Chapter 17 of Princessa

Aint It Grand

The magnificent hotel is grand and glorious, even more so when you’ve been on the run all day. Andy leaves the two kids outside, telling Jori to meet him him on the third floor observation area, motioning with his head where you can see up through the glass exterior of the lower floors. He goes in and gets a room on the upper floor. Later locates Jori and Maria. “Come on; we’re up on the top.”

Maria walks over to the large bed and falls onto it backward, her arms spread out. The others look around the marvelously furnished room. “Long day” says Andy lighting a cigarette, looking at the girl on the bed. “Yeah... and not over yet. We gotta go get Okkie… before… we can’t leave him, there.” She turns and looks at the curtained window. “And it’s all my fault… for being so careless.”

“Nah” says Andy, coming over to her “no, not at all. You… pushed them out into the open, is all. They’re there, all the time... the boogie man, bears in the forest, wolves at the door, whatever. Just… forced their hand, is all.” Then he adds “we’re gonna go get him, I promise.”

It’s weighing on him too, like a comrade falling in battle, and no way to get to him. He tries to squeeze out the minutes in his mind, like blood from a stone. The days that might be needed for an old man to heal up from minor surgery, versus the hours it might take for someone to come looking for them, checking all the hospitals for gunshot victims. “We’re just gonna, relax for a moment” he tells her “catch our breath for a bit, okay.”

The girl gets up and goes to take a shower. Andy turns to the boy who’s seated in the plush upholstered chair, looking out the window at the amazing lights of the city, like a million Christmas trees right outside your window. “You did good, Jori.” “Yeah” says the kid. “I didn’t know what to think... when you told me to go up and shoot that guy, damn...”

“I guess he didn’t either” says Andy “but... anyway it worked out okay.” And then like that’s over with and out of the way, he moves on to the present. “How’s your eye.” “It’s okay” says the boy “it… hurts like a motherfucker, actually.” “Alright” says Andy, in a tired voice “we’ll get some more lidocaine on it, in a little bit.”

Jori looks up at him “why… did you come after me; on the boat, I mean. Why didn’t you stay with Maria; you should’ve, you know… how come?” “What, and you’d be dead, out there in the water. And then I’d be dead… when the little princessa killed me for not going in after you. Then, she’d be a murderer; yeah, that’s a helluva thought.”

“Well… thanks” says the boy “I’m… kinda glad you did. But… it’s not the right…” “Look” says Andy “according to Maria Salin, we’re… none of us expendable. Not you, not her, not even me. So… get used to it” The kid doesn’t quite follow this, or can’t really agree with it anyway, so Andy continues “look… maybe it, makes our job a little tougher… but I just do what I’m told, okay.” “Yeah, well” says the boy “I’m not gonna let that girl outta my sight ever again. Not ever, long as I’m breathing, anyway.”

The young girl comes out of the shower all rosy and glowing, wrapped in a big towel. “Who wants to rub my back” she says. The two young men look at her, speechless. “Just kidding” she says “go take a bath, come to your senses.”

Andy looks at the boy who motions for him to go on ahead. Then sinking down into the hot soapy tub full of water, he feels like he could just close his eyes, and lie there, drifting off forever. In a bit there’s a knock on the door. “Andy, c’mon” says the boy “get outta there. The princessa’s gettin horny; and I wanna clean up first.” Reluctantly he leaves the steamy tub, wraps a towel around himself and comes into the room.

Maria’s lying there on the bed in a long white tee shirt. She smiles at him “he’s a funny boy. Gots some goofy ideas, though.” Andy puts on a tee shirt and a pair of boxers and drops down on the big soft bed beside the girl. He looks at her, all warm and soft; and smiles. “What are you thinking” she asks. “Oh…” he says, and pauses “what I… would do if you were a little peasant girl.” “Yeah? What do you do with little peasant girls?”

“Well” he says, thinking about it “kiss them, a bit, take them out to dinner, come home, kiss them some more, take their clothes off. That sorta thing.” She crawls on top of him and kisses him deeply, as he puts his hands around her warm soft hips. “Too bad I’m not a peasant girl” she says. “You’ll do” he says “Cut it out, you two” yells Jori from the tub. “We’re not doing anything” says the girl. There’s a pause, then the boy adds “why not?” “Waiting for you” she says. The boy pauses again, then adds “I don’t do threesomes. Andy go ‘way.”

Maria laughs and jumps up off the bed and switches on the tv, then comes back with the remote. Sits down at the head of the bed with a pillow behind her back and her sleek smooth legs stretched out in front of her. Finds a channel with the local news on, and a report about the incident at the house in Westchester.

