School of Fortune (21 page)

Pippa paid. “Wake me when we get there.”

She dreamed of surreal characters and events. One vision involved Thayne in a vat of chocolate, playing poker. In another dream Pippa was in the woods fleeing a moose with heart-shaped sunglasses driving a blue Maserati. An insistent dinging finally evaporated her nightmares. Pippa opened her eyes to find herself sprawled across the back seat of the cab, soaked with more sweat than her Prada suit could handle. Her neck felt broken, having propped her head at a forty-five-degree angle for the last hour. She sat up. The cab was parked at a ramshackle one-pump gas station, receiving air in a rear tire.

Humidity engulfed her the second she got out. Huge mosquitoes attacked her ears and ankles. “Are we in Milford?” she asked, swatting them away.

“Yep.” The little dings stopped when the driver hung up the air hose. “Now where?”

Pippa called Slava Slootski. After a distressing number of rings, someone picked up but didn't say anything. “Mr. Slootski? This is Cluny Google.”

“Slava is gone,” a woman with a Russian accent told her.

“Gone where?” Pippa tried to keep her voice calm. “He's expecting me.”

“Yes, I know, you are where now?”

Pippa couldn't even read the paint above the rotting porch. “At a gas station with a blue sign.”

“Go right, take fifth left, stop when you see elephant. Leave now. I meet you.”

“Go right, take fifth left,” Pippa repeated, diving back into the cab before the mosquitoes sucked her last drop of blood. “Someone will meet us at the elephant sign.”

The fifth left was miles down the seedy, deserted highway. Pippa had never seen so many big dead animals in the road. “Think this is it?” the cab driver asked, stopping at a dirt path disappearing into the underbrush.

“Let's give it a try.”

Before doing so, he reached under the front seat and handed Pippa a crowbar. The other he kept for himself. “Like the Boy Scouts say, be prepared.”

Too bad her MatchMace was with FedEx. They bumped along the rocky way for what seemed like miles. There was no place to turn; Evel Knievel would think twice about backing out of here in reverse. “This don't look too promising,” the cabbie observed nervously.

Pippa tried not to dwell on the fact that, were she raped and murdered in this godforsaken thicket, her remains would never be found. “Give it another minute.”

They gingerly proceeded around a sharp curve. “Holy shit!” the driver cried, stomping on the brakes. “There's a friggin' elephant!”

Seeing them, the beast emitted a roar that threatened to shatter the windshield. It lumbered in their direction. As Pippa and the driver watched in horror, it raised its massive right foot. Two tons of that were about to come smashing through the hood when a voice called, “Mitzi! Behave or no dinner!”

Mitzi whapped the roof of the cab with her trunk a few times before shuffling off. A roly-poly woman with white hair and the features of an old potato appeared in the road. “Where is Cluny?”

Pippa got out, with the crowbar. The woman smelled like a swamp. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I am Masha.” She studied Pippa's suit. Shaking her head, she instructed the cab driver, “You turn here.”

He was delighted to take advantage of a small roundabout and rocket out of there. “Hey!” Masha looked anxiously at Pippa. “He forgets your trunk.”

Pippa batted away the instant swarm of mosquitoes. They weren't
going
near Masha, she noticed. “I'm afraid this bag is all I have.”

“But your dancing shoes? Wigs and makeup? Where are they?”

“The airline lost them. Really lost them,” Pippa added. “They got sent to Haiti by mistake.”

“Slava will be furious.”

A short, rotund man with a long white beard burst through the foliage. Briars clung to his patched clothing. His boots and face were monuments of mud. He carried a machete and a basket full of dark mushrooms. Demonic forces radiated from his blue eyes. Pippa screamed in fright. Sure that her end was at hand, she cowered behind the older woman and, eyes closed, waited for the inevitable.

“Morels,” she heard Masha say. “Very good, Slava.”

Pippa peeped around the apron strings. “Mr. Slootski?”

He brandished his machete. “Off my property or I kill you!”

“Slava, stop! She is new clown, not tax assessor.” Masha took Pippa's hand. “Cluny.”

Slava inspected Pippa head to foot, as one would a horse at auction. Despite the mosquitoes, she didn't dare move, sensing that this examination was a critical part of her entrance audition. “Funny costume,” he pronounced finally. “Grace Kelly suit, black eye, straw hair.”

