The Bad Twin by Shelia Goss

we have here? Everybody in Hollywood must have decided to take a trip to Mexico this week. I hope he doesn’t see me and just walks on by.  Scott Bankhead is the producer with octopus hands. I’ve had to fight him off of me on many occasions. It got so bad; I told Carmen if he was the producer attached to any script, I wouldn’t do the film. I see Scott has his showpiece of the week. I need to warn her that no matter how much she puts out, he will only do the bare minimum. She’ll be lucky if she gets to be an extra in his movie.  Rumor mill also has it that he’s really not a good lay anyway. Oh no. Here he comes. The woman he’s with. I’ve seen her type before. They will smile in your face but will stab you in the back. Everybody wants to be like me, but can’t.
    ***
     
    “Rose darling, you’re looking exquisite as usual,” Scott states.
    “Thank you and you’re looking. Well you’re you.”
    “Oh this is Tiffany. Tiffany, Rose Purdue.”
    Tiffany held her hand out and Rose stared at her and spoke without once lifting her hand. “Hi Tiffany.”
    Tiffany pulled her hand back embarrassed. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
    Rose with her nose turned up in the air. “Likewise. Well if you two don’t mind. I would like to finish eating my dinner before it gets cold.”  
    She went back to eating her food and Scott and Tiffany moved on to their table.
    Rose signaled for the waiter because she wanted a refill on her drink. She needed a little liquor before she left to go get her groove on. She had lost count of the amount of margaritas she had drunk in one day.  After she left the restaurant, she took a cab to the club located on the other side of the strip.  When they got to the club, the driver asked for American dollars, but Rose ignored him and reached into her purse for some pesos.
    He said, “Ésa es 250 Pesos” or “That will be 250 Pesos.”
    She paid the cab driver the correct amount in pesos. He tried to cheat her and he was shocked to hear her speak fluent Spanish, as she yelled out at him in his native tongue and in English the correct amount of pesos, “Aquí están 150 Pesos.  Here is 150 Pesos. ”
    He decided not to argue with her, took it, and sped off.
    When Rose walked up to the door, all eyes were on her.   Noticing that she was the center of attention, Rose strutted through the door in her five-inch red high-heel shoes that accented her long shapely legs.  She didn’t have the legs of Tina, but she sure could give her a run for her money. She paid the entry fee and started walking and dancing to the beat. She walked around the club to get a feel for which floor she wanted to spend the majority of her time on. She loved all types of music. She chose the rhythm and blues room. For the moment, no one realized that she was the actual singer of the fast song that the DJ was spinning. She got herself a drink and stood at the bar. She tapped her feet to the beat of the music.  Across the bar, she locked eyes, with a handsome olive complexion Spanish gentleman.
    He walked over to her side of the bar and asked her to dance.
    “La Srta,  puede yo tener esta danza? Senorita may I have this dance?”
    “Si, Yes,  Senor.”
    The handsome Spanish gentleman was a very good dancer. Rose was having a great time.  She danced; she drank, and danced some more. He offered to take her to her room, but she declined. Instead she asked him to get her a cab. “Por favor consígame un taxi.”
    He hailed the cab and opened the door.  “Su taxi la espera. Your cab awaits you.”
    She thanked him. “Gracias.”
    He took her right hand and kissed the backside. As the cab pulled off, he told her “Adiós señora.”
    She waved good-bye and went back to her hotel. She didn’t have problems out of this cab driver when it came time to pay.
    The next morning, the sun shining through the window blinded her; she tried to hide under the covers.  She was thankful she remembered to take an aspirin before