A PRIZE IS GAINED
I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt to lose something you never really had.
From the television show The Wonder Years
Shane and Betty Simba were sitting at a rare breakfast of leisure. It was a bright Saturday morning and they were at their bush estate. He had been embroiled in a full week of working with African diplomats to ease the tensions arising in African nations nearby. Somalia, the country governed by brigands and rogue warlords, was a hazard to all countries which lay in close proximity to its borders. Solly was mewing and cooing happily in a pram pulled to the table. Betty was perusing the Masai Mara Daily and smoking a cigarette.
“Shane, darling, don’t you take that lioness reporter on most of your junkets?” asked his wife, munching daintily on a bit of toast.
He tensed - fortunately for him it was imperceptible. “Yes, she’s the head of the news department at the Daily now that you no longer work there, Betty. Why?”
“She is the first animal reporter to ever win a Pulitzer Prize for journalism it says here. She won it on her coverage of you. That’s amazing that we have a prize winner among us. I always coveted that award when I was a reporter.”
“We should do something to honor her,” he suggested.
“Yes, let’s have a dinner party at the mansion for her.”
“Good idea, Fifi. Just work out the details and I’ll get dressed for the occasion.”
“It says she is going to New York City to pick it up next week.”
“She deserves it. She’s a brave and very fine reporter. She even got badly wounded in Iraq once,” remarked Shane, standing, lighting a cigarette and heading for the Sporting Club where he would play tennis with Staci.
Caroline Cheetah Leoparde was taken by a disturbed husband to the Exotic Animal Clinic where she gave birth to three cubs too young to survive. Leland Leoparde was devastated. He loved his wife and adopted son and had envisioned a house full of gamboling cubs to be enjoyed with Caroline. However, it was not to be. She spent three days at the clinic, four at home and returned to her job as television anchor for the State House.
“Caroline, what happened? We got word that you were in the clinic,” asked Sloane Simba.
They were in the break room in front of the coffee machine her first day back.
“The flowers were lovely that you all sent. My cubs were stillborn. Leland is so unhappy. He had really looked forward to having a litter. He adores Sunny.”
“And you? Were you upset, Caroline?”
“I suppose so. I wasn’t as intent on them as Leland. I hate it for him though,” she said, stirring heavy cream in her coffee.
“You’re a good mother, but I don’t think you dote on them really,” observed Sloane.
“Clever observation, Sloane.”
“It wasn’t meant to be ‘clever’, Caroline. I just feel that you are that way about kids.”
“How is Georgy?”
“Perfect, Caroline. She has meant even more to me now that I don’t have you any longer. She fills the empty hours and is such a delight.”
“I still love you, Sloane. If only Leland wasn’t so damn decent, I would go ahead and leave him.”
“Don’t do that for my sake, Caroline. I wouldn’t want you that way. I’ve gotten used to your loss. I’m making it okay now.”
“You bastard,” she said, tossing her cup of coffee and leaving the room.
Caroline Cheetah Leoparde returns to work....
Solly Simba was the paparazzi’s delight as his father took him about the State House on a Sunday morning when he was attending to some Monday projects. Solly, already inured to the photographers, turned a blasé face to the popping bulbs.
Solly Simba peeks from a carrier on his father's chest.....
The evening was warm and rain free as the State Mansion prepared for a dinner to honor the first Pulitzer winner from our area. The servants bustled around righting the last minute details. In a cottage across the bush Jane, the honoree, tugged at her dress. She put down her cigarette and cursed at herself in the mirror of her bedroom.
“Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?” she accosted her image. “Since when did you get all froufrou and show cleavage? You are supposed to be a no nonsense reporter - hard bitten. You’ve even won a damn Pulitzer – get hold of yourself, for Christ’s sake. I hate this fucking dress!”
She went to her kitchen and poured another glass of wine to quiet her nerves. She returned to her room and faced the mirror once more, giving a final tug to her flamboyant bosom.
