Miss Polly had a Dolly (Emma Frost #2) Page 6

  I chuckled when I noticed the glow in my daughter's eyes. "Well I'm glad you had fun this afternoon."

  "Me, too." Maya paused, then looked down at her plate and ate. I sensed she wanted to say something more but didn't dare. Then she did it anyway. "Could I go down to his hotel tonight after dinner, just for an hour or so. Everybody is hanging out at the front entrance in case he goes out."

  I sighed with a smile. I wasn't fond of the idea of my daughter hanging out like a groupie, screaming at him if he showed his face, but it was the kind of thing my own mother never let me do, so a small voice inside of me said to let her do it.

  I decided to follow that voice. "Okay—"

  My daughter screamed. "Thanks, Mom. You're the best!"

  "—on one condition."

  My daughter sat still but was smiling. "Okay? What condition?"

  "That you take care of the Sophia's younger kids on Saturday when Christopher and Ida are auditioning."

  "But I was planning on going down there too—" she said.

  "You can go later, when we're back. It's gonna last all weekend, so you'll also have Sunday. And then there is the sing off on Monday night where all the contestants perform live at the port. I'll let you go to that as well, if you do this small thing for me on Saturday."

  My daughter's eyes grew big and wide. "You've got a deal, Mom."

  Chapter 19

  April 2013

  Josephine could hardly move around in her aluminum cage; it was even too small for her to stand up straight. All she could do was sit down and it wasn't long before her legs started to hurt. She tried to move them around, but couldn't even stretch them properly.

  When the lady had first grabbed her and thrown her inside of the cage, Josephine had screamed her lungs out. She had tried to break the cage with her hands and kick the door open with her legs, but nothing seemed to work. The lady had left her at first but was now back, sitting at the desk under the lamp working on something.

  "Why are you keeping me in here?" Josephine asked.

  But the lady didn't answer. She completely ignored Josephine's pleading and talking. After a while she gave up on the idea of getting an answer out of her. Instead, she pulled her legs up under her and started rocking back and forth, thinking about how much she suddenly missed Ms. Camilla and the mansion. Hell, she even missed her parents. At this point Josephine would do anything to get back to her old life and mind numbingly boring routine.

  Anything but this.

  Every now and then she would burst into tears and cry like a baby, but not even that would make the lady turn around and look at her. Josephine didn't understand. The lady had seemed so nice. What did she want with her? Why was she keeping her in this cage? Josephine felt so extremely thirsty and she needed to go to the bathroom really badly.

  "Excuse me?" she asked trying to be polite since the lady had seemed to like that earlier. But the lady still didn't answer. She was sitting by the desk, humming while sewing something as far as Josephine could see. "Excuse me! I really need to go to the bathroom. I have to pee."

  "There is a bucket in your cage. Use that," the lady said without turning around to look at Josephine. "There is also a dog bowl of water to satisfy your thirst." Then she continued her humming and sewing.

  Josephine looked at the bucket behind her in the cage. It was an old tin bucket. It was rusty in places. How was she supposed to pee in that? Josephine sobbed loudly as she sat on it. She had to bend her head and back to fit. This was very strange, nothing like anything she had ever done. How long was this going to go on?

  Josephine closed her eyes when she finally managed to pee. It felt so good. Such a relief. When she was done she climbed down from the bucket and sat on the floor of the cage again. Then she leaned over and drank from the bowl feeling like a dog. Never had she been humiliated so much, she thought, sobbing. The sobbing quickly became crying. This was not good. This wasn't good at all.

  But they'll find you. They'll come for you, sure they will. They never even let you go outside alone. They will be looking for you all over.

  The thought brought some comfort to her mind and she relaxed a little. This was just for a short period of time. Surely Ms. Camilla had seen the old lady take her with her at the beach and had told the police about her. They would know who she was. The police knew everything, didn't they? Of course they did. They would be here soon. Of course they would. And then the old lady would go to jail for a long time. She was nothing but a crazy old witch… Josephine stopped her train of thought when she had the spooky thought about all the fairytales she had read with Ms. Camilla. Some of them had an old lady or an old witch capturing children. Like Hansel and Gretel. An old witch wanting to eat them… Josephine gasped. She cupped her mouth to stop the sound and not draw the old lady's attention. Was that what this old lady was? A witch who was going to eat her? Josephine felt her heart racing in her chest. Like a drum that wouldn't stop beating. She stared at the skinny lady's neck and back and felt a chill run down her own spine. Was that why her parents never let her go out on her own? Were those stories maybe real? Were there real witches in this world who were eating small children?

