Gnome & Harriet's Fondue Pit
20 – Happiness and Scars
Greg skidded to a halt, grabbing a lamppost for support as his chest heaved. “You believe this guy?” Brad panted incredulously.
Nodding his head and gasping for breath, Greg agreed. “I’m not good…at this running thing…he might be telling the truth…but I’m gonna die if I try to run away.” He doubled over, clutching his side.
“Such a pansy,” Brad sighed, watching Jacques jog up to them.
“Mr. Proops,” he said, “I’d like you to come back to the casino with me.”
“Why the hell should I go anywhere with you?” Greg demanded.
“I’d like to talk to you, and the streets aren’t a good place. Come on.” Reluctantly, Greg agreed, and Brad followed a step behind them. They walked half a block before Jacques continued. “You see, since your last visit, I’ve reformed myself. I’m a new man.”
“So you’ve stopped with the thugs and beating people up?” Greg asked hopefully.
“Well, not entirely, no, but I’ve given up gambling. Joined a 12-step group.”
“My god,” Brad said, trying not to laugh.
“One of the steps is righting those you have wronged. You won that money off me fair and square, and I’d like to return it to you and apologize for what I did.”
Greg glared at him. “Why?”
They stepped into the casino lobby. “Because gambling is a vice and it was ruining my life, and I want to make amends.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Brad asked.
“Absolutely,” Jacques nodded.
“Let’s see the cash,” Greg demanded, narrowing his eyes.
Jacques reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of money and handed it to Greg. “This is only two thousand,” Greg huffed, “I won five off you.”
“Yes,” Jacques admitted with a hint of a smile, “I have to take some things into account. You did, after all, beat up my men and dump me into a swimming pool and get me kidnapped by a crazy woman.”
“After you beat the shit out of me—”
“Greg,” Brad said sternly, “thank the nice man. Remember, you’ll be leaving the casino with more money than you had when you came in, and that’s not bad. Besides, you don’t want to get people who have tried to kill you over money issues before mad at you, and we’ve got too many things to deal with to get you beaten up again.”
“Thank you,” Greg muttered through clenched teeth.
“And here,” Jacques said, handing each of them a business card, “if you’re ever in the need for some real estate…”
“Thank you,” Brad said, “but we’ve got to be going now. Nice running into you again.”
Greg gave an annoyed little wave as Jacques left the building. “What’s a member of Gamblers Anonymous doing hanging around a casino anyway?” Greg wondered as Brad took off into the cacophony of drunks, croupiers and machines to find the girls.
Fenny and Gina had wasted no time changing back into real clothes, grateful for the feeling of cotton against their skin, even if it was dirty, abused, and mildly unpleasant cotton. When Gina emerged from the bathroom, she was hardly surprised to see Fenny curled up on the bed with yet another pad and pen. Gina turned on the television so that she could talk to Fenny without worrying about Ritza eavesdropping.
“Rona’s drunk,” she announced as she flopped onto the bed. “I could hear her when I was changing. She was sobbing, probably because she was rejected by Paul,” she smirked.
“So he got away okay,” Fenny smiled.
“Told you he would,” Gina said.
“What do you think that Jacques wants with the guys?” Fenny asked.
“I don’t know, they looked pretty freaked when he showed up,” Gina shrugged. “I’m guessing it has something to do with their drunken romp.”
“You don’t think he’d do something to them, do you?”
“He better not,” Gina growled. “But they’re more than capable of handling themselves, I’m sure they’re doing ok,” Gina assured her.
“I guess you’re right,” Fenny agreed reluctantly.
“We should’ve found something to eat while we were in the casino.”
“Instead of making out like hormone-crazed teenagers?” Fenny jeered.
“Good point. I’m glad we didn’t find anything to eat in the casino.”
Knowing it was futile, Fenny moved to the floor to investigate the contents of another useless bar fridge. A bottle of orange soda, a half-eaten box of peanuts, and an empty bottle of rum, which she pulled out to deposit in the trash can. She turned it over in her hand, wondering what exactly would compel someone to put an empty bottle of booze back in the refrigerator, and realized that the fact that it had been emptied probably had something to do with it.
