by A W Hartoin
“Oh, that’s not so bad.” I thought about ignoring her, but I really couldn’t make myself do that anymore. I answered and said wincing, “Hi, Mom.”
“Where are you?” she said. “Mickey’s calling me now.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Here.”
“And that’s…”
“The City Museum. Where do you think?” Mom asked without the tiniest bit of slur.
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Of course, I came. It’s for the hospital. Your father’s working on the truck though. One-track mind that man.”
“At least you’re not the track anymore.”
“Amen to that. Are you coming up? People keep asking about you.”
“People?”
“You’re supposed to be singing.”
“I didn’t say I’d do that.”
Mom laughed and said something to someone else before returning to me. “That hardly matters. Come up.”
“Who’s with you?” I asked.
“Dixie. She wants to check out Architecture Hall.”
“That’s the most boring part.”
Fats poked me. “What is?”
“Architecture Hall.”
“It’s not boring. It’s a fascinating look at St. Louis and—”
“Mercy, go up on the roof. Mickey’s calling again,” said Mom. “Oops. There she goes. Bye.”
My sling was cutting into my shoulder and it was time to take my painkiller. I’d been trying to stretch it out, but I’d waited too long and a hot, radiating pain was running from my arm, through my back, and up into my brain. “I need to stop for a minute.”
“Okay,” said Fats. “Here they come.”
Aaron and Peekaboo climbed out of the tunnel, glowing with happiness.
“You hungry?” asked Aaron.
Peekaboo raised her hand like she was in school. “I am.”
“I need to take a pill,” I said. “I think they have cookies at the café.”
“Cookies!” Peekaboo was off, dragging Aaron behind her.
We followed them and waited at the counter. It was crazy busy. All profits were going to the hospital and people were lining up for gooey chocolate chip cookies. I gave Aaron a twenty and found a table wedged against the railing overlooking the whale. The best spot. Then my phone buzzed and I looked. It was Chuck. I didn’t know whether I was relieved or not. He might be calling to tell me to piss off. Julia was a cop. She understood him or whatever. I swiped his call away and it was quickly replaced by Mickey. It was time to face the music. Literally.
“Hello,” I said.
“Mercy! Where are you?” asked Mickey. “The people want you. They’re streaming this live to MTV.”
“Having a snack with Peekaboo. She’s having a great time, by the way.”
“I knew my baby girl would love it. Bring her up to see the old man.”
“That’s a hard pass. You think she’s giving up Monstro City to watch her Dad?” I asked.
“There’s a giant praying mantis up here.”
“That might work.”
He paused. “Nina just got a call from your mom’s friend, Dixie. Where’s Carolina?”
“Looking for Dixie in the Architecture Hall,” I said.
He told Nina that, and then he came back once again telling me to come up. Then I heard Nina tell him to piss off and leave us alone. I loved Nina. She picked their kid over the band. Yes!
I hung up just to have Chuck call again. He could piss off, too. I swiped him away again and accepted an extra gooey cookie from Peekaboo. She and Aaron put their heads together over the museum brochure and plotted where to go next. Peekaboo was keen to see the miniature railroad and Aaron wanted the new Toddler Town, for some reason.
I took my pill and swiped Chuck away for a third time under the watchful eye of Fats.
“If that wasn’t Mickey, who was it?” she asked.
“Chuck,” I said.
“Did you dump him?”
“I think he might be dumping me.”
“No,” said Aaron, not bothering to look up from the map.
“What?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. Whatever. Aaron didn’t know. I wasn’t totally convinced he knew where babies came from. He simply had no interest that I could see.
Fats cracked her knuckles. “He’s not dumping you before my wedding.”
“But after is A-Okay?”
“Chuck’s going to be Tiny’s best man and you’re one of my bridesmaids,” said Fats.
“In the wedding that Tiny doesn’t know about?”
Peekaboo raised her hand. “Can I be in it? I’ve never been in a wedding.”
