Read Episode 2 of my Cleopatra’s Perfume Prequel: Eve discovers the sublime delights of paddling.

I just put up Episode 2:  Eve discovers the sublime delights of paddling in my ongoing series:

 

 

 

The Berlin Sex Diary of Lady Eve Marlowe

Check it out!

Best,

Jina 
 

Red "Carneval" Mask like the one Eve wears that night in the Berlin hotel room

The Berlin Sex Diary of Lady Eve Marlowe

She came to Berlin with a show in 1928 looking for love and adventure. 

 

She found a city bathed in lust and sex.   

 

Here in her own words are sensual and erotic accounts of her adventures during that time before “Cleopatra’s Perfume“ takes place.

 

Episode 1: Eve meets a monocled gentleman with a secret fetish.

Cleopatra’s Perfume Review from Harriet Klausner

Cleopatra's Perfume by Jina Bacarr

CLEOPATRA’S PERFUME

Jina Bacarr
Harlequin Spice, Apr 2009, $13.95
9780373605309

---

In 1939 affluent Lady Eve Marlowe, following the death of her spouse in Cairo, rejects widows clothing. Instead she comes to London to enjoy sexual escapades that she obtains at the wealthiest clubs. However, Eve admits that American pilot Chuck Dawn is the best lover she ever had though she expects to be bored with him soon. Due to an incident involving crazed hardened Nazis, Chuck and Eve are separated.

Chuck wants to see his English lady soonest especially after the near lethal encounter in 1941 just outside Berlin, and reading her journal that he possesses only adds to his need for her. Following her trail, he goes after the woman he madly adores even as he knows she is wearing the ultimate enticer CLEOPATRA’S PERFUME.

This is a wild fun erotic historical romance that brings a unique perspective to WWII. Chuck is a brave aviator, but this heated war drama is owned by the audacious heroine as she brings danger and humor to the bedroom and a several other locales. Fans will relish the misadventures of Lady Eve as uses CLEOPATRA’S PERFUME to entice war secrets from the Nazis in Cairo, Berlin and London, and to lure her American flyer into her honey.

Harriet Klausner

Romancing the OC: April 11, 2009 Audio Podcast

Are you a member of RWA  (Romance Writers of America)?  It’s a fabulous organization for published and pre-prepublished writers.

 I belong to the Orange County, California chapter: OCCRWA and every month I do an audio podcast of our upcoming meeting. 

Jina Bacarr

 

Check out the audio podcast I recorded for the April 11, 2009 meeting of OCC/RWA, Romancing the OC:

 Jina’s Audio Podcast for April 2009

 

I hope you enjoy it.

Best,

Jina

 

Cleopatra’s Perfume: Twittering like it’s 1939

I love to Twitter.  It’s fun, quick, witty, informative and oriented to the happenings of the day.  So, I thought, why not Twitter about my new Spice release, Cleopatra’s Perfume? 

What’s it about? you ask, anticipating aromatic Tweets.

To quote several book sites: “As the world teeters on the brink of war in 1939, the privileged classes pursue the delights of the flesh in exclusive clubs. Lady Eve Marlowe possesses a treasure–an elixir of ancient origin with a power so great it sweeps her into a dangerous erotic game.”

 

 It was a different world back then before cell phones, the Internet–and Twitter.  What if I Twittered about what life was like when Cleopatra’s Perfume takes place (from the 1930s through the early 1940s) so that you, the reader, could get a better understanding of the world my heroine, Lady Eve Marlowe, lived in?
 

Think of it as a Twitter time machine…and you’re at the controls.

 

Best,

Jina

 

 Here are Tweets from 1939 when Cleopatra’s Perfume takes place:

 

 –You can buy a new 1939 Dodge sedan for $815–no GPS system or air bags back then, but a spare tire and bumpers were included and something new: safety glass.  Dodge was a sponsor of the Major Bowes Original Amateur Hour–the American Idol of its time. 

 

 –Give your dry, lifeless skin a boost with Palmolive soap made with palm and olive oils.  No surprise here since it says so in the name, though ads at the time claimed olive oil was the secret ingredient.

 

 –Make your teeth shine with Calox Powder–yes, powder, not toothpaste.  I call this early teeth whiteners.  FYI, the first toothpaste came in a jar in the 1870s, but the familiar toothpaste tube didn’t make the scene until 1892.

 –Try a new method of sanitary protection: Tampax.  This was a innovation that gave women the freedom, according to the ad, to wear sheer evening gowns without detection.  A month’s supply, a box containing 10 Tampax, costs 35 cents.   

