Hit & Mrs. Read online

  Bette got up. “I’ll go with her. I feel responsible.”

  Bette manoeuvred past Linda and helped Gemma crawl over Augusta and the young student sitting in the aisle seat. He looked as though he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. The plane gave a small lurch and Gemma ended up in his lap.

  “Oh dear, are you all right?”

  “Fine.”

  “You shouldn’t be travelling alone. Where’s your mother?” She patted his head.

  Bette grabbed her elbow. “For the love of God, get off of him and come with me.”

  Gemma stuck her tongue out at her. One of the flight attendants got in on the act. She hurried over and asked if she could be of assistance. Between the two of them, they hurried Gemma down the aisle and into the bathroom. Bette waited outside the door.

  “Sorry about this. My friend is afraid to fly and I gave her a tranquilizer. I think it was too much for her.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve seen worse.” The attendant rushed away and Bette stood guard; first on one foot, and then the other. She peeked back down the aisle and saw Linda and Augusta craning their necks at her. Linda pointed to her watch. Bette shrugged. That’s when the turbulence started.

  Bette grabbed the door handle. “Hurry up, Gemma.”

  There was no response.

  Bette knocked on the door. “Gemma.”

  Nothing.

  Bette knocked louder. “Gemma, are you all right?” She rattled the handle. “Hey, are you okay? Gemma!”

  There was a muffled thud. Bette panicked. “She’s unconscious.” She pushed at the door and nothing happened. She peeked out into the cabin and signalled for the flight attendant. Linda and Augusta thought she was waving at them. They bolted out of their seats. Now there were four people in front of the bathroom door.

  “You must go back to your seats, ladies,” the flight attendant said. “The seatbelt sign is on.”

  “But I heard a thud and she’s not answering the door,” Bette said. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?”

  Augusta covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Linda said. “She’s fallen asleep.”

  “Excuse me, everyone.” The flight attendant pushed past the three friends and opened the door in a jiffy. They found Gemma slumped over, sitting on the john with her panties down around her knees.

  “Is she breathing?” Augusta asked.

  As if to answer the question, Gemma gave a great snore.

  They sighed together in relief. Between them, they got Gemma looking a little more dignified—which wasn’t easy in a space the size of a pantry. Bette and Linda held Gemma up by her arms while Augusta quickly pulled Gemma’s underwear back up where it belonged.

  Linda stared at Gemma. “Am I seeing things? Was that a thong?”

  Augusta nodded. “Sophia told her she looked sixty so Gemma bought a few as an experiment.”

  “Well, the experiment has gone awry.”

  The attendant suggested they put her in one of the empty first-class seats, so as not to hump her down the aisle and over the mortified student again. They led their sleepy friend over to a comfy seat and tucked her up in a blanket. The attendant told Augusta she could sit in the seat beside her. The student looked mightily relieved when Linda and Bette returned to their seats without their friends.

  Just their luck, the plane circled over New York for a good hour— but since it was dark, there was no view to pass the time. Not even the famous lights of the city were visible. The captain came on to tell them it was overcast and unseasonably cold in the Big Apple. He didn’t have to tell them it was windy. The plane bucked as it made its descent. A roller coaster would be hard pressed to come up with a better ride. Linda and Bette held hands through the descent, but Augusta was forced to bite her nails alone. Gemma snored on.

  They finally landed, and as the other passengers filed out of the plane, Augusta shook Gemma awake. Gemma gave a great yawn and smacked her lips a couple of times.

  “Aren’t we in the air yet?”

  “We’re in New York, you ninny.”

  Gemma shook her head. “We are? Where have I been?”

  “Out cold.” Augusta stood and waited for Bette and Linda to join them. Gemma also stood but quickly sat down. “My head is throbbing.” The businessman with the laptop went by and gave them a dirty look.

  Linda and Bette hurried up the aisle. “Are you okay, Gem?”

  “Not really.”

  Bette grabbed her hand. “Are you woozy? Sick to your stomach?”

  Gemma adjusted her skirt and squirmed in her seat. “No, but I’ll tell you this: These thongs are well named. I feel like I’ve got a rubber sandal up my butt.”

  Augusta grabbed her bag and coat from Linda. “Can we please get out of here? I need a drink.”

  They rushed out of the plane and into the La Guardia airport terminal, and hurried over to the luggage carousel. Augusta’s suitcase came down with a broken wheel and the handle nearly ripped off, but she was lucky since Linda’s didn’t come down at all.

  Linda stamped her foot. “I don’t believe this. Now I have to report my bag missing. What a waste of time.”

  “Get them to deliver it to the hotel,” Augusta said.

  Gemma burped. “Remember that Visa card? Go get a whole new wardrobe. And while you’re at it, buy me some antacids.”

  At that moment a young mother, struggling to carry a crying baby and two over-the-shoulder bags, bumped into the back of Linda’s heel with a stroller.

  “Ow!”

  “Oh, sorry,” the mother said.

  Linda winced. “That’s okay. Do you need us to hold anything for you? You look like you need help.”

  “No thanks.” The mother walked away.

  “This Miss Independent thing has gone too far,” Gemma said.

