didn't-" "That'll be one billion gold." "Ok, I don't even know what this thing is and I know that's a ripoff!" "Should have thought about that before you touched it." She huffed, her cheeks getting as red as her hair as she resigned herself to pay the man. It wasn't worth it to get into an altercation with the guy over something so trivial, despite the pretty penny it would cost. She turned from the booth, her unwanted prize in one hand, and her troublesome charge in the other. "Now this is why I ask you lot to keep your shine at bay. I had to pay for this...this...what even is this?" she wondered aloud, finally getting a good look at the bizarre item. It was a blue sphere of sorts with a golden star in the center, likely what had drawn her own star's attention in the first place. Sprouting from the top of it were two large leaves, orange at the base before turning into a lush green. It looked like some sort of plant bulb, though it was not one the former star princess had ever seen... YAP YAP YAP YIP YAP YAP "GIVE IT BACK. I'VE LOST FIFTEEN PAIRS BECAUSE OF YOU!" Lucky's head snapped in the direction of the voice filtering through the crowd, her thoughts interrupted. Many Gaians had moved aside as a tall brown haired man chased after a small dark furred puppy star. "What in the-?" Sirius scampered through the crowds, eyes locked on the redhead. As they neared, Lucky realized she recognized the pursuer- was that Arron? Brown hair, teal eyes, goggles...definitely the lythcol mechanic. As they neared, she discovered her former companion had stolen another boot from the young man. Only this time it was right off his foot, as Arron was chasing after with only a sock on one foot. He was sure getting bold about his boot stealing...Judging from how Arron was dressed, he had been working in his workshop as usual. He was red in the face from running after the puppy star all the way into the Marketplace. 

Whether it was Sirius's plan to do so or by accident, the pair were heading straight for her. As the mechanic shouted after him, Sirius picked up the pace. Before she could react, the pup dove between her legs and kept going, dropping the boot in the process. The redhead moved her hand holding the item forward to stop the mechanic. "Woah! Heel, Mechy! Stardusting puppy star is gone." The mechanic skidded to a stop, heaving & out of breath. "L-Lucky... Oh... h-hello..." he said through gasps as he placed his hands on his knees. Apparently he had been chasing Sirius for a while. His sock had torn, showing the heel of his foot. Once he had caught his breath he graciously took the boot from her and shoved his already aching foot inside it with a thank you. "...Sorry a-about that." he said scratching the back of his neck, "...I had just bought these af-after he had stolen my other p-pair." "I am still on the lookout for his stash," she replied, frowning. "Unfortunately he has experience hiding these things." Though she did wonder how the pup managed to get into the mechanic's workshop so easily. But she would deal with that later when she found the pup. Instead she glanced at the item in her hand again. "Question. Do you happen to know what this is?" Arron held out his real hand to take the star patterned plant from the former star princess. He placed it in his cybernetic one, reminding Lucky that he had his own string of bad encounters this past year, before looking at it. "...W-Wow is this a Starseed? I-I haven't seen one of-of these in a few y-years..." he said blinking, "Th-They were used to capture Mogas before a-a lot of them disappeared. It's actually pretty advanced for what it is." Arron seemed very surprised as well as fascinated to see what she had been forced to purchased, making her wonder if it might have actually been worth the investment. "...Never really got the chance to crack it open when they were around... I wonder if it has a Moga in it...." he mumbled. The redhead knew that look and began to scold Arron. "Hey now, don't go breaking something that isn't yours-wait, these captured animals?" What he said clicked. "This seed can actually contain stuff inside of it?" Hey eyes lit up, curiosity getting the better of her too while the cogs and gears turned in her head. Just what had she actually come across? "How does it work?" The Lythcol mechanic shrugged. "I-I've never gotten to fully examine one, but I believe th-they ab-absorb their essence in a way. S-Similar to how Kindred revert to-to eggs when they are defeated." he explained, opening the seed up by twisting the top of it. Thankfully a Moga was not released, revealing the inside to be hollow. Lucky examined the now open seed and the star on the front, her own tiny star managing to get loose and bobbing around it curiously. There was nothing inside that looked too special... But she had known Arron, Mechy as she nicknamed him, for a while now. The stuff he knew, he knew very well. If she left him alone five minutes with this thing he would likely have the whole seed's internal and external blueprint and schematics flushed out, written down, and be halfway to Starseed 2.0. "So...there's a difference between kindred eggs and this Starseed, right? Kindred eggs are technically still the kins, just reverted back to an earlier state. This is an external source." She looked up at Arron, "Does that mean, theoretically, it could capture something that is not a Moga? Say for instance a star?" If he said yes, she would be swarming the market for these things. That I Am potion was a desperate move to catch the black dwarf before, and if the other caught wind, it would not work again. But if she actually had an item to capture it... "...Technically... Yes." Lucky's heart did a flip as she was given a nod. The mechanic looked at the tiny star. He tried to activate the seed to see if it would do anything to Lucky's companion. The star bobbed around, flickering victoriously when nothing happened. "It would re-require some calibration to-to identify a st-star's structure & overall essence... Basically it's l-like 'j-jail breaking' a phone." he explained. "I see," she lied, pretending to know what jail-breaking a phone meant. She guessed it was something along the lines of hacking or rigging the system. Mixed emotions filled her when she saw the seed didn't work on the star. "Do you think you could make it work?" Lucky saw the most mischievous expression take over the young man's face. She tried to keep her own expression in check, knowing the answer already. "I would n-need a star and about a-a day." he said breaking out into a grin. She smiled sweetly. "Hmm...The is quite a tall order. You are asking me to hand over one of my charges to someone not trained in stellar care taking, and as a test subject no less." In a flash, her hand lashed out and snagged the bobbing star. She held the wildly flickering star out to the mechanic. "Here you go." The star tried to wriggle free, flashing some less than civil responses at the former princess. "None of that from you. You're the reason why I had to buy the seed in the first place." Once it resigned to its fate, she placed the star in Arron's cybernetic hand. "Thank you~!" he said, "C-Come by my workshop tomorrow and I'll have it done." The tiny luck star was not going to like its stay with the mechanic. And likely it was going to be ages before Arron got all the star dust out of his workshop afterwards. But if he found a way to make this work, Lucky would pay him back a hundred times over. She would have a method to fight back against those black stars.

[tatekitkylejimmyjamesrorylover]

Hotel Cortez -James March x Reader

Words: 3,089

Description: This is about when you and James first meet and your relationship later grows into something more. Also The Countess, unfortunaetly, does not exisits in this story. 

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this! I have a Jimmy Darling Imagine in the works right now and I might be able to upload it to day or tomorrow. Please let me kno if you would like to request something! XOXO

1920

           It was a lovely summer day in 1920, you were heading to Los Angeles, California. You were going to transform your whole life to a new beginning. You had to escape your little town in (your State now), a lot of things happened that weren’t supposed to. You were boarding your train when you could have sworn you saw your ex (Ex’s Name) and you wouldn’t be surprised if you did. He was the reason why you needed a transformation. You brushed off the feeling of being watched and hopped into your seat. It was a bumpy ride but surprisingly smooth for a train. You quickly fell asleep and woke up to the bright sun hitting your face and the conductor saying,

    “Five minutes until Los Angeles, California, the city of dreams!”

