Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (14 page)

“OK. That’s taking
it a bit too far!” Louise said, and threw a pillow at her. “How’d you do that?”

“Ssh…This is real.
Hello?” Abbi said as she answered the phone.

Nothing. Just
silence for a few seconds. Abbi pushed the button for speaker phone and set the
recording button. She checked the caller ID. Unavailable
.

Then an unmistakable
voice came on, possibly choked with tears, and said, “I’m Miss Shoe.”

“Mom! MOM!” Abbi
yelled, but the phone went dead. “She’s alive, Louise!
Wherever you are,
Mom, somehow I’ll find you!”

Silently, she
prayed for guidance.

“I’m calling Shoe
Clerk. We need a trace!” Abbi said.

Abbi was wide
awake and dressed when the morning alarm sounded. Probably because of last
night’s conversation and the late night phone call, Louise was a bit of a grump.
Besides, it was still dark out. For Abbi, though, the excitement of being part
of a rescue plan had her adrenalin pumping.

“Up and at it,
Louise!”

“I don’t want to
go, Abbi. Tell me it was all just a dream.”

“We’re packed and
ready. Get up.”

“Can’t. Get. Up.
Let’s sleep in and forget all this.”

“Louise, we need
to be awake, dressed like we work in a government office. That and travel may
take a little time. Let’s get hopping!”

            Abbi’s government-issue
phone, the one Mrs. Hightower gave her, rang. Both girls screamed before Abbi
picked up.

            “Yes? Ok, got it!” she
said.

            “Who was that?”

            “Gate Keeper with
further instructions.”

            “Gate Keeper?”

            “All I can say is he’s
part of the operation. Come on, Louise! We have a plane to catch.  Put your
game face on,” Abbi said.

“Dress like we
work in a government office? You sure you want to miss that dance contest?”
Louise asked, only partly joking.

“What stupid dance
contest? I’ve forgotten it already,” Abbi said. “The first thing I need to do
is change my look. How am I going to look like I work in an office? I look
twelve, maybe fourteen if I add lipstick.”

Abbi had actually
slept very little. Last night’s phone call stayed on her mind. She couldn’t
forget the strained sound of her mother’s voice. Before Louise could begin to
talk her out of it, Abbi called Mrs. Hightower. She apparently hadn’t slept
either. She assured Abbi that the team immediately began conducting a search for
Miss Shoe’s location and that her shoes were very helpful.

Abbi wondered what
her shoes had to do with anything. Maybe there
was
something to Fred’s
Boots Inc. after all, but Abbi was sleepy, maybe not thinking straight. The
more Mrs. Hightower talked, the more Abbi woke up.

“Even without her
phone, we can still find her,” Mrs. Hightower explained. “Your mother is
wearing state-of-the-art Smart Shoes. Even if they lock her up in a warehouse
somewhere, our I-T and the CIA cyber unit will be able to pinpoint the very
room that she’s in!”

Abbi relayed the
information to Louise. Things were apparently coming together. With this kind
of technology, would the special rescue team really need Abbi on this mission?

“Miss Shoe has Smart
Shoes? That’s awesome!” Louise said.

“Safe travels,”
Mrs. Hightower said. “And God-speed!”

“Wait, wait! Gate
Keeper called. How does a person in a government office dress?”

“You’ll figure it
out. Louise can help,” Mrs. Hightower said.

Abbi allowed
Louise, who seemed to be gifted as an “image consultant”, to do her face and
layer on some clothes for Abbi from her closet. Lucky for Abbi, Louise had
found some older Sunday School clothes she’d outgrown. Though a bit prim for
Abbi’s taste, they were only a little too big.

While Louise
rummaged around to find clothes that she could adapt and layer for office
attire, Abbi showered and took a moment to reflect.

Her mother knew Abbi
possessed a gift, that way of knowing yet not scientifically “knowing”. For
Abbi it was natural, and she believed everyone had that ability to some degree.
Louise had tried to get her to ignore the nudges and warnings, afraid they came
from a more sinister place, part of something evil.