  “Young women these days won’t accept a stick to pull them out of quicksand.”

  Linda looked around. “Okay. I have to find the Air Canada counter. Bette, I made arrangements with a car service to take us to the hotel. They’re called ‘black cars’ or something like that. They’re parked at the front of the terminal. Why don’t you go and tell them to wait?”

  “I don’t think we should be separated,” Augusta said. “Why don’t we all go to the counter? The last thing I need is to lose one of you.”

  Linda rolled her eyes. “Fine. You’re such a worry wart.”

  They wandered about, looking for signs to point them in the right direction. When they finally found the right place there was a line of people in front of every agent, so they had no choice but to wait. Finally, in desperation, Linda insisted Bette and Augusta go out to nab their car before someone else grabbed it. She shoved a piece of paper at them with the name of the car service on it. Gemma stayed behind. She sat and swayed on her luggage, nodding off every few minutes.

  Bette and Augusta hurried through the airport once more. They followed the signs and eventually arrived at what looked like the main entrance. They went through the doors and saw cars and taxis and minivans, with people hopping in and out, and traffic being directed by parking attendants. But the wind very nearly knocked them off their feet and the rain didn’t help matters.

  “I’m not sure which one is our car service,” Bette yelled into Augusta’s ear.

  “What does Linda’s note say?” Augusta no sooner had words out of her mouth than the paper flew out of Bette’s hand.

  “Oh no.” Bette started to run after it, but Augusta put out her hand to stop her.

  “Never mind, Bette. It doesn’t matter.”

  Bette brushed her hair out of her face. “Are you nuts? Linda will have a fit. She’s already stressed about her luggage.”

  “She’ll be along in a second. If we don’t get the one she booked, we still have lots of cabs to choose from.”

  “I guess you’re right. Let’s wait inside.”

  So they trooped back indoors.

  “While we’re waiting, we might
as well go to the restroom,” Bette said.

  “What if the girls come and can’t find us? I think I’ll stay right here.”

  “Good idea. You always were a camel.”

  “Listen, Weinberg, it’s not my fault you don’t do your Kegel exercises.”Bette grinned at her and walked to the nearest ladies’ room, which was full of women and their luggage and coats. When she was done, she had to wait to wash her hands. A few beauty queens were doing their makeup in the mirrors, along with three elderly ladies who seemed to have all kinds of time. That’s when she noticed the young mother, changing her baby’s diaper on the pull-down changing table.“He’s lovely,” Bette said.

  “Thanks.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Three months.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Keaton.”

  “Are you serious?”

  The mother looked up and Bette said, “Oh, it’s a lovely name. It’s my best friend’s last name. Isn’t that funny? She’s the one you hit with the stroller.”

  The girl nodded.

  Bette filled in the silence. “It’s our first time in New York. We can’t wait. We’re staying at the Waldorf, if you can believe it. Linda arranged it. The one you hit with the…”

  Bette trailed off because it was obvious the mother wasn’t listening to her. She looked distracted, or even ill. Bette washed her hands and got ready to go, when the young mother turned to her. “Could you watch the baby? I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “Sure, of course. It was probably the plane ride. It was pretty bumpy.”

  The young woman lurched into a stall, and from the sounds of it she was quite sick. Those in the bathroom looked at each other sympathetically. The baby started to cry, so Bette put her carry-all down next to the mother’s bags and picked up the little fellow.

  “Shh, don’t cry. Mommy will be right back.”

  Little Keaton wasn’t reassured. He was furious. He looked at Bette, screwed up his face, and let out a piercing scream. Bette jostled him up and down in her arms and made funny faces to try and get him to stop. It made things worse. She looked at herself in the mirror. “My record holds. I’m rejected by every male I meet.”

  The mother finally limped out of the stall. “Sorry, I’ll be right there.”

  “That’s okay,” Bette shouted over the baby’s cries. He had turned beet red by this point, and Bette was a little frantic, as if she were to blame for this kid’s hysterical reaction. The mother threw cold water on her face. Bette wished she’d do that to the baby.

  “I’m sorry, but I really have to go, or I’ll miss my ride.”

  The mother wiped her face with a paper towel and reached over to claim her enraged child. He let her know what he thought of the whole situation. He barfed all over her.

  “Oh God.”

  “Oh dear.” Bette passed her some more paper towels. “He’s not very happy, is he?”

  “He can join the club.”

  A few other women got into the act, so Bette picked up her bag. “Good luck, dear.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Bette went out the door with the wrong bag.

  Two things happened then. Bette walked over to Augusta and told her about the uproar in the bathroom as Linda and Gemma showed up. And the young mother tidied herself as best she could and put her still-screaming baby in his stroller. She reached into the carry-all for Keaton’s soother and just about fainted when she realized the bag wasn’t hers. It was filled with someone else’s stuff. It had to be the red-haired lady’s.

  She began to shiver almost uncontrollably, unsure whether to run after the woman or call her contact outside. In the end, she reached for her phone, because she couldn’t run through the airport with a stroller without having people notice her. She took the stroller and the bags into an alcove. Her fingers were suddenly too big for the cellphone. She fumbled with the number a couple of times. “Work, goddamn you.” She tried again. It rang once.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve lost the bag.”

