Queen of the Masquerade (Rosie Maldonne's World Book 3)

by Alice Quinn

  “Sabrina! Sabrina! Bintou! SAAAABBBRRRIIINNNNNAAAA!” I screamed.

  No answer. I ran. I clambered up the side of the trailer to get to the front door, which was now faceup toward the sky. I did this with just the one hand. I don’t know how, but when you’ve got kids, you find super strength from somewhere.

  I peered down through the door. DOWN! The interior was soaked. Ruined. Oh nooooo! What was I going to do? My beautiful trailer! Oh, fuck the trailer! Where were my girlios? I’d only just gotten Sabrina back! How could I have lost her again? My twins! My girls! I jumped down.

  “Sabrina! Lisa! Lisa? Emma! Where are you?”

  I was calling out in total desperation and not getting anything in return but silence. Silence with the odd clap of thunder.

  Then I heard some scrambling and a loud bang. I looked up. It was Pastis glaring down at me. I could tell he was cross.

  “Meeeeeooooowww!”

  He was perched on the trailer. It must have been interesting for him to see it from this new angle.

  “Oh, Pastis. My boy! You’re here! Oh, Pastis! Where are the girls?”

  I heard a window opening behind me, a shutter being pushed outward. And then the twins. My twins’ gorgeous little faces.

  “Mommy! Mommy! Are you coming? We’re in here!”

  They were inside the old railway building behind my home-sweet-trailer. Up on the second floor. They clapped their little hands together. They were as pleased to see me as I was to see them.

  Pastis jumped up to the window so he could show me how to do it. There was a special method. But I knew it. I’d had to do it in the past more than once. It was pretty easy once you knew how.

  So Erina and Léo joined me as I climbed up to the second-floor window and squeezed in. We’d been through our fair share of windows that day.

  Everyone was there. Oh, I didn’t have words for the elation and relief I felt. Bintou and Laroche had decided to get up into the railway station as soon as the rain started growing really heavy. It was Laroche who’d insisted, apparently. He didn’t trust my trailer. As soon as the big-time thunder and lightning came, he climbed up to the second-floor window with one of the light mattresses from the twins’ room. Bintou carried a couple of bottles of water. And off they all went. They were a pair of bosses! They’d thought of everything.

  The little ones were so excited. Sabrina and Kholia were fast asleep on the mattress. The tranquilizers they’d been forced to take had made them finally succumb to sleep.

  We all caught up on the latest events.

  We noticed that none of our telephones was working properly. I needed to get to Gaston’s. I guessed that’s where we’d all be staying. A sideways trailer was no place to be.

  I picked my Sabrina up in my arms, even though I was running on empty and she was fairly hefty for such a little one! She woke up, but I couldn’t even contemplate the idea of putting her back down again. Léo put Kholia on his back, piggyback style, and we all scrambled outside. Laroche had his car with him. They must have picked it up on the way back from the body shop. And it was a nice ride. Just what I expected, really. A seven-seater Volvo or something. Classy. Upper-classy.

  There was room enough in it for everyone (OK, some of us were sitting on others). Three adults, four children, two teenagers, and our feline companion. Ten in total. If we’d really wanted to do this properly (and legally), we’d have needed a bus. But who was going to be checking on us today?

  It was turmoil on the roads. The town was on its knees. Garbage piled up, mud everywhere, a stench like mold but ten times worse, people looking lost and lonely, others crying and haggard. It was like a zombie film. And it had all happened in such a short space of time. That’s what I couldn’t get my head around. It was worse than anything I could have imagined.

  We went a few hundred yards and then had to abandon the car. All the roads were blocked, and Laroche and his super wheels wouldn’t be free to move again anytime soon.

  Laroche and Bintou wanted to stay with the car (and each other!). The rest of us continued to Gaston’s place on foot. I still had my Sabrina in my arms, and Léo carried Kholia. Erina was holding hands with the twins. What a trooper. Pastis was running alongside us. I swear he’s really a dog. The twins had taken to the whole disaster zone very well! They were full of beans, singing and chattering.