“Thank you.”

A large bear scampered out of the bushes. Seeing Pippa, it reared on its hind legs and came at her, waving its paws in the air. Pippa screamed a second time. Lunging backward, she tripped over her crowbar and fell flat on her butt. The bear kept coming at her so she covered her head with her laundry bag and kicked her shoes in the air, hoping to ward it off.

“Ha ha!” Slava laughed. “Like overturned beetle! Very good.”

Pippa slowly removed the bag from her face to find Slava feeding red berries to the bear. “Meet Pushkin.” Slava began humming “Tea for Two.” “Dance with him.”

Swallowing her fright, Pippa did as she was told. She had to admit that, claws aside, Pushkin had better moves than most guys at fraternity dances. “He likes you.” Slava clapped his hands. “You like him?”

“He's adorable,” Pippa replied, quivering with terror.

“Good. You come to school then.” Slava plunged into the bushes on the other side of the road. Pushkin disappeared after him.

Pippa nearly fainted with relief. “Are there more bears?” she asked Masha.

“Only Pushkin. He dance boogie-woogie. He is star of our circus.” Masha frowned as the elephant unleashed another bloodcurdling bellow. “Maybe Mitzi is jealous. You do not be afraid of her. This way, Cluny. I get you better clothes.”

Masha headed briskly down the overgrown drive. After struggling for twenty minutes in her sling-back heels, Pippa debated whether it would be better to take them off and slash her feet on the rocks, or keep them on and break an ankle. She nearly stepped on a toad: keep the shoes on. Every once in a while Pippa swore she heard a menacing snort in the woods behind her. After an eternity the driveway ended and she found herself in a clearing.

Two young men and a woman were yanking at ropes and poles, apparently unfazed by another elephant just a few feet away. “Cluny! Come quick!” Masha yelled. Pippa ditched her shoes and ran over. “When I say three, pull rope. One! Two! Three!”

A gigantic swath of canvas rose from the ground. The other elephant curled its trunk around a telephone pole and poised it under a peak in the cloth. As the three workers hammered spikes into the ground, securing the tent, Masha pointed at another rope. “Pull!”

The elephant put a second pole in place, propping up the other half of the tent. “Good Bobo,” Masha said, giving him an apple.

Pippa looked down at her scarlet hands. She had the makings of a major blister between her thumb and first finger. Her suit was a ruin of grass stains. There was no school building in sight. The three circus hands headed in her direction. An aroma of skunk cabbage enveloped them, same as with Masha. “Hi. I'm Cluny.”

An elfin young woman squeezed Pippa's blister with excruciating force. “Lulu. I was with Cirque du Soleil.”

Pippa had been around enough SMU cheerleaders to know that Lulu already considered her a mortal enemy. “That's wonderful.”

A guy with a mangy pony tail stepped forward. Everything about his loose-jointed body said “airhead.” His squidlike handshake confirmed the impression. “Benedict.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said, slapping away a fresh cloud of mosquitoes.

Her third classmate, a fine specimen of manhood, undressed her with his eyes. “Cluny.” His tongue luxuriated over the two syllables. “I'm Vik. Where'd you get the black eye?”

“I drove a car into a swimming pool.” At least it sounded like a circus stunt.

“You come with me, Cluny,” Masha said.

At the edge of the field stood three dilapidated trailers. Two were half buried in the dirt, like unexploded bombs from World War II. Masha opened the door to the most decrepit one. “You sleep here.”

Pippa picked a path through piles of clothing to a tiny bunk. “Is this the dorm?”

“What is dorm? This is trailer, like circus.”

“Where's the bathroom?”

Masha pointed out the window to the outhouse. “Very handy.” Pippa's nose wrinkled: a little too handy. “And the shower?” “We have river.” “May I see it?”

Masha led Pippa down a briary path to the banks of a slow-moving body of water. “Delaware. Very warm this time of year.”

A nearby
plupp
made Pippa jump. “What was that?”

“Bullfrog. If you catch, I cook for you. Excellent with mushrooms from Slava.”

Pippa took out her cell phone: she needed Sheldon immediately. “If you don't mind, I'll be staying in a hotel.”

