The Life and Times of Lola Fontaine: Getttin' Back the Get Up and Go

Lola woke the next morning and dragged herself to the mirror. It had not all been a horrible dream. There on her face still sat the streaked, melted, smudged make-up from the night before, and in the mirror she could see the costume still dripping as it hung lifeless on the shower rod. She turned off the lights so her eyes would not be bombarded with the sights of the night. But with her sight gone, another sense was heightened. She could smell the smoke and beer seeping out of the costume. She could smell the remnants of the sticky, red lip sick that seemed to be destined to stain her lips forever. She could feel the grime from the polluted rain that had drenched her, and she could feel the stinging burn in each place that she had been grabbed as she stood shocked up on that stage. She grabbed the phone, trembling as she held it in her hands, she looked at he glowing numbers in the dark and heard the empty dial tone. But who could she call...she had left town forever, she could not go back, would not go back. But she had to get out of Washington Heights somehow, go some where...but where?
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Lola was jostled out of her lala land as the elevator screeched to a stop. She was staring mindlessly at the smudgy silver doors as the pleasantly, plump force that was Henrietta Flogsbottom flooded the elevator. She was mumbling something about Achilles. Was she talking about her cat or the man at the grocery store? thought Lola. She looked quizzically at Henrietta, who returned her look with and apologetic smile. Lola heard Henrietta mumble something about being in love and what a poor dear and I can’t break her heart, so I’ll just satisfy her longing with a smile. Lola was oh so confused. She had thought Achilles was a man’s name, but now Mrs. Flogsbottom was talking about some poor girl under her breath. Who in the world could that be? pondered Lola.
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Lola walked out onto the side walk. As usual...the weather was...well the weather sucked. But something brightened Lola’s day. She heard off on the distance, the slurry song of an ice cream truck. As the tasty, treasure-toting truck rolled along playing a song that sounded like a dying cat from years of use, Lola’s mouth began to water. She flagged down the truck, but it went right past her. Well that was just not nice. But she had a thought. She remember the sweet taste of the multi-colored rocket pops. Rockets, she thought...they really go places. Lola ran toward the subway station... she had an idea.

The Life and Times of Lola Fontaine: Bruises and Shattered Dreams

Lola hobbled on her broken heels down the side walk as the cold, biting rain drops stung her face, and burning tears streamed down her cheeks. Chills ran up and down her spine as the wind swirled around her bare shoulders and back. As the rain poured down, the short walk back to Washington Heights seemed to lengthen. The looming building seemed to get farther and farther away with each step Lola took. At least no one will see me cry...mother always said to never let anyone see you cry or at least that is what she probably meant when she told me to shut my face and quit all that blubbering. But it would not make any difference if she cried in Washington Heights. There was no one to see or even care for that matter. The torn, ripped feathers clung to her body, and as she walked, dragging her sequined headdress, she left a shining shimmering trail of sadness. When she got up to her apartment she looked in her makeshift vanity. Seeing the melted make up on her tear- stained face, the naked headdress, the ripped bodice, the soggy feathers, the beautiful heels, something inside Lola broke, shattered, and fell apart. She took off the dripping costume, delicately hanging her destroyed dream over her shower rod to dry. She slipped on her pajamas and dragged herself into bed where she cried herself to sleep.
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Lola found herself staring at the tattered costume that had been hanging for months on the shower rod. She could not bring herself to touch it after what had happened, so she left it hanging there limp and lifeless. The satin had been so silky, the feathers so fluffy, the sequins so shiny. Now, everything was dull and ruined just as her dreams were. She ripped the costume from the shower rod, stuffed it into a box, and jammed the box onto the tiny top shelf of her closet. She could still see a teasing yellow feather sticking out of the box, taunting her, so she slammed the door shut. Lola had to leave. The box in the closet was just like the incessant beating of a heart beneath the floor boards or a watch with no hands and a broken face continuously ticking away, reminding her of regret and disappointment. Lola closed the door to her apartment and headed towards the elevator. No one was on the elevator, just as she had expected. She felt so alone in Washington Heights, it was only appropriate that she actually was alone. As she stepped out onto the side walk she heard police sirens, and frigid sleet slapped her in the face. A strange black van rolled silently past her. "Perhaps that van could take me far away from Washington Heights. Any place would be better than here. I just don’t see how anything could be much worse. I feel so very lonely and lost," thought Lola as she stared dreamily at the mysterious van. Just then, she saw Mandi Mac exit the building with a huge, deepening welt on the cheek and bruises on her wrist. At that moment, Lola knew that life could be much worse than she could even imagine, so she turned her frown upside down and picked herself up out of the pity party she had been attending.