  As selfishly as ever, I had my fingers crossed the whole way that Gaston’s castle wasn’t a giant mudslide. I just wanted to get inside and leave this sorry world behind for the night. I wanted to be clean and dry and safe.

  I texted Gaston, just in case the networks came back or whatever it was that had gone wrong with the phones.

  Yo! C U l8r. In a cpl of minits.

  But it took quite a while for us to get to the sleepy castle . . .

  We finally made it. When I saw Gaston’s big fancy gates, my heart sang.

  64

  I rang the bell.

  Gaston ran down the driveway to greet us and open up. He’d been around the bend with worry, because he’d received my text message and had been expecting us much sooner.

  His house had been hit by the floods too, but only the cellar had really seen any damage. Water had gone through the vents. The foundations were pretty high, the water had lapped around the porch, but that was as far as it had gotten. The damage in the cellar was extensive, though. There was water five feet deep down there, and it wasn’t going anywhere for the time being. All his stuff in the basement was floating around. Tons and tons of books.

  I was so upset and emotional, I fell into his arms.

  Yes. Me!

  I had been holding it all back. The fatigue, the trauma of it all. I didn’t want anyone to know how much of an effect it had had on me. What I wanted more than anything was to go straight up to bed. But we all needed a shower. We were a smelly bunch.

  So that’s just what we did. After their showers, I put the kids in Gaston’s clean stuff—it worked fine as pj’s. Gaston had made up the beds as soon as he’d received my message. He’s great like that. Perfect, in fact. Always.

  The big guest room felt like mine. There was enough space for me, Kholia, and the girls. Our own little piece of heaven. He told me he’d done the same for Léo and Erina. What a godsend.

  As soon as the chillykins were wrapped up, tucked up, and storied up, I took off my damp clothes and enjoyed a hot shower. I found a big sleeveless shirt in one of the drawers. It was the perfect nightdress. Just my size.

  I threw away the dirty, wet wrist bandage and delved into the medicine cabinet to see what Gaston had in the way of first-aid supplies. Not much. I went downstairs and straight to the fridge. I rubbed some butter into the bruising. This was something that Ruth always told me to do. She’d picked up the tip from her mother before her. Butter was supposed to be a big help when it came to bumps and bruises.

  My stomach was telling me I was hungry, but the rest of my body more than hinted that tiredness was the biggest issue. I said good night to everyone who was still awake and then joined my girls and the new little addition. I bumped into Rachel Amar on the stairs. Her glasses were on the tip of her nose, a book in her hand, and a curious, inquisitive expression on her face.

  I heard Gaston say, “Ah! Rachel! Just in time! We need your opinion on something here. You know Léo and Erina, don’t you?”

  I felt relieved. Gaston was there to take some of the weight off my shoulders.

  I entered our room and got in the big bed next to Sabrina. Pastis had joined us too. Of course he had. He perched up on my hip, enjoying the vantage point.

  And I let it all out. The sobs came. They didn’t stop. I didn’t know whether I was crying simply because I was shattered, out of relief to finally be somewhere safe, or because I was stunned by what had happened with Murrash. Maybe it was the emotion of being with my babies again, or the fact that Erina and Kholia were with us . . . or all of those things.

  Maybe my heart was broken. I hadn’t heard anything from him in
a while. Would I ever hear from him again? Doubtful. Not now that he knew I wasn’t who he’d thought I was.

  Pastis didn’t often see me cry. He pawed his way up to my face and licked my tears. Salty goodness. He let out a shy little squeak and purred into my neck to help soothe me. His gentle noises reminded me of that day’s song. I couldn’t remember all the words, but I fell asleep trying.

  I’d totally forgotten about my stolen goods in my pockets . . . and the gangster cell phone . . .

  Saturday: The Fear

  65

  I would have liked more than anything to have a lazy morning, but I had too much work ahead of me. There was no school that day. That was one good thing, at least.

  A distant aroma of coffee floated up my nosey holes. That nice song by Andy Williams was playing on my brain stereo . . . Speak softly, love . . .

