Free Speechless by Yvonne Collins

rest of the advance, but with Margo, nothing comes easily. Bill and Laurie will drive ahead in a Ministry “limo” (a government-issue sedan), while the Minister flies from place to place in the tiny government plane. I really want to travel by car, but Margo apparently considers me “plane-worthy.” I’m certain this has less to do with wanting me on the plane than with not wanting me to have a good time in the car. It’s her “divide and conquer” philosophy.
    This means Bill will often have to leave an event site, pick me up from the closest airstrip, and rush back to ensure all is ready for the arrival of the Minister. Meanwhile, Mrs. Cleary and Margo will stall for time in a separate car with a local driver so that they can make a grand entrance. It’s a pain in the ass for all concerned, but Margo has somehow convinced the Minister that it’s a sound strategy. It’s Margo’s special gift: she can dress up any stupid idea in flawed logic and present it as viable to the Minister. Since the Minister does not appear to be a fool, I assume she has her reasons for accepting Margo’s decisions.
    We three roadies have prescribed tasks. Laurie will schmooze the event organizers and keep the kids calm. They’re always wound up at these events, even though they don’t have a clue who the Minister is. Bill and I are to make sure the auditorium is set up properly, and the sound system is working. My special job is to ensure that the podium is appropriately situated to display the Minister to good effect. Specifically, it must be lowenough so that she’s visible and properly positioned to allow the lights to gleam off her burnished locks.
    My biggest challenge is that we require lecterns that accommodate an 8.5 x 14-inch folder, the standard being 8.5 x 11 inches. The Minister has decided, as a result of Project Diminishing Font, I presume, that her speeches will be printed on legal-size paper to get more 40-point text on each page. Besides, this way she’ll barely need to lower her head to read. Looking down is unflattering around the chin line and even having a prominent cosmetic surgeon as a husband cannot completely erase the effects of time.
    Not that I’m totally insensitive on this score. My many years of rebound dieting foretell of early wattle. Maybe the Minister will grow to like me and give me a voucher for some cosmetic work in her husband’s luxurious clinic. I plan to age gracefully, but if the nip-and-tuck were a gift, well, it would be rude not to accept it.
     
    To: [email protected]
    From: [email protected]
    Subject: Roughing it on the Isle
     
    Hi Libby,
    Bridget Wilkinson refused to come out of her trailer and shoot her scenes today. It all started when the local caterers assumed her request for turkey bacon was a joke. You don’t laugh at Bridget! The executive producer stormed over but despite all the yelling, Bridget never appeared on set. I know how much you love the Diva Report, so I hope you’ll still be able to access your e-mails during your trip.
    Rox
     
    P.S. I haven’t missed Gavin at all, which doesn’t bode well. I suspect I’ve seen the last of him and his mangy mutt.
    I try reverse psychology on Margo with good results. Fearing she will forbid me to bring the laptop on our journey, thereby cutting off my electronic lifeline to Roxanne, I blithely announce my intention of leaving the computer behind.
    “You must bring it,” she declares.
    “Why?” If she weren’t staring at my shoulder, she’d surely detect the desperation behind the bravado. Rox e-mails often when she’s on location and I’ve been relying on the celebrity gossip more than ever lately to distract me from my woes.
    “Because it will be useful, that’s why.”
    “But I’ll have to carry it around and it’s heavy. It’s not like I need it to write speeches.”
    “You’ll need it to revise the freelancers’ speeches.”
    “Well, okay, but I have back trouble, you know.”
    “You can get Bill