DOUBLE KNOT (17 page)

SIXTEEN

The front door of 704 laughed at our V2, flashing red for no instead of green for
go. It was surely programmed to open a door somewhere, just not here. We filed back
to the dressing room, way slower on the return, and gathered around the chicken sandwiches.
Which were delicious. I was on my third. I reached for my fourth. I’d stop after this
one. Maybe.

“Did we think it would open the door?” Fantasy asked.

“If the thumb lock was overridden it would,” I said.

“Even if it was,” Fantasy said, “what did we think we were going to do? March out
in the hall?”

“So, yes.”

“No, we wouldn’t, Jess,” I said. “We don’t know what’s out there. Do you want to walk
out the door and get shot? Or locked in the submarine with No Hair?”

“So, no.”

“We have a working V2, and I know we can find a way to use it to our advantage, but
right now our best options are still the computer, the cell phone, or that.” I pointed
to the wall.

“I’ll do it.”

We all looked at That Woman.

“You’ll do what?” Fantasy asked.

“I’ll climb up the wall,” That Woman said. “I used to climb trees, you know.”

I turned to my interpreter. Fantasy.

“Tell her I said no.”

Fantasy spoke to That Woman. “Davis said no.”

“Tell her my father would kill me.” Of course, he’d have to get in line behind Bianca.
Anderson Cooper destroyed her Monique Lhuillier, which was now designer silk confetti.
And I’d pulled half the feathers out of her Alice + Oliva sherelle maxi skirt when
I’d used it for a (Kleenex) pillow. And then there was the Louis Vuitton luggage.
I should gather the rest of Bianca’s luggage, clothes, shoes, and jewelry and throw
the lot of it overboard just to make a clean sweep of all things Bianca’s.

Fantasy passed on the news. “She says her father would kill her.”

“I heard her.” That Woman leaned past Fantasy and spoke to me. “I can hear you, Davis.”

“Tell her the chances are too great that the minute one of us pokes our head outside
of this suite, someone will blow it off. They have our biometrics.”

Fantasy opened her mouth to relay the news, but before she could That Woman said,
“I don’t even know what that is.”

“So, when you registered.” Jess spoke slowly to That Woman. “Remember when you filled
out your paperwork a long time ago and they took your picture with the camera that
went around your head?” Jess made a wide circle above her head, demonstrating. “They
were recording your face. So, your cheekbones—” Jess traced her own dramatic cheekbones,
then she began drawing circles around her dark eyes,“—and your eye sockets. And your
chin.” She tapped her chin.

“I never had my picture made with a round camera.”

“She’s right.” I dropped my fourth sandwich. “She flew in last minute under the radar.”
I pointed at That Woman. “She’s not in the
Probability
system.”

“And she’s the only one of us who’ll halfway fit up the wall,” Fantasy said. “Come
on, Davis, you said it was a service area behind a bar. How dangerous is a service
area? We’ll be able to see her and talk to her the whole time.”

“I’m not talking to her,” I said.

“Suit yourself, sourpuss,” That Woman said.

“That cat of yours has been up and down the wall fifty times and there’s not a scratch
on it,” Fantasy said.

“Her.”

“Whatever.”

It was ten o’clock. Most, if not all,
Probability
passengers were toasting the bride and groom at Tie the Knot, far from the casino,
which wouldn’t open for another two hours. If we were going up the wall to find (help)
the owner of the V2, now was the time.

“It’s too dangerous.” I couldn’t let anything happen to her. “And that’s my final
answer.”

“Well, you’re not the boss of me, Davis Way.” That Woman stood. “I’ll be right back.”
She got up and marched out of the dressing room.

“Fantasy, where is she going?”

“How would I know?”

“Well, ask her.”

“Mrs. Way, where are you going?”

“I’m putting on my party suit.”

Fantasy looked at me. “This I gotta see.”

“So, me too.”

Fantasy and Jess stood and followed her, leaving me sitting on the ottoman alone.
Anderson Cooper and I brought up the rear. I wasn’t sure where we were going, but
I was going too. I turned back to grab the last sandwich. Just in case. They were
so good.

“What are we doing?” Jess asked as we filed through the salon.

