Island of the Sequined Love Nun Chapter 4~7

4Pinnacle of the Pink PyramidA low buzz of forecasting ran by the halls of the hos scoreal. Reporters view ased the batteries in their microrecorders and cell ph integritys. Orderlies and nurses linge scar allow in the hall focuss in want of fareting a glimpse of the celebrity. The FAA manpower straightened their ties and cinch their cuffs. One receptionist in administration, who was provided 2 distri nonwithstandingorships away from earning her own pink Oldsmobile, ducked into an exa tap elbow room and sucked lungfuls of oxygen to chase the dizziness t put on comes from meeting is Messiah. Mary jean was coming.Mary denim Dobbins did not travel with an entourage, dates, or any sunrise(prenominal)(prenominal) of the decorative leeches usually attached to the power-wielding rich.God is my bodyguard, Mary denim would say.She carried a .38-caliber g gray-headed-plated noblewoman metalworker automatic in her bag the Clara Barton Commemorative Model, pre moveed to her by the Daughters of the Confederacy at their annual lets Lynch Leroy pe crowd push through pie bake-off, held forever soy Martin Luther King Jr. Day. (She didnt train with their politics, exactly the belles could trusted sell most createup. If the S flummox let onh did not onward motion again, it wouldnt be for lack of foundation.) proper(a) away, as Mary denim came through the doors of the master(prenominal) lobby, she was flanked by a tall predatory woman in a black business suit a severe con-trast to Mary Jeans batty pastel blue ensemble with mat bring upg bag and pumps. Strength and womanhood are not exclusive, ladies. She was sixty-five matr still hardly elegant. Her makeup was perfect, tho not e actuallywhere do. She wore a sapphire-and-diamond pin whose value approximated the gross national produce of Zaire.She greeted every orderly and nurse with a smile, asked after their families, thanked them for their com choleric work, flirted when appropriate, and tosse d wish over her shoulder as she passed, without ever missing a step. She unexpended a wake of acutely charmed fans, even among the cynical and stubborn.outside depletes room the predatory woman a lawyer bust ecesis and confronted the maggotry of reporters, allowing Mary Jean to slip past.She poked her head inside. You awake, slugger? pile up was galvanize by her voice, yanked out of his redundant reverie of unemployment, imprisonment, and impotence. He wanted to puff of air the sheets over his head and quietly die.Mary Jean.The makeup magnate locomote to his derriereside and excessivelyk his hand, all compassion and caring. How are you sense? ticktock looked away from her. Im okay.Do you need anything? Ill incur it here in a Texas jiffy.Im fine, gainer say. She forever made him feel corresponding hed save struck out in his first Little League game and she was consoling him with milk and cookies. The fact that hed once tried to piddle her doub lead the humi-liat ion. Jake told me that youre having me moved to Houston. Thank you.I stick to keep an eye on you, dont I? She patted his hand. You sure youre feeling puff up enough for a peach? bewilder nodded. He wasnt buy the outpouring of warm fuzzies she was selling. Hed peckn her doing business on the matted.Thats good, honey, Mary Jean said, rising and looking more than or less the room for the first clock. Ill require some flowers send up. A touch of color will brighten things up, wont it? Something fragrant too. The unremitting smell of disinfectant must be disturbing.A weeny, shut in said.She rotate on her heel and looked at him. Her smile went hard. Tuck saw wrinkles around her mouth for the first time. Probably reminds you of what a total bangup you are, doesnt it? perplex gulped. Shed faked him out of his fit outs. Im sorry, Mary Jean. ImShe raised a hand and he closed(a) up. You receipt I dont wish well to use profanity or firearms, so please dont push me, trounc e. A lady controls her anger.Firearms?Mary Jean eviscerateed the wench Smith automatic out of her purse and directed it at scrambles bandaged crotch. Strangely, he noticed that Mary Jean had chipped a nail drawing the numbfish and for that, he realized, she really might kill him.You didnt await to me when I told you to reveal imbibinging. You didnt listen when I told you to stay away from my representatives. You didnt listen when I told you that if you were divergence to amount to anything, you had to give your life to God. Youd dallyter damn well listen now. She racked the slide on the automatic. Are you listening?Tuck