  Why would my momma send me that? What did that have to do with anything? Was Linus going to come and find me? It was a nice little song and I sang it well, even though the words were a bit tricky. English has never been my forte. I wondered whether or not Gaston might put a similar song in his Icelandic extravaganza.

  I was sure it was from a film. Something real famous. Oh, it was on the tip of my tongue.

  I thought about my ruined home and the effort it was going to take to get it all back in order. I had to get on that ASAP. I didn’t want to take advantage of Gaston’s hospitality. I wanted to be back at my place, quiet, with my little girl-gang and my kitty.

  I was going to have to get my ass back to Amar’s place to straighten it all out. Maybe she’d pay me enough so I could buy what I needed to return my trailer to its former glory.

  That gorgeous smell of freshly roasted coffee got me out of bed in a flash. I could feel it was early. Gaston is an early bird, though, and would have been up and about since the break of dawn. I scanned the room. No kids. I entered the kitchen and discovered I was actually the last one up.

  Gaston had already been out to buy fresh baguettes. We all enjoyed the perfect breakfast together à la française: coffee, crusty bread, butter, jam, and hot chocolate for the little ones.

  The kiddies, bellies full, headed out into the backyard in their makeshift pj’s to make the most of the sunshine. Pastis knew the grounds well and joined them. The adults (teenagers included) all stayed at the table to discuss what was to be done about Kholia and Erina. Gaston was just like me. For him, it was out of the question that the authorities be told about their whereabouts. There was not a chance we were going to let them wind up in a detention center. We’d heard stuff about those places. Not good stuff either.

  Rachel Amar thought the authorities should be told. I knew it. She wasn’t one to rock the boat. She admitted it, at least.

  “Sometimes, the boat needs a thorough rocking, Rachel,” said Gaston. “There are moments in life where breaking the law becomes one’s civic duty.”

  “Like when people hid Jews in their attics,” I added.

  “I understand what you’re saying. Just know that your consciences and personal moral convictions make no difference if you’re acting criminally in the eyes of the law.”

  “I can live with it,” said Gaston.

  “I can live with it too,” I added like a little parrot. “If I’d spent my life respecting the law, I’d be pushing up daisies by now.”

  Gaston looked at me proudly. I didn’t know if it was actually true, but it sounded impressive enough.

  Rachel intimated that, although she didn’t really support our decision, she was bound by professional confidentiality and wouldn’t say anything to the cops. That was the very least we could ask of her, right? That, and also to help Erina with some post-traumatic therapy. She needed to do that too.

  The other subject on the table was the state of our respective places of residence, and what in the name of Jesus we were going to do about it.

  Just before we tackled the matter, Bintou and Laroche showed up.

  “We wanted to come earlier, but we had to do a little shopping first. You people have nothing to wear!” cried Bintou.

  Jeez. Their arms were weighed down with expensive-looking bags and boxes, all wrapped up with satin ribbons. Bintou had been downtown and attacked all the classy stores. They’d been flooded too, and so everything had been going at knockdown prices. Oh God! Let me just say, those were some butt-ass ugly clothes.

  But as my Grandmommy Ruth always used to tell me, “Never speak to a gift pony in the face and beggars can’t choose nothing.” All our clothes were rotting in the trailer. And everything we’d been wearing the day before was lying in a heap on Gaston’s bathroom floor. I’d been too pooped to deal with it the night before.

  I called the twins in and put them in their new little outfits. Dior pink organza dresses with black patent Mary Janes. Sabrina was next. She had a taffeta skirt and a top from Kenzo, like a ridiculous little bride. Kholia had a three-piece suit from Junior Gaultier (you know, just in case he had a wedding to go to that day). And for Léo and Erina? Matching tennis gear from Lacoste. No rackets. Thank God.

  “For you, I thought Gucci was more your style,” said Bintou proudly, handing over a long dress. “Plus some sparkly moccasins, of course. I noticed that you like anything a little shiny, am I right?”

  Flat shoes? WTF? And a dress that didn’t show my thighs? A first for me! The colors were bright and the shoes were gold, but when I put it all on, I felt like a nun.

