Wasted (9 page)

Meredith Swan sang a song. The class of ’94 was introduced. Dr. Gloria Berry, the school district superintendent, spoke, then handed out the diplomas. The seniors talked among themselves while she was on stage. Then they threw their caps into the air and headed for Project Graduation, a non-alcoholic night of partying.

Kim LeBlanc graduated fourth in her class.

She cut her hair off shorter, dyed it black, and headed for the University of Texas and a life she’d never dreamed.

 

 

In the pulsating darkness of Club 404 on July 4, 1994, Regina Hartwell smiled at Kim LeBlanc. But Regina wasn’t all that friendly to Kim. In fact, Kim wasn’t even sure Regina liked her.

Kim was dead wrong.

Regina was immediately, intensely in love and lust.

Four days later, Regina introduced Anita Morales and Kim LeBlanc. Regina thought the world of Kim because Kim seemed to have it all together—she was in school, she came from a good family, she had a nice mom who loved her, and she was pretty. Regina liked to have pretty people around her.

Pam Carson and Regina Hartwell still communicated.

“I met this girl, Kim. I don’t really like her, but ... she flirted with me so much.”

For two weeks, Hartwell told Carson how much she didn’t like Kim LeBlanc. Pam wondered if Regina was trying to make her jealous, so she encouraged her to see LeBlanc, to see somebody.

“Why don’t you see her? Why don’t you go out with her?”

“Well, she’s straight, and she’s just a flirt. She’s just playing with my emotions because she knows I’m going through a break-up right now.”

At the end of that two weeks, however, Regina Hartwell was giving Kim LeBlanc money to buy drinks in 404. Soon after, Regina pulled Anita Morales aside.

“I swear to God,” said Hartwell, “I would kill for Kim. I’d do anything for her. I love her so much. She is so beautiful. I swear to God, I’d kill anyone who tries to touch her. I’d kill anyone who tries to steal her away from me. She is so beautiful. God, I love her so much. She is so beautiful.”

 

 

That was one of the few times Regina Hartwell saw Anita Morales during the rest of 1994. Morales was busy with school, only a few semesters from graduating with a degree in criminal justice. More than anything in the world, she wanted to be a cop, maybe even an FBI agent.

After she met LeBlanc, Hartwell abandoned her own friends so she could woo Kim’s friends, in order to get to Kim, just as years earlier, she had wooed Anita Morales in order to get to Morales’s roommate.

Hartwell gave LeBlanc an ATM card so she could access Hartwell’s bank account. Then, she took Kim, Tim Gray, and Kim’s friend Amanda Dexter, the Lake Travis High valedictorian, on a cruise to the Bahamas.

The need to waste her blood money clawed at Regina Hartwell like a junkie’s desperate need to waste herself on heroin—it killed the pain and alleviated the guilt of knowing that she had gotten the money through her mother’s death.

“I have ten million dollars,” said Hartwell, her scarred skin hidden behind a T-shirt.

Kim LeBlanc sunned in her bikini. “Uh-huh,” she answered, not quite believing her.

Sure, Regina seemed to have money for anything she wanted—a cruise to the Bahamas for four, but $10 million? That seemed ludicrous. Regina lived in a not-too-spiffy apartment complex, and her place was sparsely furnished.

But there was that Porsche 911. The good clothes. The ATM card with access to $300 a day.

It was almost enough to turn a young girl gay, especially a young girl who was a “sorta-have” in a world of haves.

LeBlanc swallowed a tab of X. Soon, she tingled with euphoria, then that sense of affection floated over her body as if she could love anyone and everyone in the world. She reached out and hugged Regina.

Regina Hartwell was infatuated with Kim LeBlanc. Kim knew that, and she was using that infatuation to milk Regina of her money, or at least that’s what Pam Carson thought. Hartwell tried to make it seem to Carson that Kim and she were together sexually, but Carson knew they weren’t. She heard the truth in Regina’s voice; she knew Regina too well.

But that didn’t stop Regina Hartwell from throwing the subject of Kim in Pam’s face every chance she got, and it didn’t stop Pam from retaliating by throwing the subject of Marion Casey in Hartwell’s face. Such bitterness developed between the two former lovers that they fought often, mainly over LeBlanc. Still, they made a point to see each other regularly.

 

 

Pam Carson drove the eighty-five miles to Austin to spend the day with Regina Hartwell. They went to Manuel’s, Regina’s favorite, neon-lighted, trendy Mexican restaurant on Congress Avenue—a bird’s-eye view from the Capitol and just steps from Club 404.

Kelli Grand, Hartwell’s favorite tall, dark-haired waitperson served them. Whenever Kelli Grand entered the restaurant, she greeted everyone with a giant smile, an even bigger hug, and a kiss on the mouth. Hartwell hero-worshipped Grand, so much so that she often tipped Grand as much as the bill. Kelli Grand was the type who could put anyone at ease.

But on that day, Pam Carson was nervous about hanging out with Hartwell, just the two of them. They tried to agree not to talk about Kim or Marion. Carson started drinking, and she kept drinking—beer after beer after beer.