“No! Everyone lives together, like circus.” A moot point, in any case: no cell phone service. Masha led Pippa back to the second trailer. She emerged with rugged pants and shirt, socks, a pair of old boots, and a jar of oily brown liquid. “For bugs. Slava makes himself.”

Pippa changed into the uniform. She sniffed Slava's insect repellent and almost passed out; however, since it appeared to work for everyone else, she slathered it on. When she emerged from the trailer, her classmates were setting plates on a nearby picnic table. Masha appeared with a steaming pot of oatmeal, a platter of smoked fish, and coffee. Everyone, especially Lulu, packed away an enormous amount of breakfast in very little time. “Eat up,” she told Pippa. “You'll work it off.

The smoked fish made Pippa thirsty. She guzzled a mouthful from the glass at her plate before a fit of choking overtook her. “That was not water,” she croaked, tears gushing down her cheeks.

“It's vodka.” Lulu picked a bone out of her teeth. “Slava makes it himself.”

Pippa's voice eventually returned. “You drink that for breakfast?” “Breakfast, lunch, dinner,” Vik said. “Russian circus tradition.” That was as much alcohol as Thayne slugged down when she lost important tennis matches. Impressed, Pippa took a second look at her tablemates. No one seemed in the least tipsy. How would she ever be able to polish off a glass of vodka at breakfast? She was already feeling the effects of the first swallow.

“What did you perform for Slava?” Benedict asked. “For your entrance skit?”

“I fell down backward over a crowbar and waved my feet in the air. Then I danced with a bear named Pushkin.” As three forks paused in midair, Pippa realized she had touched a nerve. “He's quite good.”

Vik managed to comment, “Pushkin is very particular about dancing partners.”

“Masha says he's the star of the circus.”

“Masha's a dumb cook. I'm the star of the circus,” Lulu said.

“Excuse me. I'm the star,” Vik corrected. “Just because you're small doesn't mean you're good.”

“Back up,” Pippa interrupted. “Is this a circus? I thought it was clown school. Balloons and honking noses. Big feet. Diplomas.”

After a moment Benedict asked, “Does the name Slava Slootski mean anything to you?”

“He's the guy that hands out diplomas.”

“He's one of the greatest Russian clowns that ever lived.”

“Does that prevent him from handing out diplomas?”

“What's this diploma crap?” Lulu inquired. “You don't exactly need one to work in a circus.”

Pippa took a deep breath. This school was off to a shaky start. “How did one of the greatest clowns who ever lived end up here?”

“He had an accident getting shot out of a cannon. Someone packed in a double dose of gunpowder and blasted him clean out of the tent. He broke both arms and legs and the explosion made him almost deaf. He came here and lived in the woods. In the middle of winter Masha found him fishing in the river with his bare hands. She took him in.”

“Did they find the perpetrator?”

“It was probably Mitzi.”

“That horrible elephant? Why didn't Slava make Dumbo burgers out of her?”

“Mitzi's a very talented animal. You don't just grind her up for a little temper tantrum.”

Oy. “Tell me about Pushkin.”

“Slava found him when he was a few days old. Orphaned.” Benedict washed down a mouthful of smoked fish with Slava's vodka. “So Pushkin likes to dance with you?”

Lulu exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke in Pippa's face. “You strike me as rather clumsy.”

For a pipsqueak, Lulu was a major pain, like a splinter under the fingernail. “From your vantage point, everything must look clumsy,” Pippa replied.

Breakfast continued in silence until Vik leaped to his feet. “They're back.”

Pippa saw Slava and his pet bear at the edge of the woods. By the time they crossed the field, all three students had cleared the table and were standing at attention, awaiting their master's orders. Pippa planted herself next to Benedict and made like GI Jane.

As if they were invisible, Slava proceeded into the kitchen with his basket of mushrooms. Pushkin paused to lick Pippa's ankles. “Bitch,” Lulu whispered. “You put sugar on your feet.”

“I did not,” Pippa fired back. “I just have nice feet.” Lance had often commented on their pulchritude.

Slava emerged from the kitchen. For a while he watched Pushkin's tongue explore the crevasses between Pippa's toes. Then, waving a fish in the air, he called, “Pushkin! Breakfast!”

Pushkin preferred to lick Pippa's toes. “In love,” Slava announced blissfully. He yanked Pushkin by the scruff of the neck away from Pippa's feet. “Enough, greedy boy.”