End of the Road For Jane

So far, Rachelle Allen and Gretchen Hargis are on their way to the FanStory Convention when Hargis's vehicle breaks down. They are taken in by a nice Amish family and given shelter until they finally get through to Rachelle's cousin. But, Tova, Rachelle's cousin didn't just bring a car for them to continue to the convention in. She brought an obnoxious and pushy woman by the name of Jane Babies. Now, on the last leg of their journey, both Rachelle and Gretchen have to fight the urge to ditch her.

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I can tell from the smudge of mascara under Rachelle's left eye, saying goodbye to Rebekah had not been easy. I glance up to see Rebekah watching us depart. I wave at her then point to where Jane is lounging against Rachelle's car with her arms folded across her like a spoilt child. I shake my head and draw my finger across my own throat dramatically. Rebekah smiles her sweet smile and lets the curtain fall back across the window.

"How much longer?" I whisper as Rachelle cuts her eyes at the blatant disrespect Jane is showing her brand new vehicle.

"About three or four hours, depending on traffic. I'll drive this leg of the journey."

I hand over the keys and suck in my breath as Jane lets out a loud unhappy sigh. I hate drama. I hate whiners. I hate people who think they are entitled to special treatment based on their gender, financial status or their looks. We are all in this together. Come on, didn't any of these people watch High School Musical, for crying out loud. "Jane sounds unhappy," I whisper to Rachelle, who looks like someone who just realized they stepped in dog poop and walked across a beautiful white rug.

"Surprise," Rachelle says flatly. She puts the key in the ignition and then turns around to face our disgruntled tag-along.

What happens next is priceless. Rachelle reads her the riot act, but in such a disappointed teacher way, that I have to look out the window so I don't start laughing. And, the icing on the cake was when Rachelle compared her to an eighth grade debutant. And, still despite being called to the Principal's office, Jane continues with weird comments and goes so far as to call me a "low class Dixie chick". I am left wondering if she is referring to the place or the band. Neither would offend me.

When the dust starts to settle, Jane slumps back and stares at the back of Rachelle's head, brow furrowed and lips pouting. "You people don't know who you're dealing with."

Now, though I've never solved an actual murder or a crime, I have been dubbed Nancy Drew when I have helped solve a few mysteries around town. I have the determined qualities of my horoscopic sign, Virgo. I love to be right and hate to depend on others for information. I reach for my phone and decide it's high time Rachelle and I do find out who exactly we are dealing with.

I type in Jane Babies. I wait while Google does its leg work and my jaw drops. Jane Babies, daughter of Adult Films and media mogul, Robert "Bobby" Babies (Babinowitz), was spotted in New York with Actor Benjamin Fire. Despite the age difference, the pair looked very comfortable together.

I scroll farther. "Is Jane Babies going to take the reins from her father, King of Porn, Bobby Babies?"

Oh. My. Gosh. We have Sodom and Gomorrah in the backseat.

"So, Jane, tell me a little bit about yourself," I say. I wait for her to start simple and maybe build up to the crescendo, but that's not her style. I shake my head when Rachelle gives me a quizzical look.

"Well, I'm rich. I'm not going to bother telling you my net worth, because well, it would just make you feel bad. I probably make in a day what you make in a six months."

"Go on, please," I say, making sure to add a little southern exposure to my voice. "And, don't leave a thing out." I wink at Rachelle who looks like she's about to faint.

"You may have heard of my daddy, Bobby Babies."

I shake my head. "No, I don't think so. What does he do?"

"Ever hear of Wet Hustle or Give It Up?"

"Movies?"

She scoffs. "No, Magazines. Online stuff. Adult websites."

"You don't mean pornography, do you, Jane?" I gasp and my southern little hand flies to my mouth.

She smirks. "Of course you'd be offended. Google it."

"Sorry, no WIFI." I shake my phone and shrug. "So, Daddy runs a porn industry, what did dear old mom do for fun?"

Jane lifts her chin. "She was an actress."

"Stag films?"

"No, Hollywood. My mother was a saint."

I hold up my hands to show her I meant no bad intent with my question. "How come you didn't follow in her footsteps?" I don't follow up with the comment about her wanting to be in the spotlight and being an attention whore.

She looks out the window beside her and sniffs. "I did a few films. Daddy said I was a natural," she says quietly.

I wonder what types of films she did and what she was a natural at. Then I think about my father. He sold insurance for a living. He was a good man. For the first time in a long time I realize how lucky I was to have him for thirteen short years instead of what Jane has.

Rachelle's phone buzzes and she reads the brief text, before handing me the phone for me to read.

Tova has answered Rachelle's previous text. "Oy." A couple of seconds later, "I pity the limo driver who takes her the rest of the way!"

I turn it to show Rachelle, who lets out a defeated sigh. We can't unleash Jane on someone who can't fight back. No, we will get her there, but no promises on a safe journey home.