You had picked up your purse that had stumbled to the floor. You quickly got up and exited the train. You had been walking for a bit with your eyes closed and embracing the warm sun. It was so glorious until you stumbled into a muscular chest. You were waiting for an impact for when your head hit the hard pavement, but there was nothing. You felt two very strong arms embrace you instead. You opened your eyes and looked up at this stranger who had saved you from a hard concussion. Your (Eye Color) eyes met his dark brown eyes. It was a long time of both of you just staring and you hadn’t realized how close you were until you looked at his mustache. He placed you back upright and he adjusted his suit while you adjusted your dress. 

“I am so sorry please accept my pardon. I am never usually this clumsy and I am more attentive. I am so sorry. I feel so bad. Oh, and thank you for saving me from hitting my head on the pavement.” I said.

“I accept your pardon. Also, I couldn’t let a beautiful lady like you fall.” He said. My checks were so red from his compliment.

“Again, Thank you…….”

“James and yours is?”

“(Y/N).”

 “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

 “Why, thank you.” It was just a little while of him and I just staring at eachother. He cleared his throat and said:

“I have a spontaneous feeling that you are quite new to Los Angeles.” I shook my head as in agreeing with his comment, “Well, would you like to go to a nearby resturant and have a drink with me?” How I could I say no there was this amazingly handsome man standing in front of me asking me to go to a resturant and drink with him!

“Yes, I would love to go get a drink with you!” I happily said. James pulled out his arm for me to take and I took it. I looked at him as he looked at me and we both smiled. We gracefully walked down the sidewalk, while also walking slowly because of James’s cane.

After walking a couple blocks we reached this very neat looking resturant called “The Silver Moon.” We released our tangled arms from each other as James opened the door for me. I quietly thanked him by slightly bowing my head. He came in after me as I held the door open for him. A kind man that looked like he worked here approached us asking where we would like to sit.

“A table for two please sir.” James said.

“Alas, right this way, follow me.” The waiter said.

The waiter walked us to our table and before I could personally pull out my chair, James pulled it out for me. I sat down adjusting my dress as James pushed me in and sat across from me.

“Oh, James you didn’t have to pull my chair out for me. I can perfectly manage pulling out a chair.”

“No, it is tradition for a man to be a gentlemen when on a date with a beautiful woman!” Wait did James just say date? 

“Did you just say that I was your date?” I asked stupidly.

“Why of course. I thought it was quite obvious but is that okay? I would like to court you even though we have just met and I am a bit old fashion...” I interuppted him saying,

“James I would be more than happy to court you! I have found quite an infactuation with you. I like that you are old fashion and I hope you will stay like that forever.” I said while reaching for his hand which he takes. 

“Splendid! Why I couldn’t be more pleased!” He said while rising his shoulders.

“Now, (Y/N) if you don’t mind me asking but, how did you come to be here? In Los Angeles?” He said. I slightly tensed up knowing that I would never avoid James asking this question. I assume that he saw my reaction because he started rubbing his thumb around the back of my hand. 

“Well, I originally come from (Your Home Town), and I had developed  a relationship with one of my high school classmate, (Ex’s Name). We dated for a while and it was marvelous in the beginning until he started to become very rude to everyone. Alcholism had gotten into the picture and there wasn’t a moment where he was sober. A bottle of alcohol every where. I couldn’t handle it anymore so I broke it off. We had dated for five and a half years. After I had broken up with him he started to follow me. He had broken into my apartment and tried to kill me. I was so scared to be alone. I had to move back to my childhood home with my family. I had been living there for two years until my mom said that it wasn’t healthy that I stayed inside all the time out of fear so she got me a one way ticket to Los Angeles. I went to the train station and I had sworne that I saw him there but he dissappeared after a group of people walked past. So I arrive in Los Angeles and bump into you. That is how I came to be here.” I finished looking into his sorrowful eyes. 

“My love, I am so sorry. No one should ever expierence that, ever!” James got out from his seat and walked over to mine. He pulled out my chair and engulfed me into a warm embrace. We slowly pulled apart and looked into each other’s eyes. He slowly leaned in with his eyes closed as I cleared my throat and leaned back.

“I am so sorry James. I think it is a bit early for that.” I said and looked at him as he turned his head and agreed by nodding his head yes. 

“Do you have a place to stay?” James asked sweetly.

“Yes I do. My mother sent a telegram saying that she booked my room at the hotel down the street, “Hotel Living.” A bit of an odd name but that is where I am staying.”

“Please let me walk you there and get you checked in.”

“As you wish.” He offered his arm which I gladly accepted and he pulled me extra close to him. We strided down the gloomy sidewalk again and arrived at this wonderful hotel. We walked in and James checked me in. We walked up the stairs and arrived at room 64. 

“Ah, my now new favorite number since you are staying here. I think if I ever built a hotel, I would make this room my office with all my chutes and ladders.”

“I think that would be a marvelous idea to build a hotel!”

“You do? Well than I most definetley will and I will call it the Hotel Cortez.” I laughed at his joy of just thinking about building a hotel. He chuckled as well. We eventually stopped laughing and just stared at each other. ‘

“Well I think it is time for me to retire for the night. Goodnight, Mr. ...”

“March. James Patrick March.”

“(Your Last Name). (Your Full Name).”

“Goodnight, Mr. March.” I finished from earlier.

“Goodnight, Ms. (Y/L/N).” You kissed him on the cheek and entered your hotel room.

1924

 It has been four years since I met Mr. March. We have been courting since then. It has said to me that he would like to build a hotel but doesn’t know how to recieve his wealth. Here James is pacing in his apartment with me sitting on the couch trying to calm him down. 

“Darling you have to calm down! You need to realize that this money won’t just come straight from the sky! To make that much money it takes time. I am sure if you just continue on the track you are on you will be there in less than five years.” I said with a force in my voice while James will still pacing.

“BUT THAT IS JUST TOO LONG TO WAIT! I NEED THIS MONEY IN LESS THAN FIVE YEARS! I NEED THIS HOTEL TO BE UP IN 1927!” James shouted making me jump a little bit at his sudden madness. 

“Well that isn’t going to happen! What are you going to do? Murder the newly found billionaire Colin Acker?”

“That is not a bad idea darling.”

“WHAT?! You can’t murder someone JAmes just because he has something you desire!” I said being mad as all heck.

“Darling but this is the only way that I will be happy. This is the only way to make you happy. I want to build this hotel for you.”

I get up from the couch and walk towards him. I bring my arms up and put them around his neck. James put his hands on my waist and places his forehead on mine. I take my hands and pick up his head so he looks at me.

