by Lucy Hepburn
“Toni, I can handle this,” she hissed, trying to ease him into the background while angling her body so that the domed velvet tiara box was out of sight. They’d stand a better chance by using her tiny stature. Surely he wouldn’t harm someone her size in broad daylight. Would he?
Her words enraged the thug. “You can handle this? Woman, what you saying?” He bent down even closer so that his face was inches from hers. She could have smelled his breath if she’d let herself breathe. “You reckon a little thing like you can handle King Kevin? I’m telling you, that is dis-re-spectful! You need to learn a little respect!”
Christy started to tremble. “Look…” she said but then stopped herself, realizing she could make everything worse with another misspoken word.
“Me and my brothers are gonna show you that nobody dis-re-spects King Kevin!” King Kevin straightened up, scanned the horizon, and, without warning, whistled piercingly, as if summoning a dog. Or summoning a pack of dogs! From the shadows of a side alley, a gang was beginning to emerge. First one, then all of a sudden they were surrounded. Six, seven, eight, all different shapes and sizes, each bristling with menace.
Toni had picked up the rug and caught her arm. “Just do it,” he urged.
But King Kevin and his army had no intention of letting them pass. Christy wished she could somehow put her hands on her phone, call for help, talk to Will—anything.
I. Am. Dead. Please, God, don’t let them kill Toni, too—none of this is his fault…Frantically Christy looked from one face to another, then over their heads to the New York passersby, who, for all their interest in them when they were running through the streets carrying the rug, were still treating them as though they were invisible. Toni, the rug propped against his body, clutched her hand. There was nowhere to hide the tiara.
At last, a youth approached. Even bigger, even broader than King Kevin, he moved center stage to appraise Christy and Toni.
Christy closed her eyes. She couldn’t think what else to do.
We. Are. Dead. We. Are. Prey.
“Say, buddy—how’s it going?”
Huh?
She opened her eyes to see Toni and the new thug engaged in a complicated form of street handshake.
“Oh!” she burst out, “you’re the guys from the train!”
He winked at her. “And you make me snap, crackle, and pop!”
It was a surreal scene. The gang, realizing that they were surrounding the savior of their rap and his charming assistant, fell away for a moment of regrouping before re-forming in a swell of back slapping and high fives.
“Li’l Kevin been giving you trouble?”
“Li’l Kevin?” Christy repeated, her head spinning.
Li’l Kevin didn’t look happy about that. “Hey, brother, it’s King Kevin, you got that? Quit messing with me!”
The bigger guy laughed, and the other gang members took their cue and followed suit. Christy wasn’t sure if the banter was good-natured or not, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Hugely relieved that she wasn’t about to be murdered in the street, her thoughts turned back to getting out of the situation as fast as possible.
“It’s fine,” Christy said, her voice more highly pitched than normal, betraying her nerves. She caught up the front end of the rug, clumsily adjusting the position of the tiara box as she did so, faced the gang, and forced a smile onto her face. “Well, goodness, look at the time: we better get going!”
King Kevin’s smile dropped as he caught sight of the tiara box. His head tilted to one side and once again, he looked menacing. “What you got in there?”
A surge of panic shot through Christy; she was sure the whole gang must have been aware of it. It was as though her whole life was unraveling. How on earth had she allowed herself to be exposed like this—caught out on the streets clutching a priceless family heirloom?
“What…this?” She jerked her head at the box, her brain rapidly going into meltdown. If these guys took the tiara, she’d never be able to pay Ms. H back. No way would her insurance cover the costs, given the depth of her stupidity in being in the situation in the first place—her business would be ruins; her whole life, for that matter.
“Is a taste sensation,” Toni hissed into her ear.
Christy shot him a sharp look. He was nodding encouragingly. What did he think he was playing at, trying out his slogans at a time like this?
“Come on, give it up!” Kevin pressed. “What’s in that cute little velvet box? Treasure?”
