1 Hot Scheming Mess (18 page)

“Let’s go back,” said Madison, “to the way we had it.”

“Madison!” Ann was crying.

“You won’t have to give a shit about me, and I won’t have to worry about your opinion.”

“Madison, please! I—”

Madison disconnected.

She stood there, limp, arms hanging loose at her sides. She looked down at the phone she was holding, realizing that she had never told Ann about the men searching her apartment. In those minutes of fighting with her mother, the raw pain from the years of feeling abandoned had stripped everything else from her mind. Saying all those things to her mother, some of them fair shots, some of them cheap, had taken precedence over all other considerations. She felt the grip of her own self-righteousness slowly open its fist from around her heart. She blinked.
What have I done?

Toonie, who seemed to be weighing whether or not it was safe to stop being invisible, stood in the bedroom doorway.

Madison turned and looked at her, tears running down her cheeks, and said, “I think I broke my life.”

Toonie, towering the way she seemed to when she stood in a doorway, said, “It takes a lot to break a life. Believe me, girl, you’re just confused about yours. It ain’t broken.” She came forward and opened her arms. Madison, numb, accepted the offer. But once the old arms enfolded her, it hit, and she finally gave in to a good hard cry.

Chapter Eighteen

Toonie busied herself in the small kitchen, cleaning up and putting things away. She scrubbed a stubborn stain in a cooking pot. Madison had gone through several tissues to dry her eyes and blow her nose. Her nose always seemed to leak long after a good cry was over. She was doing her best to toughen up and get past her deep disappointment in having the hope of getting her mother back in her life, only to lose her again. Toonie had assured her that Ann wasn’t lost, but how could Toonie understand?

Madison gazed at the pictures on Toonie’s wall. She said, “I noticed these earlier but I didn’t have a chance to ask you about them. You worked in Vegas?”

Toonie seemed to be chuckling to herself before answering, “Yes, a very long time ago.”

Madison saw that there were colorful ribbons and trophies, as well as all the black and white glossy eight by ten framed headshots on the walls. Madison said, “That’s you lifting barbells, isn’t it? And picking up those men?”

Toonie said, “Yup, that was me. Las Vegas isn’t as impressed with those kinds of vaudeville acts anymore.”

“So you were a weight lifter?” asked Madison.

“Back then we were called Strongwomen. Before my time, you mostly saw Strongmen and Strongwomen in the circus. Later, most of the circus acts modernized and went on vaudeville circuits, or later still, places like Las Vegas. In my day you didn’t hear scandals about steroids and overtraining. Strongwomen like myself were natural born, growing up unnaturally strong. That’s what made us something of a novelty to pay money to see. My manager loved to dress me up in those showgirl outfits with the huge feather headdresses. Made me even taller. Then I’d go out on stage with some foolish comedian and do skits that always ended with me picking him up and throwing him around. Then I’d pick up men from the audience. The audience ate it up back then.”

“You didn’t get hurt?”

“Nah. Rarely, anyway. It wasn’t hard for me, till after I starting getting older. Then I had to train to keep up. Now it’s much harder than when I was young, but I think I’m still stronger than the average woman.”

“I’m certain you are. I saw you carrying that stuffed chair into the stairwell earlier.” Madison noticed pictures of a whole host of women together. She asked, “Who are all these women with you?”

Toonie was quiet for a moment, then answered, “We were an act. Hit the road together. Had a lot of great times. At one point they were some of the best friends I ever had. Our competition in lifting weights was mild. But our competition for men, well, that got pretty fierce over time. It was stupid. I miss them all. We all let our pride get in the way.” She was shaking her head, scrubbing harder at the pot she was cleaning. She stopped, wiped her forearm across her brow, and looked at Madison. “You and your mother remind me of me and the girls. You’re letting your pride get in the way.”

Madison looked away. Toonie said, “It ain’t none of my business. I won’t say anymore. And my offer still stands. If you still don’t want to go back to your place, you can stay here till you figure out what to do.”