  I didn’t want to pee on her parade, though. So I put on a brave face. She added with joy in her voice. “I bought doubles of everything! So you’ll all have a change of clothing! The prices were incredible. I’ve got underwear and swimsuits too! You never know! Maybe you’ll all take a trip to the beach later.”

  I raised an eyebrow. I really feared the worst on the underwear front, but I kept my mouth shut. This getting-older business was doing me good.

  Once we were all in nice clothes and the thank-yous had been expressed, the babes went back to the yard to play in the mud. Dior’s just so practical for that. And we all went down, me in all my finery, to check out Gaston’s cellar.

  It was a sorry sight, so much of his collection of books floating around down there, including poetry books he’d written as a young man that were no longer in print. I really felt for him. We stood on the stairs listening to the glug glug gloop gloop sounds of his belongings sucking up water like sponges.

  Disaster.

  Gaston didn’t like to show much emotion. He’s that sort of fella. He wouldn’t have complained, anyway, though, because he knew I didn’t have much to go home to. We’d all been affected by this. What had happened to me was more serious, I guess.

  I got the distinct impression a part of him was secretly walking on air, because it meant we’d all be staying with him for a while. I guess this small pleasure compensated in some way for the loss of his precious books.

  “We’ve got a lot on our plates, peeps!” he said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to head out and buy a water pump. We’ll get it up and running and then go to the trailer to see what damage we can repair back there. You are insured, aren’t you, Cricri?”

  “Insured schminsured. Nope. I’ve never insured a thing. Well, the girls had to be insured for something at school. I did that.”

  “That’s a big pity, Cricri. All right, I’m off!”

  He seemed motivated, excited even, about all the work we had ahead of us. Not me, though. It gave me the fear.

  We’ll never do it. How are we going to get all that water out of the cellar? That place is enormous—it’ll flood the street! Then there’s my place. Cleaning it? Getting all the ruined stuff out of there? Fixing stuff? With Gaston and Léo? I wouldn’t exactly call that pair master builders! And then all the stuff at Amar’s? That apartment has been trashed! It isn’t humanly possible. This might just be the end of me. They’ll be scraping me off the floor by the time we’re done.

  I advised Rachel Amar not to go back to her apartmen
t just yet. She seemed pleased to be in Gaston’s company, so it was no hardship. She needed to unwind after all the stress. She knew Murrash had trashed her place when he came for Erina (but nothing about the Russian scum, although she might have suspected). I didn’t want her to see her home in such a sorry state. And because I had every intention of being paid for my work, I was as eager as pie to get stuck with it. Well, once we’d put my trailer back together and deflooded (what’s the opposite of flood?) my beloved Gaston’s cellar.

  She divulged that she’d be more than happy to stay on a few more days. I got the feeling she was just letting everything wash over her and enjoying someone else making all the decisions. Plus, she was fascinated by our lovely Erina. Personally and professionally. She wanted to analyze her background and help the girl. She still had a major beef with Bintou and Laroche, though. She’d hardly spoken a word to them. I guess she must have felt betrayed.

  Later on, as I grabbed our dirty laundry (I was trying to be a good little houseguest) from the bathroom, I came across my stolen goodies from the body shop. The cell phone. I took it down to the others to ask their advice. Did they think it could be of any use? Laroche was on it! Full-time geekio. He got it up and running with a mini UPS wire, or USB cable, I didn’t really know the technical ins and outs of it all—just that he’s a magic man when it comes to that stuff.

  “There’s only one number in the memory,” he said.

  “Oh yeah! I heard about this on The Wire! It’s a common dealer trick! They change their cells all the time. Borelli mentioned it too! I wish there was a way we could find out who it belonged to.”

  “Usually, if there’s just the one number, it’s the boss’s.”

  “Monsieur Charles? Do you really think so, Cricri?” interjected Gaston, back on the ball now that he’d put his opera saga away for a while.

  “Monsieur Charles himself! But how are we going to get our hands on the prick? We can’t call him, can we? Ha! Can you imagine?”