by J. J. Murray
“I should have brought a muzzle,” Pietro said in Italian.
Bianca bit her tongue. “Um, I misunderstood Alessandro, Miss Minola. He actually said about half an hour.”
“Mother—”
A huge bump ripped the rest of Katharina’s curse from her mouth.
“This is some serious bullshit here,” Katharina muttered. “I am not going to take much more of this!”
The road calmed down somewhat for the next half hour, and Pietro brought the Suburban to a halt a few feet from Curtis the mule, who was tied to a fence at the beginning of the path to the “set.”
“Finally,” Katharina said, removing her blindfold. Hey … these windows are tinted. What gives? Not that I would have looked outside, anyway, but … Oh. Maybe they’re just dirty.
Bianca got out and shut her door. She immediately put on her hat and mittens while Pietro stretched his back.
“She’s not getting out?” Pietro whispered.
“She expects someone to open her door,” Bianca whispered.
“That isn’t going to happen,” Pietro said, going to Curtis and patting him on the back. “Sorry, old buddy. You’re gonna have a passenger in a minute. And if you feel like bucking her off, you go right ahead.”
“Bianca!” Katharina yelled. “Open the damn door!”
Bianca stepped around a juicy cold puddle and opened the door.
“About time,” Katharina hissed, stepping out into the icy mud, her right tiger stiletto stuck fast in the muck, her bare foot poised in the air. “Mother … Jesus, would you look at that!”
“I’ll get it, Miss Minola.” Bianca pulled the stiletto out of the muck and examined it. “It’s not too bad.” It’s just slightly ruined and forever useless.
Katharina held out her foot. “Well, put it back on.”
Bianca slid on the stiletto, mud dripping.
Katharina took another step—and lost her left stiletto the same way.
“Motherf—!”
“I’ll get it,” Bianca interrupted, and she replaced the second stiletto.
Katharina hobbled around to Pietro. “You got a lot of damn nerve parking in the mud like that! I’ll get you fired! No, I’ll do better than that. I’ll get you killed. I know people, oh yes. One phone call, and Fonzi is gone!”
Pietro only smiled.
Katharina finally noticed the mule. “What the hell is that?”
Chapter 10
Pietro patted Curtis. “Is mulo, Curtis.”
Katharina hobbled backward, nearly falling into Bianca’s arms. “I know what a mule is, Fonzi. And what a stupid name for a mule! Curtis isn’t even an Italian name!”
“Italian name!” echoed through the night.
“Jesus, where the hell are we?” Katharina asked. “The Alps?”
Bianca rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so, Miss Minola.”
In Italian, Pietro said, “‘Curtis’ is the only name he responds to.”
“He says,” Bianca said, “that Curtis is an American mule.”
Katharina sighed, and even her sigh echoed. “Whatever. What’s it doing here?” Wherever here is. Are we in Iceland? No, we’d still be in the air. I’ll bet we’re in Alaska.
“Mulo is your ride,” Pietro said.
Katharina took off her sunglasses and waved them at Pietro. “The hell it is. I’ll wait for a golf cart.”
Pietro smiled. “No.”
“No?” Katharina turned to Bianca. “Is he saying ‘no’ to me?”
“Yes,” Bianca said. “How much farther?” she asked quickly in Italian.
In Italian, Pietro said, “Sorry to say about an hour through the woods, but only if she rides the mule. It could take two hours or more if she walks on those stupid heels.”
I cannot last another two hours! Bianca thought. “Only a few minutes, Miss Minola, but he suggests strongly that you ride the mule to keep your feet dry.”
Katharina put on her sunglasses. “Really? It’s too late for that!” She shivered. “It’s freaking cold, Bianca!” She stepped closer to Curtis and looked at Curtis’s eyes. “What’s up with the mule’s eyes?” Blue-green? What’s this bull—
Pietro chose this moment to grab Katharina from behind and lift her high into the air and onto Curtis’s back.
“Bianca!” Katharina yelled.
Several wolves howled in reply.
“Bianca, did you see that? Did you see him touch me?”
Bianca didn’t answer. Pietro has to be strong as an ox to lift that much evil off the ground. I hope he didn’t get a hernia.
