‘Did you hear that Boo Boo? They steal my wig and damage your unicycle and they don’t know who we are.’ He turned slightly to look over his shoulder at me. ‘We’re the famous Crafty and Boo Boo.’ A piece of spit flew out of his mouth and landed on the inside of the passenger side window.
‘That was your unicycle?’ I said to Boo Boo.
He looked over his shoulder at me with his huge, soulful eyes and then his mouth stretched out into a wide grin.
‘He loved that unicycle,’ Crafty said.
‘I’m sorry we stole your wig,’ Martine said. ‘But we can give it back to you. Was it the yellow one or the red one?’
‘The yellow one.’ Crafty sounded sullen.
‘So let me get this straight,’ I said. ‘You’ve kidnapped us because we damaged your unicycle and stole your wig?’ Geez Louise. I’d hate to see what he did if we damaged his car.
Crafty shifted uncomfortably. ‘An eye for an eye, a wig for a wig.’
‘Yes but Boo Boo damaged two of my wigs. I bet my wigs cost more than yours. These are real human hair.’ Martine crossed her arms and stared at the back of Crafty’s head.
Boo Boo put his hands over his eyes and then peeked through his fingers at Martine. A small smile crept onto her face. It was impossible to be angry with the huge ape.
‘Well there was that,’ Crafty said. ‘And then there was the rumours that your show was betta than mine.’ He looked back at us again. ‘You gotta understand how that made me feel. I have a little car trouble and turn up to work late to find out two clowns went on instead of me and got a standing ovation.’
I started to laugh. ‘We got a standing ovation?’
‘Ya didn’t know?’
‘We were a little busy running away from the Russian Mafia,’ I said.
‘So ya not thinkin’ of takin’ up Circus Circus’s offer of a five year contract.’
Martine and I burst out laughing. ‘You clowns,’ I said, ‘you’re so funny.’
Crafty indicated right and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He pivoted in his seat and a foul smell wafted over us. Boo Boo put his hands over his face and blew a raspberry.
‘Sorry,’ Crafty said. ‘I get gassy when I’m emotional.’
‘No problems at all,’ Martine said, winding down her window.
‘I’ve been had,’ Crafty said, turning back to the front.
‘I think so,’ I replied.
Boo Boo reached a long arm over and touched Crafty’s shoulder. When Crafty didn’t respond, the orangutan clambered onto his lap and wrapped his long arms around him. He was too big for the space and his bottom jammed onto the horn. It let out a long flatulent sound and I struggled to restrain my mirth.
Another putrid wave of stench reached my nose and I wound down my window, gasping in the fresh air.
‘Sorry,’ Crafty said, wiping his arm across his face. ‘It’s the other clowns, they love winding me up.’
‘How did you know it was us?’ I asked.
‘There aren’t too many women in Las Vegas with only one orange arm.’
I had a sudden feeling that none of this would have happened if only I’d left my arm pasty white.
‘Perhaps you could drop us at our hotel so we can get your wig,’ Martine said.
‘That would be grand,’ Crafty started up the car again. ‘Now what was that you were saying about the Mafia?’
‘We were being chased by them.’
‘What on earth for?’
‘It’s a long story,’ I said. And then to my surprise I found myself telling it to him.
‘So you’re on your way to rescue your mother?’
‘Ahuh,’ I said, not feeling quite so positive that that was what we would end up doing.
‘We can help.’
‘I couldn’t allow it,’ I said.
‘I’ve got a lot of friends that would love to take some whoop-arse out on those Mafia scum.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘but it’s bad enough that I’ve dragged Martine into this.’
‘Okay,’ he said, giving up with surprising ease.
Martine and I went up to the rooms and changed into our darkest, comfiest clothing. Then we took the wigs and the rest of the costumes back down to Crafty and Boo Boo.
When they had left we took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink. It looked like Martine and I were going in after Mum alone. I needed all the Dutch courage I could get.
‘What’s the plan?’ Martine asked.
‘We’re going to go in and get Mum out.’
‘Have you noticed that your plans lack any sort of detail?’
‘You got a more detailed one?’
‘Nope.’
The barman gave me a pen and some writing paper and I wrote a quick letter to Big H. I put a copy of the list I had gotten at The Big Blue into it and then asked at reception for an envelope and stamp. While I rang Big H, Martine went to the local store to try and rustle up some kind of weaponry.
He answered his phone on the third ring.
‘I think I know who runs the Mob,’ I said.
There was a small pause before he said, ‘Chanel?’
‘Oh sorry, yes.’
‘Let me guess. The same person who killed Lou the Brain.’
Damn. He was good. ‘I don’t know why you got out of the game.’
He laughed. ‘I don’t have the stomach for it. So who is it?’
‘Barney Stilton.’
‘That slimy creep that manages The Big Blue?’
‘The very same.’
‘Huh. I didn’t think he had the balls for it.’ There was a few seconds silence before he said, ‘You know how I said you had relatives in town?’
‘I don’t want to know.’ If I found out that I was related to Barney Stilton I was going to have to shoot myself.
‘But, it could be…’
‘Stop.’
