Miss Polly had a Dolly (Emma Frost #2) (9 page)

They had to
cross the
border on foot, Stefan said. He parked the
car in a deserted area and told Nina to get out.

"We walk now," he grunted and started
to go.

Nina hesitated.

"Come on," he said and grabbed her
arm. "Family is waiting for you on other side, but we have no papers. Once
we're over border you will have new mommy."

Nina started crying again as the sweaty man
pulled her arm. She didn't want a new mommy, she already had one. But the man
was too strong and she couldn't fight him. He grabbed her around the waist and
started carrying her into the darkness. Nina screamed and whimpered, but no one
could hear her out there in the middle of nowhere. Once he got tired of
carrying her, he put her down on the ground. Then he slapped her across the
face.

"You walk now, okay?"

Nina was crying hard now and the man lifted his
hand as if to hit her again. Nina stopped crying, then promised him she would
walk from now on.

"Cars are waiting on the other side once we
get past border," Stefan said and continued to walk.

Nina followed him, whimpering and crying, but
she did as he wanted her to. What else could she do? Every now and then she
looked back at the car they had left behind, but soon it was out of sight and
there was nothing but darkness surrounding her. They walked all night, crossing
narrow mountain roads and desolate wilderness. Nina could hardly move her legs
anymore when they finally reached the ridge leading them across the border.

"Now you run," Stefan said and pointed
down into the valley. "Sprint. See those flashlights. They are people
waiting for you. You go to them, they take good care of you now."

"Aren't you coming with me?" Nina
asked with a shivering voice. She did see the flashlights in the valley, but
she had never met those people before.

Stefan grinned. "No. No. I stay here or I
go to prison. You belong to them now. No worry, little girl. Good people. Take
good care of children. But if you try to run, they will shoot you. Okay?"

Nina's heart was in her throat as she looked
down the mountainside at the flashlights flickering in the darkness. Who were
those people and why did she have to go with them? Her mother had often told
her she would go to boarding school if she didn't behave, to learn manners and
respect for authorities. Was this boarding school? Were those people taking her
to her new school?

Please, Mommy. I'm scared.
I'll be good. I promise. Don't make me go there. Take me home.

Nina felt a push in her back. "You must go,
little girl. Before someone finds us. You must go now," Stefan said.

Nina swallowed her tears and looked back one
more time before she started running down the mountainside towards the
flashlights, towards her new future. The terrain was difficult and soon Nina
tripped over one of the sharp rocks. She cut her leg and was bleeding, then she
cried again. She could hear voices in the distance and see the flashlights.
Knowing she had to reach the other side before the sun came up (or else she
would go to jail, Stefan had told her) she got up once again and started
running, even if her leg hurt really bad.

Once Nina reached the valley, she felt exhausted
and was bleeding from multiple cuts she'd gotten from rocks and bushes with
many thorns. Voices speaking a strange language were coming closer now and
three flashlights were pointed at her. The men came closer and now she felt
hands on her body, picking her up. She was too tired to look but felt her body
being carried into the back of a van, then the door was closed and she could
hear the engine start in the distance.

Jack came over
that evening.
He rang the doorbell and as I opened the
door, he handed me a yellow rose.

"It's from my own yard," he said.

I smiled and blushed. I was wearing an old worn
out apron and had flour all over my hands and face from the pie I was baking.
Jack laughed when he saw it.

"You're busy I take it?"

"I was just trying out a new pie recipe for
dessert. I have been into cooking lately. It's my new hobby. Come on in, you
can stay for dinner."

"Are you sure?" Jack said. "I
didn't mean to impose or anything. I just saw the rose in the yard earlier and
thought you should have it."

I paused and looked at him. "That was
really sweet, Jack. Thank you. Come in. My dad is here with his girlfriend,
too. The more the merrier, right?"

"That's what I've heard, yes," Jack
said and stepped inside. He took off his beanie and showed his thick brown
hair. I smiled and put the flower in water. I heard Jack say hello to my dad
and Helle in the living room while I put the pie in the oven and ran upstairs
to clean myself up. I put on a little make-up for once and looked at myself in
the mirror. It had been awhile since I had done something to look good and
suddenly it felt a little uncomfortable. I wiped off the lipstick to make it
more subtle. I had butterflies in my stomach and felt like a young girl all of
a sudden. Just because of Jack? Well I did like him a lot and I could tell he
was comfortable in my presence since he didn't stutter at all anymore while
talking to me. And we did have kind of a history together ever since that night
in October when he'd saved me and Victor. I couldn't believe he was actually
kind of saving me again tonight. I had been so nervous having my dad's
girlfriend over for dinner earlier but now that Jack was here it was easier.
More people to make conversation. That was good for me, because I was horrible
at small talk and polite conversation. This was a really good turn of events, I
thought to myself.