“I approve of you doing this but only if you leave no evidence. I don’t want you to be going off to jail just to get the chair, okay?”

“Yes my love.” He leaned in and our lips touched. It was sweet and passionate not like his other kisses which rough and angry. When we broke apart and hugged I glanced down to find a newspaper that said ‘Colin Acker In Los Angeles’. I knew that this was the last place he was ever going to visit. 

A Few Days Later

                    Headlines were everywhere. ‘Colin Acker Commits Suicude After Family Outbreak’, ’Los Angeles Man, James March Claims Newly Found Wealth.’ James did a very good job at hiding the evidence of his murder. He did an even better job at making sure he got his four billion dollars. After he ‘recieved’ his money he immediatley called a building company and gave him his blueprints he had drawn a while back. ‘New Hotel Being Built By James Patrick March’ the newspapers all say. You were caught in the crossfire and often spent your days alone, with James working on building the hotel and all. 

1927

          The Hotel Cortez is finally finished being built. Tonight James is holding a private party. It is supposed to start very late in the night. 

“Darling, what are you wearing for tonights party?” James asked.

“I think that I will be wearing the white dress that you picked out for me, is that alright?”

“Perfectly fine darling! I think you will look quite ravishing in that dress!” James said as he pulled me from the waist closer to him. He starts kissing me as soon as possible. The kisses are rough and passionate. 

“Love, we aren’t even married yet. We may be engagaed but I don’t think I like this.”

“Alright, I will try again after the party!” James kissed your cheek and left the room, leaving you to change. I change into my white dress and looked in the mirror. 

I had finished changing and decided to call James on the phone to tell him he could come up. He came as soon as possible and opened the door. He stopped in the doorway and his jaw dropped. I walked over to him and closed his mouth.

“You are going to start catching flies if you leave that open any longer.” I pecked him on the lips.

“Well are you ready to greet the guests at our party?”

“Why of course Mr. March.” James and I walk down the stairs to the hotel room with his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. Miss Evers, the maid that we hired, introuduced us to the party while lively jazz music is playing. James and I reach a table and he picks up a glass and taps his spoon against it to get everyone’s attention.

“I’d like to welcome you all to the opening week of the Hotel Cortez!” James says as he moves back and forth. I can tell that he is nervous so I peck him on the cheek, “A shame we all can’t enjoy these libations in my new Blue Parrot Lounge, but until someone with some sense repeals that nasty Volstead Act, both I and Mr. Capone will have to make due.” James finishes his speech and turns sideways towards me and opens the bottle of champagne that ends up sprouting and going anywhere. Everyone applaudes. He decides to try to sip as much as he could but ending up failing majorly. 

This nice celebration was interrupted by a server coming in and holding up a newspaper and saying,

“He’s dead! Valentino’s dead!”

Everyone stops and looks at this man. The whole night is filled with distraught. There were some sobbing from the young ladies who were attracted to him. Basically the whole night was a bust. It ended a lot earlier than it was supposed to. When everyone left James took my arm and rushed me back to our room 64, his office. 

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT THIS MANS DEATH RUINED THE WHOLE ATMOSPHERE OF THIS PARTY!!!” James screamed.

“James you need to calm down. Don’t let this little incovenience ruin our whole night.” I said trying to soothe him. I walked over to him after locking the door and stood infront of him just staring. He pulled me close and we shared a passionate kiss. I broke apart and said

“I’m going to go get changed James okay? Then we will go to bed.” I walked to the closet and got my evening clothes on and walked back to where James had changed out of his tuxedo and laid in his shirt and shorts. I pulled the covers back and climbed into bed. I put my head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. 

“I love you (Y/N) so very much. I want to get married tomorrow in the lobby.” Shock filled my face now realizing what he just said and I opened my eyes and leaned on my elbow. 

“Are you serious James?”

“Of course I am love.” I leaned down and kissed him. 

“Then let’s get married tomorrow but only just us and the staff. I don’t want a huge wedding. Just us.”

“As always my darling.” James kisses my head and we shortly fall asleep. 

The Next Day 

It was the day that I was to become Mrs. James March. I couldn’t be any happier than now. Just to think that this whole relationship started just because I was clumsy. I feel like I am in a dream but I pinch myself and it’s real. I wake up to no James because he can’t see me today at all. I get up from the bed and go to take a shower. After twenty minutes of being in the shower a knock at the door alerts me. I wrap my robe around my body and answer the door. To my surprise it is Ms. Evers with my wedding dress. How could she know?

“Hello Ms. Evers, it has seem like you have come at the right time.”

“Yes well it is your wedding day and I wouldn’t like to see you late considering it is ten o’clock and the wedding begins at eleven. Mr. March also required me to help you put on your dress and a cosmetics lady is coming to assist you with making you as beautiful as ever but that will be difficult. You are a very beautiful lady.”

“Why thank you Ms. Evers for everything.”

“Yes of course now let me help you get into this beautiful dress Mr. March personally picked out.” I opened it and was met with a beautiful white plain gown.

“Oh my! This is quite beautiful! This must have cost a fortune!”

“I am sure it did, but Mr. March requires the best for his lover.” We walked to the closet area and I stepped into the dress while Ms. Evers zipped it up. I gazed in awe into the mirror. I looked beautiful. A couple minutes pass and the ladies who came to do my make up come in and start working right away.  

I open my eyes and look into the mirror and smile. I looked beautiful and I couldn’t be more than happy that I was now finally marrying my sweetheart. It was time so I walked through the hallway to get to the elevator. Once I stepped in it started to go down to the lobby. I could see through the glass and I saw James in a top hat and a tuxedo waiting for me with the priest. I got out of the elevator and the organ started to play and I walked down the lobby on the white carpet that was over the red carpet. When I came near James he held out his white-gloved hand for mine and I took his hand. 

After the wedding was over with, since I don’t really remember it except for the end, James carried me bridal style up to the elevator and continued until we were in our room 64. He placed me on the bed and crawled on top of me kissing me. I kissed him back and the night was of full bliss. 

I don’t know what the future hold but I hope it is good for James and I. I love him and I will spend forever with him no matter what.

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 7

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here. Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have any feedback on that or any other issues, let me know.                                                         ***

R1203- Courtney.

east side, 1 bdr.

     Life was weird.  How could it not be?  I think the weirdest thing was the normalcy of it.  There was some uncanny shit going on, and I could lose everything and go to jail any minute of any given day, but it was so domestic.  That’s the word for it - domestic.

     When I was working, it was all about work.  Home life was an afterthought.  But without that, I was able to become a domestic goddess.  I was taking care of myself, I was taking care of other people.  And I was taking care of any business that came along - making sure people got to appointments with social services, got the clothing and food they needed.

     Getting outside yourself can feel very nice.  Work could do the trick, in theory, but in practice it was abusive and soul-draining.  Directly helping people I know was so much better.

