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Authors: Dave Barry

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wouldn’t think he was mimicking him.

No time to think about it anymore; the Bentley was pulling up, a Ritz doorman hustling toward it,

only to back quickly away when confronted by two massive bodyguards who’d jumped out of the trailing

SUV. Mike was glad he had thought to have his security on hand for the Corliss arrival, even though he

didn’t really expect to need them. Good to show Corliss how he rolled.

One of the Corliss bodyguards opened a rear door of the Bentley. Out stepped Wendell Corliss, a

tall, gaunt, bald man with ice-blue eyes that remained intensely predatory no matter what the rest of his

face was doing. Emerging behind Wendell was his third wife, Greta, a tall, Amazonian Swede who had

begun her climb to social prominence by working as the Corliss family
au pair
and who compensated for

her humble origins by treating all forms of hired help like cockroaches.

Mike and Marcia put on welcoming smiles and stepped forward to greet their guests. Manly

handshakes and delicate air kisses were exchanged, followed by a flurry of
How was your flight?
s and

So thrilled you could make it
s and
Delighted to be here
s. Standing at a discreet distance to either side,

the Corliss and Clark security details eyeballed each other appraisingly. A team of bellmen, supervised

by the Corliss chauffeur, was transferring the Corliss luggage to a cart. Wendell Corliss himself seemed

to be in a good mood. Mike was also pleased; so far, things were going smoothly.

And then they heard it, a series of booms, like casinos being rhythmically imploded in the distance.

Heads turned toward the source: a black Escalade pulling up to the hotel. The booms were in fact the bass

line to a tune by the rap artist Dirt Nasty titled “Fuck Me I’m Famous,” a phrase repeated often in the

lyrics, which came through loud and clear as the Escalade doors opened.

The first person to emerge, to the slack-jawed horror of the Clarks, was their future son-in-law,

looking as though he had not slept, shaved or bathed since they saw him the night before, which in fact he

had not. Next out was Cyndi in her very tight, very short dress, carrying a grocery bag and a large package

of Huggies. Then came Rose and, with Seth’s help, Sid, in their matching tracksuits. Then came Big Steve;

then Kevin, in his boxers; and finally Marty, still wearing only a shirt, but not in the manner a shirt was

intended to be worn.

The Clarks and the Corlisses regarded the new arrivals with frozen faces. A bellman hefted the pink

suitcases out of the Escalade and then a valet drove it away, the speakers still blasting Dirt Nasty.

Seth caught sight of the Clarks, did a double take. “Mike!” he said. “Marcia!”

The Corlisses’ heads swiveled toward their hosts, their eyes asking
You KNOW these people?

“I don’t think you met my parents,” said Seth. “This is my mom, Rose, and my dad, Sid. Mom, Dad,

these are Tina’s parents, Mike and Marcia.”

The two sets of parents approached each other warily. Mike extended his hand.

“Sid!” said Rose. “Don’t stand there like an idiot! Shake his hand!” She turned to the Clarks. “He’s

tired from the trip, he can’t get comfortable on the plane. He has a hip condition, plus he has a sore on his

leg that won’t heal. You see that stain? On his pants? That’s from the oozing. He’s in an experimental

program for that, they pay all the medical expenses and give him this drug that’s supposed to help, but he

still has the oozing. You wouldn’t believe how much I spend on laundry detergent. Sid, I said SHAKE

HIS HAND!”

“My God,” said Marcia, quietly but audibly.

“So!” said Seth, herding his parents toward the door. “I’m sure Mom and Dad want to freshen up.

We’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner! Really looking forward to it!”

“Why are you pushing?” said Rose.

“Who was that?” said Sid.

They disappeared into the hotel, followed by Cyndi, then the Groom Posse. Greta Corliss recoiled

visibly as Marty walked past.

There were several seconds of utter silence.

“So,” said Wendell carefully, “he’s marrying your daughter?”

“Yes,” said Mike. “But he’s not usually . . . He usually doesn’t look like that.

“He’s really a fine young man,” said Mike.

“He is,” said Marcia.

“The one who wasn’t wearing pants,” said Greta. “Who was that?”

“A friend,” said Mike. “Not of
ours
, of course. He knew Seth in college. But he’s not really

anybody. We don’t really know him.”

“At all,” said Marcia.

“And the woman carrying the . . . with the diapers?” said Greta.

“Nobody,” said Marcia.

“I see,” said Greta.

“It’s just the usual pre-wedding bachelor hijinks,” said Mike, smiling to indicate how comical it all

was. Neither Greta nor Wendell smiled back.

“So!” said Marcia. “I’m sure you two want to freshen up after your trip.”

Greta and Wendell said they definitely wanted to freshen up.

13

Seth, having finally got his parents checked in, was back in the elevator, blissfully alone for

the moment. His plan was to check on the situation in his suite, maybe grab a quiet nap, then head down to

Primate Whatever—to retrieve his suitcase and the ring. He slumped against the wall, exhausted, closing

his eyes and fantasizing, briefly, that when he got to his room everything would be all right and he could

simply go to sleep.

This was not the case, of course. Wesley, remote in hand, was still overflowing the sofa in front of

the flat-screen, surrounded by plates; apparently there had been more deliveries from room service. The

bedroom—theoretically, Seth’s bedroom—was a combination hospital and nursery. Cyndi and LaDawne

had put Huggies on the baby; LaDawne had it cradled in her arm and was feeding it formula from a bottle.

Stephane, eyes wide with wonder, was sitting on the floor, watching
SpongeBob SquarePants
on TV.

Laurette, her dark skin in sharp contrast to the fluffy white Ritz bathrobe, was sitting up in bed,

looking a little better than before but still very weak. When she saw Seth, she smiled and reached out her

hand to him. He went over and hesitantly reached his own hand out; she took it in hers and spoke to him in

Creole, her voice soft and raw from swallowing seawater.

