Killing Monica

“Are you ready?” Judy asked. A section of the billboard dropped down in front, opening Monica’s mouth to reveal the stage. Pandy felt a gust of wind, and then it grew into a wave of approval from the audience below.

“In any case, it doesn’t matter,” SondraBeth hissed. “When I realized you were Pandy, I knew it was over. Still, we got even with Jonny. And that’s all that counts.”

“But why not just tell PP that you don’t want to play Monica anymore?” Pandy asked as someone put a microphone in her hand.

“You know why.” SondraBeth laughed harshly. “It’s in my contract. The studio can fire me, but I can’t quit. My contract with Monica is like the worst marriage ever. Monica can get rid of me anytime she likes, but I can’t leave her. Ever.”

“Welcome to the first annual Monica Shoe Unveiling!” Pandy heard the announcer’s voice boom out into the open crowd.

And then Pandy was on the stage. She took one look back at SondraBeth as she was drowned out by the shouts, whistles, and cheers from the audience below. The roar of the crowd was like an animal demanding attention.

And Pandy was happy to give it to them. Buoyed by the crowd’s rush of expectation, their desire to witness a miracle, Pandy raised one arm like the Warrior Woman herself. Holding the mike to her

lips, she screamed, “Kill Monica. Please!”

And just as promised, Monica’s leg began to rise. First the hard shiny toe, and then the cruelly curved heel, and then there it came: yards and yards of red fringe waving like triumphant streamers in the air. And as the leg rose, so, too, did Jonny. For suddenly, there he was, dangling from a harness attached to several pieces of fringe.

The crowd began to laugh. And laugh. Suddenly, Pandy was laughing, too. The leg rose up another five feet, and jerked Jonny like a puppet, his arms and legs flailing.

SondraBeth came to stand next to Pandy, and the crowd went crazy, hooting and cheering as she clapped, the microphone between her hands. Eventually, when the noise died down, she walked to the edge of the stage. Taking a wide stance in her cowboy boots, she said, “Ladies and gentlemen. Let me introduce you to Jonny Balaga. Resident scumbag!”

Deafening boos. Pink plastic champagne glasses were tossed in Jonny’s direction.

“And just to make the event even more special, this, by the way, is not Hellenor Wallis,” SondraBeth said, turning to Pandy. Raising her arms in triumph, she shouted, “This is PJ Wallis—the creator of Monica—in disguise!”

Another huge roar of approval, like the crowd was about to witness a boxing match. SondraBeth paused to let the rustling die down to a hush. She put her arm around Pandy’s shoulder. Looking out over the crowd, Pandy followed her gaze, right across the rooftops to a huge screen that had been set up to project their images.

On the screen, Pandy saw SondraBeth lift the microphone to her mouth. “My best friend PJ Wallis and I cooked up this little plot to get even with Jonny, who is Pandy’s ex-husband.”

“Ooooooh.” Wide panning shot of the vengeful crowd. Then another close-up of SondraBeth. And in her very best, naughtiest Monica voice, she said, “Because Jonny has been a very, very bad boy. Isn’t that right, Jonny?”

Spotlight on Jonny. And there he was, up on the screen, dangling like a marionette. What could he do? He waved.

“I think Pandy has some things she’d like to say to him,” SondraBeth said, her voice echoing against the tall buildings. Before Pandy could refuse, SondraBeth passed the microphone off to her and returned to stage left.

And once again, Pandy was all by herself. Staring out into the hot, salty lights.

As if in encouragement for what she was preparing to say, the leg jerked, and Jonny bounced and swung, holding on to the straps. The crowd laughed again as Pandy looked at Jonny and thought:

There’s your happy ending.

“Hey!” Jonny shouted, waving.

“Boooo!” the crowd shouted back. Pandy looked at Jonny, dangling like the fool in the failed deus ex machina, and realized that once again, Henry was right. This was all about Jonny.

And then the strangest thing happened. She looked again at Jonny and felt absolutely nothing. Like she’d never even known him. Like they’d never been married. Like he simply didn’t belong. Not in her life, anyway.

And then, like water rushing in to fill an empty space, she felt sorry for him.

She looked at SondraBeth, smiling out at the crowd, dressed in her cowgirl spangles, and felt sorry for her, too. And then, gazing across the rooftops, she caught sight of herself on-screen, and felt most of all sorry for herself.

She walked to the end of the platform and leaned over the edge, toward Jonny, the height causing her stomach to clench in terror. “The truth is, I did disguise myself as Hellenor. And I did try to kill Monica. And I did do it for revenge. On that man.”

A large burst of applause. Pandy nodded in acknowledgment. “I was weak, and I fell in love. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did. Because even though I knew better, some part of me felt that I deserved that happy ending.” She pointed to Jonny. “And for a short time, I thought I had found it. Until I realized that that man could never give it to me.”

“Boooo,” the crowd said, throwing pink plastic champagne glasses at Jonny. The leg jerked higher, and Jonny grabbed at the straps.

“And when that man didn’t give me my happy ending, I thought the right answer was revenge.”