Jane Leoparde stuck her head in Betty’s office at the Masai Mara Daily.  She had a favor to ask of her friend.  

 

“Betts, I have Jack on a story in Nairobi today.  Will you go to the Serengeti on the Daily’s bush hopper and follow up on that Pete guy – the lion that’s running for president over in Tanzania?”

 

“I couldn’t stand that bozo, Janie, but I’ll do it for you.  I’ll take my own plane.  I haven’t flown it in a week.”

 

“Thanks, Betty.  I owe you.  He’s holding a rally in the bush over there.  I’ll give you the directions.”

---

 

            Betty landed her plane with a thump just outside a small hastily constructed stadium set up to hold the political rally of Pete, Tanzania’s first lion presidential candidate.  She climbed from her plane and walked to where a crowd was waiting.  She noticed that there were humans mixed with animals in the large and very noisy audience.  She made her way to where the podium was set up – a rustic affair at best.  She climbed the stairs of the bleachers and sat as closely as she could to the podium.  In a few minutes Pete emerged to loud shouts, cheering and cries of approval.  It was a while until he could quiet the enthusiastic onlookers and begin his speech.  Betty gained interest as he spoke to his constituents.  His was a powerful voice with words and sentiments to match.  She felt that almost forgotten sense of excitement rise in her – the same feelings and sensations that she had experienced when campaigning with Shane.  Her nerve ends tingled with a new excitement.   He spoke long enough but not to the point where yawns might be expected.  Afterwards, Betty followed behind as he went among the crowd, pressing the flesh and giving hearty back slaps to his admirers.  Other reporters were following him as well.  When Pete turned his attentions to the media, Betty waited patiently until the others had gotten what they wanted and thinned out. 

 

“Uh, Pete…..you have probably forgotten me but I came in Jack’s place from the Masai Mara Daily.”

 

He turned yellow eyes on her. 

 

“Yeah, I remember.  How is Jack?  I liked him.  He seemed to know his stuff.”

 

:”Well, I know my stuff too.  I have come in his place.  It is only temporary, believe me.  I will happily turn you over to Jack the next time the Daily covers you.  Your campaign seems to be catching fire.”

 

“You noticed?”

 

“Yes, I did.  I campaigned with my husband in Kenya before I became first lady,” she told him, irritated at his lack of manners and polite response. “I know well the campaign and political processes.”

 

“First Lady?” he snorted slightly.  “You appear rather simian to me.”

 

She felt the blood rush to her face.  “I am a cosmetically enhanced chimpanzee.  You should know that if you have followed Shane Simba’s career.”

 

“I intend to BE Shane Simba here in Tanzania,” he announced puffing out his chest and pounding with his paw on the muscularity that comprised it. 

 

“Well, let’s see, Pete.  You intend to be greedy for females, sex, money and power? You will let nothing stand in the way of what you want in life?  Is that it?  If that’s the case and you manage those attributes, you will mimic Shane Simba very closely.”

 

“Hell hath no fury like a female scorned,” growled Pete, his eyes cold.

 

“That is misquoted, Pete.  It is hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

 

“Six of one, half dozen of the other,” he snapped. 

 

“You will never be another Shane Simba,” she said, her voice rife with resentment and frustration.   

 

“Oh, I won’t and why not?”

 

“Those bangs for starters,” she said breaking into giggles. 

 

“What?”

 

“Your mane – you have bangs on your forehead.  They remind me of watching old Jane Wyman films.  Shane would never permit bangs on his forehead.”

 

“You’re a bitch!”

 

“If I am then you are my son.”

 

“Touché!  Did you bring your car?  I need a lift back to my house.”

 

“I flew in my plane.”

 

“You fly your own plane?”

 

At last he was impressed – ready to give her the time of day.  She smirked. 

 

“Yes, I do.  I’ll give you a lift in that.”

 

Betty flies Pete to his home in the bush.....

 

            She taxied through the deep bush grass and ascended at a low altitude so she could spot his house when it appeared.. 

 

“Damn, I’ve never seen a female that could pilot her own plane,” he said, craning his neck to see the landscape below. 

 

“I imagine you’ve never seen a female that could do any damn thing, considering your complete lack of respect and disregard for the gender,” was Betty’s retort.   

 

“I’ve seen a few that I respected.”

 

“How high-minded of you - I know they must have been tinkled pink at your show of admiration.”

 

He laughed.  “Do you want to work for me?  Be my campaign manager?”

 

“What would I get out of it?  I’ll bet you’re poor as a goat herder,” she scoffed. 

 

“I have campaign funds, believe it or not.  You would also get a sense of history from the deal.”

 

“I’ve engaged in enough history to last me ten lifetimes,” she snapped bitterly.

 

            He was silent the rest of the short flight to his bush home.  Betty landed expertly and taxied close to his house.  She cut the engines. 

 

“I’ll take the job but only because I’m bored these days,” she told him. 

 

“Be at my house next week.  I need to plan some rallies in the villages and major cities here.”

 

            When she returned to the Daily’s office building it was almost closing time. She found Jane in Bob Bushbuck’s office and told them of her day with Pete. 

 

“Betts, how wonderful.  We’ll pay you double the money to go there and oversee his campaign,” said Bob, with real enthusiasm. “Let’s drink to more history being made with our absolute coverage.”

 

He removed a Scotch bottle from his desk.  She and Jane were quite tipsy when they left the building.  When Betty arrived at her house on Leoparde Drive, Wilda Wildebeest was waiting for her on the veranda with a martini.   When she told Wilda of her day, she gave a sort of moan. 

