Page 30 of The Perils of Paulie
And I didn’t know what to do about that. I didn’t want to relive the memory of the time Rose and I had had together, and yet...
I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I can’t think anymore. I just want to go to sleep and forget everything.
Paulina Rostakova’s Adventures
JULY 21
10:11 p.m.
Room 438 of local motel
Well, I’m freakin’ exhausted. Who knew that driving from New York City to Buffalo would be so tiring, but holy hellballs was it!
Getting ahead of myself. Let me do this in proper order.
“Don’t you look sharp!” Angela said at six forty-five a.m., when we were gathering in Times Square to set off on our great adventure. There were a few local news crews in attendance, most of whom were talking to Roger. Kell, in his attempt to increase his importance, stood next to Roger and could be seen posturing and mouthing inanities. I wished I’d remembered to ask Dixon what he’d thought of his carmate and made a note to do so at a later time.
“How pretty those dresses are,” Angela added.
“Do you like it?” I did a twirl. “I have to admit the lace top is pretty, although I’m not sure how much I’m going to like being in an ankle-length skirt all day. Did you see my cool boots? They’re very steampunk.” I lifted the navy blue twill skirt, which bore twin lines of brassbuttons down the front, and showed Angela my lace-up boots.
“Very nice, dear. You look so elegant. Doesn’t she, Peter?”
Daddy growled something. “You take this. You stay safe.”
“If that’s a gun,” I said, pointing at the small leather pouch he tried to press into my hands, “then I absolutely will not take it. Dad, I am not in any danger. The film crew will be with us, and I’ll have Melody and Louise with me all day long, and Melody says she has a black belt.”
“What about night?” he asked, his scowl black with suspicion. “English stays with you?”
“I’m sure he’ll be at the same hotel, but if you are asking if we’ll be spending the night together, then you can just stop being so worried. I have no intention of hooking up with him. He’s just a nice man.”
“Hooking up? What is?”
“Sex! As in, having sex with Dixon! Which I won’t be doing!” I said loudly, slapping my hands on my skirt-covered thighs. Lucky me, right at that moment not only did Sam and Tabby come over to film us getting into the suffragette car, but so did the local news station.
Everyone stared at me for the count of four.
Tabby raised her eyebrows and looked at Sam, who had lowered the camera. “Five bucks says they’re shacked up before we get to the other coast.”
“Ten says they won’t even make it that far,” Sam answered.
I pointed a finger at them, saying, “Don’t you start with me! I’m in a corset with my internal organs smooshed together and have a deranged father to deal with.”
Tabby laughed.
“You take,” Dad said, and shoved the leather pouch at me.
“No!” I kissed Angela on the cheek, then turned to repeat the gesture with my father. “Go home. I’ll e-mail and text you periodically and let you know I’m alive, have all my fingers, and haven’t been kidnapped. I love you both. Good-bye.”
Dad started making a fuss, but Angela pulled him back. Sam resumed filming and caught about a minute of Melody and me posing next to our gleaming white car, which now had a huge decal on the hood announcing we were part of the New York to Paris race. The car itself was heavily laden with various boxes strapped to the running boards containing things like tools, spare water and oil, a tiny bit of gas in case we ran out in an inhospitable place, a first aid kit, some emergency food and drinking water, and a waterproof map. Onto the back were strapped six spare tires and a small American flag.
Louise, who had been posing with her father while the news crew interviewed him, hurried over when she saw Sam and Tabby and immediately began telling them what an honor it was for her, the leader of this team, to be the person to start the race.
“Think she’ll lighten up any during the trip?” I asked Melody in an undertone. She was wearing a cute black-and-white shirt and skirt, with a straw boater hat bearing the purple and green colors of the suffragettes. My hat was a big cream affair with lashings of white net veil and a pair of goggles in cream and brass.
Melody wrapped her own modest bit of net around her hat, anchoring it to her head with a long hat pin. “We can hope, but I rather doubt she’s going to let any chance in front of the camera escape her. Does it bother you much?”
“Not really. I don’t mind being in the background. It gives me a chance to watch everyone and take notes.”