     But something about the building was just uncomfortable.  It had seemed so antiseptic and anodyne at first, like rows of harmless little seafoam green aquaria for human goldfish.  Glass cubes for the young millennium.  Now, the lines weren’t so straight.  The building twitched and groaned and rattled.  It had to be the wind, the traffic.  The construction cheaper than it first had seemed.

     I drank the last of the beer I’d gotten out of Grime, and sat on the couch staring at some internet TV, hoping to get tired enough to sleep.  The room was intermittently vibrating like the world’s biggest bass string and I was ignoring that like a pro.

     There was a pinkish hue to the light that I was also ignoring.  The beer film left in my mouth was yeasty and disgusting, but in a tolerable low key and distracting way.  TV cops tried to look clever, and I hung on their words.  They were small on the laptop’s screen, like little doll men.

     A few hours in, the vibration overtook them.  I flopped off the couch onto the floor.  Everything was going wild, like a poltergeist attack or earthquake.  The timing was the same though, just the severity of the vibration was more severe.

     They came in twos.  The second wave after I hit the floor ended in a very strange sound, like the world’s largest champagne bottle opening in slow motion, followed by and grinding collapse.  I could feel my ears trying to pop from pressure.

     I grabbed the coffee table and righted myself, looking around for the source of that sound.  What happened?  Why did I feel like I was still moving?  Then another set of waves came in.

     The table worked its way across the floor a few inches, like a cellphone with the ringtone off, dragging me with it.  The sound happened again, but less powerful, like the pressure had been released on the first one, and now whatever was just warping loudly - like when sound effects artists used sheet metal for thunder.

     I saw it then, and the second vibration confirmed it.  The window had come loose at the base.  It was still moored at the sides and the top, but the bottom of the window - low enough it was nearly at the level of the carpet - was bowing out, open to the air outside.

     I clung to the table, not knowing what else to do, waiting for anything to happen.  Within a few minutes the vibration waves slowed and weakened, until they were similar to how they’d been all day.  Maybe the pressure release helped.  But one thing was different.

     I stood up feebly and walked closer to the window.  I stopped several feet away.  It was hard to tell in the low light of the apartment at night, but it looked like the bottom left corner of the window was still warped, open a few inches.  I could feel a bitterly cold breeze coming from it.

     Turn around, get away.  I went to my bedroom and jumped in bed, bunching blankets around me for sensory deprivation.  It didn’t work.  The interior of the apartment had an ambient noise before, low electric and vague susurrus of water pipes.  Now that was drowned out by wind, and city sounds from outside.

     I hated it.  If I was living there legally, I could get the building to repair, rebuild, get me into another apartment until this one was right again.  But somehow, I had the feeling that if I was legal, this wouldn’t be happening.  The cause and effect didn’t make sense, but the feeling was real and heavy as lead.

     I threw my blankets aside and got up in a hurry putting on a bathrobe and slippers, grabbing my keys and heading out of the apartment.

                                                        ***

R1208- Leimomi.

west side, 1 bdr.

     Across the hall from my apartment, the closest to mine besides 1207 was Momi's at 1208.  The lights in the hall seemed pinkish and malfunctioning, like they were projecting a vague static from inside their orbs.  I went quickly to her door and knocked.

     She took a moment to come to the door, but opened it quickly.  “Courtney, hi.  You… want to, uh…?”

     “Come in?  Yeah, if it isn’t too late.”

     “Did you want to get drunk again?”

     I didn’t like the idea, that I was some kind of sad weirdo who invites myself to get drunk at other people’s apartments.  But if the shoe fits…  “I didn’t bring any tonight.”  She walked out to her living room and sat down on the couch.  I followed with tentative steps.  The ambiance in there didn’t seem as corrupt, but I was off balance for some reason. I sat down a few feet away from her, slouching.  Maybe I was drunk.

     “Oh, I just didn’t want to be alone right now.  How are you?”

     Momi picked up a blanket and pulled it over herself.  Beneath that she was just in a t-shirt and underwear.  We needed to get her some pajamas, or a robe.  “I’m OK.  What’s going on with you?”

     I was struck by her cuteness.  I loved the way her thick eyebrows were quick to turn up in the middle, looking sad or confused even when she was feeling less keyed up.  “It’s just been… a rough day.”  I needed to lie to her and myself about this.  “Or maybe I’m already drunk and was just feeling sad.”

     Her legs were making a tent of the blanket on the couch between us, but it flattened out as she reached out to me with her feet.  They settled on my thigh, only a little cold, in thick socks.  “Aww, are you stressing too much?”

     “I am.”  Because this is all about the stress of the situation, nothing to do with the building falling apart around me.  I put a hand on one of her ankles, and tried to convince myself some more.  “Patrick is too busy at work to take care of Perry, even with the hours he gets back from not having to commute.  So I’ve been checking in on him at regular times, right?”

     “I remember that.”  The blanket covered her legs but wasn’t long enough to reach higher.  She pulled the collar of her t-shirt over her mouth and crossed her arms.

     “It’s not off to a great start.  He doesn’t like me at all.  I wish we could get that dude some hobbies or something.  Even getting the TV set up would help a lot.”

     “I never had my own TV before.  Sounds nice.”

     “Aw, baby.  We have to get you things, so many things.”  I closed my eyes and lolled my head back.

     “It’s OK, I don’t need anything.”

     I looked at her like, are you for real?  “You don’t even have a bathrobe or pajamas to keep you warm around the house.  Or slippers.  Unacceptable!”  I wagged a finger at her.

     The collar slipped off her face as she smiled.  “Heehee, I dunno.  I’m OK with the blanket.  It’s nice.”

     “Not enough.  Pajamas and slippers and a TV.”

     I looked out over the room.  She had some noise playing - a crappy radio station coming out of a clock radio near the window.  She still had small piles of random shit in odd places, not taking ownership of the environment.  Disappointing.  One chair was occupied by her old coat, an opened pack of disposable razors, a single shoe, and an unopened package of extra maxi pads.  The coffee table was littered with the detritus of meals - silverware and plates disposable and otherwise, food stained styrofoam and cardboard and paper boxes.

     “Hey,” I said, “If you want I could pick up for you around here.  I know it’s hard to keep up the will to do that every day.  I have a little time to kill.”

     “No, no.”  She put her hands up around her neck.  “It’s not your responsibility.  You’re not my mom.”

     “Why not?  I could be your mom.”

     She shook her head.  “No, my mom was bad and mean.  You can’t be my mom.”

     “Not everything has to be like the worst version of itself.  If somebody has a crappy car, it doesn’t mean that every other car is crappy.  So, Mama Courtney - doing it right.”  I rubbed her leg.  “Why not?”

This time she put up her hands in protest.  “No, no!  You can’t be my mom.  It’s just creepy.”

     “Why is it creepy for me to be a mom?”  I was genuinely offended, if just a little.