The others sniggered at the non-joke. They were closing in, their faces alive with curiosity.
Suddenly Christy understood Toni’s prompt. “Chocolate!” she squeaked. “It’s a chocolate egg!”
One of the guys, who looked like he might be the leader, looked at her and his face lit up hungrily. “No way! Seems like a pretty fancy box for chocolate!”
“It’s for my mother,” Christy lied. “From the Chocolate Artisan,” she lied some more, remembering the name of New York’s finest luxury handmade chocolate boutique in the nick of time. “She turns sixty tomorrow,” she lied for the third time, offering a silent apology to her mother for adding a good six years onto her age. “And chocolate is her thing.”
“Neat,” the leader nodded approvingly, and, almost imperceptibly, the gang seemed to fall away a little. But they still had their eyes fixed on the treasure held fast in Christy’s grip.
“Um, it’s good to see you guys again,” she lied yet more, “but we really ought to get going before…it melts…and we’re in a hurry…” she tailed off, knowing she was overdoing it.
The leader eyed her levelly. Christy stopped breathing. It felt as though her heart stopped beating as well. He looked into her eyes, then down at the velvet box, then back into her eyes again, untroubled by the passing of time, creating a show for his fellow gang members.
It was a long time before he spoke. “Chocolate’s my thing, too! You reckon you could spare a tiny piece?”
“Sorry?”
“Eight Ball loves chocolate,” Kevin murmured, licking his lips. “I do, too!”
“Come on!” Christy forced a smile. “I can’t break up my mom’s egg!”
“Just let me look at it then,” Eight Ball implored, his eyes filled with longing. “Just let me smell it!”
Christy peered closely at him before widening her gaze to the rest of the gang. At once they had become like children, hopeful and eager, longing for some chocolate! Oh no, she couldn’t let them see the tiara or they’d take it for sure.
“Guys, I’d love to, but do you mind if I don’t? It’s all wrapped up!”
“I mind.” Eight Ball had lost his pleasantness now. He continued in a forceful manner. “I want to see it.”
Christy weighed up the cost of her life versus the cost of tiara. A thought came to her. “Say, maybe I could give you some money—”
“Hey now, you just hold it right there,” Eight Ball was suddenly looming inches from her face, waving his index finger. “We don’t want your money. We want to see inside the box.”
“No, of course not. I…I’m sorry…” The gang was muttering and shaking their heads. She’d better do as they say or she was dead. But then if she handed the tiara over, she was sure she would be dead, too. Still, she didn’t have a choice. She slowly opened the box to reveal the tiara inside.
“Hey!” The reflection of the jewels threw little lights all over his face. “You lied to me!” Eight Ball shouted.
Christy squeaked out an apology and closed her eyes, waiting to have the tiara ripped from her hands and for the fists to fly.
“That’s a load of diamonds!”
He knew what they were worth. She was done for.
“We can’t eat that!”
The gang groaned in disappointment.
“What?” asked Christy, not really able to believe she was still alive. But when she opened her eyes, she saw that these kids were just after chocola
te. They weren’t going to mug her; that was never their intention. “I’m sorry, guys.”
“No problem, babe,” said Eight Ball. “Just don’t get my hopes up like that again!” Christy had gotten the wrong end of the stick and judged these kids by their dress and the way they spoke. She felt amazingly bad about it. “Anyway, didn’t you say you were in a hurry?” continued Eight Ball. The gang broke completely to allow them to pass. “Guess I better try to get my hands on some cups of hot chocolate for my brothers!”
Christy closed the box and waved at the boys. “Good seeing you again!” Christy’s voice was muffled by the honking of car horns. The late afternoon traffic was building to a crescendo. But they were free. And very, very late.
“Toni,” she hissed as, together, they recommenced their laborious progress down the street, “remind me not to be so judgemental in the future.” The gang, behind them, was deep in discussion about where to find the best hot chocolate in the city.