I ran down the stairs and put the food on the
table. I had made lamb and rubbed it with plenty of garlic. With it I served
rosemary roasted potatoes, a Greek salad, and homemade tzatziki. I really hoped
they were going to like it. And I really hoped they liked garlic as there was
lots of it.

"Dinner is on the table," I said as I
peeked in the living room where they all sat in front of the fireplace. Victor
was on my dad's lap and had put his arms around his neck. I felt a sting of
jealousy. Lately my dad was the only one who got to touch my son and the only
one he really talked to. It was always like that with Victor. He picked his
favorites and never cared about everybody else or their feelings. It was just
not in him to care.

"Where is Maya?" my dad asked as we
sat down around the new heavy oak table in the dining room that I had recently
bought with some of all the money I made from my bestselling book. I was
surprised at how well I was doing and began thinking about writing a new one
soon. I just needed that one idea and so far all that was on my mind was my
family and cooking.

"She is out with her friends tonight,"
I answered and smiled at Helle who took the chair next to me.

"At this time on a school night?" my
dad asked.

"Yes, Dad. At this time on a school night.
She and her friends are hanging out down by the Hotel Mellers, you know, the
nice one down town. They're trying to catch a glimpse of Patrick."

Helle chuckled. "Ah the famous TV host.
Yes, everybody in town is talking about him these days."

My dad snorted. "I can't imagine why. I
mean what's the fuss about? I don't get it. He whines like a girl. Why does
that get people so excited?"

I shrugged and put a helping of lamb on my plate
before I passed it on to Jack on my other side. "Well, he's handsome and
he's very funny. You never know what he'll do next. That's what makes him interesting.
He's not neat and boring like all the other television hosts. They all look
alike. It gets boring. Patrick is different. He puts on a show every
time."

Helle nodded. "I'm completely with Emma on
this one," she said and gave me a nice smile.

It felt good to agree with her on this. I was
beginning to think I was going to like having her around.

"Patrick is really unique. And the kids
love him. The girls go crazy down there. It doesn't all have to be so sleek.
It's good that he dares to be himself. It's good for the young to see,"
she said.

My dad snorted again and poured wine in our
glasses. "I still don't get it," he replied. "To me he is
nothing but a freak of nature, a weird faggot."

"Dad!" I looked at him, then at Victor
who luckily seemed to be in a world of his own, hearing nothing of what we were
talking about.

"Sorry," my dad said. "But the
guy
is
gay, isn't he? I mean with
all the jewelry, the weird clothes. I mean who wears pink boas if you're a real
man, right?"

"Plenty of rock stars, Dad."

Helle nodded. "Steven Tyler for
example."

"Thank you, yes. Patrick is a Danish Steven
Tyler, just not a rock-star, but close. He expresses himself and he is secure
enough in his masculinity to wear those kinds of spectacular clothes. That does
not make him gay."

"But do you really want Maya to run around
down there and scream at him?" my dad asked with his mouth full. "I
mean what's with the finger and all that. Is that something your kid should
think is cool?"

I shrugged. My dad had a point, but I didn't
think Maya thought the finger was cool. I just thought she wanted to hang out
with her friends and that she found him handsome, that was all. "I don't
know," I said. "I think the older generation will never approve of
what the younger generation likes. But I'll admit I don't like the finger part,
either. Guess that makes me older, huh?"

Jack chuckled. I gave him a smile. I knew I
wasn't going to be able to control everything in my daughter's life any longer,
but my dad was right, I probably needed to talk to her about the finger part.

"So you're a painter, Jack?" Helle
asked across the table.

Jack blushed, then nodded. "Wwwell yes. I
do ppaint."

"And he's really good at it, too," I
added even if I knew Jack hated to talk about himself. I was trying to make him
feel comfortable.

"I need some decorations for the walls in
my shop. Maybe I could hire you to paint something for me?" she asked.