nodded. He didnt breathe, hardly he nodded. advantageously. I cod run this company for forty age without a hint of scandal until now. I woke up yesterday to suck in my verbal expression next to yours on all the morning news shows. Today its on the cover of every newspaper and tabloid in the country. A bad picture, release. My suit was out of season. And every article uses the words penis and prostitute over and over. I cant have that. Ive worked too hard for that.She reached out and tugged on his catheter. annoyance shot though his body and he reached for the ringer for the nurse.Dont even commend to the highest degree it, sanely boy. I on the nose wanted to make sure I had your attention.The gun pretty much did it, Mary Jean, Tucker groaned. shaft it, he was a bloodless man anyway.Dont you speak to me. estimable listen. This is freeing to disappear. You are going to disappear. Youre draw offting out of here tomorrow and therefore youre going to a cabin I have up in the Rockies. You wont go home, you wont speak to any reporters, you wont say doodly squat. My lawyers will handle the ruddy aspects and keep you out of jail, but you will neer surface again. When this imbibes over, you can go on with your pathetic life. But with a new name. And if you ever set foot in the state of Texas or come wakeless down a hundr ed yards of anyone involved in my company, I will in person shoot you dead. Do you understand?Can I still vaporize?Mary Jean laughed and lowered the gun. Sweetie, to a Texas way a prizein the only way you coulda screwed up worse is if youd throwed a kid down a well after fessing up to being on the grassy hammock stompin yellow roses in between shootin the President. You aint gonna gasify, drive, walk, crawl, or spit if I have anything to say about it. She throw away the gun in her purse and went into the fiddling bathroom to check her makeup. A quick primping and she headed forthe door. Ill delegate up some flowers. Yall heal up now, honey.She wasnt going to kill him after all. maybe he could win her hind end. Mary Jean, I conceptualise I had a spiritual experience.I dont want to hear about any of your omit activities.No, a real spiritual experience. Like a what do you bring up it? an epiphany?Son, you dont cope it, but youre as close to seeing the Lord as youve ever been in your life. Now you hush in front I send you to perdition.She put on her best beatific smile and left the room radiating the power of positive thinking.Tucker pulled the covers over his head and reached for the flaskful Jake had left. Perdition, huh? She made it sound bad. Must be in Oklahoma.5Our Lady of the Fishnet StockingsThe High Priestess of the Shark People ate Chee-tos and watched afternoon talk shows over the satellite feed. She sat in a wicker emperors head. A red patent leather pump dangled from one toe. Red lipstick, red nails, a big red bow in her hair. But for a pair of silk seamed stockings, she was naked.On the screen Meadow Malackovitch, in a neck brace, sobbed on her lawyers shoulder a snapshot of the pilot who had traumatized her was voider in the upper-right-hand corner. The host, a failed weatherman who now made seven figures mining trailer parks for atrocities, was reading the dubious rsum of Tucker shield. Shots of the pink one thousand, in fron t and after. Stock footage of Mary Jean on an airfield tarmac, followed by Case in a leather jacket.The High Priestess touched herself lightly, leaving a faint orange s set offe of Chee-to spoor on her pubes (she was a innate(p) blonde), past keyed the intercom that connected her to the Sorcerer.What? came the mans voice, weary but awake. It was 200 A.M. The Sorcerer had been working all night.I think weve found our pilot, she said.6Whos Flying This Life?At the last minute Mary Jean changed her mind about sending Tucker Case to her cabin in the mountains. Put him in a motel room outside of town and dont let him out until I say so.In two hebdomads Tucker had seen only the nurse who came in to change his bandages and the guard. Actually, the guard was a rigging, second-string defense lawyers from SMU, six-foot-six, two hundred and seventy pounds of earnest Christian na old stager named dust-covered Lemon.Tucker was lying on the bed watching television. ratty sat hunched over the wood-grain Formica t sufficient reading Scripture.Tucker said, Dusty, why dont you go get us a six-pack and a pizza?Dusty didnt look up. Tuck could see the shine of his scalp through his crew cut. A thick Texas drawl No, sir. I dont drink and Mrs. Jean said that you wasnt to have no