Blow (10 page)

T
O DESCRIBE THE
work of Babbo and Pierre, as they combined their craftsmanship for the sake of their kids’ lives, is a job I’m not up for. The thing is, I’m what you might call a closer, a cleaner, a last-call kind of guy. I’m not a morning person. The glass is all empty and has shattered on the floor. Feel me? I watch stuff break. The great and terrible ballet of destruction.

So if I see Chloe, and I tell you her lips were nova, her smile was supernova, it’s because I’ve seen about a million stars explode with a brilliant but terminal glow. I know Giacomo is a good guy ’cause I’ve seen him cradling his piglet as it bled out a wolf bite. I know Brutessa and Dimple Pimple, because their insides have extensive rot.

But what the dads were doing in that tower, that’s about as far from my expertise as eons are from ions. They were creating something. Giving it life, in its own way. Making the new. I wouldn’t know what that looks like. I’ll tell you, though; I bet it’s wonderful.

Inside the city limits of the castle, everyone was silent under penalty of dwarf. Word had spread that the masters were finally working together. As the cooks made cold, quiet meals of bologna and coleslaw, they snuck glances out their windows of the north tower. It seemed like a constant trail of colored smoke flowed from Babbo’s annealing oven.

The surviving artists considered themselves saved. The prince’s attention was entirely on the tower. He listened at the door for hours at a time, but all he could hear was Babbo as he hummed, then whistled, sang a few bars, then asked something like, “What do you think, Vouvray, magenta?”

Pierre responded with a grunt. Babbo considered it, then said, “You’re right. I didn’t even think of that. But what do I do with all this magenta I already mixed?”

By the end of the third straight day, the north tower had washes of every color streaking down its side.

During this time, it was Chloe who had it hardest. She had to evade Brutessa’s murderous hunt but also tend to Giacomo, since the doctors had been ordered away. She spent the three days running through the castle, stealing towels and soup in a locked-down complex full of guards, servants, and land pirates.

She almost collapsed from exhaustion. When she stole into Giacomo’s room that third day, Giacomo stirred in his semiconscious state and groaned something indecipherable. He seemed to be recovering. For the first time in three days, Chloe smiled. The curtains had been pulled back, and the light seemed to admire her with its shine. Anyone could fall in love with Chloe.

Except for Brutessa, who tore out from behind the curtain in a simple rage. The pirate queen lunged at Chloe, let loose a war cry, and swung her arms like wagon wheels.

Chloe managed to sidestep the dwarf’s first pass. A bust of Dimple Pimple at the age of five was not so lucky. Chloe scrambled to the other side of the room, behind Giacomo’s bed, hoping Brutessa would slow down rather than hurt her jealously guarded prize. She was wrong. Brutessa ripped the footboard off the bed frame with one hand. The bed jerked. Giacomo groaned. Chloe darted from behind the bed, so that the enraged land pirate wouldn’t trample over Giacomo’s sternum.

Brutessa gave chase. She rounded the corners of Chloe’s path, in order to make up for her own shorter stride. The result was that they ran in circles, with Chloe just out of reach, Brutessa crashing down behind her, and a wake of shattered things trailing them both.

At some point, the Prince Kaiser made his entrance, but Chloe couldn’t hear anything other than banging and war cries. The prince had to shout to tell Chloe that it was over for her — no one could keep Brutessa from mauling her — but if she wanted to save Giacomo, she’d at least tell him what the dads were up to. In turn, the prince would keep Giacomo safe from marriage to Brutessa.

The prince never got an answer, because Brutessa managed a glancing blow across Chloe’s shoulder blade. Chloe yowled in pain as she slammed into the wall and fell to the ground. Brutessa rushed forward to stomp Chloe’s head through the wooden floor, when suddenly the door swung open and a blinding light filled the room.

B
ABBO AND
P
IERRE
had created a vase of marbles and fake flowers so perfect that it seemed to cast its own light. This was the
magnum opus
of all mankind, beauty that was Truth, a piece of home furnishing that could, in fact, refurnish the empty halls of our sin-addled souls.

When the two men entered the room, the light from the window hit the vase and was reflected and refracted a thousand times in the prism of every marble, a glare bright enough to halt even Brutessa’s charge.

Prince Kaiser Dimple Pimple marveled at the vase. It was exactly what he wanted. The men had built him the morning sun. He ran up and grabbed the Objet. Then Brutessa ran up and grabbed it from him. The tentative partnership they had developed all that time ago in the ditch, next to the prince’s wrecked carriage, was dissolved. All Brutessa cared about was winning Giacomo — the Objet was just another weapon to her.

She ran to Chloe, who was leaning against the wall, and held up the vase in front of her. “Ooohh,” said Chloe, immediately mesmerized. Brutessa moved the Objet to the left. Chloe’s head followed. The Objet went to the right. Chloe turned to the right. With her target fully transfixed, Brutessa wound up and let fly a punch toward Chloe’s head that could have dropped a rhino. Chloe didn’t even flinch. She was staring at the vase. Pierre screamed,
“Non!”

Bone crunched as Brutessa’s fist pounded into a jaw. But it wasn’t Chloe’s. It was Giacomo’s face that she battered. He had wrested himself from the bed and stumbled into the way of Brutessa’s kill shot just in time. Even healthy, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Giacomo slumped to the floor, lifeless at Chloe’s feet. Brutessa’s arm was still extended in disbelief.

It was Babbo’s turn to scream in pain. He ran to Giacomo and crouched over his son. The old man wept into his boy’s chest. The once-broad shoulders of Babbo Giovanni broke. I let him have a moment. Chloe kneeled down and put a hand on Babbo’s shoulder. It was so delicate and small, I can’t imagine he felt any of the consolation.

