by J. J. Murray
“I’m always cold, Miss Minola,” Bianca said. But not as cold as you’re going to be when we get there, she thought. Can evil freeze solid? I’d like to see that.
“I wonder where the crew is,” Katharina said. “Probably out getting drunk.” I wish I drank. I’m getting motion sickness already. She turned to the window and tried to pull down the shade. Why won’t this budge? If I look outside while this plane is moving, I will throw up! Why didn’t I bring some Dramamine? This is why I freaked out on so many other flights! When the shades are up, my blood pressure shoots up and anything I eat won’t stay down!
Bianca stood, the button on her jeans threatening to ping off. “I don’t think there’s going to be a cabin crew, Miss Minola.”
“Why not?”
They saw a tiger coming and ran away. “We really don’t need them, do we? I can serve you just as well as they could.” And for nearly three thousand dollars a day, too!
“Get me a cranberry and 7UP.”
Bianca found the necessary ingredients in the tiny galley, made the mixture, contemplated sneezing into the glass, felt guilty and didn’t sneeze, and brought the drink to Katharina.
“There they go,” Katharina said, pointing out the window and waving at Scottie, his tail wagging in a window of the plane next to theirs. At least I think that’s Scottie. She squinted. “Is that an old lady with them?”
Who’s that? Bianca thought. Oh yeah. Penelope. “Um, I think that’s the certified dog walker, Miss Minola,” Bianca said.
“She’s too old to walk Scottie,” Katharina said. “He’ll run her to death.”
“I hear she has fifty years’ experience dealing with dogs,” Bianca said. Vincenzo is such a cute puppy. But if he’s forty, how many years is that in dog years?
“Hmm.” Katharina tipped up her sunglasses. “Why do they get the bigger jet, anyway?”
“For all your luggage, Miss Minola.” And my Chacos! I wish I could be in them when they hit the beach.
“Oh.” Katharina turned her attention to her drink. “Straw, Bianca.”
“Oh, sorry.” Bianca found a straw, but it was long and skinny. “Um, it’s not a crinkly straw like you like.”
“It’ll do.”
Bianca put the straw in Katharina’s drink and waited.
Katharina took a sip. “It’ll do.”
Bianca sighed and sat. That was a first.
Katharina set her drink on a tray. “Scottie loves to ride in planes. I should have sent Scottie on his own plane.”
Bianca fumed. The fact that people could afford to do that, and that a certain nameless musical diva actually did it, nauseated her to no end.
Blackout shades descended all around them automatically as the plane moved away from the terminal.
“Now that’s classy,” Katharina said, her heart rate slowing. “Lucentio Pictures knows how to treat a lady.” A lady who spazzes out on flights. I hope I can sleep.
Bianca switched on some lights.
“Turn ’em off, Bianca,” Katharina said, putting on her tiger-striped sleeping mask. “You weren’t planning to read something, were you?”
Bianca glanced a moment at her backpack, the latest J. J. Murray novel she had been dying to read tucked inside. “Um, no, Miss Minola.”
“Well, turn ’em off, then,” Katharina said. “I need my rest.”
Bianca switched them off.
“How long until we land?” Katharina asked.
We haven’t even taken off yet, you wench! “About five hours, I think, Miss Minola.”
“Do not disturb me until we get there, Bianca,” Katharina said.
Sweet! “Yes, Miss Minola.”
Bianca sat and loosened the button on her jeans. Whew. Sorry, stomach. You’ll thank me later.
In twenty minutes the plane took off, and Bianca started to relax.
And think.
Do I feel bad about my role in Katharina’s reawakening?
No.
Do I feel bad about making all this money and possibly harming my employer?
No.
Would I rather be anywhere else in the world at this moment?
Other than Yosemite or the beach, no.
Three for three. She shrugged. I’m good.
She looked over at her snoring employer. She even sounds like a tiger. But wasting so much money on new luggage! With that kind of money, I could have fed and clothed three thousand children in Venezuela for a year!
Do I feel guilty about what I’ve already done and what I am about to do?
No.
I am doing the right thing.
She loosened her boots and slipped them off.
Sorry about that, toes. You’ll thank me later, too.
