School of Fortune (14 page)

“Could you please teach me that reverse stunt? In case they find me again?”

“It's called a J-turn. I'll think about it.” How could he say no to those big green eyes? Pierce parked behind the motel in case an all-points bulletin had gone out on a white Lexus SUV. He inspected the front of Ginny's car. Its fender had survived without a scratch. “Class starts in three minutes.” He walked inside.

Pippa needed a moment to pull herself together. That was a
really
close call. When she returned to class, Pierce was calmly pulling down the blinds. One would think he had spent his lunch break practicing yoga instead of bashing cars off the road. “Since some of you have expressed boredom with reading the manual, we're going to watch a video on safe driving techniques,” he announced.

Carrie-Jo raised her hand. “This roach bomb is giving me a headache. May I go home?”

“Yeah! My throat hurts,” Seymour whined.

Class relocated to the patio for a recitation of chapters six through nine. After an hour even Officer Pierce was having difficulty staying awake in the heat. When landscapers began uprooting the chain-link fence around the swimming pool, he called it a day. “Quiz first thing tomorrow,” were his parting words.

Everyone but Perdita fled. “Do you need a jump start, Officer Pierce?”

Yes. Several. After resuscitating his junker Pierce drove Pippa to a vacant strip mall west of Dallas. En route he told stories about his days as a stunt driver. Pierce's career had ended not on the set but in a farmer's market. He had been buying Black Jack figs when a geezer in a Miata plowed into him. He was in the hospital for nearly a year. Then his fiancee ran away with his doctor.

Pippa was horrified. “How did you recover from that?”

“I took up ballroom dancing. Very therapeutic. Okay, let's try a few J-turns.”

The old parking lot was barely long enough to ramp up to speed, but after a few attempts Pippa got the hang of one-eighties. “You drive a stick?” Pierce asked.

“My ex-fiance had a Maserati.”

A
police car, blue lights flashing, zoomed into the lot. The officer jumped out. “Show me your license and registration,” he ordered.

Pierce showed him a badge instead. “I was just giving this woman a driving exam.”

“We had reports of fishtailing behind the doughnut shop.”

“Someone's pulling your leg, Officer. No one goes over twenty-five miles an hour on a driving exam in the state of Texas.”

Peering inside, the policeman saw a pretty young woman disfigured by tattoos and hair dye. Instructor and student were strapped in tight as ticks. Something about the scenario didn't look kosher but it was a state vehicle and Pierce had a badge. “I didn't know the MVA gave exams here.”

“We're testing the site. Thanks for stopping by. Dallas police are really on top of things.”

“We have to be. The crazies were out today.”

Easing onto the boulevard, Pierce realized he had broken enough traffic regulations in the last six hours to get jail time. Perdita must be emanating some kind of subliminal impulses that were jamming his law-abiding radar. He noticed that, at the sight of the policeman, she had plastered herself against the passenger door. “You're not a felon, are you?”

“No, sir. Never.”

“Is this car stolen?”

“It belongs to my friend. She's in Costa Rica.” A few hundred witnesses had seen the license plate. “There could be some people asking questions at her place.”

Perdita turned white. “You mean it's not safe to go there?”

“I wouldn't risk it.” Heavy seconds passed. “You could stay with me.

“I wouldn't dream of imposing like that! Maybe there's a room at the Adolphus.”

Sure, in the larder, where her other grandfather worked. “There's a Days Inn up the road. You could even walk to class in the morning.”

Pippa hesitated; Thayne had always said she would rather sleep in an open sewer than a Days Inn. “I guess that would work.”

She insisted on paying cash for the room. Pierce estimated she had five thousand bucks stuffed into her little purse. He then deduced that the jewels on her finger must be real and that, given the afternoon's wild chase, Perdita was attached to someone rich, annoyed, and violent. “Sure you're going to be all right here?”

“I'll be fine. Thanks for saving me today, Officer Pierce.”

“Happy to help.” He would have asked her to rhumba class tonight but the tattoos and flip-flops were highly inappropriate. “Study that manual now.”

Pippa went to her room and obediently pored over the manual for an hour before realizing that she'd have to wear her purple-flowered shift to class again tomorrow. When coeds did that at SMU, it was a dead giveaway they had slept with the professor the night before. She called the desk. “Is there a boutique on the premises?”