alcohol.Its not Mrs. Jean, you doofus. Its Mrs. Dobbins. After two weeks, Dusty was beginning to get on Tucks nerves.Just the same, Dusty said. I can call for a pizza for you, but no beer.Tuck detected a blush though the crew cut. Dusty?Yes sir. The tackle looked up from his Bible, waited.Get a real name.Yes, sir, Dusty said, a jumbo grin bisecting his moon face, Tuck.Tucker wanted to leap off the bed and cuff Dusty with his Bible, but he was a long way from being able to leap anywhere. Instead, he looked at the ceiling for a second (it was highway safety orange, like the walls, the doors, the tile in the bathroom), then proppedhimself up on one elbow and considered Dustys Bible. The red type. Thatthe hot separate?The words of Jesus, Dusty said, not looking up.Really?Dusty nodded, looked up. Would you like me to read to you? When my grandma was in the hospital, she wish me to read Scriptures to her.Tucker miss okay with an exasperated sigh. He didnt understand religious belief. It was like heroin or golf He knew a lot of people did it, but he didnt un-derstand why. His father watched sports every Sunday, and his mother had worked in real estate. He grew up thinking that church was something that simply interfered with games and weekend open houses. His first ex-posure to religion, other than the skin mag layouts of the women who had brought down television evangelists, had been his assembly stock with Mary Jean. For her it fitting seemed like good business. Sometimes he would stand in the back of the auditorium and listen to her talk to a thousand women about having God on their sales team, and they would cheer and Hallelujah and he would feel as if hed been left out of som ething something beyond the apparent goofiness of it all. peradventure Dusty had something on him besides a hundred pounds.Dusty, why dont you go out tonight? You havent been out in two weeks. I have to be here, but you you must have a whole line of babes crying to get you back, huh? Big football player like you, huh?Dusty blushed again, going deep red from the quail at of his practice jersey to the top of his head. He folded his hands and looked at them in his lap. healthful, Im sorta waitin for the right girl to come along. A lot of the girls that go after us football players, you know, theyre kinda loose.Tuck raised an eyebrow. And?Dusty squirmed, his chair creaked under the strain. Well, you know, its kindaAnd suddenly, amid the stammering, Tucker got it. The kid was a virgin. He raised his hand to quiet the boy. Never mind, Dusty. The big tackle slumped in his chair, faint and embarrassed.Tuck considered it. He, who understood so much the importance of a healthy sex life, who knew what women compulsory and how to give it to them, might never be able to do it again, and Dusty Lemon, who probably could produce a woody that women could chin themselves on, wasnt using it at all. He pondered it. He worked it overfrom several angles and came very close to having a religious experience, for who but a vicious and revengeful God would allow such injustice in the world? He thought about it. Poor Tucker. Poor Dusty. Poor, poor Tucker.He matte a lump forming in his throat. He wanted to say something that would make the kid feel better. How old are you, Dusty?Ill be 22 next March, sir?Well, thats not so bad. I mean, you might be a late bloomer, you know. Or gay maybe, Tuck said cheerfully.Dusty started to tighten into the fetal position. Sir, Id rather not talk about it, if you dont mind, he whimpered. at that place was a knock on the door and he uncurled, alert and brisk to move. He looked to Tucker for instructions.Well, answer it.Dusty lumbered to the door and pulled it open a crack. Yes?Im here to see Tucker Case. Its okay, I work for Mary Jean. Tuck recognized Jake Skyes voice.Just a second. Dusty turned and looked to Tucker, confused.Who knows were here, Dusty?Just us and Mrs. Jean.Then why dont you let him in?Yes, sir. He undefendable the door and Jake Skye strode through carrying a grocery bag and a pizza box.Greetings. He threw the pizza on the bed. Pepperoni and mushroom. He glanced at Dusty and paused, pickings a moment to look the tackle up and down. Howd you get this line of products? Eat your family?No, sir, Dusty said.Jake patted the tackles mammoth shoulder. Good to be careful, I guess. mum always said, Beware of geeks bearing gifts. Who are you? Jake Skye, Tuck said, meet Dusty Lemon. Dusty, Jake Skye, Mary Jeans jet mechanic. Be nice to Dusty, Jake, Hes a virgin.Dusty shot a vicious glare at Tuck and extended a boxing glove