Hit & Mrs. (9 page)

“Girls, he's gone.”

Out of breath, they slowed to a fast walk.

“He's calling the police,” Augusta said. “We should keep going.”

“But I thought we wanted the police,” Bette said.

Linda bounced beside her on her uneven shoes. “We do. But we don't want them arresting us for property damage. We'll call them about the other disaster when we get out of this disaster.”

Gemma developed an interesting gait as she raced up the side–walk. “On top of everything else, I'm getting a blister, and it's not on my foot.”

Just then a police siren went off down the street.

“Hurry up, this way.” Linda led them towards a dark alley on the right. “Let's hide in here.” They gathered together with their bags, and as the siren got louder they pressed against a brick wall next to a stinking dumpster and rotting bags of garbage.

Bette jumped. “I think a rat ran over my foot.”

They leapt about in a frenzied dance, but stopped when the two police cars whizzed by. That's when the drunk spoke up.

“Got a light?”

They screamed as one, and scared the poor bugger out of his wits. He threw his cigarette at them. “Take it.” He lurched down the alley and away from them as fast as possible.

“Okay, I'm going to have hysterics in a minute if I don't get the hell out of here
now
,” Augusta said.

Gemma pointed. “There's a bus and there's a bus stop. Who cares where it goes. Let's get on it.”

No one answered her. They were too busy running for the bus.

It almost left without them, and if it hadn't been for an exceptional burst of speed from Augusta, it would have. She waded through puddles and managed to claw her fingers between the doors' rubber edging. “
Stop.
”

The bus stopped and the doors sprang open. Augusta leaned against the door, panting. “Hurry up, girls.”

The others pushed their way into the bus with the suitcases.

“Spending the night?” the driver joked.

“We want to get to the Waldorf Astoria Hotel,” Bette shouted as if he were deaf. “Do you know where that is?”

“Sure, lady, but it ain't anywhere near here.”

It took forever to get there. They didn't even have the strength to talk. They looked out the window on occasion, but nothing held their attention except the couple making out in the back of the bus. That was on the first bus. When they transferred onto the next two, they were treated to the spectacle of a drug deal gone bad and a leering pervert. But it didn't matter. They were dry, off their feet, and headed in the right direction.

It was nearly midnight when they walked through the doors of the Waldorf Astoria. The doorman's eyes widened at the sight of them, with their white, wet, dishevelled hair and mud-splattered clothes. Linda's limp didn't help, and neither did Gemma's squirmy gait.

They walked up to the front desk. A perky girl plastered a smile on her face.

“Good evening, ladies. How may I help you?”

“We have a reservation under the name of Keaton,” Linda answered in a monotone.

“Certainly. I'll check. One moment.” She clicked a few keys and stared at the monitor.

“Mrs. Stuart Keaton?”

Linda went pale and the others froze.

“W-what did you say?”

The girl looked a little dismayed, as if she'd done something wrong but didn't know what. She glanced at her screen again. “I have a Doctor and Mrs. Stuart Keaton. Oh wait. I have Linda Keaton. Perhaps that's it?”

“Yes, that's it.”

The clerk smiled. “Sorry. We have a lot of doctors here at the moment, what with the plastic surgery convention.”

Linda looked at the others. She gestured for them to step away from the desk. They huddled together.

“Is this bloody nightmare ever going to end? How is it possible that Stuart is here with Ryan? I mean, what are the chances?”

“You know what, Lin?” Bette said. “Who gives a shit? I don't care if he's here. I need a room. I want a toilet and a sandwich. Is that too much to ask?”

Augusta bit her lip. “But if Linda doesn't want to be here, I don't think we should object. She is paying for it, after all.”

No one said anything. They realized Augusta was right, but from the pathetic looks they gave her, Linda knew she had only one choice.

“All right, we'll forget the little prick, but do me a favour and eat every goddamn cashew you can find.” She walked over to the clerk. “May I have the room key, please?”

The girl passed it over. “You're in room 715.”