‘I think you should…’
‘Zip. Please. I really don’t want to know.’ I was happy being the only child of an only child.
‘All right then, but I’m just saying…’
‘Big H!’
‘Sorry.’
‘I heard Barney talking on the phone,’ I continued, trying not to think about the fact that he could be my relative. ‘They’re taking Mum to The Big Blue tonight. I’m going to rescue her.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Can you get us guns?’
He burst out laughing. ‘I told you, I’m out of the loop.’
‘Then nothing. But I’m sending you evidence of their involvement in the people smuggling racket they’ve been running with the Russian Mafia. Just in case…’ I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t want to think about the ‘just in case’.
There was a pause and then he said, ‘I’ll give it to my son. He’ll know what to do with it.’
***
Martine came back to the bar while I was talking.
‘How’d you go?’ I asked, when I’d finished.
She laid two box knives on the table.
‘Is that it?’ I’d been hoping for some kind of blunt instrument, or preferably a gun. I didn’t like the thought of using knives. The intimacy of the injury made me squeamish. The feel of the blade slicing them open, the thought of the blood that would flow… it reminded me of those girls who’d had their throats slit last year. And Lord knows I still had issues on that front.
‘At this time of night? You’re lucky they didn’t call the cops on me. I convinced the girl I had moved and need them for the unpacking.’ She added two tiny bum bags, a packet of batteries for my torch, and a bar of chocolate to the knives.
‘Is that to bribe the guards?’ I pointed at the chocolate.
‘If I’m to die tonight, I want to die knowing that the last thing I ate was a block of Hershey’s Cookies’n’Crème.’
I stared at her until she grinned and pulled a second bar out of her bag. She threw it at me, and I tore off the wrapper, inhaling the cho
colatey scent.
I tried only to think about the deliciousness of the Hershey’s bar as we ate them. I didn’t want to think about being captured or killed, or being too late to save Mum. I was trying not to think about Trent. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I did. The only reason I could think of for why he wasn’t here or with Mum was that something awful had happened to him. (I was trying not to think the word ‘dead’.)
Halfway through my chocolate I had a thought. ‘Hey, how come you call Mum Tess now?’
‘It’s her name.’
‘I know. But I would have thought out of habit you’d call her Lorraine.’
‘Lorraine never suited her,’ she said, around a mouthful of Hershey’s. ‘She’s a Tess through-and-through.’
I thought about it. Martine was right. She had been a Lorraine when we’d lived in Hickery. She’d worn brown knit cardigans and baggy sweat pants. But now she was hip and modern and much more a Tess.
The chocolate was gone far too quickly and then it was time to call a cab to take us back to the club.
I picked up the tiny Lycra bum bag and pushed the knife into its stretchy fabric. ‘These are cool.’ I pointed at the bags.
‘They’re runners’ bags. You put your phone and keys in them. I thought we could hide them under our shirts.’
I switched my phone to silent – let it not be said that I don’t learn from my mistakes – and squished it into the bag behind the knife. Then I adjusted the elastic strap and clipped it around my waist. I pulled my shirt over it and examined myself in the foyer mirror. You wouldn’t have known the bag was there.
We got the cab to stop a few hundred metres before The Big Blue. We walked the block around the bar, checking for any suspicious vehicles. When we were sure it was clear we huddled in the archway of the building across the road. We would be almost invisible in the shadows, but would be able to see any vehicles that drove around to the back lane.
Five minutes later the employees started leaving, wandering off in small groups of three or four. Once the place was silent and dark, a black Cadillac drove past the front of the bar and turned up the rear alley. I could feel my nerves increasing with its proximity.
Mum was in that car. And I’d be damned if I were going to leave there without her.
Once the car had disappeared from sight, Martine and I rose from our hiding spot. I stretched my legs, partly because I needed to and partly as a delaying tactic. Even though I was determined to save Mum it didn’t mean I wasn’t scared shitless.
‘Show time,’ I said to Martine.
‘Normally I’m excited at the start of a show.’
I looked up at her in the darkness. ‘You don’t need to do this.’
‘What, and let you get all the credit? I don’t think so.’
I smiled. ‘You know what I mean.’
She was quiet for a moment before saying. ‘You guys are my family. And I don’t let bad things happen to my family.’
I could feel the walls of my throat thickening and tears swam in front of my vision. ‘Ditto,’ I said, hugging her.
‘Right,’ Martine said, letting go of me and dashing a hand at her eyes, ‘enough with the emotional crap. We’ve got some Italian arse to kick. What’s the plan?’
‘Really? After all this time, have I ever had a good plan?’
‘I’m waiting for you to say we’re going to go in, grab Mum and get the hell out of there.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘That is the plan.’
We walked around to the alley and crept slowly up to the back door. The car was still there and I was hoping they had left the door unlocked. They had. This was good, because there was no contingency in my plan for if it were locked.
I opened it far enough to slither through the small gap, hugging the wall once I was inside. It was dark in the back area, but a light shone like a bright line under the far door giving us enough ambient light to see where we were going. That was the door that opened out onto the side of the stage.