They left Manuel’s and went to Oil Can Harry’s, a gay bar within walking distance of Manuel’s. There, they sat outside and drank more.

With Tecate beer moistening her lips, Hartwell put her hands out. Palms up, she wriggled her fingers. “I can still feel the X running through my veins from last night,” she said and leaned her head back and rolled her eyes into her head.

To Carson, Hartwell looked like a frigging idiot. “I’m glad for you,” she said, sarcastically. Pam made a few negative comments indicating right then, she thought Regina was a loser.

That didn’t stop Regina Hartwell. “Oh, me and Kim last night, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

The anger escalated until, finally, the two got up and left and went back to Hartwell’s. Yet Regina was still calling Pam the sweet, private names she used to call her.

At the Château, they decided to take a nap. Hartwell went into her bedroom and climbed into the bed that she had once shared with Carson. Carson initially lay down on the couch, but eventually got up and walked into Regina’s bedroom.

“You don’t miss me at all, do you?” she said.

“Oh, don’t even try it,” said Regina. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say.”

Another fight erupted, and Carson left.

The next night, Pam Carson ran into Hartwell and Kim LeBlanc at Club 404. She immediately recognized Kim because she’d seen photos of her. “Hello,” she said to Regina.

Hartwell put her Marilyn Monroe nose in the air and walked by without saying a word.

But the five-foot-tall Kim froze as though stuck in fear. Apparently, she had seen photos of Pam, too. LeBlanc’s brown eyes were wide and big as though she was scared the 5’7” Pam was going to hit her.

Finally, Kim moved on.

My God,
thought Pam,
what did Regina tell her about me?

 

 

Lights flashed in the blackness of Club 404. Music pounded and ricocheted off the walls. It was perfect for thinking and drugging, perfect for tripping. Mike White, just barely out of prison, was by then a clean and sober, gay survivor of incarceration, who knew he could handle almost any situation with his smarts. He glanced across the room. “Shit.” He spotted Regina Hartwell in the back of the club.

She’d cut off her hair, dyed it black, and lost weight. Her makeup was white, her lips were dark red. He thought she looked incredible, but she was the last person he wanted to see.

Hartwell spotted White. Not one bit intimidated by his 6’5” height, she lunged for him. “How the fuck dare you show your fucking face here after all you’ve done to me? I’m happy as hell that I’m the one who turned you in, you motherfucking ass.”

White lunged forward. A friend held him back. His sobriety helped; he hadn’t had so much as a beer.

A friend held Hartwell back, but she screamed. She yelled and she ranted, like a rabid dog tearing into meat.

White screamed and yelled, too. He felt his sobriety creep up his throat. It overrode his anger and placed terror in his heart of what would happen if he or she turned violent. He hated altercation. He hated confrontation. He put up his protective walls and walked away.

 

 

Later Regina Hartwell cornered Carla Reid, who’d traveled to Europe with Regina, Pam, and Brandy. “While Kim was on X,” Regina’s eyes were bright with excitement, “she hugged me. And she kissed me.”

 

 

Love is a drug in a class all its own. Regina Hartwell started referring to Kim, Tim, and Amanda as her “kids.” She bought them pagers so that they could all stay in touch. She bought Kim thousands of dollars worth of clothes. She took the “kids” to eat at Manuel’s and introduced them to Kelli Grand. But it was Kim whom Regina wanted. It was Kim whom Regina provided with margaritas, X, and access to the clubs that Kim was too young to enter.

“Kim,” said Hartwell, “I want more from our relationship. You know. . . . But I can wait until you’re ready. I don’t want to push you.”

Everyone around could see that Kim LeBlanc was really straight, that her touches to Regina only got more sexual after she had done a tab of Ecstasy. But Regina couldn’t see that. Her love was blind. Plus, Kim’s mother liked Regina, and she was nice to Regina. Cathy LeBlanc even let Regina call her “Mom.”

Cathy acted like a mom to Regina. She cried “ridiculous” when Regina talked about how she frittered away her money. “Regina, you shouldn’t do that.”

Regina Hartwell loved the attention. But even with Cathy LeBlanc, Regina got the attention by lying about her wealth. “After my mother died,” she told Cathy, “I got most of the money. My father got less.” The opposite was true. “I want Kim to use my ATM card. I’ve got all this money. It’s just falling out of my pants.”

“Regina has more money than God,” Cathy LeBlanc told people.

“I hate my father,” Regina said to Cathy, time and time again. “I hate him. I hate him so much. He used to beat me. He hit me all the time.”

At first, Cathy believed Regina. Then Kim told her that Regina lied often, and Cathy didn’t know what to believe.

Regina just knew it felt like an Ecstasy trip to have a family.

 

 

“I’m dating this girl,” said Regina Hartwell to Samantha Reynolds.

Reynolds was always the one to do the calling after she left Austin. Hartwell never phoned her.

“Her name’s Kim. She’s really pretty.”

Reynolds felt it was important to call Regina. It made her feel good to talk with Regina, who still had that much power over her.

“Kim’s smart,” said Regina. “She has a good family.”

