Insane City (32 page)

court-ordered driving school for numerous previous driving infractions, including parking on a bicycle

rack.” Lisbeth shook her head to emphasize the irony of this. “Stay tuned, because when we come back

we’ll have a story about the chaos yesterday at the Miccosukee casino, where a twenty-three-foot python

wrapped itself around a slot machine.”

The screen began showing a commercial for a law firm, informing viewers who had pain or injuries

that they were entitled to compensation.

“What an idiot,” said Rose. “He drives his car into a pool! How do these people get driver’s

licenses?”

What crossed Sid’s mind then was the fact that six months earlier Rose had, while driving in a

funeral procession, rammed the hearse so hard that its rear door opened and the casket fell out onto the

Garden State Parkway. But Sid, not being an idiot, refrained from mentioning this. Also he had something

more important on his mind.

“I think I saw Seth,” he said again.

“Saw him where? Did he come to the room? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No. I think I saw him on the TV.”

“Seth was on the TV? When?”

“Just now.”

“That wasn’t Seth. That was a car in a swimming pool.”

“No, before that. There was another story about a whaddycallit. Like a baboon.”

“A baboon.”

“Some kind of big ape. These people were driving around with this ape in their car robbing people

and the police are trying to catch them. A man and a girl.”

“So what does this have to do with Seth?”

“They showed the man on TV. I’m pretty sure it was Seth. He was with the girl. They got into the car

and the baboon got in with them.”

“You saw Seth on the TV with a girl and a baboon.”

“No, I remember now. It was an orangutan.”

“And the police are chasing Seth and this girl and this orangutan.”

“According to the TV. For robbing people.”

Rose studied Sid for a moment, then said, “You found another brownie, didn’t you?”

41

LaDawne and Wesley stood on the side of Crandon Boulevard, the main road connecting

Key Biscayne with the mainland, trying to decide what to do.

They had been walking briskly from the Ritz-Carlton, anxious to put some distance between

themselves and Castronovo and Brewer. LaDawne was still seething about being evicted from Seth’s

room, and worrying about what would happen to Laurette. Roughly every forty-five seconds she declared

she was going to call the police, but each time Wesley quashed the idea. For a variety of reasons, Wesley

did not want to interact with the police.

LaDawne had just re-declared her intention to call the police, and Wesley was just about to re-quash

it, when they saw their Escalade go rocketing past in the direction of the hotel. After some debate, they

turned around and started back toward the hotel, hoping to reclaim their car. They had almost reached the

beginning of the hotel driveway when they saw the Escalade again, exiting the driveway at high speed and

turning in their direction. Wesley had waved and shouted, “Hey!” but the Escalade shot past without

slowing.

“Where the hell they going with my car?” said Wesley.

“Did you see in the backseat?” said LaDawne. “With the window down?”

“No,” said Wesley, who’d been focusing on the driver’s side. “Who was it?”

“Not who.
What.
There’s a
monkey
in that car.”

“You serious?”

“As a heart attack. It was looking out the back window. Like it was sightseeing. A monkey.”

Wesley looked down the road. The Escalade was out of sight now. He turned to LaDawne, shook his

massive head.

“White people,” he said.

42

The baby was crying. The men did not like the noise, and they did not like the smell in the

car. They were turning around in the front seat, giving Laurette stern looks, saying things to her. But she

did not understand their words. She understood only that they were angry at her and the crying baby.

Laurette was doing her best to comfort the baby. But the baby was hungry, and Laurette, in her

exhausted and weakened state, was having trouble breastfeeding her. Also, she had just filled her Huggie

with poop, which was making her uncomfortable and the atmosphere inside the Navigator pungent.

Laurette wished the men had let her take the formula with her and some more diapers. But they had pushed

her and her children out of the room without giving them time to take anything.

Next to her, Stephane was whispering,
Mama, where are they taking us?

I don’t know.

Are they going to hurt us?

Don’t worry.

Are they going to make us go back in the boat?

Stephane’s eyes were filling with tears. He did not want to go back in the boat.

No, we won’t go back in the boat.

How do you know?

Just don’t worry.

But how do you know?

One of the men turned around, glaring. He said something in a harsh, deep voice. Laurette and

Stephane stopped talking. The baby was still crying. Laurette looked out the window. They were driving

on a wide, smooth road, much grander than any road in Haiti. It rose into the air and flew over the city,

which Laurette thought must be Miami. On both sides were glass buildings that rose even higher than the

road, much higher than any buildings in Port-au-Prince. In the distance to the right, she saw a line of

fantastically huge cruise ships, gleaming white in the morning sun. On the left, the rows of buildings

stretched into the distance farther than Laurette could see.