Fish, Vincenzo, and Walter had watched the entire plane scene from Pietro’s estate in Ontario. Fish and Pietro had set up a wall of twenty-four monitors to the right and left of Pietro’s huge stone fireplace, a 50-inch monitor over the mantel now capturing Katharina’s sleeping form. Fish’s “command center” consisted of a line of computers and servers covering several oak library tables, and Fish used a rolling chair to push himself from computer screen to computer screen while the others lounged on antique leather sofas.
“I didn’t know you did that, Fish,” Vincenzo said. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
Fish sipped a Coke and turned down the volume on Katharina’s growling snores. “Technology is amazing, isn’t it? I just thought it might be interesting to see before-and-after shots. Today the tiger, tomorrow, hopefully, the pussycat.”
Walter approached the largest monitor, putting his hand on Katharina’s forehead. “Did He who made the lamb make she?” He turned to the others. “I can’t believe this is even her. I haven’t seen her in so long. She looks … used up.”
Fish shook his head. “She’s still fine, and I can’t believe Katharina didn’t notice all of Bianca’s obvious cold-weather gear. That girl looks like Frosty the Snow Woman.”
Vincenzo stared only at Bianca. “I don’t think Katharina even sees Bianca, and not just because of the sleeping mask she’s wearing. Bianca is just an appliance to Katharina. She’s like tonsils or an appendix. She’s there, but Katharina really doesn’t need her.”
Fish tapped a key, and the picture of Katharina grew. “Zooming in on the tiger.” He looked carefully at her face. “You know, we could title the ‘making of’ segment ‘The Tiger Comes to Canada.’”
Vincenzo smiled. “We could.”
Walter sighed. “I haven’t seen her in the flesh in years. She has changed so much. I hardly recognize her. She has always been a real piece of work, but this … She’s almost not human. All that makeup.”
Fish finished his Coke and crushed the can. “Too bad Pietro couldn’t see this to warm him up, you know, get his anger going.”
Vincenzo shook his head. “Pietro will warm up all right. He might even steam. I never told him the name of the actress he’s picking up.”
“Oh shit,” Fish said. “I wish I had put a camera in his Suburban. We’ll see him when he gets on the plane, though. That should be fun.”
Walter turned to Fish. “You know they have a history.”
Fish blinked. “And not a good kind of history, huh?”
Walter shook his head.
Fish smiled broadly. “Oh, the horror … the horror …”
Chapter 9
The Learjet touched down smoothly at Val-d’Or Airport in Quebec, and Bianca had to whisper Katharina awake. Bianca couldn’t shake or touch her—that was one of Katha-rina’s most important rules—so she had to make a fool of herself in front of the customs agent, who had graciously come onto the plane to check their passports.
“Miss Minola, Miss Minola, wake up, Miss Minola,” Bianca whispered. Wake up, you snoring cow! “Miss Minola, Miss Minola, wake up, Miss Minola, we’re here, Miss Minola.”
Bianca turned to the customs agent. “She’s, um, she’s a heavy sleeper.” Because she was up all night before
we left, fussing at me! Bianca retrieved their passports from her backpack and handed them to the agent.
“She looks familiar,” the agent said with only a trace of a French accent. He looked at Katharina’s passport photo. “I must see her face.”
But you’ll turn to stone, Bianca thought. I can’t have an international incident like that!
“Miss Minola, Miss Minola, please wake up, Miss Minola.”
Katharina stirred, sliding off her mask.
The customs agent took a closer look at Katharina, stamped the passports, and left the plane.
“What was that about?” Katharina asked.
“Oh, that was just a customs agent, Miss Minola. He took care of us.”
A moment later, Pietro strode into the cabin holding two black blindfolds. He froze when he saw Katharina. Her! Of all the people on this planet, it has to be her! I left the United States because of her! I gave up any ideas of acting because of her! I left the business because of her! Thanks a lot, Vincenzo.
