Vice President Shane Simba’s next mission was to the annual meeting of CITES Standing Committee. CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora) is an international agreement between governments. Its aim is to ensure that international trade in specimens of wild animals and plants does not threaten their survival. Shane was slated as the key speaker. The convention was to be held in Geneva, Switzerland.

Micah played with a wisp of Christine Cheetah’s jet black hair. They had been seeing each other steadily since their first dinner date. They were in her home on Leoparde Drive. Her five cubs were tucked in their beds for the night.

"You are a remarkable female, Christine. I’m growing very fond of you."

"I’m enjoying you, Micah. I just wish you didn’t remind me so much of Chris Simba. I guess it’s because all you male lions look so much alike."

Micah abruptly removed his paw from caressing her hair. He sat forward on the couch.

"Do you think your cheetah population is known for its individuality? Speaking of resemblances, except for the dark hair and light eyes, you could be anyone of your sisters."

Christine put her head back and laughed heartily.

"This is an absurd discussion. Of course male lions resemble each other. It’s the personality that counts."

"Christine, if you were totally familiar with individual male lions, you would see them as looking very different from each other. I think I’m glad that you haven’t had a shit load of them like Betty Chimpo. I can go in with a relatively clean slate."

"That’s a very valid point, Micah. I’m glad you made it."

He commenced to caressing her hair which led them eventually to her pink bedroom.

Betty got permission to go on the presidential jet to Geneva. This time was very different. She boarded the plane, like the rest of the press corps, after Shane and his aides. But there were no winks, no private signals that she was special to him. He hadn’t called her since she had joined him in Mombasa, taking the private plane he had sent from the Simba resort. They had enjoyed a delirious weekend. Then nothing.

    Once they deplaned at their destination in Geneva, she went on the press bus to the Median Bellevue Evian and roomed with Wilda Wildebeest. Shane went to the Crowne Plaza Geneva with his aides. A luxurious six star hotel on the River Rhone. She saw him when they were taken again to the site of the CITES convention. He took her questions, politely, as he did the other reporters but there was nothing special beyond that. Betty and the other members of the media returned to the Masai Mara on Ralph One immediately after the meetings ended. Shane stayed for a few more days, meeting with the various CITES secretariat members. And, she was sure, being wined and dined by the same. Betty knew nothing personal aside from the issued statements from his aides.

Vice President, Shane Simba at the CITES convention in Geneva, Switzerland....

Bertram, Betty and I were sitting in OKAPIS for lunch. There was a tray of crackers with a small pot of goose liver pate on the table. Bertram was digging in.

"And how is the Vice President?" he asked, his mouth partially full. A bad habit of Bertram's.

"I don't know anymore. He doesn't call."

I immediately patted her hand in real sympathy.

"It's all right, Maurice. It really is. Everyone warned me of this. Montecore, Lachlan.....everyone. I chose to ignore them but they were right."

Bertram and I cast furtive glances at each other. We knew our dear friend was whistling in the dark.

Christine Cheetah, having settled into a pleasant relationship with Micah, visited Betty after a long time. She found her friend sitting pool side with a drink.

"Betty, I haven't seen you in a while. I thought I'd drop by......if that's okay with you."

"It has been a while, Christine. I missed seeing you."

"I've been seeing Micah."

"Micah is wonderful. He's solid as a rock in spite of his profession."

"How are you and Shane?"

"There's no Shane and me, Christine. That was an illusion based on his grief and my obsession. Gone the way of all flesh."

"He was always a bastard, Betty. We all knew that."

"I suppose so. I chose to think otherwise."

There was the sound of hooves on the cobbled path around the pool. They looked up to see Wilda Wildebeest. She held a bag. It contained a marvelous brand of vodka. She greeted them warmly. Wilda settled herself on a chaise lounge.

"You need to celebrate your oldest son's first birthday, Betts. Won't Arlon be one this month?" asked Wilda.

"That's right," enthused Christine, "That's an important milestone for a lion cub."

"Yes, I do need to have an official celebration," mused Betty.

"Get your ass out of that  sling and let's plan a huge bash. I'm sure the first lioness will help. Doesn't she dote on Arlon?" asked Wilda lighting a cigarette.

"Yes, she does. This is going to be fun, ladies," announced Betty, clicking glasses with her friends.

Ashley, Leah and the other inhabitants of the  Lyon household on Leoparde Drive, pitched in with Betty to plan Arlon Lyon's somewhat miraculous first birthday. His very existence was a miracle of medical technology.  He had been inducted into the professional junior soccer team just last month. They asked his coach and uncle, Junior Lyon to give the birthday salutation at the party. 