“You should be happy there's an ice machine.”

Pippa slumped against her headboard. Without Ginny's SUV she was stuck. And what was she supposed to do about dinner? The nearest food was three miles up the highway.

Aha! Maserati! She called the security gate at Wellington on the Creek. “Stanley? This is Ginny's friend. How are you doing?”

“People have been looking for Miss Ortlip. Looking for her car, I should say.”

Pippa shuddered. “What did you tell them?”

“I said she was out of the country. I hope that was all right.”

“Perfect. Could you do me a huge favor? Remember that blue car someone dropped off for me yesterday? You've got the keys, right? I'd like you to drive it to the Days Inn on Harry Hines Boulevard. If you could swing by a Chinese takeout on the way, that would be fantastic.”

He thought about refusing but Ginny was his biggest holiday tipper. “My shift is over at ten.”

“Thanks.” Pippa resumed studying the manual. She wanted to delight Officer Pierce with a perfect score on tomorrow's quiz. Every few paragraphs, however, the facts and figures put her to sleep: this had been a long, perilous day. She wandered to the bathroom and splashed her face with water. There, under the fluorescent lights, Pippa noticed that her skin looked very uneven. She hadn't been paying much attention to it lately, but that was no reason to go around looking like a sea sponge.

Near the phone was a flyer for Nori Nuki, a spa in Las Colinas. It was open 24/7 and offered a full array of esthetic services. Patrons of the Days Inn would receive a ten percent discount. Even better, she didn't know a soul in Las Colinas, a neighborhood near the airport.

“I'd like a body scrub and a facial tomorrow morning,” she told the woman who answered the phone. “And my makeup done. I have to leave at eight-thirty.”

“Then you get here seven. What facial you like? Cucumber and rice vinegar? Sea salt? Clay and seaweed? How about chocolate facial? That very popular now.”

“Yes! I'll have that one.”

“For body scrub, facial, and makeup you pay two hundred bucks include tip. You be here seven sharp.” “Do you have a dress shop close by?” “Forty bucks I get you good dress. What size?” “Six. Thank you.”

Pippa went downstairs to wait for Stanley. Her pulse faltered when a blue Maserati appeared without Lance Henderson behind the wheel.
Get over it,
she told herself as Stanley pulled up to the entrance.
This is your car now.
As soon as possible she'd change the license plate: HUDDLE had nothing to do with football. Another signpost she had missed along the speedway to matrimony.

The car's interior reeked of fried noodles. Stanley parked in a corner of the lot. Pippa gobbled four egg rolls as he told her about the men who had come looking for Ginny. To her immense relief they had been journalists, not policemen. “Were you in some kind of chase?” he asked.

“They were harassing me. Don't worry, Ginny's car survived. I left it somewhere else for a while.”

Ginny's friends were scary. Stanley was embarrassed to look at the body art on this one. “Good idea. People at Wellington Creek aren't used to riots.”

Pippa gave him three hundred bucks. She went back to her room and polished off the Chinese dinner. For the first time since the wedding she felt hopeful about her future. Tomorrow, sporting a new dress and a fresh face, she'd ace another test. The day after that she'd graduate from driving school. The vaults of Fort Knox would open. She'd kick off her new life by taking Officer Pierce out to dinner. Introduce him to Sheldon. Clear the air over a few bottles of Champagne. It would be a grand occasion except Thayne wouldn't be there.

Pippa shed a few tears onto her chopsticks. Not hearing her mother's voice was a deprivation that made each day fall short of complete. She missed her terribly; the feeling had to be mutual.
Don't count on it,
an inner voice said. Thayne was not known for her reverse gear. “Just give me a chance,” Pippa prayed, spraying her neck with a tiny sneeze of Thayne perfume. “Two little minutes.”

The front desk awoke her at six the next morning. Pippa wasted a good bit of time searching for the terry robe she assumed came with every hotel room. After giving up on that, she had to call downstairs for a razor. Maybe Thayne had a point: sometimes it was worth paying an extra thousand a night for the bare necessities. Pippa wriggled into her dress and the damp underwear hanging on the towel bar. She drove the Maserati out of the parking lot. At the first red light, noticing the guy in the next car motioning to her, she rolled down her window.

“Wanna drag?”