My muscles wound tighter and tighter as we inched towards it. I could feel a scream forming inside me. It worked its way up to just below my voice box where it waited to be used. I tried to slow my heartbeat. It, however, didn’t think slowing down was such a good idea. It raced so fast that I felt exhausted before we even got there.
We paused at the door while I summoned up the courage to open it. I’m not sure exactly what Martine was doing but I suspect by the muttering that she was praying.
What would be waiting for us?
Several possible scenarios flashed before my eyes but I shoved them to the back of my mind. None of them had happy endings.
I took a deep breath and twisted the handle, pulling the door towards us. I stuck my head out the opening and looked around. There was nobody there.
We crept from the open door to the stage curtain and hid within its voluminous folds. I couldn’t hear anything except my blood pounding in my ears. I stuck my head around the curtain and sucked in a breath.
Mum was in the middle of the stage, slumped in a chair. Her hands were bound behind her back and her hair flowed over her face.
I watched her nervously, checking behind us for any goons that might be skulking there. We appeared to be all alone.
It was far too easy.
It felt like a trap.
It looked like a trap.
It probably was a trap.
But I didn’t know what else to do but grab her and run. Hopefully they weren’t expecting us. We could be outside and gone before they even realised it.
I broke from my hiding spot at the edge of the stage and sprinted to her. ‘Mum,’ I hissed, lifting her head up.
Her eyes were closed and her head fell forwards again as soon as I released it. She was unconscious.
I tried to control my anger. Those bastards had hurt her. They’d hurt my mother.
‘Is she okay?’ Martine whispered behind me.
I looked back at her and shook my head.
She scuttled forwards till she was standing next to me. ‘I’ll carry her.’ She reached down and scooped Mum up, cradling her gently against her chest.
We moved back to the curtains and I checked all around us. Nothing. I couldn’t believe we were going to get away with this. I mean really. I had expected some sort of confrontation.
I had the start of a grin on my face as we broke from the cover of the curtains and headed back towards the door. They were going to be scratching their heads trying to work out where Mum had gone.
And that was when Mickey and Riley stepped through the far door. They were both wearing neck braces. They were also holding guns.
Oh shit.
Mickey clapped his hands together a few times. ‘Impressive,’ he said.
‘Hi boys. Fancy meeting you here.’ I’d gone for false bravado, but my voice cracked halfway and I only managed falsetto.
Riley gestured towards the chair with his gun. ‘Put her down.’
Martine deposited Mum gently back in the chair and turned to face Riley. ‘How’s your neck?’ she asked.
‘None of ya business.’
I glanced sideways at Martine wondering if she were thinking what I was. They wouldn’t be very nimble with those neck braces on. If we were lucky, we could jump off the stage and get to the front door before they shot us. Then we were going to have to call the cops. Surely they couldn’t all be crooked.
I turned my head to look at Mum.
She was gone.
‘Run,’ Martine screeched. Her arms fluttered about her as she whirled on her pump sneakers. She stopped with her arms in the air, a look of shock on her face.
Mum was standing farther back on the stage, the barrel of her gun pointed at Martine.
‘You’d be the easiest to hit,’ she said, her American accent still strong.
What the hell was going on? Was this a ploy on her part to make them think she was on their side so we could all get away? But if it were – where had the gun come fr
om?
I couldn’t get my head around it, because I was unable to comprehend the truth. When I did, it hit me in the chest like a high-speed train.
She had betrayed us.
‘What the fuck?’ I said.
She tisked. ‘Language, language.’
‘Why? You say it.’ I was suddenly very angry. All of the shit Martine and I had been through over the last couple of days for her to pull a stunt like this.
‘I do?’ She let out a trill laugh. ‘I am a naughty girl.’
Barney Stilton came through the door from the back offices. ‘That was fast,’ he said, walking up the stairs. ‘Now the game begins.’
He stopped at the top and licked his hand, running it over his head to pin down a piece of hair brave enough to escape the layer of grease.
‘What game?’ Martine asked.
We heard a scuffle break out behind us. By the time we looked back at Mickey and Riley they were gone. There were a few grunts and groans, and I heard an oooff as the curtains swayed with the movement of bodies on the other side.
Then the curtains went still and Trent walked around the edge, an uzi in one hand.
‘Put down your weapons,’ he said.
And then another voice, as familiar as my own, said, ‘Hello Hillary,’ and Mum – my real Mum – stepped around the curtain. The stage lights blazed off her brilliant red hair.
‘Hello Tess,’ the blonde woman said.
I stared between the two of them, my mouth flapping open and closed like a puppet’s. Apart from the hair and the accent they were identical.
‘What the fuck?’ I said again.
‘Hello darling,’ Mum said. ‘I see you’ve met your Aunt.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Well, I’m a little busy at the moment.’ She had her gun trained on Hillary.
‘I took her home,’ I said, waving a hand at Hillary. ‘I slept beside her.’
‘It was really very sweet,’ Hillary drawled.
‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘I’m talking to my mother.’ I turned back to Mum. ‘You couldn’t let us know that you were safe? We’ve been worried sick, and you have no idea what shit we’ve been through trying to find you.’
Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 02 - Goons 'n' Roses Page 15