Katharina pointed her long, curved nails at Pietro. “You tell him that no one touches me, and I mean no one.” She looked around her. “And also tell him that I do not ride mules!”
“Mulo rapido,” Pietro said, and he began pulling Curtis toward the path.
“He says the mule is fast, Miss Minola,” Bianca said, trailing behind.
“What the—” Katharina put her hands on Curtis’s back. “I have a brain, Bianca. I know what ‘rapido’ means. Doesn’t Fonzi have a golf cart, a four-wheeler, something else?”
Pietro smiled, and in Italian said, “We have to get moving. The temperature is dropping, and I can only take so much of this witch.”
“He says he doesn’t, Miss Minola,” Bianca said. “This, um, this is the best way to travel here.”
“Where are we, Russia? Shit, it’s cold! Give me your boots, Bianca.”
She’s high! “They’re far too big for your feet, Miss Minola.”
“So they’ll fit me just fine,” Katharina whined. “And give me your mittens and your hat, too.”
Bianca removed her boots, caught up to Curtis, and took off one of Katharina’s stilettos.
“Hurry!” Katharina screamed.
Bianca gritted her teeth. “You want some nice wool socks, too, Miss Minola?” “Yes,” Katharina said.
I should have asked for two hundred thousand dollars. Thirty more thousand for pain and suffering. Bianca took off one pair of her socks, put them on Katharina’s feet, slid on the boots, and handed her mittens and hat to Katharina.
“And your coat,” Katharina said.
Bianca gave Katharina her coat. Yeah, this is going well. I may die before I get a chance to quit.
“It’s about time you earned your keep, Bianca,” Katharina said. “Why are you so far behind? Keep up, Bianca!”
Fish zoomed in on Bianca’s face. He and Walt had been watching the scene using the infrared. “I hope I don’t say this a lot,” Fish said, “but Katharina is a witch!” He zoomed out and saw Bianca swinging Katharina’s stilettos back and forth. “Go on, girl. Let ’em fly.”
Bianca tossed the stilettos into the darkness and wiped her hands on her pants.
“Thata girl,” Fish said. “Some squirrel will have a nice tiger-fur-lined nest this winter.”
“Bianca certainly is a trooper, huh?” Walt said. “She’s only wearing that sweater, some socks, and a smile.”
“She ain’t smiling,” Fish said. “Her teeth are chattering. Pietro should have worn a coat to give to her. Bianca’s shivering her ass off.”
“And that’s not acting, either,” Walt said. “It’s that cold.”
Fish hit a few buttons on the computer and sat back. “I’ve programmed it so we can just look at the big screen while we follow their progress.”
Walt joined Fish at the command center. He pointed at two metal switches mounted under the table. “What are these two switches for? The ones with tape on them.”
“Oh,” Fish said, “those are just backups.”
“In case what happens?”
Fish sighed. “In case something crazy happens.”
“Oh,” Walt said. “Can you turn up the volume?”
Fish clicked and dragged his mouse. “Increasing volume …”
“This jackass smells like thousand-year-old shit!” Katharina was saying.
Bianca and Pietro remained silent.
“My pants a
re ruined! Zip me all the way up, Bianca. My ears are cold. Doesn’t this thing have a hood? It does? Then put it on for me. Why are we going so slow? If I don’t get warm soon, I’m going to lose my mind …”
“Decreasing volume,” Fish said.
Walt stopped Fish’s hand. “No. Leave it up. It will make me appreciate my wife more.”
“You’re a masochist, Walt,” Fish said.
“That I am,” Walt said.
The trio and Curtis passed Cabin 2, and Katharina looked back with her mouth wide open. “That’s not my whatever that is?”
“Il mio cabina,” Pietro said.
Bianca’s teeth chattered audibly now. “It’s his c-c-cabin, M-Miss Minola.”
Katharina finally took off her sunglasses, holding them out for Bianca to take.
Bianca took the sunglasses, made sure Katharina wasn’t watching, and tossed them into the woods.
“What’s wrong with your voice, Bianca?” Katharina asked. “You can’t be cold. Look at Fonzi. He’s only wearing a damn sweater just like you.”