–Write your next novel on a portable Smith & Corona typewriter with back spacer–Swinging Shift–84 characters for only $29.75.  The typewriter weighs only nine pounds.  Best feature about this typewriter: no Spam email to distract you!

 

Cleopatra’s Perfume 4 star review from Romantic Times Magazine

Cleopatra’s Perfume has received 4 stars from Romantic Times Magazine! 

Very exciting. 

 I so enjoyed writing this story about a woman looking for love in a time filled with danger and intrigue…3 men…3 loves…3 obsessions.

Best, Jina

  

 CLEOPATRA’S PERFUME
by Jina Bacarr

  

---

RT Rating:
Category: EROTICA
Publisher: SPICE
Published: April 2009
Type: Erotica Fiction

This story has plenty going for it — exotic locales, unique characters, humor and lots of deliciously hot sex. It’s interesting and fun … not a bad combination.

Summary: When a ruse involving illicit sex, an exit visa and a slightly perverse Nazi officer goes awry, American pilot Chuck Dawn and Lady Eve Marlowe are separated — and Chuck wonders if he’ll ever see the mysterious Englishwoman again. Reading her journal, which details her exploits sexual and otherwise, Chuck finds that he wants to. Even after learning her secrets, ones which could impact any hope of a future together, Chuck can’t forget what he experienced in her arms — and not just because Eve may actually wear Cleopatra’s perfume. (SPICE, Apr., 416 pp., $13.95)

—Catherine Witmer

 

 

The Lady Eve and the fortune teller

I’ve been working on a video for my new Spice release, Cleopatra’s Perfume, about a titled Englishwoman who has an insatiable appetite for sexual adventure in 1939 Europe.  What pictures could I use to evoke her story? I wondered, which takes place in that time when the world was teetering on the brink of war, but the Lady Eve doesn’t see it coming.

 

She’s unbelievably rich, beautiful and lonely…

 

I put together this collage of items belonging to her as she begins her journey in the duty-free port of Port Said, a city in Egypt which “harbors a white slave trade flourishing in its hidden places, bars, and houses where young girls languish and perish under the thumbs of men.”

 

Collage of items belonging to Lady Eve Marlowe

It all begins in a seedy bar when Lady Eve has her fortune told:

 “You will meet a man within a fortnight,” he insisted, “and his fire will peel the skin from your bones, making you lose all control–”

 

            I pulled my hand away.  “Sounds unpleasant.”  I tried to keep my voice steady, not let him see how his prediction affected me, nurtured the elusive dream I craved, but even as I said the words, my lower belly ached and {edited for explicit content}

 

            The fortune teller continued, “With him you will find immortality.” 

I pondered this, though not for long.  Immortality?  What nonsense.  What near eastern alchemy he was peddling I could only guess.  I doubted I could find a man to fulfill the incompleteness haunting me since my husband’s death and assuage my hunger for the pleasures long denied to me.  Still–

               “Where will I meet this man?” I had to ask, wanting to believe I could escape my loneliness through this pre-destined encounter.  I held my hands together in my lap to stop them from shaking.  If I found such a man in Port Said and found sexual pleasure with him, that would mean I’d crossed the line into another world.  I couldn’t go back.  I sensed I was at a dangerous impasse by snubbing the staid world of British royals, forcing me to face what I thought I’d left behind: My taste for the sweetest of tortures.  I’ll not regale you, dear reader, with details.  They will come later.” –from Chapter 2, Cleopatra’s Perfume

 

So begins the Lady Eve’s journey that will take her to Cairo, London then Berlin in the spring of 1941…

 

Best,

 

Jina

What if the WWII film “Casablanca” was erotic?

"One whiff and every man was her slave."

The awards season is in full swing with the Academy Awards looming on February 22, 2009.  This year’s candidates include several World War II flicks, including Valkyrie, The Reader, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas,  Australia, Good and Defiance.

All these films deal with that epic fight in their own way, but who can forget Casablanca?  Bogie, Ingrid and the crowd sweating out the war in Rick’s Cafe.  The classic black and white film was ready for release in November 1942 when the timing couldn’t be better.  According to news reports at that time, ”Yanks Invade North Africa: Landings on Two Coasts.”

  

But what if the film Casablanca was erotic? I thought.  That tantalizing idea set into motion the idea for Cleopatra’s Perfume.