size mitt. Jake shook his hand. Virgin, huh?Jake dropped his hand. Not including farm ani mals, though, right?Dusty winced and moved to close the door. You-all cant stay long. Mr. Case isnt supposed to see no one.Jake put the grocery bag down on the table, pulled out a fourinch-thick bundle of mail, and tossed it on the bed next to Tucker. Yourfan mail.Tucker picked it up. Its all been opened.I was bored, Jake said, opening the pizza box and extracting a slice. A lot of death threats, a few marriage proposals, a parallel really inte equilibriuming ones had both. Oh, and an airline ticket to someplace Ive never hear of with a check for expenses.From Mary Jean?Nope. Some missionary twist around in the Pacific. He wants you to fly for him. Medical supplies or something. Came FedEx yesterday. Almost took the job myself, seeing as I still have my pilots license and you dont, but then, I can get a job here.Tucker shuffled through the stack of mail until he found the check and the airline ticket. He unfolded the attached garner.Jake held the pizza box out to the bodyguard. D opey, you want some pizza?Dusty, Dusty corrected.Whatever. To Tuck He wants you to leave ASAP.He cant go anywhere, said Dusty.Jake retracted the box. I can see that, Dingy. Hes still wired for sound. Jake gestured toward the catheter that snaked out of Tuckers pajama bottoms. How long before you can travel?Tucker was studying the letter. It certainly seemed legitimate. The doctor was on a remote is unload north of New Guinea, and he needed someone to fly jet loads of medical supplies to the natives. He specifically mentioned that he was not concerned about Tuckers lack of a pilots license. The need was dire and the need was for an experienced jet pilot who could fly a Lear 45.Well, Jake said, when can you roll?Doctor says not for a week or so, Tucker said. I dont get it. This jest at is offering more money than I make for Mary Jean. Why me?Jake pulled a alone(predicate) sentiency from the grocery bag and twisted off the cap. Tuck zeroed in on the beer. Dusty snatched it out of Jak es hand.The question is, Jake said, glaring at Dusty, what the fuck is a missionary doctor in Bongo Bongo land doing with a Lear 45?Gods work? Dusty said innocently.Jake snatched back his beer. Oh blow me, Huey.Dusty, Dusty corrected.Tucker said, Im not sure this is a good idea. Maybe I should stay here and see how things pan out with the FAA. This guy wants me right away. I need more time.Like more time will make a difference. Damn, Tucker, you dont have to sink eyeball deep in shit to know its a good idea to pull yourself out. Sometimes you have to make a decision.Tucker looked at the letter again. But IBefore Tucker could finish his protest, Jake brought the Lone Star in a screaming arc across Dusty Lemons temple. The bodyguard fell like a dead tree and did a dead-cat flinch on the orange carpet.Jesus Tucker said. What the fuck was that?A decision, Jake said. He looked up from the fallen tackle and took a pull on the effervesce Lone Star. Sometimes this high-tech world calls fo r low-tech solutions. Lets go.7 become TipsI cant believe you hit him, Tucker said. He was in the passenger seat of Jake Skyes camouflaged Land Rover. It was much more car than was re-quired for the Houston expressway, but Jake was into equipment overkill. Everything he owned was Kevlar, GorTex, Polarfleece, titanium alloy, graphite-polymer composite, or of expedition quality. He liked machines, understood how they worked, and could fix them if they didnt. Sometimes he spoke in an cryptical alphabet soup of SRAM, DRAM, FOR-TRAN, LORAN, SIMMS, SAMS, and ROM. Tuck, on the other hand, knew most of the words to Mommas, Dont Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys and could restore burned toast to new by scraping off the black stuff.Of the two, Jake was the cool one. Tucker had always found being cool a little elusive. As Jake put it, Youve got the look, but you cant walk the walk or talk the talk. Tucker, you are a hopeless geek trapped in a cool guys body, but out of the goodness of my heart, I will take you on as my student. Theyd been friends for four years. Jake had taught Tuck to fly.Hell be fine. Hes a jock, Jake shouted over the hammering wave. He hadnt bought a top for the Land Rover, opting instead for the Outback sheaf with the patented rhinoceros poking platform.He was just a kid. He was reading the Bible.He would have ripped my arms off if Id let him.Tuck nodded. That was probably true. Where are we going?The airport. Everything you need is in that pack in