For Madison, the idea of going back into her own apartment made her queasy again. It felt dirty somehow. Toonie had offered to let Madison stay there all night if she wanted to. Madison hadn’t decided yet, what to do. She sat by Toonie’s window staring out into the night trying to make sense of things. It had only been twenty-four hours since Fight Cabaret with her dangerous dive from the low hanging pipes and twelve hours since witnessing her grandfather’s fist fight.
What the hell is he doing in DC?
Him and his lifelong secret. Humph! It erupted in front of her, and then he left with little explanation. He and Ann had secrecy in common. They wouldn’t trust her to hear whatever it was that they kept hiding from her. Even hiding secrets from one another, by the looks of it. She was sick of it.

As the day had progressed, she had decided to give ExBoy a chance, then ruined it, given her mother a chance, then ruined it, become drawn to Jason and ruined it. Let’s see, there must be something else she had ruined since she was on such a streak. Oh, yes. Her favorite costume. The beautiful fairy godmother costume that she had made herself. Ruined. What else could she add?

Knock it off, Madison. Suck it up and fix it!
She gazed out the window.
How?
She didn’t know how. She just knew she had to try.

Men in suits had shown up, flashed ID at ExBoy, searched her apartment, and driven off into the night. Her first guess would be that they were FBI, but she didn’t believe her mother would be involved. But if Ann wasn’t involved, how long would they be able to hide from Ann that they had conducted a search of her daughter’s apartment? She saw that ExBoy’s car was gone, so she was certain that they hadn’t taken him away. There would be no point in that. He hadn’t done anything except get mixed up with a girl from a troubled family. She should call him and find out what they said to him, but she knew she’d better let him cool off first.

She put the side of her face down on her arms, her dark silky hair a blanket on the windowsill as she looked out the window. Even if she didn’t need to get information from ExBoy, she still needed to apologize to him. She had acted like an idiot, overreacting to his taunting remarks. She needed some rest. She looked down into the parking lot and saw her fairy godmother costume lying in a rumpled heap on the ground where ExBoy had dropped it to put his pants on.

She sat up suddenly, knowing that she didn’t have time to let ExBoy cool off. As soon those men forced open the metal box, which might be right about now, they would see her fairy godmother items, and know they’d been had. They’d be back. She grabbed her phone and called ExBoy. No surprise, he didn’t answer. She would have to go to him.

*****

After making a few calls, she located him. Daniel told her ExBoy was back at the Sound Beating bar, watching the Fight Cabaret guys try out some breakable furniture props. Daniel added that ExBoy did not look happy. Madison hurried over there and parked under a street lamp in their parking lot. She walked inside, feeling the indoor heat left over from a summer day, and saw ExBoy at a table in the middle of the room, talking on his phone. The only staff member on duty was the tattooed waitress with the rainbow hair. She was doing double duty as the bartender, and seemed more than enough to handle the few customers scattered around the mostly empty barroom.

Daniel and Dewey Decimator were on the side of the stage with their new props, taking turns shattering chairs over each other’s head, then reassembling them. Madison felt much more comfortable seeing Daniel in normal clothing. The shadow on his scalp had deepened since last night, while Dewey’s dark brown hair still sported his samurai style ponytail. Dewey saw her from across the room and raised his eyebrows in salute. Madison stopped at the counter and ordered a few drinks, taking them over to ExBoy’s table.

His phone was on the side of his face as he looked up at her, his blue eyes unimpressed, his expression not changing. Madison wondered if he knew how handsome he was. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really sorry,” as she set the drinks down on the table. She sat down and waited for him to say something. He looked the other way and continued a conversation he had going on the phone. “I was making sure you’ll be open in the morning,” he said into his phone. “For the convention. Yeah. I only have a few days left.” He rubbed at his temple with his other hand and exhaled. “You can turn almost anything into a horror backdrop,” he continued. “Uh-huh. All you need are some broken things lying around and enough fake blood to make it look like carnage. It just has to be portable and cleanable. Yeah. I’ll come by with a truck. Looking forward to it. Thanks.” He hung up, and without even looking at Madison, he left the table. Madison watched him walk over to the bar and order his own drink.

Dewey Decimator called over to her from the stage. “Hey, Madison.”

She returned the greeting in a gloomy tone. “Hey.”

“Did you change your mind about doing next week’s show? Everyone’s talking about what you did in the show last night.”

“That was harebrained of me,” she said. “I’m lucky I didn’t ruin the show by breaking my head open.”

With a small laugh, Dewey said, “Well, that would have been inconvenient.”