“It’s because he will be there, idiot. Why did you have to start getting all dewy eyed about a male?” she asked the image before flipping off the light and heading out the door.
“And just forget the fact that he’s totally unattainable,” she muttered to herself as she started her car engine. “And a fucking lion to boot.”
The lights shone brightly in and surrounding the State Mansion when Jane, the lioness arrived for her evening of being in the spotlight. The first one to greet her was the first lady, Betty, looking elegant and happy. The room had already filled with invitees, she being a bit late – fashionably so she hoped. The crowd milled about, accepting beautifully proffered drinks offered by liveried servants bearing silver trays.
Betty Simba at the dinner honoring Jane....
Lachlan and I were the first ones to approach her as she entered the main room.
“What an exceptional honor,” stated Lachlan. “An animal finally winning the Pulitzer and one of our very own too.”
“I was so thrilled to be given it. In New York at the presentation ceremony there was actually another animal given the award for the best nonfiction work,” she told us.
We were joined by Shane, who took the opportunity to welcome and congratulate Jane with warm green eyes and glowing, very soft rhetoric, almost sensual in nature. I, knowing Lachlan so well by now, saw him tense ever so slightly at the exchange.
Jane continued to mingle among admiring groups of animals and humans, all in awe of her prize. She wanted to smoke so she made her way down the hall to a room that was elegant but on the dark side. Electric candelabra on both sides of the mantel cast warm shadows on the heavily paneled walls. She fished in her purse and found a cigarette. She placed it in her mouth and was about to light it when a figure walked up and did the honors.
Shane and Jane meet up in the library of the State Mansion
“You look too beautiful for words,” said Shane Simba, placing a paw on her arm.
“I absolutely felt freaked over this outfit. It is not at all my usual wear. I had to ask myself why I chose it,” she said, affectionately and with a teasing air.
“I hope the answer was ‘for me’.”
“I’m afraid that it was,” she responded, hardly breathing due to the giddy scent of the Dolce & Gabanna male cologne that came from his mane and body.
She could have wished this moment frozen in time. She purposely broke the spell.
“You know I won this prize writing about you, don’t you?”
“I read that.”
“I would love to write your authorized biography, if you will let me.”
“Who better?”
“I would have to follow you about and make a nuisance of myself.”
“You can follow me to the ends of the earth, Jane-Jane, if you wish.”
His paw trailed her back just below the waist. She felt mesmerized by it. Suddenly another light went on, making a startling statement in the intimacy of the shadowed room.
“You shouldn’t keep our honoree to yourself, darling,” said Betty.
“She was propositioning me, Betty. She wants to write my authorized biography. It’s a great idea, I think, don’t you?”
“I would like to do that myself, darling, after all I am an author in my own right,” said Betty, with a very slight tremor to her voice.
“Too close to your subject, Betty,” he said. “You’ve got the job, Jane.”
Then he was gone, leaving the two females facing one another. Betty lit a cigarette.
“If you want to write his biography, Mam, I’ll bow out. It was just a thought on my part,” said Jane.
“He’s right, I’m too close to him being his wife and the mother of his new son,” said Betty, exhaling a stream of smoke into the lioness’ face.
The Kenya Festival Committee was having a blast. We met two nights a week in one of the conference rooms at the State House. Cynthia Cheetah had cajoled me into taking a major role on the committee despite my overloaded schedule as Shane’s executive assistant. I could never resist my beautiful and caring long time friend. She had also made her son, Curtis Cheetah a part of our group. Being an attorney he was helpful in many ways, especially when legalities reared their troublesome heads. Her two daughters, Chelsea and Christine were a major part. I would have resisted my role more if Lachlan could have been home more nights but he was still busy with late evening patients at the Mental Health Center. He now had Cate Ocelot who had taken a big burden from him but he was still in the process of moving some of his own patients to her domain, which is no easy task when dealing with emotionally troubled individuals. We had learned that two major soccer matches would be scheduled involving our Masai Mara team. Bertram Baboon, Roy Lee Simba, Micah Mbube and Gloria Chimpo were working overtime on the creation of a pageant to depict our history in Kenya. It was a good and creative time for us with an opportunity to see friends that were not often available, leading their busy lives.