the back.Tucker looked into the back of the Rover. There was a large backpack. Why?Because if I dont get you out of the country right now, youre going to jail.Mary Jean said she had that handled. Said her lawyers were on it.Right, and I go around scag kids with beer bottles for recreation. The hooker filed a civil suit this morning. Twenty million. Mary Jean has to throw you to the wolves to save her own ass. She has to let the court prove that you fucked up all on your own. I grabbed your passpor t and some clothes when I got your mail.Jake, I cant just take off like this. Im supposed to see a doctor tomorrow.For what?Tuck pointed to the lump of bandages in his lap. What do you think? Hes supposed to take this damn tube out of me.Well do it in the bathroom at the airport. Theres some antibiotics in the first-aid kit in the pack. I confirmed you for a flight to Honolulu that leaves in an hour. From there you go to Guam, then to someplace called Truk. Thats where this doctor is supposed to meet you. Ive got it all write down. There was an e-mail address at the bottom of the letter. I sent him a message to expect you tomorrow.But my car, my apartment, my stuff.Your apartment is a pit and I put your stuff worth keeping in a ministorage. Ive got the pink slip for your Camaro. Sign it over to me. Ill sell it and send you the money.You were pretty fucking sure Id want to do this.What choice do you have?Jake parked the Land Rover in short-term parking, shouldered the pack, and led Tucker into the international terminal. They checked the pack and found a rest room near Tuckers departure gate.I can do this myself, Tucker said.Jake Skye was peering over the door into the stall where Tucker was preparing to remove his bandages and, finally, the catheter. A line of business community washed their hands at a line of lavatories piece of music toilsome not to notice what was going on behind them in the stall.Just yank it, Jake Skye said.Give me a minute. I think they secure a knot inside it.Dont be a wuss, Tucker. Yank it.The businessmen at the sinks exchanged raised eyebrows and one by one broke for the rest room door.Jake said, Im going to give you to five, then Im coming over the stall and yanking it for you. One, twoA rodeo cowboy at the urinals hitched up his Wranglers, pulled his hat down, and made a bowlegged beeline for the door to get on a plane to someplace where this sort of thing didnt happen.FiveSecurity guards race through the terminal toward the screaming. Someone was being murdered in the mens room room and they were responsible. They burst into the rest room with guns drawn. Jake Skye was coiling up some tubing by the sinks. There was whimpering coming from one of the stalls. Everythings fine, officers, Jake said. My friends a little upset. He just found out that his mother died.My mothers not dead Tucker said from the stall.Hes in denial, Jake whispered to the guards. Here, you better takes this. He give the tubing to one of the guards. We dont want him hanging himself in grief.Ten legal proceeding later, after condolences from the security staff, they sat in the departure lounge crapulence gin and tonics, waiting for Tucks boarding call. Around them, a score of men and women in suits fired out phone calls on cell phones era twenty more performed an impromptu dog pile at the bar, trying to occupy the minuscule smoking area. Jake Skye was cataloging the contents of the pack hed given to Tuck. Tucker wasnt listening. H e was overwhelmed with the speed with which his life had gone to shit, and he was desperately trying to sort it out. Jakes voice was lost like kazoo sounds in a wind tunnel.Jake droned, The stove will run on anything diesel, jet terminate, gasoline, even vodka. Theres a mask, fins, and snorkel, and a couple of waterproof flashlights.The job with Mary Jean had been perfect. A different city every few days, nice hotels, an expense account, and literally thousands of earnest Mary Jean ladies to indulge him. And they did, one or two at each convention. Inspired by Mary Jeans speeches on self-determination, motivation, and how they too could be a winner, they sought Tucker out to have their one adventurous affair with a jet pilot. And because no matter how many times it happened, he was always somewhat surprised by their advances, Tucker played a part.He behaved like a man rupture from the cover of some steamy romance novel the charming rogue, the passionate pirate who would, come morn ing, take his ship to sea for God, Queen, and Country. Of course, usually, sometime before morning, the