“Yeah. Blood everywhere,” said Madison.

“And brains.”

“Actually?” She shook her head. “Not a whole lot of brains. I showed a distinct lack of brains last night.” She looked over at ExBoy standing at the bar with his back to her and the stage. She sighed, “And it seems to have continued on into tonight.”

“Why?” asked Dewey. “What’s the problem?”

Daniel nudged him and pointed over to ExBoy at the bar. Dewey looked from ExBoy to Madison, back to ExBoy and said, “Oh.” He nodded and said, “You want a little help with that?” He walked over to Madison and picked her up out of her chair.

“Dewey?” said Madison. “What are you doing? Stop it.”

Dewey looked over at ExBoy, but ExBoy’s back was still to the stage. Dewey lifted Madison up even higher over his shoulders as she squawked.

“Dewey! Stop it! Put me down!” ExBoy turned around. Madison’s legs flailed as her hands searched for something to grab for balance. Her hair hung in Dewey’s face. Dewey stepped up on the low stage and hefted Madison up high, getting his arms at full length under her as he held her high overhead. She grabbed for his wrists and elbows, pulling her legs inward to protect herself.

“Stop it, Dewey!” she shouted.

“Come on, Madison,” Dewey said. “Show us how you climbed those pipes last night.” He motioned his head at Daniel, who nodded, walking toward them without saying a word. Dewey tossed her into the air by just a foot or so, but it was enough to make her squeal.

“No! I don’t—” He caught her and tossed her upward again. She screamed, “Stop it! Put me—”

Madison felt a jerk as ExBoy plunged into Dewey, the hollow wooden stage floor giving back sharp bass notes as they went down. Once again, Daniel was there to catch her and set her on her feet as ExBoy reared up, raining punches into Dewey.

“Asshole! How many times does she have to tell you?” Dewey had his arms up to guard himself, deflecting most of the blows but still taking a few.

“Whoa! Whoa! All right! I’m sorry, dude!” He yelled under the punches. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything!”

ExBoy angrily pushed him aside as Dewey said, “I’m sorry! Really! I got carried away. I won’t do it again.” Dewey stood up, taking a couple of slow steps, opening his jaw, moving it side to side as he held his chin, testing for damage. His eyes showed a touch of shock. Madison figured he wasn’t used to getting hit for real. But he shot a crooked smile at Daniel, whispering, “That boy can hit,” then winked at Madison as he rubbed his sore chin.

Her confusion swept away, she was grateful for the chance he had just given her. ExBoy stood up, straightening his t-shirt, and spit out one last, “Just watch yourself. She’s not here for you, anyway. She’s here because…” He looked at her and clammed up.

She finished his sentence for him. “Because I owe you an apology.”

“It’s not that easy,” ExBoy huffed.

Daniel and Dewey made eye contact and walked away, leaving Madison and ExBoy standing on the low stage.

“I don’t know where else to start,” she said.

The two wrestlers sat down at ExBoy’s former table.

“Well how about a thank you for helping your mother?” asked ExBoy.

“A thank you? Are you serious?”

“Hell, yes! I was NICE to your mother. I helped her to help you. I’m not supposed to know your history together. I’m just supposed to be NICE.”

Daniel and Dewey drank the two drinks Madison had set down at the table.

“Okay Mr. Nice Guy. Do you at least understand how I feel about it?”

“Oh, no. We’re not going into your feelings right now. This whole mess has been about your feelings. That’s why it’s a mess.”

“But… I can’t stop being upset about it because you say so. She used you to spy on me.”

“Not my problem. That’s between you and her. With me, you say thank you. You say, ‘Gee, I’m sorry she used you, but thank you for being so nice to my mother.’”

Daniel seemed to be nodding at what ExBoy said, while Dewey looked skeptical. They crunched on the ice from the drinks.

“It doesn’t upset you that she used you, and then—”

“Madison? Did you come here to lecture me about letting your mother use me?”

Madison ground her teeth, then said in a quiet voice, “No.”

“Did you come here to say I deserved being thrown out of your apartment?”

Daniel and Dewey reacted to that by mildly shaking their heads. Then ExBoy added, “Naked?”

Daniel said, “Whoa!” before Dewey slapped the side of Daniel’s head.