  Chapter 20

  April 2013

  Patrick was sitting in his hotel room listening to the cheering and chanting coming from his fans by the front entrance. He was breathing it in, soaking in it, enjoying every second of it.

  "So I say we use this one next time," Hanne said and pointed at a poster of him holding a microphone and screaming out to the audience.

  Patrick looked down at it. He didn't care which picture they used for the poster or how they made the trailers for the show. He wasn't into all those kinds of details. He looked good in all of them, that was the important part. Otherwise, he didn't care. Still the producers insisted he was present at the meetings where those kinds of decisions were made. A few times he had forgotten to arrive at the meetings and the producers had been angry with him for being absent.

  "So have the meeting in my room, that way you can be sure I'm there," he had answered.

  So that's what they did now. All fifteen of the decision makers were now in his hotel room, the top suite, of course, sitting on the couches and chairs, talking every little annoying detail over like it was something he should be interested in. Patrick himself was sitting leaned back in an armchair swaying his head from side to side trying to see faces or figures in the ceiling.

  "So we're going with the green spotlight on Patrick again when he enters the stage on Monday, right?" some guy asked.

  "No, I think it makes him look sick," Hanne said. "Better to use the yellow."

  Patrick rolled his eyes. "That's the point, Hanne. I want to look sick when I enter. I need to be nasty. That's what the teenagers like. They like that I'm not just another pretty boy. I want the green light. It gives me that crazy, lunatic look when I enter."

  "I have to agree with Patrick," another producer named Tom said. "The diabolic look is what made Patrick so big, it is what separates him from the other hosts out there. And it fits his nature. He's not just a pretty face like the rest of them. He's a character. He's the maniac inside of us all."

  People around the table were nodding. Patrick sighed and leaned back in his chair again to watch the ceiling.

  Stupid morons. Amateurs all of them. If it wasn't for me, they would get nowhere. I'm the show. I'm the character. Without me they would be out of job.

  "Okay," sighed Hanne and wrote something on her notepad. "We go with the green diabolic light for entrance again. But please try and control that finger of yours while you're up on stage. We have all seen it now, hell all of Denmark has seen it. It upsets the parents."

  "What?" Patrick sat up. He looked at Hanne and took off his sunglasses.

  "But, Hanne," Tom said. "The finger is his thing. They all come to see him do it. You can't stop him from doing that. That would be stupid."

  Hanne sighed again. "I know we've been over this before. But the ratings show t
hat we're losing audience in the 25-35 group and our focus group polls have shown that the finger has a lot to do with that. The numbers don't lie, Tom."

  Patrick got up with a snort. He stared at the small woman. Oh how he wanted to grab her and snap her neck, right here and now. It would be so easy. Patrick growled and walked to the window. A fan spotted him from the street.

  "There he is! Patrick!" she yelled. Others came running and stared at him as well. Patrick put his face to the window, then opened the doors and walked outside on the balcony. The entire street was filled with teenagers. They started screaming when they spotted him. Patrick smiled, then raised his arm and slowly rolled up the finger. The crowd went ballistic.

  "See, I told you they want it," he yelled at the producers in the room. "They freaking love it!"

  "But those are teenagers, Patrick. This show has viewers other than teenagers," Hanne yelled back. "We need the 25-35 year olds, as well. It's a lot of people that you alienate by raising your finger like that."

  "Ah, to hell with them," Patrick mumbled and looked down at the crowd. He felt stirred up inside. Even more than usual. There was something about this island that made him so angry, so out of control. Usually he would never go for the kill until the show was over and they were about to leave the town, but maybe, just maybe he was going to bend his rules a little this time. Heaven knows his body craved it. It was like he was in withdrawal, like a drug addict he needed his fix to not go crazy. And he knew exactly how he was going get it.

  Patrick laughed manically as he grabbed on to the railing of the balcony and climbed up on it. Then he let go of his hands and stood on the railing without holding on. The crowd went quiet. Then they screamed in joy as Patrick started whining his famous scream that they all loved so much.

  That's it you suckers. Scream all you want. Tonight I'm the one who's gonna have all the fun.

  Chapter 21

  July 1997

  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.

  Chapter 22

  April 2013

  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."