“I’m f-f-fine, M-Miss Minola,” Bianca said, hoping a bear would tear out of the woods and attack the tiger-lady so she could get her coat back. “Really I am.”
Twenty minutes later, they reached Cabin 3. Pietro tried to lift Katharina off Curtis, but Katharina slid quickly to the other side, rubbing her butt while Bianca shivered uncontrollably beside her.
“What, Bianca?” Katharina spat. “You didn’t have to ride on a jackass led by a jackass.”
Pietro opened the cabin door. “Fa freddo.”
Bianca’s heart sank. “He says it’s c-c-cold in there.”
Katharina took the steps to the porch. “Tell him ‘no shit.’”
“Can I quit now?” Bianca asked Pietro in Italian.
Pietro shook his head. “You signed a contract,” he said in Italian.
“Um,” Bianca said, staring hard at Pietro, “Alessandro says he’s going to build you a nice, hot fire.”
Pietro nodded.
“Chop chop, then, Fonzi.” Katharina walked past Pietro to the doorway of the dark cabin, searching for a light switch with her left hand. “Where’s the damn light switch?”
Pietro disappeared into the cabin and returned with a kerosene lamp, lighting it in front of Katharina with a wooden match struck against the door.
Katharina stared into the cabin. She saw only a simple wooden table and two chairs in front of a stone fireplace, three shut doors along the far wall. A fax machine sat on the floor in a corner.
“There must be some mistake,” she whispered. “I was promised a four-room suite.”
Pietro smiled. “Yes, sweet cabina.”
Chapter 11
While Katharina stood mainly in place cursing Lucentio Pictures in general and Vincenzo in specific, Pietro started a small fire in the fireplace, Bianca as close to the mesh screen as her socks would allow.
“There has been a major screwup here, Fonzi!” Katharina yelled in a more lucid moment. “No electricity? Are you kidding, Fonzi? What Third World country is this?”
Pietro stood, towering over Katharina. “Is Canada. I am Alessandro.”
“Where’s the four-room suite, Fonzi?” Katharina asked.
“Is four,” Pietro said. He counted the doors and then pointed to the floor. “Four.” He touched his chest. “Alessandro, not Fonzi.”
Katharina laughed. “Where’s the bathroom, Fonzi?”
Pietro’s eyes narrowed. “Che?”
Katharina stepped closer. “The shitter. The toilet. The ladies’ room. The freaking place where I can freaking drop off the kids.”
Pietro’s eyes narrowed even more. “Che?”
Katharina pecked Pietro’s chest with a sharp nail. “The room de bath, Fonzi.”
Bianca walked over and opened the middle door. “It’s in here, Miss Minola.”
Katharina wheeled around and went into the bathroom, where Bianca had found a little box of matches and lit another kerosene lamp. A large white tub took up most of the room; an ancient toilet rested next to a tiny sink. “It’s a … it’s a bathtub,” Katharina muttered. “I must be getting punked.” She turned to Bianca. “Where are the cameras?”
Everywhere, Miss Minola, Bianca wanted to say.
Katharina turned the knob marked HOT.
Nothing happened.
Katharina laughed, but it was not a nice-sounding laugh. It was the laugh of a maniacal, deranged serial killer about to go on a little killing spree. “No hot water, huh?”
Pietro stood in the doorway. “No.”
“Uh-huh,” Katharina said. “Very funny.” She strode out of the bathroom and over to the fire. “Okay, where are the cameras?”
“She’s looking right at one!” Fish said. “She’s on to us already?”
Walt shrugged and gripped the table in front of him. “She can’t be. Can she?”
“I’m on one of those shows, aren’t I?” Katharina asked. Serves me right for being so gullible! Right, they’re going to give me five million bucks. “Aren’t I?”
Bianca kept a straight face, her eyes averted to the pine plank floor. Pietro, however, stared hard into Katharina’s eyes.
“Bianca, tell me I’m on one of those shows,” Katharina said.
Bianca looked up briefly. “I think we’re on the set, Miss Minola. I think this is your cabin.”