     

Cleopatra’s Perfume takes place in that same part of the world when the heroine of my upcoming Spice release goes on a journey of self-discovery in Egypt that explores a different side of the war: sexy, intriguing…and a mysterious ancient scent. 

Here is a preview of the back cover copy for Cleopatra’s Perfume:

   

Europe 1939

The world may be teetering on the brink of war,
but that’s no reason for the privileged classes
to deny themselves the satisfaction of their deepest
lusts.  In exotic and exclusive clubs, they pursue the
delights of the flesh with little thought to the world
crumbling around them.

Eve Marlowe has everything she needs to lead
the most decadent of lives: money, nobility, nerve…
and an insatiable appetite for sexual adventure. 
She also has a singular treasure: a fragrance of
ancient origin said to have been prepared for the
Queen of Kings herself.  Seductive, irresistible, even
mystical–it’s the scent of pure sensuality.

The power of this elixir is such that it sweeps
Lady Marlowe into a game much more dangerous
than those she played in the darkened rooms of kinky
bars.  As the Nazis devour Europe and North Africa,
she embarks on a fevered journey with sizzling
stops in Cairo, London, Berlin–each city filled
with new perils and pleasures for one anointed
with pure lust.

 

“The Christmas Piano Tree” Video: Scenes from Jina’s one-act play

Can you feel the excitement in the air?  Everyone is waiting for Santa to arrive…I’ve got a plate of Christmas cookies and milk all ready for him. 

While you’re waiting for Santa or after you’ve opened your presents, I hope you enjoy my video with scenes from my one-act play, “The Christmas Piano Tree.”   [see my previous posts for the backstory of my play] 

We’re expecting a big rainstorm here in SoCal and in most parts of the U.S. snow is on the ground, but we’re all comfy in our homes this Christmas Eve.  But what about the homeless?  Or neighbors about to lose their homes?  In these difficult times, now is the time to reach out and help those not so fortunate. 

Perhaps you know someone like Mrs. Baxter, the widow lady in my play, “The Christmas Piano Tree,” who is being evicted, or a teen in need of help and understanding like Rachel, the girl with pink hair.  Donate  food or a helping hand to someone in need this Christmas.   You’ll be glad you did.

And now here are scenes  from my play, “The Christmas Piano Tree,” starring Janice Johnson and Jamie Weiss and directed by Billy Hale.

“The Christmas Piano Tree” is the story of a lonely widow who loses her faith and rediscovers it through the magic of an old piano and a girl with pink hair.  My one-act play was first presented at the Malibu Stage Company Theatre in Malibu, CA.

Merry Christmas!!

Best,

Jina

www.jinabacarr.com

[Jina's note: The video is an abbreviated version of my one-act play with stills I shot from the stage version.  If you'd like to read the entire one-act play, please go to my previous post for the complete manuscript.  Thank you!]

“The Christmas Piano Tree” a play in one-act by Jina Bacarr

 

“The Christmas Piano Tree” by Jina Bacarr was first presented at the Malibu Stage Company Theatre in Malibu, CA on November 21, 2002. 

   

 

          

            THE CHRISTMAS PIANO TREE

 

SETTING:    SETTING:

       

A quaint farmhouse furnished with two chairs, a rotary phone, a small radio, a lamp, and an old piano.  A photo of a young couple sits on top of the piano.  Moving boxes, including an open box with Christmas tree tinsel and Christmas lights hanging out of it, sit on the floor.  We hear Christmas music on the small radio. 

 

           

AT RISE:                 

                     

 

MRS. BAXTER, 60s, is on the telephone.  She’s waving around   an orange “eviction notice” as she talks on the phone.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (into phone)

But you can’t evict me, Mr. Grasso.  As soon as I sell the piano, I’ll have your rent money. 

            (She tears up the eviction

            notice.)

Please, it’s Christmas Eve…I bet you’d throw your own mother out into the street if she couldn’t pay the rent…you did? 

            (The line goes dead.  She

            bangs on the phone.)

Mr. Grasso…Mr. Grasso…damn, the phone line’s out again.  (She puts down the phone.)

I hate Christmas music.

            (She flips off the radio,

            and picks up the photo

            of the young couple.)

It’s all your fault, Frank Baxter, for dying and leaving me all alone, you old codger –

 

            (There is a LOUD KNOCK on the

            front door, startling her.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (excited)

Someone’s come to buy the piano. 

 

            (She opens the door and sees

            a girl with pink hair standing

            in the doorway.  RACHEL, 17, is

            wearing an overcoat and waving a

            cell phone at MRS. BAXTER.)