     “Not that, you just can’t be my mom.  Because we’re… like this, like… friends.”  She tried to explain with her hands, but it didn’t help.  Looked like she was doing a hand jive that ended with her hands clasped together around an invisible moth.

     “I guess I can accept that.”  I waved it off.

     “We are friends, right?”  There was a tone in her voice that alarmed me and I looked back to her face.  Again with the raised brows of sadness and confusion.  The vulnerability made it more sad than cute this time.

     “Yeah, honey.  I didn’t mean anything by that stuff.”  I rubbed her calf gently again.  The radio bargled out the same shitty song that was playing when I first came in the room.  “...I kinda wanna put on better tunes, but I don’t wanna go back to my place yet.”

     “You can change the station if you want.”

     “Really?  I will.”  I got up and went to that corner.

     By the big window, I could sense the vibrations thrumming through the pane.  It turned into an unpleasant static in my skull so I did my best to focus.  Twist the knob.  Commercials, barely perceptible fuzz stations, commercials, and then… Some saccharine pap channel for the office crowd - music fit for a Walgreens.  But at least the channel had fewer commercial breaks and less repetition.  Celine’s version of “All Coming Back to Me Now” was just past the crescendo and winding down to the end.

     I came back to Momi and she took her feet off the couch so we could sit closer together.  I obliged, sitting close enough we both just had elbow room.  “It’s the played-out love song channel, hope you don’t mind.”

     “I don’t mind.”  She smiled sweetly.  “Do you wanna share the blanket?”

     “Huh?  Naw.  My legs are fine.  It’s more like, just my fingers and face that are cold.”

     “So put your fingers and face under the blanket.”  She threw it up over me like a human-catching net on Planet of the Apes.

     “Agh!  Ambush!  Treachery!”  I pushed the tangles of fabric around and soon she was under there with me.  Both of us had our legs hanging out though.  “Great, now your legs are cold.”  I poked her in the arm.

     “It’s OK.  I like to have my face covered.”  She did, but it was getting a bit much for me.  The trapped breath was oxygen poor and moisture rich, even within a few moments.

     “Why do you like it?”  I had taken my contacts out and she was a fuzzy warm cartoon of herself.

     “Do you ever feel like you’re being watched here?”

     “Oh god, why did you have to say that?  I know we aren’t, but of course it can feel like that, and now I’m gonna feel like that too.”

     “No, oh, Courtney, I’m sorry.”  She took my shoulders in her hands, held me close.  It was even muggier and hotter than before.

     “I know, it’s just…  Can we..?”  I pulled the top of the blanket down.  “Hoo, I couldn’t breathe in there.”

     “Ee, do I smell bad again?” She checked herself out in fear, sniffing at her t-shirt.

     “No, oh why can’t we talk to each other tonight without misunderstandings?  Literally all I meant is that I couldn’t breathe.” My eyes rolled around and came back.  I put an arm around her shoulder.  “You’re clean and smell just fine, and you’re cute and you’re doing good, OK?  And we’re going to be OK, and there’s nothing wrong with what’s going on right now.  And we’re not being watched, I promise.”

     “How can you know?”

     “Easy, because if we were, they’d have kicked us out by now.”

     She was quiet a moment.  “Alright.  OK, I’m sorry.”

     “While I’m making sure we’re all good, no misunderstandings, let me also add that you have nothing to be sorry about, and maybe I don’t have anything to be sorry about, and maybe--”

     She kissed me on the cheek.  I had been flopping my head around like a melodramatic muppet, but she arrested it just like that.  She was so warm and nice on my cheek.  I turned, feeling her cheek with mine.  Then suddenly, she pulled her head back and sucked in her lips all frightened.

     “Are you OK, Momi?”  I didn’t know what to do with my face and could feel it doing all kinds of strange things.

     “Was that OK?”  She didn’t know if she should move back on the couch, but clearly was not comfortable with the moment she’d created.

     “I don’t know, you’re so young, and were just in a bad relationship, and I’m so much more experienced I’m like an old ho, and like..” I shook my head.  “Is it OK?”

     She looked around, as if expecting an NSA agent to be standing behind her in stern judgment, then looked back.  “I’m not that young, god.  Is it OK if I want to kiss you?”

     “Mmm,” I looked around, head reeling, trying to calm my nerves, ride the wave.  Life is like surfing, which is something I’ve never done and will never do, but still.  You have to take opportunities or you can lose them forever.  I could feel the sexiness draining from the situation by the nanosecond.  Did I want to be prudent, or have awesome makeouts with a beautiful lady?

     Like surfing, you pick which way you’ll move in a flash of a moment, and hope it goes well.  I kissed her on the lips.

     Grime was a very sexy dude with his manly way and gently firm moves, but Momi was really beautiful, in the way that sneaks up on you.  She looked like any normal person, like your cousin or your bank teller or the pizza delivery driver.  But you get to know her and it comes over you in bits and pieces.  As the stress of living for an abuser evaporated, her smile was easy and adorable, lips full and wonderfully sculpted.

     Her eyes were black as wet ink, perfectly catching any light to shine with emotion.  The shape of her eyes and brows was sensitive and rich.  The second word there, rich, what do I mean by that?  Full of meaning, maybe, heavy with a powerful depth of feeling.

     Her wide nose was the perfect bow on her wide body, which is something I didn’t know I was really into until I was really into it.  Every part of her soft or strong, bigger than me, holding me by the arms, making me feel small but safe.

     And the most magical part was her hair, massy and shining and black as hell, soft, silky, just all over the place.  Ann Wilson called from 1985 to register a complaint of jealousy.  I remember liking the girls from Heart a lot when I was a child, especially Ann.  Now I got to live part of that fantasy, in a different but completely perfect way.

     Well, it wasn’t completely perfect - nothing is.  But we kissed.  I kissed her, she kissed me.  There’s always an awkward shuffling of limbs in that.  Making out in a sensory deprivation tank, that would be cool.  Or a swimming pool.

     So, imperfect tangle of limbs happened, but it was worth the struggle.  At first we were side by side, bodies twisted to face each other.  I was more flexible so I had to twist more, which wasn’t comfortable, but her strong arms holding me helped.  I did everything I knew how to do, moving tongues, nibbling lips, sucking face, feeling out how she preferred it.  That’s medium pressure, shallow tongue, rare nibbles, lots of caressing my face, neck, and arms, which I returned with zeal.  I had to push her hair back sometimes to keep it from getting in our mouths, which was fun - I loved an excuse to touch it.

     She pushed let me go to catch her breath, but left one loving arm around my shoulders.  I kissed her on it and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.  Let this dream be a good one.

     “You drank a lot of beer, huh?”

     “Heh, um, yeah, I guess I did.”

     “Courtney, is it OK if I say..?”  Her voice went too small to hear.

     In the silence, I could hear our breathing, feel the vibrations still running through the building, and hear Richard Marx singing “Angelia.”  I didn’t like much of that, but I had to think about how to handle the question.