“No,” Katharina said with determination and tight lips. “It cannot be. No one treats me like this. I wanted a nice, smooth ride here, but what do I get? A roller coaster that gave me another crack in my ass. I wanted a nice, quiet golf cart to take me to my cabin, but what do I get? A mule that has never bathed and farts every other step. I wanted a four-room suite with everything I asked for in my letter, but what do I get? Abraham Lincoln’s first house! I also wanted a hot shower after my horrific trip, but no, there’s a tub the size of Connecticut in here that can only be filled up with cold-ass water!” She stalked toward Pietro. “I want to speak to Vincenzo. Now.”
Pietro didn’t move. “Vincenzo, no. Alessandro.”
Katharina looked around. “Where’s the phone?”
“No telefono,” Pietro said.
Katharina held out her hand. “Bianca, my cell.”
Bianca fumbled with her backpack and came out with Katharina’s purple cell phone.
Katharina snatched the phone and flipped it open. “No signal. Are we on planet earth anymore? Where the hell isn’t there a cell phone signal?”
Pietro shrugged and left the cabin, leaving the door wide open behind him.
“Where does he think he’s going?” Katharina snarled.
Bianca sat in the chair closest to the dying fire. “I hope to get some more wood for our fire.”
“Are Bianca’s lips turning blue?” Walt asked.
“Zooming,” Fish said. “Yeah. That’s not good.” He pressed the squawk button on the transmitter. “Vincenzo? This is Fish.”
A moment later, Vincenzo answered. “Is there something wrong already?”
“Vinnie,” Fish said, “they’re safely in their cabin, but they have to have more wood in there. Pietro’s doing the best he can, but Bianca’s lips are turning blue.”
“I’m already on my way there,” Vincenzo said. “And don’t squawk me any time I’m around Katharina unless it’s an extreme emergency, okay? I want her to feel more isolated.”
“She can’t get much more isolated than this, Vinnie,” Fish said.
“Don’t forget the wig,” Walt said.
“The wig is on,” Vincenzo said. “And I hate it.”
Fish laughed. “Did I ever tell you how much you look like Andy Warhol in that wig?”
“Yes, Fish.”
“But your eyebrows are black,” Fish said. “Maybe you should bleach them bushes.”
“Go play with your buttons,” Vincenzo said.
Katharina still hadn’t sat. “I don’t know whose idea of a joke this is, but I am not staying here tonight!”
>
She is a broken record! “Where else can we go, Miss Minola?” Bianca asked. “Like you said, we’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s dark outside, and the only way out of here is by mule.”
Katharina adjusted Bianca’s hat. “Someone is going to get fired for this. You watch.”
Pietro returned with more wood, adding it to the fire. He still left the door open.
“Yo, Fonzi,” Katharina said.
Pietro stood. “Alessandro. You say.”
“I will not say,” Katharina sneered. “And why don’t you close the door? Were you born in a stinking barn?”
Pietro took a giant step toward Katharina. “Yes. I was. So was Jesus.”
Yes, He was, but it wasn’t this freaking cold in Bethlehem! Katharina looked away for a moment, then stared up at him. “I don’t like anyone grittin’ on me, Fonzi. Didn’t anyone teach you that it was rude to stare?” She poked him in the chest for good measure, but it was a halfhearted attempt. “No one looks me in the eye.”
Pietro took Katharina’s finger from his chest, and in Italian, said, “I’d really not like to look into your evil eyes of doom, but I have no choice. You are the Devil incarnate, and I do not wish you to take me to Hell.”
Bianca bit her tongue so hard she almost drew blood.
“What the hell was that all about?” Katharina asked Bianca.
Bianca raised her eyebrows. “He says he will bring no more wood tonight if you do not show him more respect.”
Katharina slapped her hand on the table. “Show him respect? Is he kidding? He’s the freaking help! Screw him!”
Pietro threw up his hands and talked with them in Italian. “You tell her she cannot have my other wood, either.”
Bianca drew blood from her tongue that time.
Katharina tapped the table with her nails. “Well?”
If I say exactly what he said, I will never stop laughing. “Um, he says that he is paid to keep the cabin warm, to keep you fed, and to keep you safe. He says he is not paid to sleep with you.”
Bianca watched Katharina’s mouth fall a few inches. Priceless, she thought. That look is worth the pain of this whole trip so far. I hope I don’t have frostbite. Do I still have all my toes? I do. Whew.