Gracie squinted for a minute and looked around at the slovenly surroundings. “Love what you've done with the place.”
Dumber shoved her along the hallway. “Shut up, you stupid bitch.” He opened a bedroom door and threw the stroller and bags on the floor before he forced her inside. “And that brat of yours better keep his yap shut too.” Dumber slammed the door behind Gracie and locked it.
“This is a fine mess, isn't it buddy?”
Keaton bobbed his head up and down.
Gracie sat on the old mattress and propped herself up against the wall so she could nurse Keaton. He'd take a little and then doze off, which was just as well; it kept him quiet. And she needed him quiet.
She didn't want to call attention to him at all.
Her fingers lingered on his silken hair. “You can't cry, little guy. I know you take after your big-mouth daddy, but you gotta listen to me. It's for your own good.”
Gracie looked around. The room was dark and it smelled musty. She had no idea where she was, but one thing was certain: She had to get out of there or they would kill her and her baby. They'd also kill the lady who helped her in the bathroom, this Bette, and the Keaton woman. Gracie had been desperate enough to smuggle diamonds over the border, but she hadn't signed up for murder. That's why she wouldn't open her mouth to Candy about Bette. She had to get to the Waldorf and warn them.
She put her two fingers softly down Keaton's back and slid four one hundred dollars bills out of his diaper. “Thanks for not pooping on it.”
In the first panicked moments in the restroom, she'd taken all six hundred of it, but quickly changed her mind. Everyone travelled with some money. Her plan had been to walk out of the bathroom and buy a ticket to anywhere, but as soon as she did she ran smack dab into Dumb and Dumber. They'd been in another car; when they saw their pal squeal off with four women they realized something had gone wrong with the plan and rushed into the airport to find Gracie. They took her by her arms and walked her quickly to the exit, Keaton still crying in his stroller.
Gracie needed to act fast. The longer they kept her here, the more that could go wrong. She lay Keaton down, and as she did, he filled his diaper. “That was good timing.”
He grinned in his sleep.
It gave her an idea. She took off the diaper and put it to one side. Then she cleaned up her baby. There were still a few outfits and diapers in the other bag she'd taken on the plane, so she took what she needed and dressed Keaton in a couple of layers before laying the four bills across his head. On went his hat, which she tied snugly under his chin.
Next she placed him in his stroller, while she took the sheets off the bed, folding one of them to wrap it around her middle. The other sheet she smeared with baby poop. Then she picked up Keaton and smeared some on his clothes. She folded the stroller and laid it on the floor where it could be seen and left her knapsack open on the bed.
“Okay, buddy. You've got to help me. Stay very quiet.”
She walked over to the closed door and pounded on it. “Hey. Hey! I gotta clean up my kid.”
“Shut up,” came a voice from under the door.
“Great. You want shit everywhere stinkin' up the place, that's your business.”
“Aw, crap. It does smell like crap.”
Dumber unlocked the door. “Holy shit, what a stink. Take that brat and wash him off. Don't you got no sense?” He gestured to Dumb. “Look at this mess. It's everywhere.”
Dumb looked in and wrinkled his nose. “Some people just ain't brought up right.”
Gracie pushed past them. “I don't need a lecture. I need some water.” She made sure she pointed Keaton's little backside in their direction.
“Get that brat away from me. He reeks,” Dumber winced.
Dumb pointed a finger at her. “Don't try nothin'.”
Gracie rolled her eyes. “Where the hell am I going? My stroller's in the other room. I don't have any supplies for the kid and I don't have any money. Like I'm going take my baby out in the middle of the night? Don't be stupid.”
“Hey, don't call me stupid.”
“Sorry. I'm going to give him a bath, is that all right?”
“Hurry up.”
They went back to watching their porn video.
Gracie closed the bathroom door and thanked God there was a window. She quickly took the dirty clothes off Keaton, unzipped her hooded sweater, and unwrapped the sheet from around her waist before turning on the water in the tub full blast. Then she picked up her sleeping baby and held him against her chest, slipping the sheet around the back of her neck and crisscrossing it over his body as tightly as she dared. The two ends wrapped around her waist and she tied it in the front. On went her sweater, which she zipped up over Keaton.