There wasn’t far to go, but as soon as they were out of sight of the gang, Christy was suddenly overcome by trembling and had to stop again. Toni, understanding immediately, took control of the rug and gave her space to collect herself.
“I’m fine,” she told him, “just some kind of delayed shock reaction, I think,” she stammered, taking a deep breath and getting a grip on herself. “Boy, Toni, I am sure taking a risk: out on the streets with a million bucks’ worth of diamonds in plain sight! These guys were fine but…well…to be honest, I was really scared back there!”
Wordlessly Toni eased the box from her and attempted to force it into his little rucksack. But it was too big. He gave her a worried look.
“Thanks for trying,” Christy sighed, “but maybe we better just make a run for it. There’s no hiding place for a thing that shape…”
Or was there?
She had a sudden stroke of inspiration. Taking the box back from Toni, she stuffed it underneath the stretchy jersey top that she was wearing under her jacket. Toni watched in amusement as she stood up to showcase her new physique.
She shrugged. “Needs must,” she said, “now all I need is a knight in shining armor…not that you’re not wonderful, of course…”
“Need ride?” A heavily accented male voice called out to her across the sidewalk. Christy looked up to see that a yellow cab had pulled away from the solid lines of traffic and stopped on the curb in front of them.
“Oh,” Christy faltered, “we desperately do, but we have this rug.”
The driver looked at the rolled-up rug, stroking his stubbly chin. “Is no problem,” he said after a while. “She go through sunroof okay.”
Christy’s heart leapt. “Are you sure? Oh, that would be wonderful! Are you Italian?”
The cab driver gave her a confused look. “From Mexico. Why you ask?”
He had come out of his cab and was helping Toni maneuver the rug into the back.
“My friend is Italian,” she explained, feeling foolish all of a sudden. “But anyway, thank you so much for this. You’ve saved our lives.”
“Is no problem,” he reassured her. “My wife, she with baby, too, I know all about the feet, the back, the aches and pains.”
“What?” Christy gawped at her tummy. The perfect bump of the tiara box did indeed make her look as though she might give birth at any moment.
“I could not leave you on the street,” he went on, “is no fair.”
“Well…” she didn’t have the heart to put him straight. It was such an unbelievably kind gesture. “Thank you so much,” she said with feeling.
“Is pleasure,” the driver nodded knowingly before speaking to Toni. “You see she put the feet up when you guys get home, no?”
Toni responded with a look of utmost incomprehension.
“She will be beautiful,” the driver went on as the cab ground to a halt in the midst of the thronging traffic. “You two make be-yoo-tiful baby,” he repeated for emphasis.
“Nobody puts baby in the corner,” Toni replied firmly before turning his attention to staring in the window of the clothing store on the sidewalk.
And while the driver made a confused expression in the rearview mirror, Christy smiled to herself.
5:00 p.m.
Even by New York standards, this was seriously heavy traffic. The cab, for now, was going nowhere. And although Christy was grateful for the chance to rest for a minute, she was acutely aware that they’d have made swifter progress on foot—although at least they were unlikely to get mugged for the tiara in the nice Mexican man’s cab.
Christy longed for her phone. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t left it on the train. Organization was her thing.
She smiled as she remembered a phrase her mother used. She’d have all her ducks in a row. Christy Davies plus her iPhone were a formidable team when it came to lining up ducks. Her ducks were always in a row. Apart from today. Today, she no longer knew where any of her ducks were.
Glumly she gazed out of the cab window, seeing moving people but not taking in any details. Normally she’d be on her iPhone, checking her schedule, making calls, reassuring clients, downloading directions, reading the news…now it was just legs on sidewalks, honking car horns, an Italian supermodel, a tiara and an oriental rug.
It was as though cameras were going off in her head. She was probably delirious—people often said they could see flashing lights when they were dizzy, didn’t they? But then she sat bolt upright. She wasn’t dizzy! There were cameras going off—right there on the sidewalk!
“No! Don’t let that be her!”