Andy is jolted from his thoughts of the girl’s lovely legs and sits upright on the bed, telling her to turn up the sound. A picture of the little rodent-faced man covers the screen while an on-scene reporter talks over it. “And we repeat, T. Culver Hayden, deputy undersecretary of state, is reportedly dead. Details are sketchy at this point, and that’s basically all the information we’ve been able to gather. Again, Undersecretary Hayden, a top aide to the White House, on foreign affairs, is reported to be dead. The cause, unknown; the reasons, the details, as yet undisclosed. What we do know is this, Mr. Hayden was at best, a controversial figure. Perhaps more closely allied with his former boss, the vice president, than with those at State. Hayden was called by some, the chief architect of our nation’s foreign policy, particularly in the Gulf region. He had many detractors, now he has no one to answer to except his maker.”

“What do you think” asks the girl, shaken back to reality. Andy stands up and takes a deep breath “I like that gun” he says. Then adds, shrugging his shoulders “I guess we got our man. Anyway… lemme know if they say anything else. I’m gonna go get us something to eat.”

He looks at girl and smiles “what… you wanted he should blow up the palace, bomb the capitol?” “No, of course not… but, killing people, it’s… just hurts me, everywhere.” She thinks about the man, in the garage, his gun pressed against her head. “How did you know?” she asks. “What.” “That… he wouldn’t shoot me.”  “He’s a civilian” he says, simply, like that explains it “a civilian…”

Then he thinks about how to actually say it, so it makes sense to someone else. “Uh… military would’ve… stayed and fought, you know. Or, popped you on the head, dropped you down on the floor, unencumbered, so. And then ambushed whoever… comes up that tunnel, with a carbine, a weapon; not some little pocket pistol. Not hiding behind… a hostage. That’s civilian, that’s weak. And… you could see, by looking at him. He made the choice.”

“What was that” she asks. “Um… him or you” he runs it over in his mind, as he’d seen it, back there, just a short while ago. “He chose, himself.” “What do you mean” she asks, trying to follow his thinking. “The guy has no out” says Andy. “He knows that. Not goin anywhere; got no place to go. Not gonna shoot it out; that’s not gonna work. So he chooses. No point in killing you, just an innocent kid, pretty girl. So he does the next best thing.”

“He… lets you shoot him” she asks, not understanding at all. “It’s his only out. You can see that… if you were standing where I was.” “Wow” she says “that’s pretty weird.” She looks down at the carpet shaking her head “and you’re supposed to figure… all that out, in like three seconds.” “Nah, not like that. You can tell, by everything the person does. What he’s, most likely gonna do next. You just, gotta put all the pieces together, is all.”

Jori comes out of the shower wrapped in a white towel. His wet hair and wet dark skin glistening against the white cloth. “Good, you waited for me.” “Andy’s gonna go get food” says the girl. “I want pizza” says Jori, all enthused “with pepperoni.” “And green olives” says Maria. “Okay” says Andy, feeling like an errand boy, but not much caring, just anxious to get out and walk around and get some fresh air.

He takes the elevator down to the parking garage, basement level, all filled with shiny expensive cars. Thinking to himself, everyone in America must be so rich, just, so much money everywhere. Walks up a couple of flights of cement steps, then out a side door and onto 7th Ave.

It’s chilly and windy in the dark dead of night, but still people out milling around, the after-hours crowd who just can’t get the feeling of going home yet. He stops in a little store and the man at the counter store tells him there’s a good Italian place a couple of blocks over, but they’re probably closing about now. “Can you call them” asks Andy. The man looks at him kinda surprised by that “hey, there’s a phone outside. I got stuff to do.” “Please” he says “be nice... call ‘em for me.”

The man doesn’t really have much of anything to do at this hour, so he figures why not, might as well. He finds the number on the blotter pad by the register and dials the phone. “Hey Gigi, this is Tobias. Say listen, there’s a guy in here wants t’get a pizza, before you close up.” He listens for a moment then hands the phone to Andy. The pizza man tells him he’s gonna close, but has a large special left that someone didn’t pick up. He can have it if he gets there on time. “Five minutes” says the man “then I’m locking the doors.” Andy thanks him and goes out into the chilly night.

It’s only a couple of minutes to get there and the place looks and smells wonderfully of Italian food, with the old-fashioned decor, the red and white checked table cloths, the works. “You the man?” the guy asks. “Yeah.” “Well here you go, fresh from the oven.” “How ‘bout a cup of coffee” says Andy. “Nah, I gotta close up.” “I’ll lock up, for you” says Andy, quietly “just let me sit here a moment, and have a smoke; okay?”