All set. She splashed a little water around. “Who's a stinky boy? Yuck.”
Dumber yelled, “Make sure he's clean, and then wash that shitty sheet.”
“I will, don't worry.”
She climbed up on the radiator and pushed the window open. It wouldn't budge.
“Damn.” She jiggled it and looked for a lock. It was painted shut, so she had to risk making some noise. She shoved at the window. It gave a little.
“What was that?” Dumb said.
“The toilet seat.”
She whacked it again and it opened. “If we're on the tenth floor, buddy, we're screwed. I ain't Spiderman.”
Keaton gave a little grunt.
“Shhh, baby. Just a little longer.”
The men were moving around. She had to goâit was now or never. It was a good thing she was small; it was difficult getting out the window. It turned out she was at the back of a rundown apartment, with wrought-iron stairs zigzagging to the ground. “Thank you, God.”
Gracie ran down the stairs as fast as she could and had to hang off the emergency ladder and drop the last four feet to the pavement below. That's when Keaton protested. She kissed the top of his hat. “Thanks, little man. You did a good job.”
She disappeared into the dark.
The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
Finally, a hand reached from underneath the duvet and groped for the phone, picking up the receiver and pulling it back underneath the covers.
“Mmm?”
“This is your wake-up call.”
“Mmm.” The hand tried to replace the phone but didn't quite make it, so the receiver fell to the floor.
The four friends snored on.
Around eight, Gemma threw the covers off her head. “What the hell is that noise?”
The other three showed signs of life and started to move around.
Bette yawned. “What noise?”
“It sounds like a buzzer.”
Linda solved the mystery. She reached over the side of the bed and picked up the phone. “Oops.” She replaced it on its cradle. “That must have been the wake-up call.”
Augusta sat up and stretched. “We left one for seven. What time is it?”
“It's nearly eight.”
“So what's the plan?” Bette said.
“Instead of calling that number, I think we should go to a police station. At least we'd see a bit of the city, because you know darn well that if we call they may send someone up here and we'll never get out of this room. What do you think?”
“I think you're right. Let's get a move on,” Gemma said.
They quickly took turns showering and made coffee in their room. They'd eaten so late the night before that no one wanted breakfast. Gemma stared out the hotel window. “It looks like a great day out there. If we were in a parallel universe where everything went right, I wonder what we'd be up to today?”
Augusta joined her. “Having a wonderful time seeing the sights. I've always wanted to go to a hot dog stand, for some reason.”
“Of all the places you could go, you want a hot dog from a street vendor?”
“They always look so good on
Law and Order
.” Linda called the airline to see if her luggage had arrived but was told that no, there was no sign of it. Frustrated, she banged the phone down. “My suitcase is still having a wonderful time in Spain or Greece or the North Pole for all I know.”
Since Augusta was around the same size, she lent Linda some clothes. When Linda came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she pulled at her crotch. “Damn, I wish I didn't have such a long torso. I feel like I'm being carved in two.”
She ended up putting Kleenex in the bra, and then stuffed some in the shoes Gemma lent her so they'd stay on her feet. She stood in the middle of the room. “Okay, this will have to do. Now, it's off to the police station first and then to the Canadian consulate to report Bette's missing passport.”
“We might have to leave you behind, Bette,” Augusta said. “Just think, you'll never see Ida and Izzy again.”
Bette made a face. “That's the only good news I've had in the last twenty-four hours.”
“If you girls don't mind,” Linda said, “I'd like to do a little shopping. I need something to wear that's a tad more comfortable. I promise I won't be long, Augusta. I know you want to go exploring.”
“That's okay.”
Linda grabbed her guidebook. “I looked it up. Saks Fifth Avenue is only a couple of blocks away. We can walk along 50th Street and see Saint Patrick's Cathedral. You'd like that, Gemma.”
