08.1 The Vixen

She reached East Street in the afternoon. It was kind of humid as she parked her car and stepped out to the street to take a look around. Some road builders set work by a corner. She could see four storey houses with fire escape ladders reaching the street. She glanced right up towards the sky to catch a glimpse of the thirty-five-storey building standing by the corner.

300 East 74^th Street, 16^th Floor, NY, Vixen Office; a girl at the reception offered assistance very kindly, “Let me check on the computer!” Linda or Heidelinde did not appear.

A brown girl with afro curly hair reached to lean on the counter, “What is going on here?” She was six feet tall, slim-like bones and ribbon-like moves.

“She’s looking for Linda Linz.”

“Linzy! Get the floppy disks, ’84 – ’85, she does not work with us anymore.”

Stephanie shut aghast.

“Where can I find her?” asked Natalia.

“I can find in the back issues in the microfiche,” expressed Stephanie.

“Hold on, Steph! I’ll show you,” Gina flaunted to the lobby coffee table and returned holding a tabloid with a full-length image of Linda Linz on its cover.

“Enquire!”

“That’s it, baby! She’s on every cover.”

Linda Linz looked gorgeous and shockingly hot. Toned and single, lean and skin – Lynyrd Skynyrd. “Free Bird!” Natalia muttered taken off the course, “There’s too many places I’ve got to see!” She felt hesitant to go to any of those high-class fashion bureaus.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“A contact number, I have to reach her. I’m from Teep Lab, a private investigation office in San Diego.”

“Oh! You are not from here!”

“No.”

“Is this serious?”

“It’s about a lost and found case. Some valuables belonging to her.”

“You know, they’re not going to give us a contact number but I can tell you where you can find her. Is this your first time in New York?”

“First time,” she nodded.

“Join me this evening. I’ll take you to Alejandro. He knows where she is.”

“Thanks.”

“Gina.”

“Natalia.”

Three girls in Gina’s car drove from pub to pub in Midtown drinking and dancing. Close to midnight, they came across Gina’s friend who convincingly got a link to Hurst.

He said, “She’ll be going to the festival in Corpus Christi. A beach party, to be precise, a rave. Music, techno dance, euphoria. Lucas has been there.”

“Yeah, in April,” said Lucas who was filled to the top, “They call it ‘Komos’. Takes place three times a year.”

“What does that mean?” asked Natalia.

“Komos!” Lucas shrugged, “They say it is finding the happiness you desire. Revelling and drinking. Some Greek mythology.”

“Linda is one of the organisers,” added Marcus, “She bought a house in Corpus Christi. She’s a producer, a supermodel, an entrepreneur, worth million dollars.”

Alejandro Severo sat tapping his fingers.

“When is the festival?” she asked anxiously.

“On the sixteenth.”

“What is the location?”

“National Seashore Park on Padre Island. Fifteen miles down Park Road. Do you want to go?” Lucas threw his arm around her shoulders. Alejandro got up from his seat and left them.

“Yes, I want to go. Are you going?”

“I cannot go this time. You can buy tickets at a convenient store in Padre Island or from Holiday Inn in Corpus Christi.”

“Marcus, are you going?”

“No,” said Marcus, “I have never been there.”

Alejandro entered a telephone booth and made few calls. This stocky man returned with a piece of paper in his hand, “Here’s the address of the house she bought in Corpus Christi. I could not get her number.”

“Thank you. This will do,” Natalia said delighted, “906 Maurus Circle, Corpus Christi, TX. Let me offer you a drink!”

“Let’s get some fresh air!” demanded Lucas.

Alejandro echoed, “Go! Have some fun, Nate!”

Natalia picked her coat and pocketed the note, “Some fun, duh!”

“Goodbye, baby!” cried Gina.

“Bye!”

 

In a little apartment room on third floor at Off Road Inn where she could easily jump to an alley down the fire escape, in lower Manhattan, Natalia prepared for the trip to Corpus Christi. On the way, she drove pass 8^th Avenue, not with a mind to get into those fashion offices – big names. She just wanted to have a peek.

She developed the negatives, bought accessories and more Kodachrome. Bought a bunch of fancy clothes and magazines with Linda Linz pictures in them. From an interview in Scrapbook, she read that Linda Linz became a successful businesswoman and a fashion designer.

“At first I tried hard to enter as a model without a favourable outcome. I made a trip to Turks and Caicos, some British islands in the Atlantic, did a photo shoot on the beach. I made a break. Vixen magazine finding them inspiring put me on the its cover,” Linda narrated, “Since then I’ve been in many fashion and lifestyle magazines.” Natalia heard that from Jeff Lonnell.

When asked for an advice to young girls about a career, Linda replied, “Take the risk! They roll to your feet like paper balls. Don’t kick them! Pick them! There are few choices but many chances. For those who like choices and those who like chances.” She was an opportunist.

A cockroach hit the page. She growled in a low tone and flipped away. She saw the giant insect sitting on the table with its feelers roving. She folded the magazine and brushed down the surface. The roach ducked under and flew towards her. She shrieked like a girl, “Bitch!” She did again and the roach came right at her like an ACAS – Airborne Collision Avoidance System in an aircraft; those antennas warn to dive.

“Stupid!” sobbed Natalia, “I still haven’t seen the skin of her!” She saw the roach on the fridge, “Bitch!” she hit with the magazine several times and the roach took off in flight inside the four walls of a little room. “Eek!” She covered her ears and screamed – life in New York.

She had to start early to the south to look at the venue and get oriented. And the rave was to begin in two weeks from now.

She noted a slight oversight; Justin Carmen and Jacob Lawrence – she had not collected enough materials or a photograph. She called Enrique Cavanes, Diego’s son, at Teep Lab, to obtain those company profiles. She posted the developed film cartridges to Enrique for safe keeping. She kept prints with her.

She then called Valerie, “It’s me, Natalia.”

“Who?” asked Valeria vacantly.

“Nate, Natty…”

“Excuse me!” she ran into the powder room and whispered into the mouthpiece, “I have a couple of guests checking in. Call me after five minutes.” She was keeping it underground.

Natalia fixed her layover in Charleston.

She walked to a beauty parlour in Chinatown to change her looks. It took over six hours to bleach and dye a natural black hair to a honeycomb that left her with a deep ombre of fringes of a sun-kissed look in a very first attempt.