 

“Betts, just what you need – another freaking lion president.  I would simply give my life for you to date and find happiness with a fellow ape.”

 

“How you do go on, Willie.  You know me.  Apes bore the hell out of me,” giggled Betty with more exuberance in her voice than her friend had heard in ages.   Whatever works for her, thought Wilda, lighting a cigarette. 

---

 

“We’re flying to Italy this weekend, Alex,” said Shane Simba putting his arms around his wife.  “You need to kick back.  You’ve been running ten thousand miles an hour since we married.”

 

“I’m just trying to get some projects up and running before I have to go belly up with twins and sit on my arse for months,” she laughed.  “What’s in Italy, Luv?”

 

“You’ll see, my darling.”

 

The Alexandra cruising toward Mombasa.....

 

            And she did indeed see – a magnificent yacht which would be theirs personally instead of being government owned and on loan for the length of Shane’s presidency.  They boarded in the port of Amalfi, Italy, cruising across the Mediterranean through the Suez Canal to the Gulf of Suez and into the Indian Ocean to the Kenyan port of Mombasa.  It had been christened the Alexandra before they left Italy.  It was a magical time for the recently wed couple who were balmy about each other.  Shane was able to keep up with day to day events in Kenya in his state of the art office on the boat.  He had been quite right in telling his wife she had worked overtime since their marriage.  I do believe that Alexandra Delamere Simba has accomplished more in a few months of being the first lady than Betty had done in her entire tenure.  The Lewis Lyon’s joined Shane and Alexandra during their last weekend in transit on the yacht. 

 

 

 

Shane and Alexandra engage in a bit of horse play on their new yacht off the coast of Italy

---

 

“I can’t believe you’re working for Pete,” laughed Jack Tarzan upon hearing of Betty’s most recent assignment.  “You couldn’t stand the dude.”

 

“I still can’t but I need something that will take my mind off my emotional turmoil, Jack.”

 

“I am sure working with that guy will take your mind off of anything, Betty.”

 

“Will you be slightly jealous, Jack?” she asked, putting her arms around his waist. 

 

They were in his bedroom in his bush home late one night after dinner downstairs with Patsy. 

 

“That all depends, Betty,” he teased.

 

“Are you in love with Leah Simba?” she probed. 

 

“Betty, I’m not in love with anyone in that crazy sense of the word that you are using.  You know I’m not the type.  I don’t lose my cool or marbles over these things.”

 

“Yes, I know, Jack.  Pragmatic should be your middle name.”

 

“Pragmatist or not, I still love making love to you,” he said, pulling her on top of him to the bed. 

---

 

            Ashley Lyon and his wife, Lucy Cougar Lyon, were fighting whenever he was around which he made sure wasn’t too often.  Lucy was charming when not pregnant but fecundity brought out the absolute worst in the cougar-leopard mixed daughter of Sylvia and Bernard.   To add to the woes, Lucy remained sick to her stomach the entire time.  Ashley turned to his old inamorato, Tookie Simba for comfort.  It was Jane and Luke Leoparde who would visit Lucy nearby and see if she needed anything. 

 

The pregnant Lucy Cougar Lyon sunning on her dad's boat in Mombasa

 

---

 

Pete listens to Betty's advice on how to become another Shane Simba...

 

“I want you to make me into another Shane Simba,” ordered (not requested) Pete. 

 

Betty was in his home in the Serengeti.  They were working on plans for his rallies in more populated areas dense with human voters.  She was scheduled to accompany him to Dar es Salaam, the capital of Tanzania, in a few days. 

 

“I’m not sure I can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear but I could attempt to do so and see if results can be had,” she answered acidly. 

 

“Oh come off it, Betty.  I read that lioness’ biography of Shane.  He was a poor little snot nosed lion cub from a piss poor pride growing up," countered Pete. 

 

“He was educated in England as a lawyer.  He is brilliant, a quick study artist and became polished very quickly,” she argued. 

 

“I also have a degree.  Mine is from the University of Nairobi in economics.”

 

“What about those bangs of yours?  They need attending,” she reminded, lighting a cigarette. 

 

He swiped the air with a paw, removing smoke wisps from his line of vision.  “My mane remains the same.  I’m not going to obsess over my mane nor are you.  We have bigger fish to fry.”

 

“We certainly do.  Your clothes are disgraceful.  If you are to be Shane you will need to engage in more sartorial savvy.”

 

“What would you suggest?”

 

“A shopping trip in Dar es Salaam or maybe the Mara.  I believe your better choice would be the Mara.  You can stay at my house while you are there,” she suggested, wondering what Wilda would think upon seeing this particular lion. 

 

“When I have the rally in Dar es Salaam, Shane Simba will be there.  He and his wife have invited me to spend the night on their yacht which will be moored in the port there.  I want you to go too.  You are my campaign manager and he said to bring my aide.”

 

“Oooooh noooo!!!! I will not be going on Shane’s new boat.  You can enjoy that little perk without me,” she argued, her voice shaky with panic at the thought of seeing Shane in that close a proximity and that length of time with Alexandra. 

 

“Oh come on, you said you two were friends, didn’t you?”

 

“I cannot do that, Pete.  I’m sorry.”

 

“You’ve got it bad for that guy still.”

 

“That’s none of your damn business, Pete.”

 

“You’re right, it’s not my business nor am I even interested in the matter.”