 

                        RACHEL

It’s dead. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

What are you all dressed up for?  A date with the Grinch? 

           

                        RACHEL (agitated)

My cell phone.  It’s dead.  Can I use your phone?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (indignant)

You can not.  I don’t know you. 

 

                        RACHEL

I don’t know you either.   

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Look, I’m busy.  So if you’re not here to buy the piano, go away.

                                                   

Please, I just want to make a phone call.  I’m not going to steal anything, honest.

           

                        MRS. BAXTER

Even if I wanted to help you, which I don’t, my damn phone line went out again.

 

                        RACHEL (desperate)

Are you sure?  Can you try it again?  Please.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I’m old, but I’m not hard of hearing –

            (She picks up the phone,

            hears a dial tone and –)

It’s working.

 

                        RACHEL

Now can I come in?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

No.  It’s too late.

 

                        RACHEL

It’s only ten o’clock.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Why aren’t you home with your family on Christmas Eve instead of bothering me with your silly games?

 

                        RACHEL

            (Not answering her.) 

Will you let me come in, lady?  Please.  It’s cold out here.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

It’s colder in here.  There’s no heat.  Thanks to Mr. Grasso.

           

                        RACHEL

            (pushing her way inside)

Please, lady, Luke is waiting for me at the motel.  If I don’t call him back, he’s…he’s gonna leave without me.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (sarcastic)

Who is Luke?

 

                        RACHEL

He’s my boyfriend.  He loves me.  Haven’t you ever been in love?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Humph…love is for dreamers.  It only leads to pain in the end.       

 

                        RACHEL   

Man, I feel sorry for your husband. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

            (She fights to keep control

            of her emotions.)

You should.  He’s dead.  He died a few weeks ago.

 

                        RACHEL (embarrassed)

Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.

            (shivering)

You’re right, it is cold in here.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER  

Will you quit bothering me?  I’m in no mood to listen to your true confession stories.

 

            (MRS. BAXTER pushes her out the

            door, but RACHEL pops her head

            back in through the door before

            MRS. BAXTER closes it.)                

 

                        RACHEL

You gotta help me.  You see, God…yeah, God directed me to your house.  

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

God?  I don’t believe you.  You knocked on my door because it’s the only house with the light on.

 

                        RACHEL

No, honest.  God told me you’d help me.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Well, God was wrong.  I’m not on speaking terms with God, seeing how He abandoned me.

 

                        RACHEL (shocked)

He would never do that. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

This God did.  Where is He when you need Him?  When I need him?  Out saving important people like politicians and movie stars, not little people like me. 

 

                        RACHEL

Are you in trouble?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (frustrated)

Trouble?  I’m getting evicted on Christmas morning because I can’t pay the rent. 

 

                        RACHEL

That sucks.  But God will help you if you ask Him.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

He’s not an equal opportunity God.  He doesn’t help old ladies with overdrawn bank accounts.

 

                        RACHEL

I asked God for help and He sent me Luke.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I asked God to send someone to buy this old piano and He sends me a lovesick kid with pink hair.

 

                        RACHEL

Geez, lady, I’m not bad.  I read the Bible.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

And I watch MTV.  Good night –

           

            (She starts to usher

            RACHEL toward the door.)

                       

                        RACHEL (quoting from memory)

“Ask and you shall receive, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be open, for everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”  Matthew, Chapter 7: Verse 7,8, New Testament.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

How does a girl like you know the Bible?

 

                        RACHEL

My daddy was a preacher man, always quoting the scriptures to me.      

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (softening)

Really?  My Frank used to read the Bible.  I guess anyone who knows the Bible is entitled to one phone call.

 

                        RACHEL

Thanks.  Where’s your phone?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Not so fast.  I’ll dial the number for you and give Luke your message. 

 

                        RACHEL (panicking)

No, please, let me call him.  If Luke doesn’t recognize my voice, he’ll think it’s a trick.  He’ll hang up and I’ll just die.

           

            (She puts her hand over her

            stomach and fights back pain. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

What’s wrong?

 

                        RACHEL (trying to smile)

Cramps, I guess.            

           

                        MRS. BAXTER

Well, don’t just stand there like a department store dummy. Sit down.

 

                        RACHEL

Thanks, lady.  You’re cool.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I have a name.  It’s Mrs. Baxter.

                                 

                        RACHEL

Yeah, sure, Mrs. Baxter.