“What’re you gonna do with that, smash it over Ritza’s head, use the broken remains to stab Rona?” Gina suggested hopefully.
“Go for it,” Fenny laughed, tossing it to her.
“Eeh, too thin, it wouldn’t shatter right,” Gina shrugged.
“You’re an expert on these things, huh?” Fenny asked.
“Hey, look at this,” Gina cried, sitting upright. “Brad – there’s a party on the roof, get Colin and join us.” She looked up at Fenny as she took the bottle back to investigate the note scribbled across the back of the label. “That’s Greg’s handwriting! This must have been Brad’s room once!”
“If the flowers were an omen, this is a screaming, flaming sign from the gods,” Fenny smiled. She carefully peeled the old and slightly soggy label from the bottle and put it in her back pocket, nestled in amongst some of the drawings she had done. “Wait till we show them this.”
“You think they’re gonna show up?” Gina whispered.
“I certainly hope so.” They fell silent, hoping for a safe rescue, wondering what the guys were up to. “So,” Fenny said with a wry smile, “what’s this about a broom closet?”
“I don’t see them anywhere,” Brad sighed after they had circled the casino twice. “You think they went back to the hotel?”
“Maybe,” Greg shrugged. “What do you think happened to Paul?”
“Who knows,” Brad answered.
“Dude, you’re ringing,” Greg announced.
“Huh? Oh.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone they’d found in the “borrowed” car. “What do I do, Paul’s supposed to answer.”
“You’re an actor,” Greg said, “disguise your voice.”
With a sigh, he answered the phone. “Where the fuck are you dickheads?” It was Rona.
“Just got to Melbourne,” Brad said, trying to erase any distinguishing features from his voice. Luckily, she sounded sloshed, so his poor excuse for an Australian accent could probably get past her.
“Fuck Melbourne,” she yelled, causing Brad to wince away from the phone. “I hate it here, we’re leaving in the morning.” She sniffed wetly. “Meet us in Adelaide. We’ll call you when we get there.”
“Right,” Brad agreed gruffly, then returned the phone to his pocket.
“Well?” Greg asked.
“Tomorrow they’re headed for Adelaide. Rona’s drunk. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but she doesn’t sound happy.”
“So the question is, do we make a daring rescue attempt or do we find Paul and wait till morning and follow them?”
“Maybe we should find Paul either way,” Brad said. “I’m guessing he didn’t give Rona what she wanted,” he added with a wicked smile.
“Back to the hotel then.”
Paul followed his first instinct and ran back the way he had come. Had he been in a movie, he’d get to the hotel just as the elevator doors were opening, dash in, ride up to his room, and lock himself inside while the heavies trudged up the stairs and wondered where he had gotten to.
He was not, however, in a movie.
He made it back to the hotel, the heavies in hot pursuit, just as the elevator doors were opening, dashed in and leaned on the ‘door close’ button. A burly arm shoved its way between the doors. “Shit,” Paul breathed.
Both men stomped into the elevator, one grabbing Paul by the neck and pushing him against the wall of the elevator. “Where’s your friends?” he demanded.
Paul could do little but choke and stutter as his windpipe decided to collapse upon itself. The flunky loosened his grip a bit. “I don’t know,” Paul wheezed, only to get another crushing squeeze against his throat. “Casino,” he gasped. “They were at the casino when I left.”
“You get back there and find ‘em,” the heavy demanded of his cohort, who pushed the button for the ground floor again. “Where’s our car?”
“Ditched it,” Paul managed. “Hitched a ride.”
“I don’t believe you,” the heavy growled.
“Why would we drive around in your fucking car?” Paul demanded. “We’d be an easy target, wouldn’t we?”
The door opened with a cheerful ding and Paul, coughing and trying to remember how to breathe, was dragged out onto the third floor as the second heavy disappeared downward. They paused halfway down the hall where one ham-like fist pounded against the door to room 317.