They trooped over to the elevator and didn't say a word. The door opened and they crowded inside. Linda hit the button and the elevator rose.

“I can't wait to get to our room and take off this bloody thong,”

Gemma said.

The minute she said it, the elevator stopped. They waited for the doors to open up, but they didn't. Linda pushed the button again. Nothing happened.

“What's wrong?” Bette asked.

“I don't know. It's not working.”

They waited some more, but the elevator stayed still.

“I can't believe this,” Linda said. “We're cursed.”

“Open that emergency phone and tell them to get us out of here,” Augusta said. “I need to pee in the worst way.”

“You should've gone at the airport,” Bette said.

Augusta gave her a look. “I'm glad I didn't. At least I still have my bag.”

“God, don't remind me.”

Linda picked up the phone and waited for someone to come on. “Yes? Hello? We're stuck in the elevator. Please hurry.” She nodded a few times and put the phone down. “It'll be a minute. They said not to panic.”

“Panic?” Bette said. “This is the best part of the trip. We're in a room at the Waldorf. Mind you, I thought it would be a bit bigger.”

Augusta crossed her legs. “Don't make me laugh.”

Gemma wiggled. “My ass is on fire.”

Linda turned to face her. “You've been saying that for three hours. Take the damn thing off.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“I'm a good Catholic girl. My mother would kill me if she knew I was in New York with no panties on.”

“Your mother is safely tucked away in a cemetery in Quebec. She doesn't know.”

“Oh yes, she does. She has eyes in the back of her head.”

“She's
dead
.”

“Makes no difference.”

The elevator gave a jolt that almost knocked them off balance, but it thankfully continued to rise before stopping at the seventh floor. The doors opened and they filed out, all of them weary to the bone. They got their bearings and followed the signs to their room. Linda inserted the card and they shouted hurray when the door opened.

It shut behind them.

Augusta's mother, Dorothy, drank her sixth cup of tea. The girls were on their fourth hot chocolate. They were up much later than they should have been, but Dorothy wasn't stupid. The novelty of going to bed at an ungodly hour would make the evening go smoother.

They were supposedly playing Monopoly, but their hearts weren't in it. Raine didn't even blink when she landed on Summer's hotel on Park Place.

The phone rang.

Raine knocked over her hot chocolate in her race to be the first one to the phone. “Hello? Mom?”

Her face fell. She held the phone out and pointed it at Summer. “It's for you.”

Dorothy looked at her watch. “Who's calling you at this hour?”

Summer grabbed the phone. “Hello?” Her face lit up and she turned her back on her sister and grandmother. “Oh, hi Paul.” She walked out the kitchen door and as far away as the cord would allow.

“Get off the phone. It's only a stupid boy.”

Dorothy wiped up the chocolate mess. Raine helped her.

“Why hasn't Mom called? It's really late.”

Dorothy flicked her cloth. “Oh gosh, a hundred things could have delayed them. The plane was probably late, or the traffic heavier than they thought. I know she's fine. She'll call us as soon as she can.”

“Can't we call her?”

Dorothy sat down and brushed her hair away from her face. “Oh, I suppose we could, but I want your mother to go away without worrying about us. If we call in a panic, that will only upset her, don't you think?”

“I guess.”

They heard Summer say, “I've got to go. See you tomorrow.” She hurried into the kitchen and clicked the phone. “Hello, Mom?”

Raine jumped off her chair and stood by her sister.

“Yes. Hi. What? Oh, we're fine. We miss you.”

Raine yelled at the receiver, “I miss you.”

Summer nodded. “Mom says she misses you too. Sorry, what? Oh, nothing. We're playing Monopoly, but guess what? Paul just called me, can you believe it? What? God, mother, he didn't call too late. He's seventeen. Well, he failed a year, but he's really cute.”

Raine hopped up and down. “Tell her I made 98 on my history test.”

“Raine, settle down. You'll have your turn,” her grandmother laughed.