            (pause) 

Can’t I call you by your first name?  Down at the detention center –

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Ah, ha, that explains the pink hair.  What have they got you in there for?  Drugs?  Stealing?  Or just a bad hair job? 

 

                        RACHEL (ignoring her comment)

I always call the counselors by their first names.  Everybody does.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Is that so?  When I was growing up in the Bronx, we didn’t think adults even had first names.  It’s Mrs. Baxter to you. 

 

                        RACHEL

Yeah, sure, Mrs. Baxter.  Now can I use the phone?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Not so fast.  I think I’m entitled to know your name if you’re using my phone.

 

                        RACHEL

It’s, uh, Rachel.  Yeah, Rachel.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

The phone’s over there…Rachel.

 

            (MRS. BAXTER points to an

            old‑fashioned, peeling beige     

            rotary phone, sitting on the

            piano bench.)

 

                        RACHEL

Your phone’s all weird‑looking.  It must be totally

old.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Frank didn’t fancy getting a new one after Julie died. 

 

            (RACHEL puts down her cell phone

            and picks up the old rotary

            phone.)

 

                        RACHEL

            (Not paying attention to her.)

How do you punch in digits on this old thing?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

You don’t.  You dial them.

 

                        RACHEL (not understanding)

Huh?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (sighing)

What’s the number?

 

                        RACHEL

Four-four-four-two-one-two-one.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

            (Dialing, then:)

It’s ringing, but no one is picking it up.

            (RACHEL opens her coat.  She’s

            pregnant — very pregnant.)

Good grief, child, you’re pregnant!

 

                        RACHEL

So, what if I am?  It’s none of your business. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I bet Luke is the father.  That doesn’t surprise me.       

            (Pause.)

It’s still ringing.

           

           

                        RACHEL

Listen, Mrs. Baxter, I’m sorry about your

husband dying and all, but I don’t want to hear

no lecture.  Luke loves me.  He’s gonna be totally

happy about the baby.

            (Not too convincing.)

Totally happy.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

            (Listening on the phone.

Luke’s not answering.  I can’t tie up my phone.  I’m hanging up.

 

            (She hangs up the phone.)

 

                        RACHEL (frantic)

No, please!  You gotta keep trying!       

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

All right.  Don’t get so excited, especially in your condition.                         

            (Looking at her closely.)

How far along are you?

 

                        RACHEL

I don’t know.  At first, I thought I was just gaining weight since I was never regular anyway, especially when I was getting high –

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Doing what?

 

                        RACHEL

I used to shoot crystal meth. 

            (She indicates shooting a

            needle in her arm.)

Anyway, I didn’t even know I was having a baby until a few weeks ago. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

That’s not a basketball you’re carrying around.

 

                        RACHEL

Tonight I started getting awful pains and I got totally scared, so I called Luke on my cell phone and left him a message —

 

            (MRS. BAXTER picks up RACHEL’S

            cell phone and looks at it.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Your cell phone?  It says here: “Property of the Mary Huber Center for Wayward Girls –”           

 

                        RACHEL

Okay, so I borrowed the cell phone.  I’ll take it back.  Honest.  Please try calling Luke again.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Only if you promise to return the phone.

 

                        RACHEL

I promise.  Okay?

 

            (MRS. BAXTER picks up

            the phone.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I’ll call the detention center to make sure you do.  Of course, I’ll be calling from a pay booth tomorrow seeing how I’ll be out on the streets in the morning –

 

                        RACHEL

Please, Mrs. Baxter, just make the freaking phone call!

 

            (She dials the number.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

It’s ringing…

            (Into phone.)

Wagon Wheels Motel?  Hold, please.

 

            (She gives RACHEL the phone.)

 

                        RACHEL (into phone)

Hello, is Luke Johnson there? 

            (Pause.) 

Yeah, sure, I’ll wait.

            (Cupping the mouthpiece.)

The motel manager said he always knows when Luke’s in

town because the switchboard lights up like crazy.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (rolling her eyes)

That doesn’t surprise me. 

 

                        RACHEL

Luke’s a big businessman.  He’s got lots of clients at the motel.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I suppose he sells vacuum cleaners.

 

                        RACHEL (into phone)

Luke, hi, it’s Rachel…yeah, that Rachel…Sure, my hair’s still pink…yeah, I called you earlier…Luke, I need your help. Can you pick me up tonight, please?…Cool. 

            (Looking at MRS. BAXTER)

What’s your address?

