It was Friday morning and Alice was just getting back into LA, and she was pissed.  She was pissed that Bette had not called her back.  The message that Alice had left had begged her to call her, she was sure to even include how important it was that they talk as soon as possible, and yet she had still not called her back.

What the *****?  And that damn message when she tried her cell.  That was it, she was going by the CAC today and would have this out with her.

She pulled into the driveway of her apartment, parked the car and grabbed all of her stuff.  As she walked upstairs, she realized that she had forgotten to check her mail.  She turned around, went back downstairs emptying her mailbox.  When she turned to go back upstairs, Alice knew that not only was she pissed at Bette, but she was a tad bit worried as well.  It really was not like Bette to not call her back, especially when she had expressed a sense of urgency.

She opened the front door of her apartment, balancing everything in her hands and quickly threw the mail on the table with everything else unceremoniously tossed onto her bed.

As she went into the kitchen, she grabbed her mail and went over to check her messages.  She held the mail in one hand while dialing her voicemail with the other.  As she listened to her messages, she started to flip through the stack of mail.  “Trash”, she muttered to one, “ooh, I need to pay this”, she said to another as she made her way through the pile. 

As she got to the bottom, she noticed a hand written envelope and could not help remarking out loud how much the person’s writing looked like Bette’s.  She flipped the letter over and saw no address there.  She looked at the postmark and saw New York.  “Who the ***** do I know in New York?” she thought to herself.

She looked closer at the handwriting and was amazed how much it looked like Bette’s.  “Porter would get a chuckle out of this one, knowing that someone has the exact handwriting as her.  Actually, it would probably piss her off” she giggled.