The older man has had a long day and is pretty much all tired out. But he doesn’t much care, just wants to relax now himself. “Sure” he says, pouring some coffee “why not. It’s cold outside.”

Andy sits at a table near the counter while the man locks the door and pulls down the window shade over the ‘closed’ sign. Then starts to clean off table tops and chairs and set the chairs up on the tables. It’s the same routine every night, winding down time. Andy watches him, thinking about the girl back at the hotel and her passionate kisses and long skinny legs. And Smet, if he’s still alive or still in the room where they left him. And the dead men back at the mansion, apparently no one’s figured out a good story to cover that one yet. But mostly he thinks about the girl.

He finishes his coffee and leaves, thanking the man for his kindness. Back at the hotel he walks in the room, all dark now; just the light from the tv washing the room in a warm glow of colors. He sees the shape of the two kids in the middle of the bed, under the covers; walks over to set the pizza down on a table, only briefly glancing down at the floor to see if their clothes are there.

Maria throws off the covers and sits up smiling, still wearing her long tee shirt “surprise! We fooled you.” “Good” he says “I was hoping you’d behave ‘til I got back.” “Let’s eat” says Jori not nearly so enthused about the little joke as the girl is.

They dig into the hot pizza, pleasantly surprised by the wonderful taste and texture, spicy sausage and hot stringy cheese, warm crunchy crust with herbs baked into it; real Italian. Almost as good you’d find in the little villages in Italy, where they make their own sausages and their own sauce even, from tomatoes and herbs grown in the garden out back of the house.

Every bite is mouth-watering delicious and makes you want more. But not to hurry, just to chew and enjoy each bite and wash it down with cold coca-cola. “This is really good” says the girl “where’d you ever find it.” “Couple a blocks over” says Andy “nice little place, old-fashioned.”

But the girl can feel the distance and emptiness in his manner and voice. “What’re we gonna do now” she asks. Andy smiles at her, sort of like a blank reflexive movement “eat up… get back to the front.” Like chow time out in the battle zone, thinks the girl. Enjoy your brief little break, act all normal for a few minutes, always knowing you gotta get back to work when the meal’s done and the break’s over with.

They finish their food and cokes and start to get dressed to go. “Well, it sure was good, anyway” says Jori, anxious to get to the old man, like gonna show him what the real mission is, but still wishing the pleasant moments could just last a little bit longer maybe. Or maybe that that’s all there is, these good moments, so brief amidst all the rest of the things you have to do.

The three of them go down through the basement, as Andy had earlier, then across the broad cold streets and dark gusty winds and over to the car ramp. Andy briefs them on his plan, what he has in mind, generally. Then at the car, he tells them to wait so he can look around for a moment.

He walks around through all the fancy new cars, SUV’s, and amazingly huge monstrous shiny new pick-up trucks, like gilded elephants on wheels. It’s hard to imagine the difference from his own country, the tiny little utility vehicles commonly used there. Little bitty truck with just a cab barely big enough for two men to squeeze into, and short little wooden flatbed behind, maybe enough room to haul three or four barrels or a dozen burlap bags, or a few more work men, whatever. And that’s going in style back home. Those without, still use the old horse-drawn wagons to move their goods, slowly and surely getting from here to there, with the clacking hooves in an age old rhythm on the cobblestone streets.

Andy shakes his head, thinking about the unreality of it all, and trying to find the most suitable vehicle for the current job, the task at hand. His heart says the black Lincoln navigator, but his mind settles on a little white mini-van with the business logo and writing on the side. He gets the others, comes back and pops out one of the rear windows, ready to calmly go to work on disengaging the alarm. In a parking garage this size, sounding car alarms are routine, commonplace. The staff likely aren’t going to get all excited and run to check it out ‘til they’re good and ready, or tired of hearing it. But there’s no sound, no alarm on this little van. Nice, thinks Andy, gives yah more time to do other stuff, no hurries.

He opens up the doors and it’s fairly empty inside, just a few samples stacked against the back of the front seats. Some saleman’s vehicle, he thinks, come here for convention or a meeting or training or something. And no on-star on the dash. That’s nice too. Company gots enough decency not to check on their people’s every turn and step throughout the day; shows some respect for the working man, like trust him to do his job, without big brother watching all the time. Down on street level, Andy goes through the plan again, this time in more detail, knowing they always change anyway.