131
Wednesday, September 22nd, 1988, 7:06 P.M.
After Gina had concluded her bout of laughter at Belinda’s expense, the time had come for our two escapees to make their final run and get the hell out of the building and past “the lunatics on the grass,” as Roger Waters would have so eloquently described it.
“Okay, where’s the exit?” asked Belinda.
“Alright, we gotta’ go down the hallway that way,” instructed Gina, pointing to the east. “Then, we zigzag past the locker room, and the exit door is at the end of the hallway.”
“What about the alarms?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, the alarms are set… So when we open up the door… they’re gonna go off,” Gina told her.
“You didn’t disarm them?” wondered Belinda.
“No, I didn’t disarm them… What do you think this is? “Mission Impossible?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t learn that from Colleen Hillenmocker back in the seventh grade,” said Belinda, facetiously, referring to Gina’s infamous childhood friend.
“Yeah.. I’m surprised about that, too,” pondered Gina. She had to think about that for a moment. “Now, remember, we’re gonna have to pass by the cafeteria… So, keep your head down… We don’t want anyone recognizing you… With any luck, they won’t look at your face.. they’ll just look at your goofy clothes.”
“Wonderful,” lamented Belinda.
“When we get outside of the door, my car is parked across the street… in Parking Lot B… It’s not too far away, but we’re gonna have to make a run for it… Can you keep up with me?” asked Gina.
In keeping up with everything she had learned from being on a sitcom for six years, Belinda looked down at Gina like she had just asked her the most ridiculous question in the world.
“Excuse me?” asked Belinda.
Gina responded in the same manner. It was almost as if they were shooting a scene from their show. Gina looked at her with a dead, serious face.
“Can you run as fast as me?” deadpanned Gina.
You could almost hear the laugh track in the background. Belinda was hysterically insulted.
“Gina… I could leave you… so far in the dust… they’d need a broom to find you.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?”
“Uh, yeah !!” expressed Belinda, like a sixteen-year-old teenager. “I used to run track in high-school.”
“Yeah, but you’re thirty years old now,” Gina informed her.
“You’re thirty-one !!!” shouted Belinda.
Gina thought about this for a couple of seconds.
“Oh, yeah… You’re right.”
Belinda rolled her eyes. Leave it to Gina to forget how old she was.
“Still… I could whoop your ass and you know it,” Gina told her.
Belinda was not being funny anymore. She folded her arms and started tapping her foot as if she were ready for a showdown.
“Oh, yeah?” … “How much?” she asked, insinuating that a wager be placed.
Gina looked at Belinda, undaunted, and folded her arms as well. She started thinking about the famous putting contests that the Go-Go’s would have on their golf course over at the mansion. She remembered what each one of them would pony-up for the jackpot.
“A thousand bucks,” proffered Gina.
Belinda didn’t hesitate. “You’re on,” she came back with.
The two of them now began to fidget nervously, not exactly sure of whom was the fastest between them. Belinda, however, rapidly came to the conclusion that it was her—
“Easiest thousand bucks I ever made,” she mumbled.
“Yeah… Dream on, honey,” Gina retorted.
After several seconds of two grown women being competitive towards one another, Belinda blurted out—
“Well… Are we gonna get the fuck outta’ here… Or are we just gonna stand here staring at each other?”
“Alright… I’m ready,” stated Gina. “Just remember… keep your head down.”
All of a sudden, as her curiosity spontaneously got the best of her, Belinda decided to ask a question that Gina had no answer for.
“Where are we going, anyway?”
Gina was thrown into silence.
“Uhh… I’m not sure about that,” she stammered.
“What do you mean, you’re not sure about that? … Don’t you have this whole thing planned-out?” asked Belinda.
“We couldn’t really come up with a definitive place on that,” answered Gina, nervously. She knew that Belinda would be angry.
“Oh, you couldn’t come up with a definitive place, could you?” mocked Belinda with a nasally voice. “You had three months to think about it, Gina… I suppose a pie-eating contest was more important than figuring out how to rescue me… Is that it?
Belinda had made a valid point and Gina was now standing there looking and feeling like a legitimate horse’s patooty.
“It’s not that easy to figure out,” said Gina. “I mean— think about it… Where should you stay? … There’s no easy solution. The cops are gonna go to all the obvious places… Let’s just get you out of here and we’ll worry about that stuff later… Okay?”
Belinda was relatively satisfied with Gina’s feeble answer to her inquiry. She curled her lips, put her hands on her hips, exhaled, and decided to let Gina off the hook. She still had one last thing to say before they took off for the exit, however.
“I have so many questions for you, Gina.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Like, why you didn’t turn Charlotte in in the first place… When you knew she was sick,” inquired Belinda.
Gina had nothing to say.