Somewhere in this city was her sister, Marie. She could be very close. Maybe in one of these

buildings. If only the men would just stop the car, let her and her children out, maybe she could look for

Marie. But the men were not stopping. The car was soaring over the city on the flying road. She hugged

the baby, hugged Stephane, protecting her children as best she could without knowing what she was

protecting them from.

Where were the men taking them?

43

Tina, in pajamas and a bathrobe, sat on a sofa in her suite, across the room from a big flat-

screen TV, which was on with the sound turned down. Her mother sat in an adjacent armchair. Marcia

was having coffee; Tina was sipping a glass of imported water. All the bridal magazines said it was

important to stay hydrated. They routinely printed horror stories of brides keeling over on the Big Day,

including one woman who passed out facedown in her own cake.

Nothing like that was going to happen to Tina.

Standing in front of Tina and Marcia, not quite at attention but almost, was Blaze Gear, flanked by

Traci and Tracee, the three of them clad in black. They were not having anything to drink; they had

breakfasted at dawn and were now in all-out Wedding Day Plan Execution Mode. Blaze, reading from an

iPad with an app that displayed a wedding day timeline, was going over the schedule for the Big Day.

They had been at it for fifteen minutes and had just reached the bride’s manicure.

The manicure had been a contentious issue during the wedding planning. Tina had originally wanted

to get her nails done the day of the wedding so they would be perfect. But her mother felt—and Blaze

Gear agreed, and so did Tina’s New York–based manicurist, Rochelle—that waiting for the wedding day

posed too great a risk in case something went wrong, or the schedule got too tight.

After much argument, the trio had convinced Tina that she should get her manicure done three days

before the wedding, but have Rochelle flown down to Miami (first class) so that she could do a wedding

day touch-up immediately before Tina saw her hairstylist, Miguel, who also had been flown in from New

York. The timing of Miguel’s session with Tina was critical; it had to be scheduled so that there was

absolutely no possibility that Miguel would come into contact with Tina’s makeup specialist, Konstantin,

who, it goes without saying, had also been flown in first class from New York.

Miguel and Konstantin loathed each other. Several years ago they had worked in the same salon/spa,

where they had found themselves competing for the affections of an aromatherapist named Douglas. The

competition became so intense that it ultimately erupted in violence; in a confrontation still talked about in

New York salon circles, harsh chemicals had been deliberately, if inaccurately, thrown. So it was

essential that Miguel and Konstantin be kept separated today, lest they upset each other and be rendered

incapable of doing their most perfect work for the bride.

All of this was noted on Blaze Gear’s app.

With the manicure plan reviewed and reapproved, the group moved on to the issue of the hair and

makeup schedules for the bridesmaids and maid of honor, Meghan. It was during this discussion that

Marcia Clark asked where Meghan was. Tina said she assumed her sister was in her bedroom, sleeping

off her usual pot-induced stupor. Marcia decided to check. She went to the bedroom door, knocked, got no

answer. She opened the door and looked in.

“She’s not there,” she said.

“Really,” said Tina.

“Maybe she went for an early breakfast,” suggested Tracee.

Tina snorted. “I don’t think Meghan has ever eaten
breakfast
, let alone an
early
breakfast.”

“So where could she be?” said Marcia.

“She’s due for hair at ten forty-five,” said Blaze.

“I’ll call her.” Tina picked up her cell, pressed the speed dial number for Meghan. From the

bedroom came the voice of Bob Marley singing “Jammin’,” this being Meghan’s ringtone. “Her phone’s

here,” she said.

“Where could she be?” said Marcia.

“Tracee,” said Blaze, pointing to indicate that she meant Tracee and not Traci, “go find Meghan.”

As Tracee left, Blaze resumed her review of the timeline, with the next major element being the

putting on of the $137,000 environmentally sustainable fiber wedding dress, which would be

accomplished with the assistance of the dressmaker herself, who had of course been flown in from

London along with her assistant, both first class. It was at this point in the timeline that the transformation

of Tina from civilian to bride would be complete and she would be ready to make her appearance, in all

her radiance, at the photo session, where a photographer, who had been flown in first class from Milan

with his four—yes, four—assistants, would take formal portraits of Tina with various combinations and

permutations of wedding participants—her bridesmaids, her maid of honor, her flower girls, her ring