84
Wednesday, July 9th, 1986, 3:40 P.M.
Belinda burst through the front door of her Beverly Hills home and slammed the door shut behind her. For the next several seconds, she leaned up against the door and breathed heavily. A look of panic streamed across her face. She was acting exactly like someone being chased by attackers, barely making it to her house on time.
But that was not the case.
No one was chasing her. No one was following her.
Not even crazed fans.
Belinda continued with her muddled behavior. She threw her things on the floor and ran into the parlor. She flopped down on the couch and buried her face in the pillows. As her emotions would clearly demonstrate, she was lucky to be alive and all in one piece. She barely made it home from the gynecologist’s office without having some kind of a horrible car accident. Now, it was only logical that numerous thoughts burned through her mind:
“How could this have happened?” “How could I have been so careless?” “What’s going to happen to me now?” “What about the upcoming tour?” “Can I perform on stage without it hurting the fetus?” “Will I have morning sickness?”
“And what about the show?” “How will they hide my pregnancy on the show?”
All of these questions were glaringly pertinent and relevant, without mentioning the most agonizing question of them all:
Who was the father?
Was it Myles?
Or was it some dead guy buried out in Palm Springs?
“Oh, my God, what am I going to tell Myles?” Belinda thought to herself. “What if he rejects me?”
Although she sensed that Myles felt the same way about her, announcing to him that she was pregnant was slightly more than terrifying. The only comforting thought that ran through Belinda’s head was that she truly felt they were falling deeply in love with each other. They had even talked about moving in together. In other words, you might say they were mad about each other.
As Belinda continued to cry into her pillow, the doorbell to the house rang out, causing her to gasp and sit up straight in one, sudden, jerky motion. Through her confused and jumbled thoughts, she briefly imagined it to be Myles, coming to her emotional rescue.
Instead, she acted like the High Priestess of Pop.
“What the hell is that?” she asked herself. “Who the fuck is ringing my doorbell in the middle of the afternoon?”
Belinda got her chocolate-filled butt off the couch and headed for the front door. At first, she planned on opening the door outright, giving herself the pleasure of surprise. But then she made a detour to the front window to see who it was before making the commitment. She peered through the curtains—
Immediately, she spied two, well-dressed gentlemen in suits and ties, standing on her front porch. An aroma of bacon and pork filled the air.
“Omigod, they’re here!” Belinda gasped. “The cops are here! They’re coming to get me! They figured us out already. Godammit, Charlotte! You and your stupid-ass plans!! Why the hell did we ever put you in charge of anything?! Now we’re all gonna go to prison! All five of us! WE’RE GOING TO A WOMEN’S PRISON, CHARLOTTE!! THANK YOU, VERY MUCH!! — And four of us will hate that!” DAMMIT!! I knew I’d end up like Linda Blair somehow!”
Belinda managed to make her way over to the front door. She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and called out—
“Who is it?”
“Police, ma’am,” one of the voices called back.
Sure enough, Belinda’s experience with the police was verified by the announcement.
“Just a minute,” Belinda yelled out.
“Stay calm,” she told herself. “Just stay calm… If worse comes to worst, just blame it on everyone else…”
Belinda opened the door and smiled at the two officers. She assumed they knew who she was.
“Miss Carlisle?” asked the taller one.
“Yes,” answered Belinda.
“Hi.. I’m Detective Rosewood and this is Sergeant Taggart from the Beverly Hills Police Department,” he stated.
“Yes?” inquired Belinda.
“We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions?” Detective Rosewood requested.
Although Belinda tried to act as cool as possible, she could feel her knees start to buckle.
“What’s this about?’ she asked, in her raspy voice.
“It’s about a missing person…”
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Uh-oh, it looks like Belinda has gone
and gotten herself into a peck of trouble.
Not only does she have a tiny Go-Go
growing in her belly, but now she’s
getting visits from The Fuzz.
And who is the father?
Is it the dead guy… Or is it Mr. Slick
from the studio?
Tune in tomorrow afternoon for
another exciting episode of—
All My Power Chords
Weekdays on ABC !!