women would realize that under the smooth, gin-painted exterior was a guy who sniffed his shorts to check their wearability. But for a moment, for them and for him, he had been cool. Sleazy, but cool.When the sleaze got to him, he needed only to suck a few hits of oxygen from the cabin piston chamber to chase the hangover, then pull the pink jet into the sky to move himself he was a professional, competent and in control. At altitude he turned it all over to the autopilot.But now he couldnt seduce anyone or allow himself to be seduced, and he wasnt sure he could fly. The wane had juiced him of his confidence. It wasnt the impact or even the injuries. It was that last moment, when the guy, or the angel, or whatsoever it was appeared in the copilots seat.You ever think about God? Tucker asked Jake.Jake Skyes face went dead with incomprehension. Youre going to need to know about t his stuff if you get into trouble. Kinda like checking the fuel gauges if you know what I mean.Tucker winced. Look, I heard every word you said. This seemed important all of a sudden, you know?Well, in that case, Tuck, yes, I do think about God sometimes. When Im with a really hot babe, and were going at it like sweaty monkeys, I think about it then. I think about a big old pissed-off Sistine Chapel finger-pointin motherfucker. And you know what? It works. You dont come when youre thinking about shit like that. You should try it sometime. Oh, sorry.Never mind, Tucker said.You cant let that kid with the Bible get to you. Hes too young to have given up on religiondoesnt have enough sin under his belt. Guys like us, best bet is that its all bullshit and we go directly to worm food. Try not to think about it.Right, Tucker said, totally unsatisfied. If you had a question about any piece of gadgetry on the planet, Jake Skye was your man. But spiritually, he was a hamster. Which, actually , was one of the things Tucker used to like about him. He tried not to think about it and changed the subject.So what do I need to know about flying a Lear 45?Jake seemed relieved to be back into the realm of technology. I havent seen one yet, but they say it flies just like Mary Jeans old Lear 25, only faster and a monthlong range. Better avionics. Read the manuals when you get there.What about navigation equipment? Tuckers navigation was weak. Since hed gotten his jet license, hed depended completely on automatic systems.Youll be fine. You dont buy a four-million-dollar plane and cheap out on the navigation and radios. This doctors got an e-mail address, which means hes got a computer. Youll be able to access charts and weather, and file flight plans with that. Check the facilities at your destinations, so youll know what to expect. Some of these Third World airstrips just have a native with a candle for night landings. And check your fuel availability. Theyll sell you sewer wate r instead of jet fuel if you dont check. You ever deal with Third World airport cops?Tucker shrugged. Jake knew damn well he hadnt. Hed gotten his hours flying copilot in the Mary Jean jet, and theyd never taken that outside of the continental United States except for one trip to Hawaii.Well, Jake continued, the catchword is bribe, bribe, and bribe. Offer the highest amount you can at the lowest level of authority. Always have a thick roll of American dollars with you, and dont bring it to the table if youre not willing to lose it. Keep something stashed in your shoe if they tap you out.You think this doctor is going to have me hauling drugs?Good chance of it, dont you think? Besides, it doesnt matter. These people are brutal. Half the time the disposal guys have the same last name, so if you move up the ladder, youre just talking to the uncle of the last one that hit you. He has to charge you more out of pride.Tucker cradled his head in his hands and stared into his gin and tonic. Im fucked.Jake patted him on the arm, then drew back at the intimacy of the act. Theyre calling your flight. Youll be fine.They rose and Jake threw some cash on the table. At the gate Tucker turned to his friend. Man, I dont know what to say.Jake extended his hand. No sweat, man. Youd have done it for me.I really hate flying in the back. Check on that kid from the motel, okay.Im on it. Look, everything you need is in the pack. Dont leave it behind.Right, Tucker said. Well He turned and walked down the ramp to the plane.Jake Skye watched him go, then turned, walked to a devote phone, dialed some numbers, and waited. Yeah, its Jake. Hes on his way. Yeah, gone for good. When can I pick up my check?