“No thanks.” The slightest moving violation would kill her chances of a diploma.

Almost every time she stopped at a light, the guy in the next car would look over and rev his engine. Other guys drove in parallel with her for blocks at a time. Finally a woman with big blond hair pulled up alongside. “Excuse me, but is that Lance Henderson's car?”

Pippa nearly stalled the engine. “Who?”

“KYQX is giving a thousand bucks reward to the first guy to find him. He's supposed to drive a blue Maserati with the license HUDDLE.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. My daddy gave me this car for not piercing my nose.”

Pippa shut her window and stared straight ahead. She felt conspicuous as a boiled lobster on a white tablecloth. Damn! Why couldn't Lance drive a black Mercedes instead of this flaming homobile? She pulled over and, with a Magic Marker, changed the
H
on the license plate to a P.

Nori Nuki Day Spa occupied a humble storefront close to the airport. Pippa hid the car beneath an acacia and went inside. Despite the early hour, the place bustled with women. “You Padita for body scrub and chocolate facial,” said the cheerful Korean behind the cash register.
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
blared from the television at her side. “I am Nori. Where your car?” “Parked out back.”

“You need sticker or they tow.” Nori uncapped a felt-tip pen. “License number?” “P-U-D-D-L-E.”

Nori gave her the permit. “Put on dashboard please.” When Pippa returned, Nori was holding a red silk sheath with mandarin collar, its side slit to the pelvis. “Much better than cheap dress you wear now. How about shoes? I get nice pair. Much better than what you wear now. Twenty bucks.”

“Fine.”

“How about hair? You need clip. Five bucks. How about wash off tattoo? Fifteen bucks. Lot of work but they not nice for young lady.” “I know that but you'll have to leave them on.” “Forget money. I do for free.” “NO! Thank you!”

Without skipping a beat Nori said, “Total two hundred eighty bucks now.” She counted Pippa's cash. “Thank you very much, Padita. You go with Jung-Bo.”

Nori spoke a few sentences to a white-smocked Korean with a face lively as a hassock. Jung-Bo gave Pippa a smock and key and pointed her at the locker room. “Remove jerly please. I keep for you.”

Pippa changed into a towel. She gave Jung-Bo her Wal-Mart watch, her diamond rings, and ankle bracelet. “Don't lose this. It belongs to my mother.”

Jung-Bo dropped everything into her pocket and led Pippa to a heavy door. “You stay twelve minute. I wait for you.”

Pippa went inside. A sign said the temperature was 140 degrees. She sat on the floor with several Korean women who didn't seem to be sweating at all. Twelve minutes felt like twelve hundred. Next Jung-Bo pushed her into a dim inferno. The sand covering the floor burned Pippa's feet.
Timperture 160F.
Within seconds Pippa's heart began pounding fearfully. Sweat cataracted from every pore. Her head hurt; maybe her brain was swelling like a hot air balloon. She lasted two minutes.

“I'm sorry,” she gasped, bursting into the hallway. “That room is very hot.”

“Twelve minute.” Jung-Bo tried to push her back in.

“No! I have an important test at nine o'clock! I need a brain, not scrambled eggs!”

Jung-Bo took Pippa to the next door. “Three minute in here.”

Pippa stuck her head inside long enough to locate the sign on the wall. She managed to read “180F” before her eyeballs began pulling away from their sockets. One lone female lay motionless, perhaps mummified, in a dim corner. “Whew! That's enough of that!”

Displeased, Jung-Bo took Pippa to a whirlpool with steam rising from the surface. “Go in.”

What the heck, the worst it could be was 212 degrees. Pippa dropped her towel and slid into the roiling waters. Jung-Bo stood guard at the ladder, making escape impossible. Finally she said, “We scrub now.”

Pippa was taken to a white-tiled room containing six tables. Korean attendants wearing rough mitts scrubbed naked women lying atop four of the tables. As they worked, the attendants chatted and laughed, no doubt making fun of the bodies they were vigorously abrading. Every so often an old woman came along and sloshed a bucket of warm water over a reclining nude. After getting Pippa up on a table, Jung-Bo beckoned to a girl waiting by the sink. She began wringing Pippa's feet like damp washcloths. The pain was excruciating. “Could you go a little easy?” Pippa cried. “I'd like to walk out of here.”