Lachlan polished off a bit of chocolate cake as a last course to the meal always given him in Shane Simba’s executive office. It is his offering to spend his lunch hour that day with the president.
“What’s going on with you, Shane? Are you staking out another female?” asked Lachlan, wiping his mouth with the embossed linen napkin that came enclosed with a silver ring on his lunch tray.
Shane lit a cigarette before answering.
“What makes you think that, Lachlan?”
“I’ve told you before; I am eerily tuned into my patients. I witnessed your greeting of Jane the other night. I saw sparks fly between you two.”
“She’s the main reporter that I trust is all, Lachlan. I rely on her to cover me with complete honesty. Never fear, Betty has her cub and all is right with the world.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a sneer, Shane. Is it?”
“Not at all that, Lachlan – I adore Solly. He’s the apple of my eye like all my kids.”
“And your wife? Is she an apple to be counted – of your eye, I mean?”
The two male lions faced each other across the room, one the psychiatrist - the other, his patient, who happened to be the President of Kenya.
“Of course, Betty is always to be counted, Lachlan, you know that.”
“And what did I see the other night, Shane?”
“Just me putting on my presidential face and sucking up to everyone,” laughed Shane.
Betty beckoned to Lachlan as he was leaving Shane’s office. She led him to her inner office and closed the door behind them. There was panic in her dark eyes.
“Lachlan, is he seeing someone else?” she cried, shakily lighting a cigarette.
“Betty, if he is I know nothing of it. I am his counselor and can’t divulge things about him to you or anyone. You are aware of that so don’t put me on the spot.”
“As a friend of yours, I need to know,” she said, beginning to cry.
“Betty, your husband is a sensual male and a known and very well versed player. If he is, just stick tight and say nothing. Keep a fixed mouth, straight face and let the chips fall where they may. If he is, he has a short attention span when it comes to his supplementary sex life. You are married to him, he is the president and you now have his son you have longed for. The ball is very much in your park.”
Lachlan left the first lady standing there with trembling lips, tears sliding down her face and made a hasty retreat.
Lachlan was helping me clean the kitchen after a late evening meal. He seemed preoccupied.
“I know this is a trite one but a penny for your thoughts,” I teased.
“I am worried about Shane Simba. I think he is seeing the lioness reporter,” he reported with furrowed brow.
I took a hand and smoothed my beloved’s forehead. I did so love him.
“And if he is, Lachlan, it won’t be something he hasn’t done before, will it? His marriage to Betty will survive.”
He folded his arms across his chest and fell silent for a few minutes before answering.
“Maury, I fear this one. He has never gone for a lioness before – his own kind. There might be something bonding in that. Where he can’t relate to humans, apes and cheetahs on a permanent basis, he might well find a love match of lasting value in one of his own. We lions are sort of a force of our own with our pride system and strident social structure. This factor worries me greatly.”
“Oh, shit, I hadn’t thought of that.”
Now my brow was furrowed. Lachlan took note and smiled.
“Let’s have a brandy before turning in,” he said, taking my hand. "And don't take this to heart about me as a lion. I can take the ape factor - after all I'm a shrink."
I stood still for a moment with what seemed a bout of egg on my face and then we fell into gales of giggles.
The plane took off and banked left toward Ethiopia. It was Simba Two and contained the President of Kenya and a few reporters. Their destination was Addis Ababa and a conference with President Woldegiorgis and other leaders from the horn nations of East Africa. At the back of the plane sat reporter, Jane the lioness, studying her notes given out by the State House regarding the trip.