Queen of the Trailer Park (Rosie Maldonne's World Book 1) (26 page)

75

Yes. You read it right. He kicked my daughter—and I saw red. I ran at him and, with every ounce of strength in my body, I plowed my head into his stomach. As I stepped away, I remembered that this guy had balls. I didn’t give myself a moment to recover. I kicked him as hard as I could in the ball sack. I felt my heel dig in. He doubled over in pain and dropped the gun, which slid across the tiled floor. Sabrina ran into my arms, bawling. Simon arrived with a water pistol and began squirting Jérôme from head to foot.

Things might have been getting a bit surreal by this point, a little too weird. I jumped toward the gun and managed to grab it. This didn’t really improve matters any, since I had no clue how to use one. Whatever. I was the one with gun now, wasn’t I? I just had to do it like they do in the movies, right?

I grabbed the twins and Pierre and starting pushing Sabrina toward the door.

“Simon, hurry, the door! We have to get out of here! Come on, get a move on, kids.”

I just about had a hold of the doorknob when we heard a noise behind us. It was him, of course. He was bent over and dripping with water, but he was gaining on us.

He threw himself at my legs. I fell. I had to protect the twins and little Pierre on my way down to the ground, so I was forced to let go of the gun.

Jérôme picked it up, laughing like a madman.

“Don’t move, Cricri, or I’ll shoot.”

I burst out laughing. This had just become so ridiculous. I know it sounds odd, that the idea of someone laughing in a situation like this is totally nuts. I guess that’s the way I roll. The munchkins, who’d all started crying as soon as we’d hit the ground, stopped as soon as they saw me laughing.

He didn’t shoot. Maybe the laughing put him off.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Have you gotten a look at yourself? Honestly. You don’t look all that hot. What do you think this is?
Kill Bill
or something?”

As if on cue, we heard a voice coming from the other side of the door.

“Open up, Gallo, it’s us.”

I could see that Jérôme wanted to shout something, but he stifled it.

I yelled at him, “It doesn’t look like things are going your way today, does it?”

He kicked me away from the door (I was still on the floor) and opened it.

Dumbo and Dopey ducked into the apartment. Jérôme quickly checked to see if there was anyone else in the hallway, then closed the door again. I took advantage of the opportunity to stand up. The little ones had walked off by this point and were toddling around the apartment.

“What are you here for? I told you I’d fix this myself!” spat out Jérôme.

“Yes, but the boss sent us to check it out. We’re to be, like, your bodyguards. For you and the package. Just in case. Looks like he doesn’t trust you all that much. And he’s not wrong, is he?”

Jérôme sneered.

“You’re such a bastard, but you’ve got some good ideas,” said Dumbo. “Thanks to you, we’ll finally be able to get rid of the Russki. He’s not all that much fun, you know.”

“Worse than that. He’s very critical,” said Dopey. “But he’s got flair. He thinks maybe you’re trying to cross him. He’s pretty smart at this shit. We’ve been told to keep an eye on you. That’s where he’s making his big mistake, right, Gallo?”

It was at this point that they both realized that the kids and I were there. Quick as ever, guys.

“What the hell is this crazy bitch doing here?”

Always a kind word to say, that one.

Before Jérôme had time to respond, I said, “I’m in on this now, my old friend, so you listen up.”

“What’s this bullshit? Nobody said anything about this!”

“Wake up, boys! And keep up! Did you actually think Gallo had let you in on everything? Did you think he was going to cross the big guy with you two in tow? Ha! That’s hilarious. You guys make me laugh. He’s going to do the dirty on your boss
and
you two! And I’m in on the act. How do you feel about that?”

“What the hell is this bitch blabbing on about, Gallo?”

I might have been punching above my weight at this point, but a kind of crazy rage was overtaking whatever fear I was feeling.

“She’s saying you’ve been had. That’s what she’s saying.
Another one bites the dust.
” I started singing the Queen song.

This wasn’t one of the songs my mom had sent me. I don’t think she even knew Queen. But hey, she couldn’t know them all, could she?

“Shut up,” said Jérôme.

“What’s your problem?” I said in an offended tone. “Why don’t you just tell them we’re leaving with the ice? And that we’re going to wipe them out?”

“Shut your mouth, Rosie, or—”

“Or what? Are you scared of them? Is that it? You’re OK at planning the backstabbing, but when they show up, you lose your nerve?”

“What is she saying? Gallo? Are you going to tell us?”

I continued, “Can’t you see he’s chicken? Let me tell you. It’s me who’s been pulling the strings all along. I brought the ice, so obviously, I’m in for a slice of the action. And as we’re an item, we’ll both be walking off into the sunset with it, understand? It’s pretty straightforward. We don’t want your ugly mugs coming along for the ride.”

Sabrina and Simon giggled.

“Ith he weally your boyfwiend, Mom?” asked Sabrina. “Ith he a bad guy or a good guy?”

I gave her a little wink. She had no clue I was just making things up as I was going along, just rolling with it, trying to buy us some time.

Suddenly there was a loud banging at the door.

Borelli. “Gallo, are you in there?”