Bianca blinked at the huge man dressed completely in black, each of his broad shoulders bigger than her head. Definitely another Lucentio, definitely Italian, and definitely European, his mouth open for the flies. Why do some European men do that? Vincenzo did it a couple times … when I was trying to embarrass him. Looks as if this Lucentio has all his teeth. Why does he look so pissed off? What’s he got to be angry about? He didn’t just fly five hours in the company of Katharina Minola. Dag, I’d hate for him to be mad at me! Does he have only one eyebrow? No. There’s a millimeter gap. Is his face dirty? No. That’s just his stubble. Dark, penetrating eyes. A jaw that could cut wood. I’m glad Vincenzo has softer features. My hands would probably bleed if I touched his face.
Katharina sat up. “Are you our security?” He’s huge! Katharina thought. I should hire him as a bodyguard when this is over. Probably dumb as bat shit, but okay looking. Should be in some Mafia movie. I bet he’d be mean enough to keep the paparazzi away once I’m famous again. I’ll have to get his name.
Pietro held his breath. He didn’t even want to breathe Katharina’s air.
“Well?” Katharina asked. “Are you or are you not our security?”
“This reminds me of an old Clint Eastwood movie,” Fish said. “What was it called?”
“The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” Walt said.
“That’s the one. It has that stare-down scene.” Fish pointed at Bianca on the screen. “She’s good.” He pointed at Katharina. “She’s bad, and I mean that in a good way.” He tapped Pietro’s head. “And he’s seriously ugly. No offense, Vincenzo, but your brother is a brute.”
Pietro took a step forward. “Parli italiano?”
Bianca smiled. “Sì.”
Pietro nodded at Bianca. “Come stai?”
“Bene, grazie,” Bianca said.
“I didn’t know we’d need subtitles,” Fish said. “What are they saying, Vincenzo?”
Vincenzo laughed. “I didn’t know Bianca spoke Italian.”
“What are they saying?” Walt asked.
“Just ‘How ya doin’?’ ‘I’m fine,’ “Vincenzo said. “What … What an amazing turn of events.”
Katharina stood and put on her sunglasses. “Hello? Yo! Over here.”
Pietro glowered at Katharina.
“Answer my question,” Katharina demanded.
Bianca looked from Katharina to Pietro. “I’ll, um, I’ll ask him. I don’t think he understands English very well.”
Pietro nodded slightly.
Katharina stretched her back. “And ask him if those are blindfolds.”
Bianca shrugged at Pietro. “My Italian is a little rusty,” she said in Italian.
Pietro nodded. “Sounds fine to me,” he said, also in Italian. “How was your flight?”
Bianca bit her lip. “What do you think?” she asked in Italian. “I had diva duty the entire time. Luckily, she slept for most of the flight.”
“Bianca,” Katharina said, “I’m not asking you again. Is he my security, and are those blindfolds?”
“Yes, Miss Minola,” Bianca said. “But he’s mostly our driver.” She turned to Pietro. “Come ti chiami?”
“Mi chiamo … Alessandro,” Pietro said.
Bianca turned to Katharina. “His name is Alessandro. We’re to put the blindfolds on for our journey to the set.”
Katharina marched up to Pietro. “What for?”
Pietro turned to Bianca. “Tell her Vincenzo’s orders,” he said in Italian.
“What about Vincenzo?” Katharina asked.
“Oh,” Bianca said. “It’s Vincenzo’s idea, mainly for your benefit. Vincenzo feels that the less you know about the location, the better.”
Katharina snatched a blindfold from Pietro’s hand. “Whatever.” She tied on the blindfold loosely. “There. Happy, Fonzi?”
“His name is Alessandro, Miss Minola,” Bianca said.
“I don’t care,” Katharina whined. Just get me off this plane!
Pietro stepped forward and readjusted Katharina’s blindfold tightly.
“Hey, Bianca!” Katharina yelled. “Not so damn tight!”
Bianca smiled. “Um, sorry, Miss Minola.”
“Did you see that?” Fish asked. “The way Katharina’s head got smaller! I didn’t think that was possible.”
Pietro and Bianca were talking rapidly in Italian on the screen.
Vincenzo laughed. “Oh, this is better than I ever could have planned.”
“What are they saying?” Walt asked.
Vincenzo couldn’t stop smiling. “Pietro says for Bianca to put on her blindfold. Bianca says, ‘You can walk me into a wall if you like, put me out of my misery. I can take a hit.’ And Pietro says, ‘I should walk her into a wall. She hasn’t had a hit in years!’”