“I'm not sure I would. I don't think I believe in Saint Christopher anymore. So far he's done a lousy job of keeping us safe.”
Linda picked up her purse. “Of course, it all depends on whether I can get out of here unnoticed. You watch, I'll run into Stuart as soon as I put my big toe out the door. I really don't want to see his lying, cheating face on today of all days.”
“You need a disguise,” Augusta said.
“Not just her,” Bette pointed out. “He knows all of us.”
They decided to wear scarves on their heads and put on their sunglasses. Fortunately Augusta had an extra pair to lend to Bette, though they didn't suit her. Still, beggars can't be choosers, so looking every bit like spies or Jackie O. wannabes, they made sure the coast was clear before venturing out of their room. They quickly closed the door behind them and ran down the hall to wait for the elevator.
When it arrived they got in and held their breath every time the elevator stopped on another floor to admit more people, in case Stuart materialized, but fortunately they reached the lobby without any sign of him. Linda let out a sigh of relief before she realized the man standing outside the elevator waiting to get on was a colleague of Stuart's. She grabbed Bette's arm and spun around to face the back wall.
“Don't get off.”
Bette knew something was wrong, but she didn't have time to warn the other two. Gemma and Augusta breezed out the door as Bette and Linda stayed put. When Gemma discovered they weren't behind her, she looked back. Bette stood like a statue and Linda was hunched in a corner.
“Are you coming?” Gemma asked.
“No, I don't think so,” Bette said. “You go ahead.”
The doctor hesitated and looked at Bette. “Is this your floor? Do you want to get off?”
“No, no, we love to ride up and down.”
The doctor gave her a strange look and got on. Gemma and Augusta stood with their mouths open as the doors closed in their faces. Bette smiled brightly every time the doctor glanced over at them. Linda continued to look at her feet in the corner.
“Lovely day,” Bette said.
The doctor nodded. “Yes, indeed.”
“Great weather.”
“Great.”
“Are you married?”
Linda poked her in the ribs with her elbow.
“Erâ¦yes, I am.”
“Pity.”
The doctor reached out and stabbed his floor's button again, as if to hurry the elevator along. The door finally opened and he rushed out as fast as possible. Linda turned around and collapsed in the corner. “Are you crazy? âAre you married?'”
Bette shrugged. “You made me nervous. I didn't know what to say. It was the first thing I thought of.”
“Oh God, this isn't going to work. Stuart's cronies are crawling all over this joint.”
“It's not possible for him to know every plastic surgeon in North America. We'll be careful. Remember, you deserve to be here.”
“Right.”
They rode the elevator back down and missed Gemma and Augusta, who were on the one next door riding back up. After two trips, Linda called Augusta on her cell.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Where the hell are you? And what the heck happened back there?”
“Never mind, meet us in the lobby.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Having finally caught up with each other, they scurried out the door of the hotel, took off their head scarves, and stuffed them in their pockets. Linda consulted her Lonely Planet guidebook, and like a Sherpa guide, led her friends into the heart of the city.
Stuart leaned on the reception desk while one of the employees looked up the number of a local florist shop. He felt badly about Ryan. She looked adorable when she slept. He had leaned over and kissed her cheek before he left for his seminar. She'd groaned, but didn't waken. He'd make it up to her tonight. In the meantime, a bouquet of flowers might put her in a good mood.
As he glanced around, he saw two women standing by the elevator having a frantic discussion. The only reason he noticed them is that they wore head scarves and sunglasses. He wondered if they were famous people trying to avoid being seen. If they were, it wasn't the way to go about it. They stuck out like sore thumbs. He glanced away and then looked again. There was something familiar about them, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then his heart raced a little. If he didn't know better, he'd say they looked like Gemma and Augusta.
He was losing his mind.
The two women got on the elevator before he could take a really good look.
Snap out of it, Keaton. You're seeing things. Everyone and everything shouldn't remind you of Linda. It's creepy.