"That's a great idea," I said knowing
how badly Jack needed the money. He was taking care of his handicapped sister
on a very unstable income. Luckily she had her disability pension to help out,
but he was still always lacking money.

"Could you paint anything that I
wanted?" Helle asked.

"Sure," Jack said. "I've done
orders before. Wwhat would you like?"

"Well, my shop sells dolls. Souvenirs, as
well and trinkets, but mostly dolls and supplies for them, like clothes,
headbands and bowties and stuff," she said.

I almost choked on my lamb thinking about what
Victor had said earlier. I started coughing.

"Excuse me," I said and drank some
wine to clear my throat.

"It's mostly the dolls I'm interested
in," she continued. "They are my real passion. I love those
babies."

"I'll nnneed to come down and see what they
lllook like first."

"Sure," she said.

"Maybe I'll go with you," I said.
"I'd love see your shop."

The meeting was
over and
everyone had finally left Patrick's hotel
room. He found the black hoodie in his suitcase and put it on. It still had a
couple of bloodstains on the sleeve, but they blended in well with the dark
color, he thought. No one would notice.

Patrick then found his black gloves and
Balisong, his butterfly knife, and put it inside the pocket of the hoodie. He
covered his head and walked out into the hallway. He was alone in the elevator
going down. Once in the lobby he ducked his head and covered his face
completely while slipping out through the crowd towards the back exit of the
hotel. He was going out on foot this time.

He heard the screaming teenagers outside the
front entrance every time the doors were opened and chuckled to himself as he
opened the back door and got out without anyone seeing him. He looked back to
make sure no one was following him and walked around the corner of the
building. He stood at a distance and watched the crowd chanting his name while
looking hopefully at the window of his hotel room. He had left the lights on to
make them believe he was still in there. It was the perfect alibi and worked
every time. No one suspected him since he wasn't even able to go out in the
streets without being seen and mobbed by fans. It was impossible.

He felt superior in so many ways as he watched
his many fans from a distance. They were hollering his name, like he was some
freaking god or something. It was amazing. Maybe he was a god, maybe he did
have superpowers… It felt like it sometimes. Being able to determine whether or
not someone should live. It was the greatest feeling in the world. Nothing
would beat it—ever.

Patrick nodded slowly to himself, taking all the
cheering and applauding in. This was his, this was him, he had done this,
he
made things happen.

And now he was going to make something else
happen. Now he was going to go out and give the people something new to talk
about.

Patrick turned his back on the crowd and started
walking slowly to stay low, when suddenly two young girls walked towards him on
the sidewalk. Patrick bowed his head slightly and put his hands in the pockets
trying to avoid letting them see him. They were giggling and chatting along as
they walked. Patrick hated giggling girls most of all. He loathed their happy
small lives where nothing bad ever happened. It made his skin crawl and it made
him want to make something bad happen to them. Make them feel reality, real
life. The brutality of nature. All these girls lived secure, protected lives
and he hated them for it.

"Is that…?" one of the girls pulled
her friend's jacket.

"Do you think…?" the other one said.

They came closer and Patrick gripped the knife
in his hand while thinking this was a bad place. Someone would see them there.

"Yes it is…" the first one said again
while bending slightly to see Patrick's face. "It
is
him. It's Patrick!"

Patrick lifted his head and made a sign for them
to keep it quiet. They seemed to understand. "Thanks guys," he said.
"I needed a little privacy, you see."

He looked into their faces and saw the
excitement in their eyes. They both looked like they could burst.

"Can we have your autograph?" one of
them asked.

Patrick smiled and grabbed the pen. He sighed her
arm. The other girl seemed a little more cautious. Patrick liked that. "Do
you want my autograph too, pretty girl?" he asked.

The girl smiled and before she could answer
Patrick had sighed her arm. "Say, you're really beautiful," he said
and grabbed her chin. "What's your name?"

She blushed and replied, "Maya."

"Well hello, Maya." Patrick said
smiling. Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I really like you,
Maya. I want to get to know you. Meet me Monday night at the show. I'll put
your name on the list. Come backstage. But don't tell anyone. " He looked
deep into her eyes. Her shy eyes avoided his. "Promise me?" he said
and held her hand. Then he kissed it on the top.

"I promise," she answered with the
most despicable sweet little voice. Oh how Patrick loathed everything about
pretty little girls. He clenched the knife in his pocket with his other hand
and fought the desire to kill her right there.

Then he turned around and made himself disappear
between a row of houses.