Abbi went through
a brief period of doubting the sixth sense, the nudge, largely because of
Louise’s cynicism. Gradually Abbi realized she had received many warnings of
things to come, a sort of built-in protection. She grew to recognize the gentle
touch or a voice that came to her unannounced. She received information in ways
she couldn’t explain, information that actually seemed to guide her. Her mother
had always known that. Maybe someone else knew too.

Abbi continued to
think of this as she dressed and paid little attention to the clothes Louise chose
for her as she quickly put them on.

“These may be a
little big on you but going home to get your own clothes is out of the
question,” Louise had said.

After Abbi was
dressed, Louise used professional techniques to apply a good foundation, and
then deep shadows and highlights to accentuate Abbi’s facial structure.

            “How do you know how to
do this?” Abbi asked. “It looks blotchy when I try.”

            “Magazines, mostly. I’m
not trying to change you. I’m just enhancing what you already have. You’ll see.
And this will make your eyes POP!”

She brushed
boldly-colored eyeshadow to Abbi’s eyelids, blended carefully, and then finished
the eyes off with a layer of black mascara. When the look was completed, she
handed Abbi a mirror.

“Wow! I look
different. Older!”

“Positively
sophisticated! I promise you won’t look like the woman in the office who’s
always overdone.”

Louise locked
elbows with her and walked her over to the full-length mirror on the back of
the door.

“Now, take a
look!”

“I look like an
entirely different person,” Abbi said as she admired the layered suit and scarf
she was wearing and her miracle makeover. “But I can’t exactly show up with
running shoes on.”

“You can wear
those for now,” said Louise, proud of her work. “Lots of people commute in
running shoes all the time. It’s actually safer. If anyone asks, just tell them
you left your shoes in the office.”

“OK, then! I think
we’re ready. You look great, Louise. Before we leave, let’s look at our
instructions and practice our script one more time. Then we have to be ready to
destroy it.”

Both Abbi and
Louise reviewed their lines and read over every bit of information they would
need before they would meet up again with Mrs. Hightower. They especially
studied their alternate identities as Miss Kowalski and Mademoiselle Soufflé.

“I sound like
something to eat. This is all very mysterious,” Louise said. “One more thing. I
almost forgot.”

Louise tried on a
red wig. She came to show Abbi and asked, “How do I look?”

            “Nice! Got another
one?” Abbi asked. Her own hair had dried to a curly mass.

“Try this!” Louise
said and handed her a blonde one.

            Abbi pinned the wig
into place and checked it in the mirror.

“Hubba hubba!”
Louise said. “Ready?”

“Ready. Let’s do
it. This doesn’t look like me at all.”

The girls went to
the bathroom, found a book of matches in a drawer, lit a candle and then used
it as if it were a part of a sacred ritual. They interviewed each other for
quick and accurate memorized responses, completed the task of burning the text and
nervously laughed as the ashes were flushed down the toilet. Then they did
their fist bump, set the alarm and left the house. The taxi had already
arrived.

As they lugged
their bags out to the taxi, Abbi talked to Louise about the things that had
kept her awake. She felt sure that her sixth sense was a gift, not a curse, but
convincing Louise might be hard to do.

“You know what—I’m
beginning to think you’re right,” Louise said. “And I’m afraid we’re going to
need it.”

           
Tina fell asleep
exhausted in a corner of her bedroom, huddled in her mother’s quilt, with pile
of her own clothes as a pillow. She bunched up the quilt to keep warm. Without
as much as a blink, she dozed off into deep sleep.

She woke up late
in the morning, near noon, in the same room but resting on a beautiful and soft
bed, all made up with pink and purple pillows, a lacy comforter, and nice clean
sheets. For a moment, she lay there, confused, not recognizing her
surroundings. Rolled up at the foot of the bed was her mother’s quilt.

            She tried piecing it
together, but her head was aching, making it hard to think. She began coughing.
She hated the cough, a deep cough that kept producing nasty stuff she should
spit out but she swallowed instead.