They talked to their mother for a good five minutes before Dorothy was finally given a chance. She told the girls to get ready for bed before she took the phone. “So, dear, are you having a wonderful time? Well, that's great. You sound tired. Remember not to overdo it. You know how easily you get run down. Pardon? Of course, dear, I swear the girls are fine and you don't have to worry about anything. I'm here. Get a good night's sleep, honey, and we'll see you when you get back. Love you. Bye.”

Dorothy hung up and smiled. Her daughter needed this trip badly. Dorothy was happy for her. They were going to have a wonderful time.

She started to clear away the Monopoly board.

Angelo sat in front of the television, but he wasn't watching it. He did that so people would leave him alone. He heard the kids making a mess in the kitchen, but he didn't care. His mother would clean it up. She never let him lift a finger. The kids were supposed to be in bed, but he'd promised them they could speak to their mother.

He fiddled with his wedding ring. Every time the phone rang, his ears perked up, but it was never Gemma. What on earth was taking so long? Didn't she know he'd be here, worried? Visions of Gemma dancing in a nightclub filled his thoughts. She was always a good dancer. His hands gripped the arms of his chair.

There was a thump, thump, thump on the ceiling. His mother used her cane to let him know she wanted him. She complained she could never get through on the phone, since it was always busy. He couldn't disagree about that.

He rose wearily from his chair and walked out in the hall. “Anna.”

Anna appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing her pyjamas. “I'm going upstairs to see what Nonna wants. Let me know if Mama calls.”

“She'll call, Papa. She promised to buy me a present. Maybe she's still at the store.”

He smiled at her. “That's probably it.”

Angelo went out the door, turned left, rang the doorbell, and was buzzed upstairs. He trudged up the steps towards his mother at the top of the landing. She was wearing her long black dress. It's all she ever wore. She told him when he got married that she'd be in mourning for the rest of her life, and she meant it.

The only brave thing he'd ever done was to marry Gemma. Of course, they'd had to get married because Mario was on the way. But still.

Yes, Gemma was quite something when she danced. It made him ache just to think of it.

“So she call?”

“No.”

“What I tell you. She's a
desgratiata
…”

“Mama, stop.”

“No, I no stop. Why she run away and leave you with so many children? You have to work all day. You should be up all night waiting for her to phone?”

“I'm sure she got delayed. That happens on planes.”

His mother turned away from him and walked into her kitchen. “It no happen when you no get on a plane.”

Angelo followed her and sat at the kitchen table. He wasn't there two seconds before she put a plate in front of him. “Eat.”

He pushed it away. “No thanks, I'm not hungry.”

His mother looked shocked. “What? You no eat? Oh, this terrible woman, she make you sick…”

“Mama,” Angelo said. “You've got to stop saying things like that. I'm tired of it. Gemma is a wonderful wife and mother, and she deserves a few days away with her friends. She works hard. She has five kids. You only had one. Think about it.”

His mother looked shocked. Good. Maybe that would shut her up. Just then a pounding came from the floor. Angelo jumped up and ran down the hall. “That's her. I told the kids to let me know when she called.”

His mother ran after him with the plate of food. “Wait, you have to eat. You no get sick.”

He ran down the stairs and out the door.

The phone rang. Clive woke out of a sound sleep. The boys snuffled as he leaned over them to turn on the lamp and pick up the phone on the bedside table.

“Hello? Yes? Linda? Good Lord, is anything the matter? What time is it?” He squinted at his alarm clock and then sat up in bed. The boys were decidedly miffed at the interruption of their nightly routine.

“No, of course not, I don't mind at all. That's completely understandable. I'm sure Wes is fine. His cellphone is probably off. You know youngsters, never a thought for those sorts of things. Pardon me? No. I haven't seen his car in the driveway, but let me check again.”

Clive put the phone down and pulled back the covers. The boys raised their sleepy heads amid the blankets. He crossed the room and looked out the window. Everything was as it should have been. The outside light was on, as he'd left it the last time he went in to check on Buster.

Buster hadn't been in a very good mood when Clive arrived earlier. He'd hissed and growled from the top of the fridge. Clive assumed it was the smell of the dogs on his clothes that put him off.