“Man,” Fish said, “that’s cold.”
Walt looked at his watch. “When are they arriving at the set?”
“After dark,” Vincenzo said. “I better get going.”
“Man, I wish you could stay,” Fish said. “If those two spew Italian at each other all the way to the cabin, we won’t know what they’re saying.”
Vincenzo put on his coat. “You’ll just have to wait for the translation.” He sighed deeply. “Well, gentlemen. Our experiment is really about to begin. Are all systems go?”
Fish let his fingers roam speedily over the computer keyboard. “All cameras are up and running, zooms operative … Sound is a go.” He paused and listened to the wind whipping through the trees. “Yeah, we’re ready.”
Vincenzo shook their hands. “I don’t know when we’ll get to be in the same room together like this, hopefully not too long. Use the transmitter if you need to. Just remember that only I have a walkie-talkie.”
“We’ll only squawk you in an emergency,” Fish said. “We got everything under control.”
Every little thing is under control, Vincenzo thought. Just not everyone yet. “Then, gentlemen, it’s showtime.”
Pietro led Bianca and Katharina to his black Chevrolet Suburban parked on the tarmac. He removed Bianca’s blindfold so Bianca could help Katharina into the backseat and shut the door behind her. He pulled Bianca to him in front of the SUV.
“You can’t see out the windows,” Pietro whispered, “and there’s a divider between me and you two, so you can tell her to take off her blindfold if you want to.”
Bianca frowned. “I really don’t want her to see me. I like to make faces at her.”
Pietro smiled. “Then have her keep her blindfold on.”
They got in, shut their doors, and Pietro roared away.
“Can I take off my blindfold now?” Katharina asked.
“Um, no, Miss Minola,” Bianca said. “Alessandro said not to. The windows aren’t tinted. He says it’s illegal to tint windows in this country.”
“What about the others?” Katharina asked. “Have they landed yet?”
“Um, Alessandro said their plane had engine trouble and had to turn ba
ck,” Bianca said.
“Sì,” Pietro said.
“He says it should be here tomorrow or the day after,” Bianca added.
“I’m glad we weren’t on that plane,” Katharina said. “I’d be raising holy hell if I were them.” Can you be banned from a charter flight? “Did you pack a separate bag with my necessities?”
Bianca smiled. “Oh no! I didn’t! I am so sorry, Miss Minola. I just assumed both planes would make it here.”
Katharina shook her head. “Ain’t that some shit.”
Bianca had to rub it in more. “I wish you had asked me to pack that bag, Miss Minola.”
“Do I have to think of every damn thing?” Katharina yelled. “What the hell do I pay you for?”
Bianca stifled a giggle. Um, technically, wench, you aren’t paying me at all for the next sixty days. “I’m sorry, Miss Minola. Perhaps they’ll have clothes and toiletries for you there at your suite.”
“They had better,” Katharina said.
Bianca and Pietro arrived at the same thought simultaneously: Not.
Thankfully, the first part of the journey was quiet. They traveled on decent roads for several hours, driving into the sunset. After taking Highway 11 north for another smooth half hour, Pietro backtracked on Highway 101 east for a bit before turning onto a series of butt-cracking, vertebrae-breaking, spine-smacking, unnamed gravel, dirt, and rock roads.
As Katharina held on, she yelled, “Is Fonzi wearing a blindfold, too, or what? Tell him to keep us on the damn road!” And I’ll try to keep from puking! Think still thoughts, think still thoughts …
“I think this is the road, Miss Minola,” Bianca said, gripping the door handle tightly.
Pietro spewed several Italian curses.
“Why is he fussing?” Katharina asked. “Shit! We’re the ones getting our bones broken! Ask him how much farther.”
Bianca asked in Italian. Pietro told her it would be about a half hour.
“Only a few more minutes, Miss Minola,” Bianca said. I am having too much fun!
A few minutes later, Katharina said, “A few minutes is up. Why aren’t we there?”
“I’ll ask, Miss Minola.” She tapped on the divider and said in Italian, “I haven’t had this much fun in years!”