                        MRS. BAXTER

Fifty-three Overbrook Lane.  It’s about half a mile past the abandoned mill.

 

                        RACHEL (into phone)

Fifty-three Overbrook Lane…yeah, it’s past the old mill. Yeah, I’ll wait here for you.

            (Pause.)

I dig you, too, baby…you know I do, but –

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (impatiently)

Hang up the phone. 

 

                        RACHEL

            (To MRS. BAXTER)

Just a sec, okay?

            (Into phone.)

Luke, please, I know we ain’t seen each other for awhile, but I can’t make love to you tonight –

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (more impatient)

First, pink hair, now sex over the phone.  Hang up.  Someone may be trying to call me about the piano –

 

                        RACHEL (distraught to MRS. BAXTER)

Please, Mrs. Baxter, you don’t understand —

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

It’s your boyfriend who doesn’t understand.

            (She grabs the phone. 

            Into phone.)

Listen, Luke, if that’s your name, your little girlfriend here is about to have a baby in my living room if you don’t get over here — fast. 

 

                        RACHEL (frantic)

Please, Mrs. Baxter, give me the phone so I can explain –

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (into phone)

No, I am not the counselor at the detention center.

 

            (She hands to the phone to RACHEL.)

                            

                        MRS. BAXTER

He wants to talk to you.

 

                        RACHEL (into phone)

Yeah, Luke, it’s true…yeah, I’m sure it’s your kid.  Isn’t that cool?…Luke…Luke?

            (Hanging up the phone.)

Your phone line went out again, but Luke’s on his way. 

            (She gets a painful contraction.)

Ooohhh…that hurts something awful.

           

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (thinking)

How close are your pains?

 

                        RACHEL

About every twenty minutes.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

You’re going into labor.  I’m calling 911 –

 

                        RACHEL (protesting)

No, don’t call the police.  Please. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Why not?  They’ll help you.

 

                        RACHEL

No, they won’t.  They’re going to take my baby away from me and put me back in the detention center and I’ll never see Luke again.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

            (She picks up the phone.)

Forget him.  You’ve got to think about your baby.

            (Listening.)

Damn, the phone line’s out again.    

            (She slams down the phone.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (cont’d) (loudly)

God, why did You do this to me?  First, You take my Frank, then You get me evicted, now You send me a knocked-up kid about to have a baby in my living room.  What did I do to deserve this?

 

                        RACHEL

I thought you weren’t talking to God.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I’m not.  I’m yelling at Him.

 

                        RACHEL 

My mother used to yell at God, especially when she was drinking.  This one time she got so mad she threw an empty bottle at God and hit me instead.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (shocked)

Where was your father?

 

                        RACHEL

Who knows?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I thought you said he was a man of the cloth.

 

 

                        RACHEL (embarrassed)

I lied.  I just said that so you’d let me in.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

God didn’t send you to my house, did He?

 

                        RACHEL

No, He didn’t, Mrs. Baxter.

           

                        MRS. BAXTER

Then you lied about reading the Bible?

 

                        RACHEL       

No, I didn’t.  Honest.  When you’re all messed up on speed, you stay up for days.  Since the TVs hardly ever work in the motel, I started memorizing the Bible.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

You amaze me, Rachel…if that is your name.

 

                        RACHEL (insisting)

Yes, it is my name –

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I don’t believe you, but it doesn’t matter.  As soon as your boyfriend gets here, I want you out of my life. 

 

                        RACHEL

That’s what my mother used to say before she ran off with a guy and left me in the motel a few weeks ago.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

That explains Luke.

 

                        RACHEL

I don’t know what I woulda done without him.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

You wouldn’t be pregnant.

 

                        RACHEL

Funny, Mrs. B.  You sure know how to twist stuff around. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

It won’t be so funny if you end up having your baby in this cold house. 

 

                        RACHEL

I don’t think it would be so bad, seeing how this is Christmas Eve and the Baby Jesus was born on this night.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER  

What does that have to do with you having a baby?

 

                        RACHEL

It makes me feel closer to God, knowing that Him and my kid will have the same birthday.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

You talk as though God were your best friend.  After everything that’s happened to you, how can you still have faith in Him?

 

                        RACHEL

Why shouldn’t I?  He sent me a baby of my very own.  Now I’ll have a real family.  Me and my baby…and Luke.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

You really want this baby, don’t you?

 

                        RACHEL

More than anything in the world.  Then I won’t be lonely anymore.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Lonely?  What do you know about loneliness?  You’re young. Wait until you’re old like me.  I’ve lost everything. 