Sam wanted Regina to know that someone cared about her, that if Regina ever needed a place to detox, she had a place to go to. So, in late 1994, she called Regina.

“I really love Kim,” Hartwell said. “But she’s young. Real young.”

“How young?” said Sam Reynolds.

“Eighteen. She really likes drugs.”

“Don’t do it,” said Reynolds. “Just quit the drugs. Just quit doing this with her. Just quit it. She’s using you. She’s just flat-out using you. For your money. For what you can get her.”

 

 

Regina Hartwell agreed to rent Kim LeBlanc an apartment starting January in 1995 and to take her, Tim Gray, Amanda Dexter, Kelli Grand, Carla Reid, Brandy Wynne, and several other friends to New York City for New Year’s Eve. Hartwell loved New York. She fantasized about living there some day. This would be a celebration. The Plaza Hotel, limousines, Dom Perignon—it would be a trip worthy of Marilyn or Madonna.

There was just one problem: Regina Hartwell didn’t have the money to foot the bill to New York City for ten friends and herself. It was her usual year-end poverty.

 

 

She also didn’t have the money for cocaine, and she was going through withdrawal—badly. She shook, and she sweated. Her heart raced. She panicked and ran to Jeremy Barnes. Barnes sat up all night long and half of the next day, just holding her while she suffered.

 

 

But if nothing else, Regina Hartwell was a woman of her word. If she made a promise to a friend, she kept that promise—whether it was “you sorry son of a bitch, I’ll send you to prison for doing that to me” or “I promise I’ll take care of you.” She had promised Kim LeBlanc and her friends a trip to New York, so, by God, they would get a trip, to New York.

Two or three weeks before the scheduled departure date, Hartwell went to her trust officer for traveling money. She begged and pleaded, but the officer wouldn’t advance her the money. There was only one thing to do: sell her Porsche.

Regina Hartwell sold her beloved 1983 Porsche 911 and bought plane tickets and hotel rooms for ten people. So that she could drive around Austin, she rented a car from a cheap, no-name, day-rental agency.

“Will you go to New York with us?” she asked Barnes. “I have an extra ticket.”

“No,” he answered. Jeremy didn’t want to be around her other friends, and he couldn’t afford to pay his own way. He wished he could convince her that she was so wonderful that she would have friends even if she didn’t buy their attention with drinks, drugs, and trips—she just didn’t realize how big her heart was.

Regina Hartwell took the friends to New York. Some of those friends hadn’t spoken to her in a month, but they were there in the snap of the fingers on the day they were to meet at the airport for departure. They were there because she had paid for the tickets.

The trip wouldn’t be the fantasy she had dreamed.

 

 

In New York City, Regina Hartwell plied her friends with drugs, champagne, limousines, and parties. She did anything to make them laugh and be happy—answering her Plaza Hotel room door with her shirt stuffed in her cotton panties, making faces, making fun of others, mimicking Homer Simpson, doing the Beavis and Butt-Head marijuana “Huh, huh.” It wasn’t enough. Not for Kim LeBlanc. Not for Regina Hartwell.

They shared a bed on the trip, hugs in their hotel room, and kisses in their limousine. Regina gave Kim some expensive leather goods as gifts.

LeBlanc tossed them off as if they were nothing. This had gone too far. She knew she wasn’t a lesbian. If she could only convince Regina of that.

It was time to say it plainly to Hartwell. “Regina, I’m not a lesbian.” There, she had done it.

Furthermore, she confessed the real truth, but not to Regina. She was in love with Tim Gray.

Kim LeBlanc was in love with a gay man. Hartwell was losing LeBlanc to a gay man. Regina would die, if she only knew.

There was more. Around that time, Kim revealed her molestation. She told Regina. And if there was something that tugged at Regina’s need to protect, it was a story of abuse, especially a story of abuse told by a girl who, like Regina, had been abandoned by her natural father.

LeBlanc left New York early. Regina Hartwell was left in her dream city with a bunch of coked-out and drunk-out-of their-brains revelers whom she didn’t particularly want to be with. She had to make the best of it. She decided she’d love and support Kim no matter what, even if she had to settle for just being like sisters. After all, they were bonded. They both knew abuse.

 

 

Friends noticed a change in Regina Hartwell after New York. She treated Kim LeBlanc differently, and not so sexually. She still paid LeBlanc’s rent, bought her food, drink, drugs, and clothes, but there was a difference.

As before, however, the image Hartwell presented to her Austin friends was different from the image she presented to Pam Carson.

 

 

Pam Carson ran into Kim LeBlanc, Tim Gray and Amanda Dexter at a cocktail party.

“Hi, how are you?” said LeBlanc, leaning over and kissing Pam on the cheek.

Carson and Gray talked for hours. He told her, “Oh, my God, you’re nothing like Regina described.”

The next day, Regina Hartwell stormed over to Carla Reid’s and Brandy Wynne’s, where Pam Carson was staying. “How dare you hang out with my friends,” she screamed. “How dare you talk to my friends.” She threw things across the room. “Those are
my
friends.”

“Regina,” said Pam, “they’re not your possessions. You don’t own them. Just because you buy them everything, doesn’t mean—”