I couldn’t believe it. Saved by the cavalry. Well, not quite yet, but almost.

The men looked at each other, panic-stricken.

I shouted, “Yeah, we’re all in here. There are two Mafia thugs as well. He’s a nut job, Borelli, you hear me? Your sidekick is a nut job.”

Jérôme slapped me. Dumbo and Dopey scurried around the place, trying to find another exit.

I didn’t get it. They didn’t stand a chance. Why run about like idiots?

I headed toward the door.

Jérôme pounced on me, stopping me from opening it.

A shot went into the ceiling and plasterboard fell down, hitting us on the head and covering us with dust. This was becoming more and more like a Charlie Chaplin bit. Another shot. This time from Borelli.

The door opened. As Borelli walked in, Jérôme pointed his gun at me.

“Not a muscle, Rosie, I have you in my sights,” he said. “Chief, cuff her. She’s been cooking up something with these two. Some kind of heist.”

Dumbo and Dopey exchanged looks. They were clearly confused. (What a surprise.) The next thing you know, they’re making a quick getaway toward the staircase, pushing everyone out of their paths on the way.

Borelli didn’t even attempt to shoot, but he wasn’t going to let them get away with it. He pulled out his walkie-talkie.

“There are a couple of jerks heading out of the building. Pick them up, would you?” he said into the little crackling box.

“Borelli,” I said, “get him to put that thing down. I can’t stand it.”

Borelli looked at Jérôme. “Drop it, Gallo. You’re finished. History.”

“What do you mean, Chief? Don’t let yourself get sucked in by this.”

“We know what’s going on.”

Borelli smacked him on the hand with the butt of his gun. Jérôme’s weapon fell, along with Jérôme. He writhed on the floor in agony. Borelli jumped on top of him and pinned him down.

“Fuck, Borelli, you’re hurting me, you dick!”

“Really?” asked Borelli, winking at Sabrina.

He quickly cuffed him, flipped him over, and sat on his back.

“Hey, little girl,” he said to Sabrina, who had a front-row seat. “Pass me that roll of tape over there, would you?”

Sabrina handed him a thick roll of duct tape from the pedestal table by the front door.

Borelli taped Jérôme’s knees and feet together as Sabrina and Simon watched with interest, then stood up.

I won’t go into details of the whole police procedure bit. Suffice it to say they went over everything with a fine-toothed comb. The three thugs, counting Jérôme. The apartment. Everyone’s vehicles.

They never found the diamonds.

Finally, Borelli drove us home to our trailer.

When he saw the Ambassador, he whistled in admiration. “Pretty classy, Maldonne! Don’t go getting used to the finer things in life!”

I mumbled, “Too late.”

He added, “The kids must be exhausted. You can come and make your statement tomorrow when they’re at school.”

We all stood and waved as he drove away. He put on his siren and flashing lights for the babas. It was almost like Christmas.

We didn’t have the strength to wash up outside, so we all got ready for bed as we were. We made a meal out of what was left of the baguettes, which were somewhat old by that point, and then we hit the sack.

Dog-tired.

Thursday: You Live Here Alone?

76

The next day, we were running late. I gave the kids a quick strip-down wash by the water pump and took them to daycare and school. I didn’t feel in top form. I was sweating, I had a sore throat, and my muscles felt all chewed up. I couldn’t get this song out of my head:
C’est si bon . . . It’s so good!

The lyrics were full of allusions. It was so good, these little feelings . . . These little thrills. These little sensations . . .

Walking hand in hand down the street, it was worth more than a million.

It was a woman who sang it. Eartha Kitt. Though Louis Armstrong also had sung this song.

When I returned home, I went to bed again, remembering that I hadn’t looked under the trailer to see if Benjamin had left the tools for my illegal hookup.

I managed to leave a message for Borelli explaining that I was sick and couldn’t go down and make a statement.

As I fell asleep, the song played on. It was the exact opposite of how I was feeling:
It’s so good, these little feelings . . . These little thrills, these little sensations . . .

I woke up dripping with sweat. My throat felt even worse, and I must have had a fever of way over a hundred degrees. I’d slept until nearly four o’clock. It was already time to go pick up the tots. With hurried steps, I made my way through the streets, my feet moving to the rhythm of the song.
Walking hand in hand down the street, it’s worth more than a million!

As soon as we were all back safe and sound in our home sweet home, I finally listened to my messages. There were a ton of them, because I hadn’t picked up the phone all day.

The first was from Véro, from the hospital. Borelli had given her the lowdown on everything. Sobbing, she asked me if I could still keep her two boys for a while longer, because Marion Rosenberg had recommended a short stay in the psych ward. She said she’d never forgive herself for what had happened to Pierre.

So she still had her delusions of guilt.

I then talked with Borelli, because he’d tried to call me to say Jérôme was in custody, and that he’d probably be charged and sent to a provisional detention center.

The diamond necklace, which would be central to the conviction, hadn’t been found yet. So that was one less thing they had against Jérôme. But there had been witnesses to his violence, and there was also the ongoing investigation into his “shooting blunder.” They were sure to find a few things there.