  “WHAT?”

  She started to cry. “It happened so fast. A woman grabbed it. It looked like mine, so she must have mixed them up.”

  “What woman?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What woman?”

  “She’s short and has red hair. She’s travelling with another woman named Keaton, who’s tall and blonde, very pretty. I think there were four of them. She said they were going to the…where was it?…The Waldorf, I think. She just left. You can still catch her.”

  “You better hope I do.” The phone went dead.

  The young woman’s teeth began to chatter. “What have I done?”

  Once the four friends reunited, the rush was on to find the car company that was supposedly waiting for them. They went out the door and looked around. Just then a black car sped up to them. The driver jumped out.

  “Keaton?”

  Linda gave a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. We have reservations.”

  “Yes. For the Waldorf?”

  “That’s right. Thank you.”

  “Yous guys are getting soaked. Why don’t you get in?” He popped the trunk and reached for their bags. He stowed them away. “I can put your carry-on bag in here too.” He reached for Bette’s first.

  “That’s okay. I’ll hold onto it.” The others felt the same, so he slammed the trunk and Linda got in the front seat with him while the others crowded together in the back.

  The driver took off with unseemly haste. As they peeled out, Linda said, “Whoa. After that flight, I have no intention of being killed on my way to the hotel.”

  “You’re in New York, lady. This is the way we drive. If you don’t like it, walk.”

  Bette clapped her hands. “Oh yes, we really are in New York. You sound like a real cabby.”

  The driver glanced at Linda. “Your friend’s a genius.”

  For some reason, the four friends found this hilarious. The realization that they were actually on their way to Manhattan hit them at the same time. They chattered away like magpies.

  The drive into the city was a Formula One race. It was thrilling and scary all at the same time. The rain-spattered windows made it hard for them to see clearly, and they fogged up the glass in their attempts to see if they recognized anything, but it was mostly just traffic and whizzing along the highway in the dark. They could have been in any big city. Linda consulted her Lonely Planet New York City guidebook. She tried to get her bearings; it seemed as if the drive was taking an awfully long time.

  She wasn’t the only one who had that thought. Augusta leaned over across Gemma and poked Bette. “I thought it was only a half-hour drive to get to the hotel?”

  Gemma patted her arm. “You worry too much.”

  Linda addressed the driver. “Excuse me, are you sure this is the way to the Waldorf? If I’m correct, we seem to be heading in a northerly direction.”

  “Maybe you ain’t correct, lady.”

  “There’s no need to be rude.”

  “Let’s get there, already,” Bette said.

  Augusta fiddled with her purse strap. “Lin, why don’t you call the hotel and tell them we’re running a little late? I know they guaranteed the room, but just in case.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  She was about to reach in her purse to grab her phone when the driver stepped on the gas and zoomed around a corner. They careened to the right.

  “Slow down,” they shouted at him.

  He completely ignored them, as if they weren’t there—and that was the scariest thing of all.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Gemma said. “Are you crazy?”

  He stepped on the gas even harder.

  They couldn’t believe what was happening. They held onto the door handles, and Gemma grabbed her friends on either side. They drove though a maze of streets, streets that were clearly nowhere near Park Avenue. And then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. Th
ey found themselves screeching to a halt under a dark overpass. The driver threw the car into park, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a gun.

  “Gimme your bags. Now.”

  The poor guy never knew what hit him.

  Augusta and Bette’s screams alone would have alerted the authorities back in Canada. The other two did something more useful. Linda hit the gun out of his hand with her guidebook, and Gemma reached in her overnight bag, grabbed a can of pepper spray, and blasted the guy right in the face.

  A cloud of noxious fumes filled the car. Then the battle was on to open the car doors, but in their rush to escape they kept re-locking them every time someone touched the control button. The windows opened and closed as if by magic.

  “Leave it alone!” Linda said. “Let me do it.”

  Of course no one listened to her.

  It was the driver who finally freed them in his panic to escape. Coughing hard, he pressed the right button at the right time and the five of them tumbled out the doors and into the night. He rolled around on the ground wheezing and gasping for air.

  “Girls,” Linda shouted. “Over here, over here.”

  The other three stumbled out of the darkness. Coughing, they ran toward Linda like chicks to a mother hen. Gemma ran around and blasted short bursts with her pepper spray. “Where is he? Let me at him.” She rubbed at her eyes.

  Augusta rooted through her purse for her cellphone. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, call 911. Call 911.

  “I’ll sit on him,” Gemma said. “Lin, you tie his hands.”

  “With what?”

  “Dental floss. I read that somewhere.”

  Their prey lay on the ground, struggling to breathe as he clutched at his throat.

  Augusta tried to grab Gemma’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait,” Linda said. “I think he’s in trouble.”

  “Who gives a shit? Let’s kill him, the miserable bastard,” Bette said. Gemma advanced on him with her can. “You creep, you scared us half to death.”

  “Gemma, stop for a second,” Linda said.

  She stopped. And by then so had the guy on the ground. He just lay there. The women looked at him, and then at each other.

  “I think he’s fainted.”