Fats looked her over and I held my breath. Parenting test number one.
“Bridesmaid or flower girl?” she asked.
“I want to sing with Mercy,” said Peekaboo.
What the what?
“I’m not singing. I’m in the wedding.” Listen to me. There wasn’t even a wedding to speak of yet.
Peekaboo forcefully disagreed. “Dad sang at his and Momma’s wedding. He was in it.”
“Maybe Fats doesn’t want us to sing.” Hint. Hint.
Fats grinned and leaned back on the hind legs of her chair, a dangerous maneuver for any chair. “I totally want you two to sing.”
I leaned over and whispered, “I hate you a little.”
“What do you think about really fluffy bridesmaid dresses, Peekaboo?” asked Fats.
“Pretty.”
Fats grinned and plunked her chair onto all fours. “You’ll be striking in taffeta.”
“I will be striking someone. Here’s a hint: you.”
“Are you fighting?” asked Peekaboo with the tiniest frown.
“No, no,” I said. “We’re going to the railroad.”
She was all for that and Fats said, “Answer your phone, woman. The vibrating is bothering me.”
I swiped Chuck away again and then it was Dixie calling. Surely Mickey wasn’t getting her to do his dirty work. “Hi, Dixie,” I said as we left the café.
“Where’s your mother?” she said in a panic.
“Architecture Hall, looking for you.”
“No, she’s not. I’ve gone through twice.”
“It’s fine,” I said, but my stomach disagreed and began twisting a lot like an Archimedes’ screw. The vomit was coming up, slowly but surely. “You must’ve just missed her.”
“Mercy, she’s not answering her phone,” said Dixie, her voice rising.
“Maybe she’s just not picking up.”
“Carolina’s not you. She answers. She could be having another stroke. We have to find her.”
“Where are you?” I asked, taking Peekaboo’s hand and putting it in Fats’.
“By Beatnik Bob’s,” said Dixie.
“I’m coming.” I hung up and called Mom. It went to voicemail. Crap and double crap.
I called Mickey. “Is my mother with you?” I asked.
“No. You said she was with Dixie,” said Mickey.
“She’s not and she can’t find her.”
Mickey yelled for security and I turned to Fats. “See if there’s a loudspeaker system. We can’t find Mom.”
Fats grabbed my arm. “She’s fine. She gets tired.”
“She’s not answering her phone.”
Fats yelled to security that was standing tactfully a few feet away, “Mercy’s mom is missing. Finding her takes priority.”
A bald guy with a tattoo of an eagle on the side of his head picked up his walkie and asked, “What does she look like?”
“Like Mercy. Exactly.”
“Really.”
“Yeah.”
I squeezed between two tables and said, “Last seen third floor.”
He told the other security guys to fan out, except he left one for Peekaboo. Then he spoke into his walkie as I darted by him. “We’ve got a missing Marilyn. Priority One. Mercy Watts’ mother is missing.”
I ran up the stairs, dodging around crowds of happy guests and losing Fats and security completely. It paid to be small in a crowd. I found Dixie at Beatnik Bob’s saying into her phone, “Answer. Please answer.”
“No luck then,” I said.
“Mercy. I’m so sorry. I only left her for a minute.” Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving lines in her perfect makeup. “I know something happened. I know it.”
“It’s fine. It’s fine. Call my dad.”
“Oh, my God. You think so, too.” She grabbed my arm and I shook her off.
“Just call him right now,” I said.
A voice came over the loudspeaker. “Carolina Watts. Carolina Watts. Please come to the first-floor ticket office. Carolina Watts, please come to the first-floor ticket office.”
“You stay here,” I said. “I’m going to look.”
Fats ran up and said, “You’re with me.”
“We’re going to spread out.”
“Mercy.”
“I don’t give a crap. Find my mother,” I said.
Fats phone buzzed. “It’s Chuck,” she said.
“Tell him.” I ran off to the Architecture Hall, jogging through the displays and looking into the multiple nooks and crannies. She wasn’t there.