     “Depends on… how important that is to you, like, if the word is out there, do you feel trapped by it?  I don’t want you trapped by me.  Not now, crap.”  I looked at my hands.  “Maybe it’s too late.  I could get you thrown in prison.”

     She grabbed one of my wrists and stared me down.  “If I go to jail it’s because I did it.  The thing I wanted to do.”

     “OK, I believe you.”  I loved her with my body right then, but my mind was locked on thinking of her as someone in my care, someone I needed to protect and help.  I had no idea what I was going to say or do.  I hoped my confused look wouldn’t make her feel sad.  I couldn’t stand that thought.

     Her big dark eyes searched me and she asked, “Can I say it?”

     My eyes burst with tears and I covered my face.  After a few ragged gasps, I managed to tamp down the hyperventilation.  “Don’t.”

     She was crying then, but didn’t go away.  She let go of my wrist and held me with both arms.  “Why not?  Do you..?” She broke up into sobs.

     I let go of myself and returned her hug, squeezed her tight with my bony old arms.  “I can’t hurt you, I care about you too much, and I don’t… I don’t know if we can… I don’t know if it’ll be wrong, be a bad idea.”

     We cried and held each other for a good long time, and I realized this was the second time we’d done that.  What was wrong with me?  How did that come to define my relationship with this beautiful lady?

     It seemed to go on for half of forever.  When her breathing calmed down, she turned away, put her hands on the edge of the couch and looked at her knees, at the mess of blanket on the floor.

     “Courtney, I don’t know what I was cryin’ about.  You’re smart and that was real nice.  I’m so stupid.”

     That was a huge relief.  I wrapped my arms around her again.  “No way, you’re smart.  Feelings got nothing to do with brains anyway, you gotta be true to yourself.  Hey.  I care about you too much, so much it kills me to see you sad.  I’m dyin’ here.”

     “Stupid.”

     “Maybe I am, shit.  Just, maybe we don’t kiss again until we know what we’re doing here, have an idea what’s going to happen.  Patrick had a good idea and maybe I can try to do it too.  He was like, ‘I’m just gonna do this until I have enough money to move somewhere legal.’  And I’m like, duh, that’s what I should be doing.  He has a job, I should just get a job again and save up, right?”

     She looked at me, cute despite her eyes being a puffed red mess, face wet.  “Where would-- Could I--?”

     “I’m taking you with me, wherever I go.”  I looked to the window, to our blurry reflections floating like sad ghosts fifteen feet out in the night sky.  “Shit, maybe it’s time for us to move the fuck out of Seattle.  Kiss Walter and this bullshit economy goodbye.”

     “Ew, I don’t wanna hafta kiss Walter.”

     “It’s an expression, baby.”

     “I know, but it’s too gross now.”

     I smiled too broadly and she smiled too.  “Yeah.  Sorry about that.”

     The devil spoke to me, and I added, “One more kiss until then?”

     She didn’t know what to do but moved her lips a little.  I swooped in like a succubus and gave her a fiery dramatic kiss.  No tongue, high pressure, arms holding her as strongly as I could.  I had to touch that hair again, pushing it aside, stroking her neck and cheek, then letting her go, one little light peck on the way back.  “Anybody could love you, Momi.”

     “Oh man,” she smiled and looked at me sideways, “You’re evil.”

                                                        ***

     Read the next chapter here.

[auskultu]

9 HURT, 38 ARRESTED AS HIPPIES CLASH WITH POLICE

By Sylvan Fox, The New York Times, 31 May 1967

About 200 youths described as hippies clashed with the police in a Lower East Side park yesterday after they were ordered to stop playing bongo drums and reciting a Buddhist love chant. The youths shouted "Hell!" and "Fascist!" at the police, and formed a human chain that was shattered with night-sticks. Two of the youths and seven policemen were reported to have been injured as the youths met the nightstick attack by biting, kicking, firing Roman candles and throwing some rocks, A total of 38 youths were arrested after being picked up and dragged or carried on stretchers to waiting patrol wagons that took them to the East Fifth Street station house. About 2,000 spectators who had gathered in Tompkins Square Park watched the brawl, and many wept as the battle grew more intense.

It was about 4:30 P.M. when a Park Department employee went to the East Fifth Street station house to report that the youths were creating a disturbance by playing bongo drums and chanting "Hare Krishna," a Buddhist love chant. The youths had gone to the park for a day of art shows and concerts put on by the New East Village Area and Steps for Community, a. group of "hippie businessmen" who operate art galleries, coffee houses and specialty shops in the neighborhood.

The Park Department issued a permit on May 4 to the group for use of the park by 6,000 people from 11 A.M. to 11 P.M. yesterday. The permit restricted the group to the park's band shell area and did not include the use of the grassy areas of the park, which is bounded by Avenues A and B and by East Seventh and East Tenth Streets.

The commanding officer of the Ninth Precinct sent a sergeant and a patrolman to the park to order the youths to stop the bongo playing and chanting. Patrolman John Rodd, one of those sent to the park, said he had seen about 20 men and women sitting on a patch of grass playing bongos and singing. When he and the sergeant ordered them to leave, he said, "they laughed at us."

"That's when it started," he added.

Scuffle Begins A call for reinforcements was sent out and three sergeants and 15 patrolmen were dispatched. When they arrived, they said, there were about 200 persons on the grass. The youths sat down and locked arms the police said.

More reinforcements were summoned, and this time 35 radio cars and 70 policemen joined the force already in the park, bringing the total to almost 100 policemen. The police began picking the youths up and carrying them to a paddy wagon, at the same time separating them from the crowd of bystanders. "Where Is this happening?" one man shouted. "This is America. Everything is free."

According to witnesses, a policeman tried to seize the shouting man, and a scuffle started. Some witnesses said the policeman had been dragged into the crowd by the youths and had fallen on top of the shouting man. Other witnesses said the policeman had rushed into the crowd to attempt to seize the man, later identified as Frank Wise, 36 years old, of 701 East Ninth Street.

"We were just sitting around after it started when a cop dove on hint and hit him, knocking him around," said David Brahinsky, 22, of 185 East Third Street, a friend of Mr. Wise. Mr. Wise, his face covered with caked blood and his head bandaged by policemen, was taken to Bellevue Hospital after appearing at the police station, as was Anthony Distasi, 20 of 65 Second Avenue, whose head also was injured, Feeling among the bystanders appeared divided. Some booed the police, while others told reporters:

"We never had anything like this before." "These people are taking over the place."

As the battle raged, some bystanders rushed into the fray shouting. "What are you doing?" at the policemen. One bystander, Peter Warfield, a 22-year-old City College student who was on his way to a friend's house, said "you could hear hollow knocks" as the policemen swung their nightsticks.

Other Cheek Turned While some of the youths were being dragged off, several women in the crowd chanted and yelled at the policemen: "You know we love you."

