Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“She’s as good as gone, Leo. Don’t worry about a thing.” The tone was unmistakable—she was gloating.
Leo suddenly felt afraid. “What if he finds out that…”
Her voice cut him off. “Don’t be a fool—Franklyn is a whore, so easily bought. The Peabody Foundation is handing him two million dollars in funding for this year alone—he can’t possibly go against me. I will control the board and I will call the shots. You will be the new director of the CAC within the month.”
She paused, listening. “Yes, yes—Provocations was a success but at what cost? It was the kind of publicity the board did not need—much too edgy. All that conservative rancor—Americans are so provincial. So, no matter that it made some money—it certainly didn’t come close to two million. Of course, it helped that I was able to stir things up on the board. Don’t worry—she will be gone within the month. And you, my friend, will be the director of the CAC. Just as we have planned.”
She paced as she listened to her cohort on the other end of the line.
“Oh no, darling—that’s all taken care of as well. Do you remember that carpenter you saw—you know, that bull dyke in overalls?” Helena smiled. “Yes…she was very happy to be paid for her services—carpentry and otherwise! It’s been almost too easy. She must be very good because our nemesis is still fucking her.”
Helena thought about the scene at the Planet that Tonya had told her about—how Tina had thrown the table at Bette when she tried to go crawling back to her. No, there would be no problem wooing Ms. Kennard now. Tonya—God, what an awful woman she was! But so willing to keep her informed about Bette’s personal life—all she had to do was dangle the idea of doing publicity for the CAC in front of her face and she didn’t even have to pump her for information. She was a fount of gossip and innuendo.
Leo spoke again, testing Helena’s patience. Why were all men such wimps, she thought? But so easily manipulated. Like that small little man at that pathetic foundation that Bette’s ex volunteered at—what was his name? Oh yes, Oscar. Why was Leo worried about that little man now?
“Listen to me, Leo. I will be handing that foundation more funding than they have ever seen. Can you imagine getting excited about a hundred thousand dollars? Oscar was so shocked at the amount, he couldn’t speak.” Helena laughed at the memory. “I’ll be over there with the video crew tomorrow and will be meeting Ms. Kennard—she’s going to take me on a tour of their offices. That part of our plan won’t be difficult at all—judging by her photos, she is quite beautiful. She’ll be quite enjoyable, I’m sure.”
Helena’s laugh was feral. She continued as she paced the room of the beach house she had rented. “Poor Mother—she will be so disappointed in her protégé. Terrible isn’t it—the fall from grace. Just remember –when you arrive to meet with Franklyn you must act as if we barely know each other. We don’t want there to be any hint of collusion.”
She rang off and walked over to the open laptop on her desk. Her finger touched the screen and ran over Tina Kennard’s face, “You are quite the beauty. The best part will be seeing the look on Bette Porter’s face when she sees us together.”
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The gallery opening the previous evening was one Helena knew she had to go to—it was dreadfully boring photographs of Arab women in those awful robes they had to wear. Bette was there alone which took some of the fun out of what she had done. It was imperative that Helena had “accidentally” run into her in order to let it slip that Leo Herrera would be coming to the CAC to “help” raise funds. The look on Bette’s face was priceless and well worth gloating over but Helena managed to look surprised that Bette didn’t know.
“Surely Franklyn told you that Leo was coming to help you?”
Bette stared at her and turned away, trying desperately to maintain her dignity. Helena watched her as she walked away and once again felt a thrill that was almost sexual going through her. It had taken almost a year for her entire plan to get to this moment and all the pieces were beginning to fall into place.
It wasn’t difficult to convince her mother that she wanted a bigger role with the Peabody Foundation. Peggy was tired and interested in slowing down. Helena’s interest in actually working at something shocked her at first but Helena managed to convince her that she was serious. Once she took over the helm and became sole arbiter of where the funding would go, she knew that Bette Porter would have to come to her. All she had to do was tell Franklyn, that spineless piece of shit, that she was considering cutting back funding to the arts. His panic would send Bette to New York. Where Helena would be able to play her game with her—dangling some funding options and then cancelling their appointments. When Bette returned to Los Angeles, she wouldn’t be able to give Franklyn good news. And the plan was on.
Helena smiled at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing room. Peggy Peabody would finally stop crowing about Bette Porter—her genius, her art collection, her statuesque beauty. If Helena didn’t know her mother better, she would think that Peggy wanted to fuck Bette Porter herself. Well, all that would come to an end once and for all. Bette Porter’s life would be in ruins and Peggy Peabody would finally see her daughter as the successful woman that she was.
Helena wasn’t happy that she had to move to Los Angeles to make all this happen—New York suited her and giving up living at the brownstone on Gramercy Square wasn’t easy. But the beach house in Malibu was quite beautiful and would be the perfect venue for parties. Winnie agreed to send the children for regular visits—on pain of losing her allowance from Helena—and the weather wasn’t as bad as she had expected. She had made it a point of letting Franklyn stew for a month and then allowed him to finally entice her to dinner. He was so easy to manipulate that Helena had trouble keeping herself from laughing in his face. She made him feel as if he alone had managed to convince her to donate the two million to the CAC—she never even had to ask to sit on the board: he practically begged her to be on it. She told him how poorly Bette had represented the CAC when she came to see her New York but how now, after meeting with him, she understood so much more about what he was trying to do with the arts center.
She would have loved to see Bette’s face when Franklyn told her about the Peabody grant. But she did see her reaction the first time Helena arrived at the board meeting. She managed to act as if they were practically friends and Bette came across as boorish in her demeanor. And why not? Her life was slowly and inexorably falling apart. She looked exhausted and distracted. Provocations had just closed and, although an artistic success, the publicity wasn’t good for the CAC. They had lost funding because of it and now the Peabody Foundation, in the person of Helena Peabody, held their future in the palm of her hand. Bette’s partner had left her after finding out about her affair; her friends had avoided her for weeks; she spent her nights drinking herself into oblivion. The downward spiral was sending her out of control.