I exited the other side and ran past the railroad into the circus. Nothing. Then I ran through the skate park to squat by the low maze entrance yelling, “Mom! Are you in there?”
“Which mom?” yelled a woman.
“Carolina Watts!”
There was some murmuring.
“Sorry. She’s not in here.”
I checked my phone. Calls from Chuck. From Dad. Not Mom.
Maybe her battery ran out.
Even as I thought it I knew it wasn’t true. Mom was so careful. Especially now. Dad would freak. She knew that. She wouldn’t do this to him.
I ran out of the skate park, back through the circus, into Art City, and found myself in Toddler Town. I really shouldn’t have yelled for Mom in there. The place was jam-packed with Moms. They all looked up, but none was mine. I weaved through the toddlers and strollers to check out the treehouse that led to the second floor. But Mom wouldn’t climb down that. She bruised too easily and it lasted forever.
She was on this floor. She was on this floor.
“Where haven’t I checked?”
Beatnik Bob’s.
I did a one eighty and dashed back to the snack shop or whatever you wanted to call it. I’d never actually been in there. It was always closed when I was at the museum and it was closed just then. Maybe Mom was inside. Maybe she had sat down and dozed off. It could happen.
But it didn’t. Mom was in Beatnik Bob’s wedged between two pinball machines and lit in garish colors from the neon that remained on in the dim area. She saw me. He didn’t.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, slurring badly. “I’m Carolina Watts.”
“Don’t try to fool me. It’s you this time,” he said.
I didn’t recognize the voice, but I recognized the gun. It was the same type as the rifle used to shoot at Fats’ truck.
“I’m not Mercy. I’m her mother,” said Mom.
He leaned in. “You aren’t anyone’s mother.”
“Look at my face. I had a stroke. Can’t you tell?”
“You look good to me,” he said. “Now we’re going to walk out of here. Nice and quiet.”
“I’m not leaving with you.” Mom sounded so calm. I wasn’t calm. I was freaking out. A round from that rifle could kill her, even if he just winged her.
“I think you are,” he said. “I was just going to kill you, but I think that father of yours will pay good money to get you back. Not that he’s going to get you back.”
“Tommy Watts is my husband and if you think he won’t catch you you’re very wrong.”
“He hasn’t caught me yet. The cops think a couple of idiot teenagers shot those people. You never even got a good look at me by SLU.” He jerked the rifle at her. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“No. Just go ahead and shoot me,” said Mom, her face fierce.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t let him shoot my mother and I couldn’t wrestle the gun away with one arm.
“Take me,” I said and he spun around wildly. I’m lucky he didn’t fire, but I didn’t consider that at the time.
“Holy shit,” he said.
“I’m Mercy Watts. Don’t you think it’s time you got the right girl?”
“I’ll be damned. Is this your mother?”
“Guess.”
He grimaced and the neon put bars of purple across his face. “I wouldn’t insult a man with a gun and you didn’t figure out who it was that shot at you either.”
“I knew it wasn’t a couple of dingbat teenagers with acne and zero sense,” I said.
“Congratulations.” He pointed the gun at me. “You lose.”
“Go ahead, shoot me,” I said. “I’m not going with you.”
For the first time he looked stymied and I had a chance to get what constituted as a good look in that place. I didn’t recognize him. I really didn’t. Brown hair. Medium build with a pot belly. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans under a long duster coat, making it easy to conceal the rifle.
“What is it with you Wattses? You don’t follow orders, but you feel free to get in people’s business.”
“That’s us,” said Mom. “Now Mercy, just back out the door.”
He centered the rifle on my chest. “I dare you.”
Crap on a cracker. He’s no Emma. He will shoot me.
“Do you really think you’re walking out of here if you shoot me?” I asked.
He smiled, showing teeth yellowed from tobacco. “You know what? I think I can. This place is filled with slides and stairs, caves and elevators.”