Rona appeared looking worse off than when Paul had left her. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded of her lackey, voice slurring and eyes struggling to focus. “I already told you to head for Adelaide.” She glanced blearily over towards Paul, the realization that he was entirely too scrawny to be one of her men slowly sinking in. “And get him out of here!” she bellowed as she recognized him.
“But Miss Crispin, him and his—”
“NOW!”
His grip on Paul’s arm loosened and Paul made a break for it, sprinting down the stairs where he was finally able to dash into his room and hope to god that no one thought to check the registry to find him again.
“I miss Brad,” Fenny sighed.
“You two are so saccharine,” Gina said.
“Yeah, well you and Greg are just horny.”
“Nothing wrong with a little lust,” Gina shrugged with a smile.
“We’re gonna move in together,” Fenny announced happily. “Once we get out of this.”
“I’m glad.” Gina smiled weakly at her friend.
“What’s wrong?” Fenny asked.
“Oh, nothing. I just wish things could be as simple as they are with you.”
“Simple?” Fenny gasped. “This is simple?”
“Well, I mean, you’ve got one guy that you know you love and that loves you and, even though you’re pretty much a spineless wimp, no offense,” she added with a smile, “it looks like you’re gonna have that happy ending we’re all striving for. Assuming we don’t end up in shallow graves.”
Fenny smiled sympathetically at her, not sure what she could say.
“Here I am, completely smitten with a married man and still sorta in love with my quasi-husband who seems to hate me. How do you get a happy ending out of that?”
“I’m sure something will work out,” Fenny assured her.
Gina smiled. “How ’bout a change of subject, hey?” she perked. “What’ve you been drawing?” Fenny meekly turned the pad to her friend to reveal a drawing of Brad. “Totally obsessive,” Gina laughed.
“Both of you up, now,” Ritza commanded as she burst into the room. “We’re leaving.”
“Now?” Gina asked, shocked.
“Yes now. Your three stooges managed to take off with one of my cars and one of my phones and now they’re in town.”
“You don’t say,” Gina gasped.
Rona appeared in the doorway looking one drink shy of a coma. “Fuck that Paul,” she muttered to herself. “Let’s go.”
Brad knocked on Paul’s door. After a moment he and Greg heard the lock scrape back against the door, then the chain being undone. “Hurry up and get in here,” Paul hissed, dragging Greg in by the wrist and slamming and relocking the door once everyone was safely inside.
“Chill out, dude, what’s wrong?” Greg demanded.
“Ritza and Rona and their henchmen, they know we got their car and that we’re in town, but I don’t think they figured we’re in this hotel. When I left earlier after Rona nearly raped me, the bitch, I ran into the guys we stole the car from, and they dragged me to Rona, who’s so drunk she didn’t know what was happening and ordered me away.”
“When was this?” Brad asked.
“I dunno, maybe five, ten minutes ago?”
“Dammit, and you didn’t think of Gina or Fenny?” Greg grumbled.
“I was more concerned with escaping with my life!”
“What about the girls!” Greg barked.
“I’m gonna be real useful to them dead, aren’t I?” Paul countered.
“Okay, let’s stop arguing,” Brad said. “We have to decide what we’re gonna do now.”
“I vote we call the cops,” Paul huffed. “We know where they’re going, we can get this whole thing straightened out.”
“No, this is more complicated that you know,” Greg sighed.
“Let’s go up to the room, see if they’re still there,” Brad suggested.
“They’ll kill us!” Paul shrieked.
“I just want to see if they’re still there,” Brad said. “If not, we’ll head out for Adelaide.”
The three men tiptoed down the hall, wondering how they were going to tell if the rooms were still occupied or not. The answer was clear, however, when the doors were left wide open; they’d obviously left in a hurry. Paul and Greg rummaged through room 317 while Brad went through room 319. All they found were a few empty bottles from Rona, the dresses Fenny and Gina had discarded, and a handful of scribbled drawings from Fenny, which Brad took with him down to the car. He looked through them without a word, then placed them in the pocket of his shirt with a shaky sigh.