Toni leaned over and looked, his eyes lighting up when he caught a glimpse of the willowy, mini-skirted blonde who was being swarmed by paparazzi as she clipped her dainty way along the sidewalk.
Ms. H had most definitely left Gucci. She was right there beside the cab! A minder trailed in her wake, laden with exclusive shopping bags. She was headed in the direction of her apartment.
Finally the cab began to move, inching along the street at walking pace. But then it stopped again. The late afternoon traffic had built up to crazy levels without them noticing. Christy wanted to scream.
They were neck and neck.
Chapter Seventeen
CHRISTY
5:05 p.m.
Drop off Ms. H’s item with Ms. H.
Clean Mrs. Dallaglio’s rug.
On the scale of weird things to happen to a person in their lifetime, crouching down in a cab, furtively watching the most famous legs in the world match your snail-like progress through New York had to be right up there. Christy had turned up the lapel of her jacket and was shielding her face with her hands, scarcely able to breathe as Ms. H’s skyscraper heels clicked along the sidewalk beside them. Luckily Toni sat on the side closest to the sidewalk, and the bulky presence of the rug also helped to conceal her. But still, her heart felt as though it might pound straight out of her chest and land with a splat in front of Ms. H’s stilettos.
“We’ve got to slow her down!” Christy hissed. But then she thought she saw Ms. H flick a glance into the cab, so she ducked right down, contorting herself so that her entire body was below window height.
“Help!” She prodded Toni. “Tell me what she’s doing! Watch! Please!”
Toni winked and continued his appreciative gazing out of the window.
Christy rolled her eyes. “Is she still walking?” She mimed the question.
“Sì,” Toni agreed. “Photo, photo, photo!”
“You okay, little mama?” The taxi driver was glancing over his shoulder, his face full of concern. “You fainting?”
“What? Oh, no, I’m fine!” Christy flustered. “Um, this position helps my back!”
“Ah, the sore back!” he nodded knowingly. “You need the yoga, yes? The baby yoga is good for the back.”
“Yes, well, thanks, I’ll give it a try,” Christy mumbled, adding a fresh wave of guilt to her already full complement of
troubles.
Toni, meanwhile, made a sympathetic face as he watched Ms. H’s progress. Turning to Christy, he raised his leg and rubbed his feet, a pained expression on his face, as he jerked his thumb in Ms. H’s direction.
“Gucci, Prada, ow,” he said.
“Huh,” Christy snorted, realizing that Ms. H must have been rubbing her feet. “I wish pinching shoes was my only problem.”
“You go home, get those feet up, no?” the driver put in.
”I will,” Christy reassured him. Cautiously she risked another glance. Ms. H was still right there. She only needed to reach out her hand and she could open the door of their cab. It was a profoundly unnerving sensation.
“Pretty lady,” the driver remarked. “That skirt way too short. No way my daughter go out dressed like that. She catch her death, no?”
“No,” Toni repeated dreamily, his eyes fixed on the glamorous parade outside his window. “Ah, she phone…no, no, she…” he mimed texting with his thumbs and an imaginary phone.
“But she’s still moving?” Christy’s voice was muffled by her hand.
Toni nodded.
“Oh, this is unbearable!” Christy sighed just as her phone began to ring. “Will?” she whispered.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
Christy could hear the warm smile. “Oh, Will, you don’t want to know,” she hissed. “And you probably wouldn’t believe it, either.”
“Why are you whispering?” he asked. “Lost your voice?”
“Lost my sanity, more like,” she whispered back.
“I got another tweet from Ms. H.”
Christy closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. This was too surreal for words.
“So,” Will went on, “you want to hear it?”
“Why not?” Christy shrugged. Or I could just lean out of the window and ask her.
“Okay, she’s saying, ‘These new Manolos are killing me…’ What are Manolos?”
“They’re shoes. Seriously expensive shoes, too. Huh, I had them down as Jimmy Choos—shows what I know about designers.”
“Sorry?”