“I’m going up that wall to the casino,” That Woman said over her shoulder. “And I
can tell you this right now.” She stopped cold and we ran into each other. Boom boom
boom. That Woman turned and spoke to us. “Gambling is a mortal sin. I don’t want to
have to explain it when I meet my maker. I’m going on a rescue mission. I’m not going
to play casino games. Everybody got that?”

We got that.

* * *

The Party Suit was wide-legged black trousers with brass sailorette buttons marching
down the long pockets, paired with a red twinset featuring black whales blowing white
bubble fountains. It was cuter than it sounds, very sensible, and obviously brand
new. I paced and tried not to pay attention.

Jess said, “Your hair. Pull it back in a chignon. So classy.”

That Woman sat on a stool at the makeup mirror. “You go ahead. I don’t have eyes in
the back of my head.”

“She’s lying.” I said it through the last of the chicken.

“Do not talk with your mouth full, Davis Way.”

I wished I had another sandwich (in general), so I could talk through every bite of
it.

“So, like, your hair didn’t fall out,” Jess said.

“Child, nowadays they freeze your head. Ice cap. Keeps your hair in.”

“Was it cold?”

“It was ice,” Mother answered. “On my head. So yes. It was cold.”

Fantasy was digging in That Woman’s makeup. “Do you own stock in Estée Lauder? I’ve
never seen so much of this in my life.”

“Get my rouge out of there, Fantasy,” That Woman said. “Give me some spots of color.
And get my Youth-Dew.”

“Who is Youth-Dew?”

“It’s my signature fragrance, Fantasy. Everyone needs a signature fragrance.”

Fantasy was deep in That Woman’s forty-year-old makeup bag full of fifty-year-old
makeup. She pulled out a gold-capped bottle half full of amber liquid with a beat-up
gold bow tied around the waistline of the pleated glass, then asked, “How old is this?”

That Woman snatched it, craned her neck, squirt squirt, and filled the room with the
scent of my life. “It doesn’t go bad, Fantasy.” She shot a stream on the inside of
her left wrist, then rubbed her wrists together. “It’s not eggs.”

After what felt like an eternity, That Woman was ready. And barefoot. “Davis, get
my high heels.”

“You can’t wear heels, Mrs. Way,” Fantasy said. “You need traction.”

I looked in the closet and found what That Woman called heels, and they did, indeed,
have a hint of a lift at the back of the shoe. Maybe. They were Naturalizer black
patent leather pumps, and I found them on a shoe shelf beside a pair of bright blue
Easy Spirit Traveltime Cloggers. I passed the cloggers to Fantasy.

“I’m not wearing those,” That Woman said. “They don’t match.”

“Tell her this isn’t a fashion show,” I said. “It’s a reconnaissance mission. To see
what’s up there. She doesn’t even need to dress up and she sure doesn’t need high
heels.”

Fantasy opened her mouth and That Woman said, “I heard her. And I’m wearing my heels.
We don’t know what’s up there. You don’t get a second chance to make a good first
impression.”

She was right about one thing: We don’t know what’s up there.

The shoe fight ensued and a compromise was reached. She could fit her high heels in
her big pockets and change when she got up the wall. Fantasy talked her into the cloggers
for the climb.

We marched back through 704, Anderson and I bringing up the rear again. When we stepped
inside my sitting room, I held back and let the others go. I could hear Fantasy and
Jess passing out uphill advice. I could hear That Woman assuring them she’d forgotten
more about climbing in her sleep last night than the two of them put together ever
knew when they were awake. I kept my nose buried in Anderson Cooper, who was resting
on my babies. I tried to keep my breathing slow and steady, and I wondered why I was
so cold. Maybe I wasn’t so cold, but I was shaking, head to toe.

“Davis?” A finger lifted my chin. “Look up here.”

I met her dark caramel eyes, the exact color of mine. “Did you tell her about me?”

She tapped my nose. “I told her how much I love you.”

My eyes started leaking again. “Mother, please be careful.”

* * *

The high heels in her pockets didn’t last two minutes. They came banging down the
wall, first the right, then the left.

“Dadburn it.” She was reporting from somewhere near the middle of the chute behind
the mirror. The acoustics were quite good. “My high heels.”

“Don’t worry about your shoes, Mother. Just don’t slip and fall.”