“I think she’s thanking you again,” said Cyndi.

“You’re welcome,” said Seth to Laurette. He gently pulled his hand away and turned to LaDawne.

“Did anybody call here?”

LaDawne nodded. “A man called, a Haitian man said you knew him from the beach.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said tell you no luck so far.”

Seth’s shoulders slumped.

“He’s still looking,” said LaDawne. “He’ll come over here later.”

“How much later?”

“He didn’t say.”

Seth rubbed his weary face with his weary hands. “This isn’t gonna work,” he said. “I’m getting

married tomorrow.”

“So, you get married tomorrow.”

“But I can’t have . . .” Seth gestured toward Laurette. “I mean, I feel bad for her and everything, but

she can’t stay here.”

“Really? You gonna kick her out? With two babies? In her condition? She can’t hardly stand up, you

really gonna kick her out?”

Seth looked at Laurette, who was looking at him fearfully, picking up on his gestures, his tone. He

made himself smile at her. “No,” he said. “I’m not gonna kick her out.”

“’Course you ain’t,” said LaDawne. “By the way, somebody else called.”

“Who?”

“Girl named Tina. With a attitude. Wanted to know who I was.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“Talking to me like that? I told her none of her damn business who I was.”

“Oh God. That’s my
fiancée
.”

“Well, she got a mouth on her.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“I don’t know. I hung up.”

“Oh God,” said Seth.

A minute later he was knocking on the door to Tina’s suite. It was opened by Meghan, wearing a

bathrobe.

“Call me old-fashioned,” she said, “but I believe it’s traditional for the stripper to leave at some

point before the actual wedding.”

“Listen, I can explain . . .”

“You don’t need to explain to me,” said Meghan, waving Seth into the suite. “I’m just the pothead

younger sister.”

“Where is she?”

“On the balcony. Good luck.”

Seth walked through the suite, which was even bigger than his, and found Tina outside on a lounge

chair, tanning in a white bikini, looking stunning as always.

“Babe, I’m sorry,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.

She accepted the kiss but did not return it. “I’m not insecure,” she said.

“I know that. You’re the most not insecure person I’ve ever met. But this—”

“I was fine when I saw the stripper last night—”

“OK, she’s not really a—”

“Let me finish.”

“OK, sorry.”

“I was fine with the stripper you were with last night because it was your bachelor party and I knew

she was just some tramp Kevin and Marty hired and you would never do anything to jeopardize our

relationship. Also she is nowhere near as hot as I am.”

“Of course not. But listen, she’s not even—”

“Let me finish. So even though you embarrassed yourself last night in front of me and my parents

with the bimbo and the snake guy, I was OK with it because I understand guys get drunk and act like idiots

for their bachelor party, and, above all, I trust you. OK, so that was last night. Now it’s today, the

bachelor party is over and it’s the day of our rehearsal dinner. I call your room and a woman answers,

apparently a
different
woman, definitely a rude woman, and she won’t tell me who she is and she hangs

up on me. A woman
in your room
hangs up on
me
.”

“Tina, I can explain this.”

“Good. Because, as I say, I’m not an insecure person. But I really, really would like an explanation.”

“OK. There’s Haitians in my room.”

“Haitians!”

“Right. Three of them. A mother and two kids. One’s a baby.”

“And that’s who hung up on me? The Haitian mother?”

“No, that was LaDawne.”

“And LaDawne is?”

“A stripper. But I swear to God she didn’t strip. She was there when I got back last night because

Marty hired her, which I told him not to. But she never took her clothes off. Thank God.”

“But she’s still in your room.”

“She’s taking care of the Haitians. With Cyndi.”

“Who’s Cyndi?”

“She’s the woman who was with the snake guy. But she’s not a stripper. She’s just helping out with

the Haitians.”

“OK,” said Tina, “exactly
why
are there Haitians in your room?”

Seth quickly summarized what happened—his falling asleep on the beach, hearing the child’s cry.

Tina sat up, hands over her mouth, when Seth told her about pulling the Haitians out of the ocean. When he

was done, she said, “Ohmigod, Seth, why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

Seth explained about Laurette’s fear of the authorities. When he was done, Tina said, “I need to talk

to Daddy about this.” She reached for her phone.

Seth put his hand on her arm. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I promised Laurette.”

“Laurette?”

“The Haitian woman. She’s terrified she’ll get sent back. I promised her I wouldn’t tell the police.”

“My father’s not the police. He knows a lot of people. He can fix things. He can help this woman.”

Seth thought about Laurette, the way she’d looked at him. He shook his head again. “Teen, I

promised her. She trusts me. I know your father’s a powerful man, but the kind of people he knows are

exactly the kind of people this woman’s afraid of. Listen, she has a sister here in Miami. A guy who

works for the hotel, a Haitian guy, is looking for the sister. When he finds her, she can take Laurette and

the kids and they’ll be gone. Let’s just let that happen, OK?”

It was Tina’s turn to shake her head. “Seth, this is our wedding weekend. We have family and guests

here from all over the country. There’s a rehearsal dinner in a few hours. We’re getting married

tomorrow.
Tomorrow
, Seth. We’ve been planning this wedding for the better part of a year. I think it’s

great what you did for this woman and I’m happy to give her some money, or maybe we can pay this

Haitian man to help her out. We can get her a lawyer . . .”

“She doesn’t want a lawyer. She doesn’t want to deal with anybody official. She just wants to find

her sister.”

“OK, fine, but she can’t stay here, Seth, not during our wedding. She’s a distraction, and she’s also,

BOOK: Insane City
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