The Girl Formerly Known as Debbie

Years ago when I was a disco faring youngster I met a girl with whom I became very enamored. No not in “that” way, but in an admiration and adoration way. She was beautiful, smart, witty and rich. She wasn’t “I’ve inherited my daddy’s money” rich but had made her own fortune. I never was sure exactly HOW she made her fortune only that she had one. She was only 24 years old and I was a very impressionable 18 years old. To me she was a woman of independent means.

Trixi would call me at work to let me know what was on the agenda for the evening. Trixi didn’t work and had all day to flit around in either her brand new Mercedes 450 SL or her slightly older baby blue corvette. She wore all the newest trends in clothing and had a really awesome full length lynx fur coat. Oh shut up you know you wanted one too, I mean this was back before fur was bad.

One day she called me and arranged for us to meet up at the local discotheque. Excited I went home and disgustedly scoured my closet looking for something Trixi-like to wear. I settled on a pair of bright blue satin pants and a silver silk halter top with silver platform shoes. I then curled and sprayed my feathered hair and applied another dose of Great Lash mascara and Aziza Blue Eye shadow. I spritzed myself generously with Charlie perfume. I looked hot. I ran downstairs jumped in my Fiat X-19 and sped off to Reflections the newly opened hot spot.

I was greeted at the club by Trixi and a group of her friends. We ordered our standard Happy Hour fare and all laughed and talked about our grueling days at the salt mines. Then he appeared an Adonis of a man. This rough and tumble looking guy who was part John Wayne and part Rock Hudson in beauty. He swaggered in his Wayne like manner over to the table. His eyes never once straying from his target that happened to be seated next to me. At first I thought I was the focus of his aim. Then I realized he was headed straight for Trixi with a look of admiration and excitement. I looked at her and she had that same focus toward him only it wasn’t good. She had her lip drawn up in a sneer, her brow was furrowed and her eyes were hard.

The 5’2” Trixi jumped up from her seat and met Mr. Wayne just before he reached the table. She spoke to him vehemently through clenched teeth. The expression on Mr. Wayne’s face changed from excitement to concern and then full out disappointment. He frowned and shook his head. Trixi continued her tirade. We could only guess that this was an ex-boyfriend and she was heading him off at the pass. He hung his head down, shook it then walked away.

We all watched her rebuff this handsome creature and then return to the table. I leaned over and said “Old boyfriend?” Trixi took a drink then replied “Yeah, something like that.” She obviously didn’t want to discuss it so we went on to another topic. In the corner behind Trixi I could see Mr. Wayne watching us. Trixi got up to dance with one of the guys at the table. I adjusted my top and ordered another drink. I felt someone behind me and turned to see Mr. Wayne standing there. “Excuse me little lady, would you care to dance?” I looked at him and wondered what a big old polite cowboy could have done to invoke Trixi’s ire? I figured it was just a dance and there wouldn’t be any harm, so I agreed.

The DJ switched from Boogie Shoes to Reunited and we moved into the required slow dance stance. He leaned his 6’6” head down closer to my 5’1” ear and said “How long have you known Debbie?” Uh? “Who” I asked. “Debbie, you know the girl sitting next to you. How long have you known her?” I took a step back and looked up at him. “Debbie who? What are you talking about? I don’t know a Debbie. That girl is my friend Trixi.” He looked down at me with confusion and concern on his face. “NO her name is Debbie. I knew her up in Alaska as Debbie.” Now I was totally flummoxed. Trixi had never said anything about living in Alaska nor was any of her names Debbie.

The dance ended and I went back to the table. Trixi looked at me with fire in her eyes. “Uh-oh” I thought “I’ve done it now.” Trixi leaned over and spit out “what did he say to you?” I looked at her and said “he thinks your someone else. He thinks he knew you in Alaska. I told him he had the wrong person.” She looked at me pursed her lips and said “Oh. Well I guess I just look like someone else.” I drank my drink and let all of this soak in. Now I am a pretty gullible person but sometimes things just don’t smell right. This downright stunk.

I looked up to see Mr. Wayne and about five other guys standing by the bar. Mr. Wayne was pointing toward our table, pointing toward Trixi. They all were nodding yes. Then the group of men moved toward our table. They headed straight for Trixi. She saw the look on my face and turned to see them just as they reached us. “Hey Deb” the chorus sang out. Trixi was horror stricken. Her mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. Then one of the men said “I haven’t seen you in a couple of years. How come you left the pipe-line?” For the first time in the nine months I had known Trixi she looked panicked and cornered. She jumped up and ran to the bathroom tears in her eyes.

I looked at the men standing at the table and did what any friend would do; I got up and ran after her. I found Trixi in the ladies room leaning against the wall wiping the tears from her eyes and trying to keep her mascara from running. “Trixi what the heck is going on” I asked. Trixi turned her raccoon massacred eyes my direction and said “It’s followed me here. I thought I could get away from it but I can’t.” Now I may have been old enough to drink, vote and drive but I was still very naive. “What Trixi? What followed you?” I asked. “Oh, Gladys! Alaska followed me. My old life. All of it” she blubbered while leaning her head on my shoulder sobbing “Oh Trixi, nothing is that bad” I consoled.

This did not comfort Trixi instead it angered her. “How do you think I made my money? I made it in Alaska on the pipeline” she spat at me. I was aghast at her response and attitude and replied “so what? There is no shame in doing manual labor being a pipe layer.” Then she started laughing. She was laughing that laugh that comes after crying. Where you snort and hic cup and blow snot in a very attractive way out your nose and on to the person at which you are laughing. There I stood with a snot bubble dripping down my shoulder and a hysterical crazy person in front of me still bubbling snot. “You DIMWIT! I WAS A CALL GIRL NOT A PIPELAYER!”

I stood there jaw on the floor and eyes the size of saucers. First of all I had never met a real life hooker and second she was my friend. I swallowed hard and blinked a couple of times then said “Well then that would make THEM the pipe layers.” We both fell into a heap of giggling tears on the floor.