"We were just sitting in the park grooving on the sunshine and having a good time," said Raena Love, 21, of 533 East 11th Street, who said she had been in the circle of youths with her "almost 2-year-old son, Earle."

Patrick Murphy, 22, of 316 East Eighth Street, sat cross-legged on the floor of the police station with his elbows raised and his arms parallel to the ground, his fingers tautly out-stretched and trembling. Periodically, he would shout "Fascists" at the policemen, and exclaim: "Why don't you take out your clubs and beat me to death?"

As the prisoners were taken into the crowded police station, those who had preceded them cheered and shouted greetings.

A crowd that reached about 1,000 at its peak gathered outside the East Fifth Street station house shouting, "Let them go, let them go" as the prisoners were brought out to be taken to Criminal Court at 100 Centre Street.

The charges Included felonious assault, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest and violation of Park Department regulations. At the courthouse later, about 100 hippies crowded into the second-floor corridor outside Part I-A, where the prisoners were being arraigned. The hippies sat on the floor playing temple bells and tambourines and chanting the "Hare Krishna" until they were threatened with eviction unless they quieted down.

Another group of hippies marched outside the courthouse chanting "Police brutality must go" and "Flower power, not Fascist power."

Inside, 28 men and 10 women appeared before Criminal Court Judge Vincent P. Rao. Five men were held in $1.000 bail each and one was held in $500 bail.. The rest were released without bail for a hearing June 6.

Mr. Wise was remanded to jail when he refused to let the police fingerprint him. He was ordered brought to court Thursday for a hearing.

After the brawl had ended, a small group of hippies remained in Tompkins Square Park along with the normal complement of older, more sedate park habitues.

"They'll have to have thousands of cops this summer if they're going to try to keep us off the grass," said Burton Greene, a composer who lives in the neighborhood.

Hippies are generally young people who have rejected middle-class standards and mores in favor of what they consider a freer, more spontaneous life. They live in areas such as the East Village and the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco.

They are, in many ways, the successors to the beatniks of the 1950's, who make loud proclamations of love for everyone. The word hippies derives from hip, which in turn came from the jazz word hep, meaning in step with the newest ways of living.

Chief Inspector Sanford D. Carelik and Wilbert A. Tatum, director of community relations for the Buildings Department, who was night Mayor yesterday, went to the scene of the brawl and later to the police station, where they reported several times by telephone to Mayor Lindsay.

Mr. Tatum placed the blame for the eruption of violence on "an uninformed, employee of the Parks Department" and "the deployment of a great number of policemen which resulted in the creation of an unwarranted incident over such a little matter as playing bongo drums and singing in the park on a sunny day."

[whereareroo]

WHERE WERE YOU ON NOV. 22, 1963

WF THOUGHTS (2/24/17). During my lifetime, there have been millions of murders in the world. Nonetheless, it is very easy to identify the single murder that was most consequential and most controversial. JFK was assassinated in Dallas on November 22, 1963. Everybody knows the story, and everybody knows about the investigations that continued until 1988. This is our first trip to the Dallas area, and I insisted that we go see Dealey Plaza, the "Grassy Knoll," and the infamous Texas School Book Depository. That's what we did today. With my own eyes, I wanted to see the angle and the distance of the shot that killed JFK. I've read books about the assassination. I've seen pictures, and videos. Despite that information, I've never been able to understand the angle or the distance of the deadly shot. The angle and distance are important. Over the years, many of the conspiracy theorists have argued that the shot was very difficult. They doubted that Oswald, a mediocre marksman, could have made such a difficult shot. The angle and distance of the shot were central factors in the theories that suggested an overall conspiracy and/or multiple shooters. Today, the School Book Depository contains a museum about the assassination. There are hundreds of exhibits. Wouldn't you think they'd tell you the distance of the shot? They don't. Why the mystery? Let's move away from the distance for a moment, and move to the angle of the shot. I started my research out in the street. On the street, there is an "X" that marks the spot of JFK's car when he was hit with the fatal shot. I knelt down on that spot and looked up towards the window that Oswald shot from. I studied the angle. Then, I went up into the museum and stood at the window one floor above the window that Oswald shot from. The actual window, a floor below, is now blocked by plexiglass walls. From my spot, 10 feet above Oswald's spot, but essentially at the same angle, I could look down at the "X" on the street. My conclusion? This would be the perfect angle to shoot down at that "X." I don't know why anybody would ever suggest that the angle would make the shot difficult. Now, back to the distance. I have concluded that the distance was only about 200 feet. Maybe 60 or 65 yards. How did I reach that conclusion without direct guidance from any exhibit? I used my brain. For its investigation, the FBI built a "scale model" of the entire assassination scene. The model is on exhibit. As part of the model, the FBI ran 3 little threads from the window to the limousine. Each thread represents a shot fired by Oswald. Thankfully, the scale model had a "scale." Every .25 inch represents 1 foot. The "thread" that represents the fatal shot appears to be 4 feet long. I rounded up to 50 inches. In 50 inches, there are 200 quarter inches. Thus, per the FBI and my expert analysis, the fatal shot covered a distance of 200 feet. Why couldn't they just say that? How far does 200 feet look from the window? Not very far at all. It looks like a pretty easy shot to me, even if the target is moving at 5 MPH (which was the verified speed of the motorcade at that location). Thus, my conclusion is that the shot was not difficult. I can't understand what all the talk was about for so many years. If you stand at the window, and look down at the "X," it is obvious that it is an easy shot. If you're ever in the Dallas area, make sure you visit Dealey Plaza and the museum at the Texas School Book Depository. American history, and perhaps world history, was changed by two shots fires at that location (one shot missed everything). You can stand on history. The museum is first class. I've now stood at the spot where JFK died. In Memphis, I've also stood about 8 feet (which is as close as you can get) from where MLK was shot. At each spot, I was overwhelmed by sadness. It's frequently fun to touch history. Sometimes it isn't fun. I can't possibly tell you everything that I saw at the museum. Here are a few things that I found particularly interesting. In 1963, it wasn't a federal crime to kill the president. It was just a regular murder. The matter was supposed to be handled by the state and local officials. When JFK was pronounced dead at the hospital, the Secret Service wanted to get Lyndon Johnson out of Dallas immediately. The security people didn't understand what was happening, and they were fearful that shooters might be after LBJ too. They wanted to get LBJ to the White House. LBJ wouldn't leave without Jackie. He wasn't going to leave her alone in Dallas. Jackie wouldn't leave without JFK's body. The local authorities, the people in charge of the situation under the law, wouldn't release the body. They wanted to do an autopsy, and to collect other evidence for their investigation. There was an impasse. JFK's staff resolved the impasse by taking the body without permission. In short, they stole JFK's body and everybody went to the White House. We all remember that the assassination was on November 22, 1963. In late August of 1963, Jackie and JFK were blessed with a son, Patrick. Sadly, Patrick only lived a few days. Jackie fell into a depression. The Texas trip was Jackie's first public appearance after Patrick's death. When the shots rang out, a cop on the street below saw pigeons fly off the roof of the School Book Depository. He also saw an open window on the 6th floor. He ran into the building, and bumped into the man in charge of the building. Together, they ran up the stairs towards the 6th floor. On the way, they bumped into Lee Harvey Oswald. It was about 3 minutes after the shooting. The building manager explained that Oswald was an employee in the building, which was true. They let Oswald go, and they continued to climb the stairs. Oswald escaped. Thankfully, he was caught about an hour later. A day or so after the assassination, Oswald was set to be transferred from the Dallas jail to the county jail. For reasons that I don't understand, a crowd of citizens and reporters were in the building as Oswald was walked through the hallways towards the transport vehicle. We all know that Jack Ruby, the owner of a Dallas strip joint, shot and killed Oswald during the transfer. I never knew that Ruby was ultimately defended by a very famous lawyer. Melvin Belli defended Jack Ruby, and he argued that Ruby was insane. Ruby was convicted. Belli was fired. Ruby's new lawyers got Ruby's conviction overturned, and one of their successful claims was that Belli was a bad lawyer. Ruby died of cancer, in jail, while awaiting his second trial. Well, that's all I have to report from Dealey Plaza. More soon.