“Just because you walked away from Cabot and Calabasas and the hospital, doesn’t mean you can get out of here. It’s not the same.”
“But I’m the same. I’m not some backwoods hick with no sense of right and wrong.”
Well…
“That sounds familiar,” I said and it did, too. Where had I heard that?
“I bet it does. You fucking planted that shit.” He left Mom and advanced on me.
“Huh?”
He jerked the gun at me. “Move or Mom gets to see her little girl bleed.”
“Mercy,” said Mom.
“No,” I said. “I just got it. You’re a Babcock. Only a Babcock would pull this no planning I can get away with anything, hillbilly crap.”
“Mercy!” Mom gasped. “Don’t.”
I could and I would. If he shot me, Mom could get away and he wouldn’t.
“You are unbelievable,” he said. “It’s going to be a pleasure to shoot you.”
“Let’s get on with it then.”
“Mercy. Stop! I’ll go. I’ll go with you,” she said.
“We’re not going and he has to shoot us,” I said, loudly.
“Shut up,” he hissed.
I lifted my chin and yelled. “Do you want me to shut up? What are you going to do if I don’t shut up?”
He panicked, lowering the rifle, and backing toward the other exit.
This is totally going to work.
But it didn’t because it was me and it can’t be easy.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
THE DOOR BESIDE me opened and Peekaboo trotted in, smiling from ear to ear. “Mercy, I found you!” she crowed.
“Shit!” I grabbed her and tried to push her back out, but it snapped closed and he lunged at us, knocking into me and grabbing Peekaboo’s arm. She screamed and I landed on my cast. Pain rocketed through me. I couldn’t breathe or see or anything.
“Mercy,” wailed Peekaboo. “It hurts.”
“Shut up, you little retard,” he whispered.
I will kill you just as soon as I can see.
Mom had me. She wrapped her arms around my torso and her perfume enveloped me.
&
nbsp; “It’s fine. It’ll pass. Just breathe, honey, breathe.”
I did as I was told, a rare occurrence, and my vision started to come back. There was a sharp poke in my ribs. “Get up. Now.”
“Give her a second,” said Mom.
“Mercy,” whispered Peekaboo. “Are you hurt?”
That helped more than the breathing. I had to get her out of there with a quickness. “I’m okay. Just surprised. How did you find me?” I asked.
“I heard you,” she said.
Dammit.
I got to my feet, starting to think again and asked, “So what’s the plan?”
“We’re leaving,” he said. “All of us.”
He had the same crazed look that Beth Babcock had when she tried to light fire to the clinic. No thought. Just action. Two could play at that and I was betting that I knew The City Museum better than he did.
I took Peekaboo’s hand. “You can take my mother and me, but not her.”
“I don’t think so. Mickey Stix’s kid is worth more than you.”
Double dammit.
“She’s just a kid from the Children’s Hospital,” I said.
He snorted. “I saw her on TV when that dumb ass drummer was bragging about having you here for this shindig. How’d you think I knew where you’d be?”
Why is my luck all bad?
He flashed me a small pistol in his left hand and concealed the rifle under the folds of the duster, hooking it on his belt. The browns blended beautifully and you could only see the tip of the black barrel if you really looked. “Open the door and see if it’s clear.”
Mom did and she said it was crowded, but nobody we knew. I guess he could tell she was telling the truth because he told us to go out.
“Where are we going?” asked Mom.
“I’ll let you know,” he said.
He obviously had a plan, which was more than I could say for Beth, but I had a plan of my own. We left Beatnik Bob’s and to my surprise, we went right to the stairs to the fourth floor.
We weren’t going up there. Heights, crowds, and weaponry. Nope. I juked to the right and went for the main stairs.
“No,” he said. “We’re going to the big slide.”
“You can’t get to it from up there,” I said.
“Yes, you can.”
“No, you can’t.” I put Peekaboo in front of me and said loudly, “It’s okay, honey. Don’t be scared.” Then I whispered, “Slide.”