 

                        RACHEL

I never had nothing to lose.  Living in motels my whole life, never having enough food to eat, moving from place to place just ahead of the local sheriff – 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Quit your crying.  You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Look at me.  I’m all alone.

            (Pause.)

I hate Frank for leaving me.

 

                        RACHEL

I hated my mother after she left me.  Just like you hate that Frank’s not here with you.  I think that’s why you’re mad at God.  The Bible says –

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (losing it)

I don’t care what the Bible says.  I’ve lost my Frank and tomorrow I’m getting evicted.  If you weren’t about to have a baby, I’d…I’d –

 

                        RACHEL

You’d do what, Mrs. B?  Throw me out?  Well, I don’t need your pity.  I’ll wait outside.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (relenting)

No, don’t go, child.  I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight. 

 

                        RACHEL

I think I do, Mrs. B.  It’s Christmas Eve.  Everybody else is out shopping, buying presents, and decorating the Christmas Tree. 

            (She looks around.)

How come you don’t have no Christmas tree?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I don’t have anything to celebrate with Frank gone.

 

            (RACHEL pulls silver and green

            tinsel garland and Christmas lights

            out of the box.) 

 

                        RACHEL

Look, Mrs. B., you’ve got everything here to decorate a tree.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

If I wanted a tree, which I don’t, where would I find one this late on Christmas Eve?

 

            (She gets another contraction.)

 

                        RACHEL

Ooohhh…that one hurt bad.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Forget this nonsense about a Christmas tree and lie down –

 

                        RACHEL

No.  It helps the pain if I think of something else. 

 

            (Humming, RACHEL looks for a

            place to hang the tinsel

            garland and Christmas lights.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Where is that boyfriend of yours?  Your kid will have his first birthday before he gets here.

 

            (RACHEL holds the tinsel and the

            lights up to the piano.)

           

                        RACHEL

That’s it.  Our Christmas tree!

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I told you, I don’t want a Christmas tree.

 

                        RACHEL

You’ve already got one.

 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

What?

 

                        RACHEL

Your piano. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

You’re crazy.

 

                        RACHEL

No, I’m not.  Listen.  I saw this once on Oprah.  The piano is made out of wood, and that wood was once a tree, so why not a Christmas Piano Tree?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

No!

 

                        RACHEL

C’mon, Mrs. B., it’ll look so pretty with fancy tinsel and little Santa Clauses and statues of the Christ Child –

 

            (She sits down at the piano and

            drapes the tinsel over it.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Don’t touch that piano! 

 

                        RACHEL

Why not?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Nobody touches this piano.  It was Frank’s.  He died right where you’re sitting, playing the piano.      

 

                        RACHEL (shocked)

You’re serious?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Yes.  The doctor said his heart gave out, but I know the truth.  The music died in him the night our Julie was killed.

 

                        RACHEL

Who’s Julie?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I don’t want to talk about it.

 

                        RACHEL

Tell me, Mrs. B., please.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I said, I don’t want to talk about it, especially with a drug addict –

                        RACHEL

That’s not fair, Mrs. B.  I’ve been clean for five weeks.  Five whole weeks.  Do you know how hard it is not to use when everything around you is falling apart?  When you’re craving for it?  When you’d give anything to get high?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Then what’s stopping you?

 

                        RACHEL

My baby.  I ain’t gonna have no kid that’s addicted to drugs.  I’m trying.  But you — you’ve given up. 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (reluctantly)

I have not.  I just don’t want to remember.

           

                        RACHEL

Please, Mrs. B., I really want to know.

 

            (Pause.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (remembering)

Well, all right.  Frank was driving.  It was foggy and he couldn’t see very well.  He ran the car off the road and Julie went through the windshield.

            (Pause.)

They couldn’t save her.  Frank never got over it.

            (Pause.)

I didn’t want any more children after that.

 

                        RACHEL

Life is so weird, ain’t it, Mrs. B.? 

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Weird?  

           

                        RACHEL

You lose your kid and my mama hates the day I was born.  

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

She told you that?

 

            (RACHEL nods.)

 

                        RACHEL

It don’t matter now.  I’m gonna have my own kid and I’m gonna tell her how much I love her every single day.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Frank did, too.  At first.

 

                        RACHEL

Yeah?

            (RACHEL decorates the piano with

            Christmas ornaments and lights.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Yeah.   