[whereareroo]

WHERE WERE YOU ON NOV. 22, 1963

WF THOUGHTS (2/24/17). During my lifetime, there have been millions of murders in the world. Nonetheless, it is very easy to identify the single murder that was most consequential and most controversial. JFK was assassinated in Dallas on November 22, 1963. Everybody knows the story, and everybody knows about the investigations that continued until 1988. This is our first trip to the Dallas area, and I insisted that we go see Dealey Plaza, the "Grassy Knoll," and the infamous Texas School Book Depository. That's what we did today. With my own eyes, I wanted to see the angle and the distance of the shot that killed JFK. I've read books about the assassination. I've seen pictures, and videos. Despite that information, I've never been able to understand the angle or the distance of the deadly shot. The angle and distance are important. Over the years, many of the conspiracy theorists have argued that the shot was very difficult. They doubted that Oswald, a mediocre marksman, could have made such a difficult shot. The angle and distance of the shot were central factors in the theories that suggested an overall conspiracy and/or multiple shooters. Today, the School Book Depository contains a museum about the assassination. There are hundreds of exhibits. Wouldn't you think they'd tell you the distance of the shot? They don't. Why the mystery? Let's move away from the distance for a moment, and move to the angle of the shot. I started my research out in the street. On the street, there is an "X" that marks the spot of JFK's car when he was hit with the fatal shot. I knelt down on that spot and looked up towards the window that Oswald shot from. I studied the angle. Then, I went up into the museum and stood at the window one floor above the window that Oswald shot from. The actual window, a floor below, is now blocked by plexiglass walls. From my spot, 10 feet above Oswald's spot, but essentially at the same angle, I could look down at the "X" on the street. My conclusion? This would be the perfect angle to shoot down at that "X." I don't know why anybody would ever suggest that the angle would make the shot difficult. Now, back to the distance. I have concluded that the distance was only about 200 feet. Maybe 60 or 65 yards. How did I reach that conclusion without direct guidance from any exhibit? I used my brain. For its investigation, the FBI built a "scale model" of the entire assassination scene. The model is on exhibit. As part of the model, the FBI ran 3 little threads from the window to the limousine. Each thread represents a shot fired by Oswald. Thankfully, the scale model had a "scale." Every .25 inch represents 1 foot. The "thread" that represents the fatal shot appears to be 4 feet long. I rounded up to 50 inches. In 50 inches, there are 200 quarter inches. Thus, per the FBI and my expert analysis, the fatal shot covered a distance of 200 feet. Why couldn't they just say that? How far does 200 feet look from the window? Not very far at all. It looks like a pretty easy shot to me, even if the target is moving at 5 MPH (which was the verified speed of the motorcade at that location). Thus, my conclusion is that the shot was not difficult. I can't understand what all the talk was about for so many years. If you stand at the window, and look down at the "X," it is obvious that it is an easy shot. If you're ever in the Dallas area, make sure you visit Dealey Plaza and the museum at the Texas School Book Depository. American history, and perhaps world history, was changed by two shots fires at that location (one shot missed everything). You can stand on history. The museum is first class. I've now stood at the spot where JFK died. In Memphis, I've also stood about 8 feet (which is as close as you can get) from where MLK was shot. At each spot, I was overwhelmed by sadness. It's frequently fun to touch history. Sometimes it isn't fun. I can't possibly tell you everything that I saw at the museum. Here are a few things that I found particularly interesting. In 1963, it wasn't a federal crime to kill the president. It was just a regular murder. The matter was supposed to be handled by the state and local officials. When JFK was pronounced dead at the hospital, the Secret Service wanted to get Lyndon Johnson out of Dallas immediately. The security people didn't understand what was happening, and they were fearful that shooters might be after LBJ too. They wanted to get LBJ to the White House. LBJ wouldn't leave without Jackie. He wasn't going to leave her alone in Dallas. Jackie wouldn't leave without JFK's body. The local authorities, the people in charge of the situation under the law, wouldn't release the body. They wanted to do an autopsy, and to collect other evidence for their investigation. There was an impasse. JFK's staff resolved the impasse by taking the body without permission. In short, they stole JFK's body and everybody went to the White House. We all remember that the assassination was on November 22, 1963. In late August of 1963, Jackie and JFK were blessed with a son, Patrick. Sadly, Patrick only lived a few days. Jackie fell into a depression. The Texas trip was Jackie's first public appearance after Patrick's death. When the shots rang out, a cop on the street below saw pigeons fly off the roof of the School Book Depository. He also saw an open window on the 6th floor. He ran into the building, and bumped into the man in charge of the building. Together, they ran up the stairs towards the 6th floor. On the way, they bumped into Lee Harvey Oswald. It was about 3 minutes after the shooting. The building manager explained that Oswald was an employee in the building, which was true. They let Oswald go, and they continued to climb the stairs. Oswald escaped. Thankfully, he was caught about an hour later. A day or so after the assassination, Oswald was set to be transferred from the Dallas jail to the county jail. For reasons that I don't understand, a crowd of citizens and reporters were in the building as Oswald was walked through the hallways towards the transport vehicle. We all know that Jack Ruby, the owner of a Dallas strip joint, shot and killed Oswald during the transfer. I never knew that Ruby was ultimately defended by a very famous lawyer. Melvin Belli defended Jack Ruby, and he argued that Ruby was insane. Ruby was convicted. Belli was fired. Ruby's new lawyers got Ruby's conviction overturned, and one of their successful claims was that Belli was a bad lawyer. Ruby died of cancer, in jail, while awaiting his second trial. Well, that's all I have to report from Dealey Plaza. More soon.