    One must remember that a lion cub of one year is a far cry from a human child of the same age. A male lion is considered adult at two and is usually full maned by three or four. Arlon was feeling his oats at this point. Sexual maturity was just down the road. When all was said and done, Arlon had to be consulted on where he would have the most splendid time at his birthday bash. Ashley and Luke Leoparde's Mombasa Safari Club was his place of choice. The invitations went out early. Those for Tigger Tigeres (son of Frank and Melba) plus Ralphie Lyon and the other cubs of Melanie (Lyon) and Tommy Tigeres were the first to reach their destinations. Arlon wanted to invited Staci Simba so Betty dutifully addressed one to her.

    The First Lioness pulled out all the stops in order to make Arlon's birthday special. She arranged a midnight cruise on the presidential yacht which was now harbored in Ashley and Luke's marina. It was for his young friends only. She had arranged the proper chaperones but wanted her favorite grandcub to feel relaxed and happy among his buddies that he liked best.

Arlon Lyon and his first cousin, Ralphie Tigeres....

As word of the party spread through the Mara, it was said that one was very lucky if one was a friend of Arlon Lyon's. Arlon puffed  out his chest and began to really enjoy the perks that would always come his way as the grandson of the first family of Kenya. He had it all. One thing bothered his young heart. His mother, who he really loved greatly, seemed to be very sad these days.

"Are you excited about your party?" she asked him one afternoon when they had come from McDonalds and had the regular bags of burgers and fries set before them on the kitchen table.

"Yeah, Mom. I really am. I can't wait for the cruise on Granddad's yacht."

"That will be splendid."

"Mom, where is Shane these days? You don't seem too happy."

"He is sad too, Arlon. I guess I expected  too much from our relationship. He's lost his wife. I should have never counted on anything from him."

Arlon bit into his first burger and with that epicurean thrill, forgot his mother's angst.

The parties involved worked diligently on Arlon's birthday plans for the next two weeks. For that special weekend, Betty invited Wilda, Christine and Micah to be guests in her home in Mombasa. Arlon would be staying with Tigger, Ralphie and two other friends in a special suite arranged by Ashley in the Mombasa Safari Club. She had invited Montecore to join her in Mombasa but he had scheduled an event at his disco and had to remain in the Mara.  He sent an elaborately wrapped gift by his driver. 

    Early Friday morning, Wilda and Betty drove to her house in Mombasa to prepare for the festivities. She and Betty stayed at the Safari Club all that afternoon, overseeing the arrangements and decorations. They were joined by Leah Lyon who was as enthusiastic as if Arlon had been her own  child. Micah and Christine joined them in their efforts to pull out all the stops for Betty’s oldest son's birthday. It could not have been detected that Micah once detested the obstreperous Arlon.

The main ballroom of the Lyon-Leoparde Mombasa Safari Club was festooned with bright lights. Banners had been hung by Arlon's friends, hailing his birthday with their special messages. Betty was going about greeting the  hordes of animals and people who had come to celebrate the birthday of the grandson of the President and First Lioness of Kenya. Betty maneuvered her way through the huge crowd, chatting pleasantly where ever necessary. She ran smack into Staci Simba.

"Oh, Betty. Thank you so much for inviting me. I can't wait for the midnight cruise."

"You look lovely, Staci. That's a wonderful outfit.  I'm sure Arlon will be especially happy that you came. Sit near him on the cruise."

"I will Betty and thanks again."

She had stooped slightly to speak with Staci. She stood up and looked directly at Shane Simba.

"Shane, so glad you could come and bring your wonderful daughter.  She looks gorgeous tonight," she said, then turned and attempted to beat a hasty retreat.

She failed. A paw reached out and held her back.

"Betty, where can we talk?"

"No where, please God, nowhere."

He guided her subtly to the far terrace that edged the main ballroom. Betty was glad to get the cool air in her lungs.

"Betty, I've been wanting to see you."

"Oh shit, Shane. I know you have borne a great loss and are grieved. I know that I promised myself and you that I would be there at all costs. But guess what? I can't do it anymore. I didn't reckon with the fact that I love you too god damn much to get through this."

"Betty, you don't think I know I've been a shit?"

"So what else is new? The only difference is that you're now a bereaved and widowed shit. A shit for all seasons."

"I've been wracked with grief over Catherine recently. I haven't functioned very well lately."

"Oh the hell with your grief. The best way to work through that is to fuck over someone else. Right? Someone who really meant to help you and be there for you.....me, for instance. No courtesy call to say, 'Betty, I'm miserable over my loss and won't be seeing you for a while, kiss my ass or nothing' Just cold, icy silence and dismissal."

"You remind me of Catherine with your anger and rage."

"I don't want to remind you of Catherine, Shane. If I ever remind you of me, Betty Chimpo, then maybe we can have something. But until then, go fuck yourself."

She ran from the terrace and him. She lit a cigarette on her desperate flight across the ballroom.    Much later, after the event had wound down and the youngsters were on the presidential yacht, Betty and Wilda relaxed with another drink on her patio. They were already very buzzed as a result of much drink at the party.

"Willie, I told the vice president of Kenya to go fuck himself tonight."

"How marvelous," replied her friend.