When it dawned on Brutessa what she had done, she put back her head and howled like a beast. Then she ran to the window of the cliffside northeast wing and plunged out. I knew I’d have to go get her next.

But first, I had to put my hand on Babbo, to let him know it was time. He didn’t let go of his son, and I became distracted, anyway, by the sound of someone laughing.

It was Dimple Pimple. He’d picked up the Objet, and he was looking at me. He said something like: Welcome.

I usually keep a low profile, so I didn’t say anything. The prince said all this stuff about his plan going perfectly, even down to the dwarf offing herself. That was when I got the feeling something was wrong. I couldn’t figure it out, but I knew there was something.

The prince said something along the lines of: Now that you’re here, you should know, I’ve been wanting to meet you for years. I said something like: That could have easily been arranged, and he laughed at me like I was so naive.

I cut the crap. “What do you want?” I said. And he said he wanted my job. Can you believe that? The kid wanted my job. Man, don’t tempt me. Like I’m loving this beat or something.

Anyway, Prince Kaiser said that’s what the Objet was for. His real plan was to kill me and take my place. Immortality, ultimate power, and all that. Didn’t even realize I’m just a gopher. He wanted it.

He raised the vase over his head, and that was when I realized what was wrong with the scene. I said, “Hey, Pimple, hold on.”

He didn’t hold on — he smashed the vase over my head. I blacked out for a second on the way to one knee. Marbles rolled down my shirt and into my pants. I tried to shake the dizziness out of my head, but the only thing that shook off was a nosegay of lilies. The prince didn’t waste time. He came over and kicked me right in the gut.

I took it and stumbled back. As he came up to hit me again, I said, “How do you think you’re talking to me?”

He put a left hook right into my eye socket, harder than you’d expect, and said he’d been waiting to kill Giacomo for that exact reason. And now he’d jumped me when I came for him.

I stumbled back, and he kept coming. He uppercut, then grabbed my shoulders and put his knee right into my chest. I felt three ribs crack inside me as I doubled over and tried to catch my breath. I saw he’d gotten a jagged chunk of the vase in his fist, and he was about to cut me open when I said, “Yeah, I get the plan, but why do you think
you
can see me?”

He stopped. He hadn’t thought of that. I stood up straight and said, “Huh?” He didn’t have anything, just mumbled something about the Objet d’Awesome! And I said, “You thought a vase full of fake flowers and some marbles would make you a god? The glass is made of sand. Who do you think invented sand?”

I couldn’t tell you if the Big Guy was laughing up there. I figure not. But I was definitely enjoying myself. Prince Kaiser did the “But . . . but . . . but” routine.

I told him, “You can see me ’cause you had an aneurysm back there. You know that tingly feeling? It wasn’t deity. It was a vein in your head bursting from all the stress you’ve been putting on yourself. You really should have tried some hot tea. It’s good for you.”

The prince glazed over. The piece of glass clattered to the ground. He followed it down.

I fast-tracked him and then Brutessa. Then I came back for Giacomo.

T
HERE’S THIS JOKE
Dora tells that I really like. It goes: A group of scientists come together for a convention, or symposium, or whatever. And they say, “You know, we’ve got all kinds of stuff figured out, what with nano-machines, and genomes, and cloning and everything. I bet if we put our heads together, we could build a human being better than God.”

So they go up to God, and they say, “God, you did pretty well with making us, but we think we’ve got you beat.”

And God thinks about it for a bit, and then He says, “All right, why don’t we have a contest. We’ll each make a man and see whose is better. But let’s do it the old way, Adam style, with nothing but dirt.”

The scientists say they’ll take the challenge, so they huddle together and start fiddling in the dirt, taking samples to see how they can genetically recombine it into a human, when God says, “Whoa, whoa there. What do you think you’re doing? Make your own dirt.”

That makes me laugh every time. And I suppose you could take out scientists and insert spoiled princes with mass-market home accessories, albeit the best art man has ever seen.

When I came back for Babbo’s son, I knew I’d have to take Babbo’s heart, too. I tried to get his attention, but the mountainous man was still sobbing. What was I supposed to do? I started to leave with what I had come for, when I heard him say in between sobs, “You can’t. You owe him.” I knew he was talking to me, and he could see me just fine.

It was a weird thing to say, though, until I remembered. I did owe him. All those years back, when I took his mother, I had promised Giacomo a favor. Serves me right.

I remember thinking:
Dora is going to be so ticked at this paperwork.

A part of me didn’t want to return Giacomo. As I stood there, looking at Chloe, the only thing I wanted was for the prince to have been right. Maybe if he could have killed me, I’d end up here, next to her. And maybe I could have a life. I’ll admit I wanted that.

But I never wanted to see her crying the way she was. And who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t be her type, anyway.

I turned and walked out.

I got this shivering feeling as I left. Like seeing the Objet for the first time. But not a regular shiver. Anyone can get a shiver up their spine: just get out of a swimming pool. This is on the
inside
of your spine. Try to imagine it. Inside, behind your stomach. Right there in the middle of you. Felt good.

Giacomo gasped and said, “Get off me,” in a weak voice. Babbo jumped up. Pierre hugged Babbo — Babbo hugged Pierre. They hugged and jumped while Chloe leaned over Giacomo and purred, “Co-Co,” as she kissed him. I didn’t have any reason to watch the rest. In fact, I didn’t have a reason to visit Co-Co and Clo-Clo for decades.