“I’m scooting up on my backside,” she said. “There’s nowhere to fall. Boy, I’ll tell
you, it’s tight in here. Davis, you keep your seat. It’d take the Jaws of Life to
get you out of here. Or in, for that matter.”

Five excruciatingly long minutes later, and from much farther up the tunnel, she shouted,
“I’m almost there.”

“Can you see anything, Mrs. Way?”

“So? Can you?”

“Mother, be careful.”

Fantasy, Jess, Anderson Cooper, and I had our heads stuffed into the hole in the wall.
It was close quarters. Considering how much of me there was. Jaws of Life and all.

“I can see where Davis’s cat is getting in and out.” From the top, by the time her
voice traveled to us, it bounced off the bulkhead and amplified. “It’s a—” we waited
impatiently to hear what it was, “—a little closet of some sort.”

A closet?

“There’s something stuck up here. HOLD ON.”

“Oh, Lord.” I had to back out of the hole in the wall. “I can’t stand it.”

“I’M GOING TO PUSH IT!”

“We can hear you just fine, Mrs. Way,” Fantasy said. “Maybe not so loud.”

Next we heard a grunt, then the most godawful noise, most likely Mother’s detached
head bouncing down the wall. Fantasy and Jess scrambled out of the way, and I had
to clap my hand over my mouth to keep the scream in. The noise got louder and louder
until it stopped.

“I can’t look,” I said. “I can’t. Is she alive?”

“It’s a piece of wood, Davis.”

I peeked through two fingers. It was a three-foot by three-foot square of plywood
covered on one side with industrial blue carpet. A smooth chunk of the wood had broken
away, the edge of the carpet dangling, which was surely Anderson’s in and out. The
next thing we heard was Mother, from above. “Well, hello there!” Then a blood-curdling
scream.

* * *

Her name was Arlinda Smith. She was a
Probability
casino server and her locker in the casino employee service area behind the main
casino bar was directly above the middle mirrors of my dressing room.

“No way.”

“Arlinda,” I said. “I have your V2. I’m not going to send it up. You need to come
get it.”

Ten minutes earlier, Mother had introduced herself to poor unsuspecting Arlinda, who
happened upon a floating head in the floor of her locker as she searched for her missing
V2. Mother invited her to join us in 704, Arlinda vehemently declined, then, at my
insistence, Mother slid back down the bulkhead so I could conduct negotiations with
(our only hope) Arlinda Smith.

Mother squealed “Whee!” twice on the way down and “I hope I’m not picking my pants”
three times. Fantasy and I pulled her out. She stood, brushed herself off, then announced,
“That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” She looked past us and pointed.

We turned to see Sleeping Beauty Jess spread-eagle passed out across the ottoman,
her hair hanging off and spilling onto the carpet, Anderson Cooper having her way
with Jess’s dark locks. “Davis, your cat is going to snatch her bald.” I caught Anderson’s
eye and signed for her to stop. She sat down and pouted.

I got on my back behind the mirror, my head in the hole, babies playing leap frog,
looked up the wall, and tried to talk Arlinda down. Now that more light spilled from
above, I could see that the path between us was relatively smooth, but it sloped and
slanted right and left like a primitive prototype of a waterslide. I really couldn’t
believe my mother had traveled up and down this wall. I knew for a fact my father
wouldn’t believe it.

“Please come down and talk to us,” I called up.

“I’m getting security,” Arlinda called down.

Fantasy and I yelled, “NO!”

“Who are you?” She cast a long shadow down the wall. “Tell me who you are and I might
come down there. Maybe.”

“I’m Mrs. Sanders.”

“Bellissimo Mrs. Sanders? You’re her?”

“Yes!” No. “We’re locked in our room, Arlinda, and we really need your help.”

“Your V2 opens the door,” she said.

“Our V2s don’t work. We need your help.”

“What do you mean your V2s don’t work?”

“I don’t know how to explain it any other way,” I said. “They don’t work.”

“Well, my V2 works,” Arlinda said. “And I need it. Really, Mrs. Sanders, or whoever
you are, give me my V2 or I’m going to get security. Right now.”

“Arlinda.” I had to get through to this girl. “We are trapped in our suite. Four of
us. We’ve been locked up since we walked in. We truly need your help.” I let my plea
sit there until things were very still between decks seven and eight.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”