The Life and Times of Lola Fontaine: Up on the Bar, Down in the Dumps

Exploring her new neighborhood, Lola came across an ominous man. He was in an involved conversation with another man, with not-so-lady-like ladies hanging on his arms, eccentrically dressed: a wide brimmed hat with a feather, a gaudy, cheap suit, and a cane. The ominous man shooed the feathered-hat man and the trollops away as he caught sight of Lola’s questioning glance.
"Haven’t seen you before...that’s strange. I know everybody and everything that goes on in this city. I own this city."
"Goodness gracious," Lola thought to herself "I must be talking to the mayor or something."
" I am Dominic Roberto Machelli."
" Ooooh, what an exotic name," pondered Lola.
The trusting and naive Lola poured out her heart about why she had come to Washington Heights and how she was trying to be a showgirl.
"Well I own the bar. You can come and show anything... I mean any time you want," he said with a smirk.
Her chance meeting of Dominic Roberto Machelli had resulted in this gracious offer to "give her a shot" at being a showgirl in his bar. The oh so optimistic Lola thought a bar would be the perfect practice to prepare her for performances in the lovely lounges in Vegas, so she eagerly accepted.
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Lola’s lively prance melted into a dragging shuffling of her feet as she neared her stage. She was not feeling so good about this show any more, but Dominic had been nice enough to let her give her routine a try. The red, smokey light hid everything but the hungry, glossy, glassy glances all awaiting her show. As Viva Las Vegas began to blare though the busted bar speakers, she timidly began to strut her stuff. "Take it off" she heard. "Oh how fortunate! They must want me to take off this dreadfully heavy sequined hat." She tossed the headdress onto which she had painstakingly sewn the sequins. Then she was comfortable. She was really moving now, but the people were still telling her to remove something. Lola was very confused. As she pondered what they could possibly want her to remove, a roaming hand slid up her stocking as another one ripped her feather boa from around her neck. She swatted the hand, and fumbled as she lost her balance. What kind of place is this. She looked around for some comforting glance, but she was only met with angry clouded eyes of boozed-up men, the laughing eyes of Molina Rose, and the disappointed yet amused stare of Dominic. As she stood petrified on the stage a sneaking snake of a man had slithered behind her and began to loosen her corset. Lola ran, her costume sliding off of her as her tears rolled down her cheeks. Back in the refuge of the bar bathroom, she gathered her possessions as she tried to pull her costume and herself back together. She blew past Molina Rose and tried to hurry out past Dominic. She didn’t know what he might do to her. Too late he had already seen her try to leave. He did not move, he did not look up from trying to clean grimy glasses Lola simply heard him chuckle as she left in tears: "Hey kid for a show girl you sure didn’t show much of anything!"
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The wind blew wisps of Lola’s hair as walked toward the thrift store. She shuddered as the cool breeze sent shivers up her spine. The memory of that night in the bar haunted her. The yellow feathers, that flew as she tried to escape strangled her thoughts, the heels that she broke when running back to her lonely apartment matched her broken heart and dreams. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat and looked up at the sky for some tiny ray of sunshiny hope. Nothing. Just clouds, clouds, clouds, and cold, dreary, drippy wind. Wasn’t it ever sunny in Washington Heights? She received her answer as she entered the thrift store and saw the lackluster shoe selection. "Oh fiddle sticks...they don’t even have any heels to cheer me up. It is never sunny in Washington Heights never. This place is just not very lovely at all. Lola stood in front of the sorry excuse for shoes and shed a tear.

The Life and Times of Lola Fontaine: Cleaning Day

Lola pressed her back against the cold, hard door in the dumpy bathroom of the bar. Sliding to the floor, her face fell into her hands. What was she doing here? Not even her eternal optimism could illuminate the shadowy corners of this bar. She wanted to be a show girl, but something was just not right at all about this situation. As she sat propped against the door, it suddenly swung open with such force that Lola went toppling head over heels into the toilet. A lumbering, but exotic figure pushed into the bathroom. Her clothes were falling off of her, heavy make-up sat smudged on her glistening face, but even the make-up could not conceal the sadness and bitterness in her eyes. She smelled of cigarette smoke, the spilled beer, the wasted hope. But, this woman, this juggernaut was dripping with dollars. She did not speak, but Lola watched her form where she sat crouched beside the running toilet. The woman slipped money into an envelope labeled Molina Rose and started to remove the inches of thick make-up: circles of blush, false eyelashes, slick, red lipstick, the works. Molina Rose looked over at Lola with a look of disgust, pity, and a hint of amusement. "If you’re gonna go out there , you might as well go ahead kid. They’re good ‘n drunk now, so they’ll be um... more friendly " she smirked as she turned back to her task of removing her painted face. Lola scuffled to her feet, put on the pumps, the feathers, the sequins, stood up straight, and pranced out the door. The lovely Molina Rose said the people were friendlier now, and the oodles of money they had given her sure was nice, so the people really must not be all that bad...right?
Lola stared out the window watching the rain fall on Washington Heights. The window began to Fog up where she breathed in and out. Remembering that night at The Bar brought tears of regret to her eyes. It was a good thing it was raining, then noone would notice her tears. She watched as the people on the side walk ran for cover. Clio Ford brought in her lovely flowers and began to lock up her shop. The strange woman who owned the stuffed animal stand sat patting each animal then placing it out of reach of the rain. Opened doors of the shops began to close to keep the rain out. How unlovely this day was proving to be. Rain was like tears from the sky, a lovely thought, but why was the sky sad? thought Lola. Then she had a thought that dried her own tears and brought back her ever glowing smile. The rain was giving Washington Heights a quick tidy up, just what it needed. That was just what Lola needed, a pick-me-up. So she left her apartment to go and try to find a new pair of shoes. As she came out onto the sidewalk she could see just one shimmering ray of sunshine peek form behind the clouds. Lola smiled.