Luc Berger, who’d seen Jérôme with the two lackeys, had come out of his coma and made a statement. It probably wasn’t enough on its own, but at least it was a start. And it seemed Dumbo and Dopey had already begun spilling the beans.

After I hung up, I got to wondering where exactly that asshole had managed to stash the diamonds. Say I went looking for them? No, who was to say I’d fare any better than the cops?

I also called Gaston and Ismène. It turned out they were together. Ismène had called in sick, and they’d decided to take a tour of the Museum of Asian Arts. Gaston wanted to see the tea ceremony, or something like that. He made me swear to go by his house the next day so I could fill him in on everything that had happened.

Later, I took the children to Mimi’s place so we could all wash up properly. While all five kids paddled around in the tub (you can imagine the state of the bathroom afterward), Mimi fired questions at me nonstop. I told her everything there was to know.

When we’d finished, the scamps and I made our way slowly home. I took baby steps, but I still felt totally beat.

It’s so good, these little feelings . . . These little thrills. These little sensations . . . Walking hand in hand down the street, it’s worth more than a million!

I realized I’d forgotten to do the grocery shopping. But there was a good surprise for us when we got back: we had water and electricity! All hooked up. Benjamin must have stopped by. His tools weren’t under the trailer. He must have needed them and, seeing that I hadn’t done the job, had taken care of it himself. It was an incredible bit of luck.

I called him to thank him. I had to go about it discreetly. This was the sort of thing where you didn’t want to be leaving any traces behind. I left a message on his machine.

“Hi, Benjamin. It’s me, Cricri. I see you’ve been by my place? What awesome gifts you left! That was some surprise! Thank you! See you soon!”

We’d just decided to head out and buy some sandwiches when we heard the sound of an engine nearby. Simon looked out of the window and said, “Pizza truck!”

“Wow! That’s lucky,” I said. “We don’t have anything to eat. Let’s get pizzas! Cool!”

There was a knock at the door. I opened up. There was a guy standing there with a mass of curly red hair. He was super cute. He had somewhat feminine features, except for all the stubble. There was something of the bad boy about him. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.

“Hello!” He started talking as soon as I opened the door, but when he stepped back and took a long look at me, he gave me a quick wolf-whistle. I laughed. He seemed like a funny guy.

“Is it the black eye you like?”

“Not just that . . .”

“So, what is it you want?”

“I’d like to set up shop here from time to time to sell my pizza, but I saw your trailer—super classy, by the way—and when I came by yesterday, you weren’t in. You don’t mind if I park up here every now and again, do you?”

“Not at all. On the contrary. I love pizza. I love the smell of it too! And you know, the land doesn’t belong to me. So . . .”

“OK, that’s cool. Do you live here on your own?”

“Yeah, why? Well . . . with my scamps.”

“You’re crazy brave. And your kids are super cute. OK, I’ve gotta go. Time to get the ovens running.”

“Actually, we’ve got nothing to eat tonight. I don’t suppose you could cook up three pizzas for us, could you?”

“Sure, I can do that. What do you want?”

“Two ham and cheese for the cubbies, and I’ll have mine with salami.”

“Consider it done.”

I noticed he had a ton of customers throughout the evening. He’d made our pizzas first. After the kids had enjoyed the feast, I put the three little ones to bed.

As I cleared away their things, I found Sabrina’s plastic bag with her dolls. A shiny necklace slipped from it and fell to the floor. I picked it up, dumbfounded. It was heavy. Sabrina watched me closely. I didn’t move as I realized my daughter had the diamonds. I didn’t know how she did it, but here they were. She had won! I always knew she would.

I stared back at her.

“I found my pwintheth necklath, Mommy.”

“I can see that. Where did you find it?”

“I got it out of your boyfwiend’th pocket. The powice guy. Can you bewieve it, Mommy? A powiceman who thtealth fwom thmall girlth? He’th not a vewy kind man, ith he?”

I smiled.

“You’re right. He’s not my boyfriend, though. I was just pretending so we could catch him. Are you sure he didn’t notice you taking it?”

“I’m not thtupid!”

“What are we going to do with it now, huh? You know we’re going to have to give it back, right?”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, I think so. The trouble is, who does it belong to? And how can we turn this into more lottery winnings?”

“Can you win the lottewy with a pwintheth necklath?”

“Yeah, I think we can. It happens sometimes. Let me think about it. Maybe Grandma will send me a message to help me out tonight. In the meantime, hide it with the rest of your dolls’ stuff, OK?”

“OK.”

“Good night, my sweetie.”

“Good night, Mom! I love you.”

Later on that evening, I took two aspirins and three vitamin C tablets. I walked over to see the pizza truck guy, Gabriel. He’d told me his name when he delivered our dinner. I wanted to chat a little, so I offered him a coffee.

I don’t know how he managed it, but faster than you can say Jack Robinson, he had me hook, line, and sinker. He closed up shop around eleven, and before I knew it, he was snuggled up with me, the pair of us butt-naked in my big new bed . . .

It’s so good, these little feelings . . . These little thrills. These little sensations . . .

That night, I didn’t dream of a single thing.