            She began to realize
that her father must have brought in all this bedding and furniture for her while
she was sleeping. She started laughing and coughing at the same time, happy
that her father had thought of her.

Her father knocked
on the bedroom door.

“Everything OK?”
he asked.

“It’s heavenly!!!
How’d you do this?”

“Apparently, your
fairy godmother came in the night!” he joked. “Take your time getting up. We don’t
have anywhere we need to be real soon.”

“What about work?”
Tina asked, knowing her father had always been a workaholic. He liked the
adrenaline rush of being on the police force, out on the street where the
action was.

“They don’t need
me today. Besides, it’s a desk job. Right now, it’s covered. How soon are you
ready for breakfast?”

“Breakfast?
Really?”

“Don’t worry. I
can cook. It won’t poison you!”

“Daddy, I’ll be
out in five minutes or less.”

Before she was
dressed, wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday, Tina could hear bacon
sizzling. She walked out into an almost fully furnished living room and a
functional kitchen.

“What did I do?
Sleep for a week?”

“Over twelve
hours. You needed it.”

“I could go back
to sleep right now,” Tina said with a slight cough. “I’m so tired!”

Her father started
putting plates out, dishes Tina had never seen, and said, “Sorry, kid, no more
sleeping today, not until after your appointments. They start at 3.”

“For what?”

 “All sorts of
things and the sooner we get on it, the better. Your fairy godmother thinks you
need medical attention, for starts.”

“She does sort of
look like a fairy godmother flitting around with her gossamer layers that look
like wings!” Tina said with a laugh. “She bought me vitamins.”

“She’s taken a
real interest in you,” Tina’s father said. He put some food on the table and
sat down with Tina.

“Yeah. You’ve been
busy, too!” Tina said, grabbing toast. “Breakfast is wonderful! The apartment
looks great! So comfy! There’s even a TV!”

“Cable comes
tomorrow. Don’t worry. I’ll be here when the cable guy comes. Want milk?”

“Sure, but
really?” Tina asked. “I know you have to work.”

“Little Miss, I
have some catching up to do in the parenting department. Work can wait.”

            Tina silently ate and
smiled at her father in between bites. Maybe she did have a fairy godmother.
Mrs. Hightower seemed to be working magic on her father. She saw the note her
father left when he went out to get some groceries, just in case she woke up.
He even put a little heart on it.

            “Tina, there are all
sorts of things I want to ask but I’m afraid to hear the answers. A part of me
needs to know, but mostly I’m just glad you’re alive and here with me. At least
I know now that you didn’t run away. I did some real soul-searching last night.
In fact, I didn’t sleep at all. I knew I wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping on
the floor so I sat here, made a list of what we need, made a few phone calls
and waited for delivery. Then I started going over things I need to do
differently.”

            “We have a new home and
a whole new life,” Tina said. “We’ll be fine. And you found me! I knew you
would!”

            Her father’s face grew
darker. He sat staring at his plate a moment before he spoke, his voice
gravelly.

            “I didn’t do anything. I
reported you missing, that’s all, and provided clothes and other bits of
information about your friends. Evidently you met someone at a mall. I didn’t
even know.”

            “Yeah, and he was
supposed to take me to church the day I went missing. That’s what he said.”

            “I guess I knew you
were on your way to church that morning but I didn’t know who with. But then I
thought you ran away with him.”

            “No. I did not run
away. I was…”

            Her father interrupted.
His voice turned angry as he said, “I know now what you were doing. That’s how
the FBI found you. They saw your picture online, advertising.”

            “What?” Tina’s voice
was loud. “What are you talking about?”

            The accusing tone in
his voice made her feel like she’d been tried and found guilty overnight, not a
tone she expected from her father, even after the other girls at the cantina
warned her that she’d never be accepted by her family again. Ramon even said
it. He said the cantina was their home, that they were now a family. But it
wasn’t a home. It was a brutal, uncaring place.

            “The ad, where you said
what you would do to please men. You called yourself Carmelicious Candy, but the
photo was definitelyYOU!”