 

                        RACHEL

Where’d you guys meet?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (reminiscing)

I was dancing in a show in a little theater on East 54th street –

            (MRS. BAXTER does a tap dance.)

– when I saw Frank playing the piano.  He was tapping his feet and grinning at me like a Cheshire cat in a tuxedo.

           

            (RACHEL picks up the picture of

            MRS. BAXTER.)

 

                        RACHEL (impressed)

Is this you?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Hot stuff, wasn’t I?

 

                        RACHEL

You were totally pretty.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Frank was so handsome and tall.  I used to stand on my tiptoes just so he could kiss me. 

 

                        RACHEL

Wow, that’s cool.  And Julie was your only child?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Yes.  After she died, Frank was, well, different.

 

                        RACHEL

I’d freak out if anything happened to my baby.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Frank gave up writing his music and took a job playing piano for tip money.  And that’s where his dreams stayed.  In a jar.  All pent-up inside him. 

 

                        RACHEL

That’s so sad, him not writing music.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Every once in a while he’d write a song, even sold a few, but he couldn’t stop blaming himself for Julie’s death.

 

                        RACHEL

But you had each other.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Yes.  He was a good husband, the old codger.  

            (Chokes.)

What am I going to do, Rachel?  We’ll be on the street in the morning. 

 

                        RACHEL

If you believe hard enough, Mrs. B., God will send you a miracle. 

           

            (RACHEL flips on the Christmas

            lights on the decorated piano.)

 

                        RACHEL (cont’d)

Look at our Christmas Piano Tree, Mrs. B.  Ain’t it cool?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Yes, Rachel, it is cool.  And so are you.

 

                        RACHEL

Mrs. B.?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I was wrong.  God did send you to show me what a foolish old woman I am.  Frank will never leave me.  His spirit lives on in his songs and in this old piano.

 

                        RACHEL

Right on.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

If only I didn’t have to sell it.  Frank always said that after he was gone my salvation would be in that piano.

 

                        RACHEL

Then why sell it?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

I need the rent. 

 

            (RACHEL plays a few notes

            on the piano — then she hits

            a key and it’s off, way off.)

           

                        RACHEL

Nobody’s gonna buy this.  Listen.  It don’t sound so good.

                       

                        MRS. BAXTER

That’s strange.

 

            (MRS. BAXTER lifts the top of the

            piano and pulls out a small package

            wrapped up in old paper.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER (cont’d)

Oh, dear Lord…

 

                        RACHEL

What is it, Mrs. B?

 

            (MRS. BAXTER unwraps the paper

            and sees a wad of money.)

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Hundred-dollar bills.  Lots of hundred-dollar bills –

            (She looks at the paper the

            money is wrapped in.)

– wrapped in old sheet music. 

            (She clasps the money to

            her chest.)

God bless you, Frank, you old codger.

 

            (RACHEL doubles over in pain as

            another contraction hits her so

            hard she can’t stand up.)

 

                        RACHEL

Mrs. B., something’s happening!

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Omigod, the baby’s coming.

 

            (She helps RACHEL sit down and 

            puts her coat over her.)

 

                        RACHEL (panicking)

Where’s Luke?  Where is he?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Rachel —

 

                        RACHEL

I know what you’re thinking, Mrs. B., but he’ll be here…I know he’ll be here.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Face the truth, Rachel.

 

                        RACHEL

No, I can’t…I won’t.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Luke’s not coming.

 

                        RACHEL

            (She doubles over in pain.)

No…what’s gonna happen to my baby?

           

                        MRS. BAXTER

The baby?

 

                        RACHEL

Yes.  I don’t care about me.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Well, I do. You’re no rebel.  Underneath that mop of pink hair is a scared little girl who never had a chance.  Well, I’m going to give you that chance. 

 

                        RACHEL

What?

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

First, we’ve got to get you to the hospital.  Then you and the baby will come here and live with me. 

            (Pause.)        

God, please, I hope the phone is working.

            (She picks up the phone.)

Yes!

            (She dials a number.)

 

                        RACHEL

Thanks, Mrs. B.  For everything.  Merry Christmas.

 

                        MRS. BAXTER

Merry Christmas to you, my dear child.

            (into phone)

Mr. Grasso, get over here right away.  Guess what?  I’ve got your rent money.  But first we have to get to the hospital …No, I’m not sick.  We’re going to have a baby!

           

 

Dimout.

 

THE END

                     

Copyright © 2002 by Jina Bacarr  All Rights Reserved