“Say it: I’m dumb.”
Tiara’s eyes brimmed with tears — not because she was hurt, but because she was angry. There was something Tiara knew how to do: keep her composure under pressure. “No matter what, a pageant girl keeps her smile,” Mr. Ray Ray, the pageant coach from Tupelo, had told her once. “Even if the girl in front of you slips and falls on her bon-hooney and then catches on fire, too, you just keep smiling like nothing happened.” Tiara saw the movement in the trees and she smiled.
“Okay. I’m dumb.”
Harris seemed pleased with himself. “You sure are. You are a dumb, useless bitch.”
“Yep.” Tiara continued watching the movement behind Harris. Her smile did not falter.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing. Just keeping my composure.”
“Well, you do that, sweetheart. Any last words?”
“Not really,” Tiara said. “Just that there’s a giant snake behind you.”
Harris smirked. “You think I’m going to fall for that? You must think I’m as dumb as you are.”
The hiss wasn’t terribly loud, but it was deep and personal and very, very pissed off. The hiss coiled itself tightly around the air and squeezed out all other sound. Harris turned slowly. The snake lurched forward, hissing and drooling. Its diseased tongue flicked out like a New Year’s Eve party blower losing air. It seemed almost to smile, showing a mouthful of mottled teeth.
“Don’t take me — take them! There’s two of them! My dad was CEO! I went to Yale!” Harris squeaked.
The snake inched closer. It flicked a tongue across Harris’s face and emitted a low grumble.
“Fuck you!” Harris pulled the trigger on the AK-47. Nothing happened.
“Safety,” Petra said.
The snake batted the gun from Harris’s hands. He backed away, but the molting showgirl of a snake wasn’t having it. It lurched forward and, in one giant-size bite, gulped down the screaming Harris Buffington Ewell Davis III. Then, as the girls watched, it slithered calmly back toward the jungle, leaving them alone.
Tiara gave a small wave of farewell. “You know what? Dumb is better than dead.”
Adina ran serpentine-style through the jungle as Taylor had instructed. But somewhere she’d taken a wrong turn and come out on the beach. She saw the pirate ship in the lagoon and ran for it. It appeared to be empty. She turned to leave and ran headlong into Duff. She screamed and Duff jumped back.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she yelled.
“Thank God you’re okay!” he said.
“Okay? Okay? I’m being shot at and, like, a billion people are trying to kill me and there’s explosives and despite all of that, I am still really, really, really pissed off at you, you asshole.”
Duff smiled. “Nice to see you, too.”
“Whatever. We have to get to the compound.”
“Lead the way,” Duff said.
“Not so fast, hound dogs.” MoMo B. ChaCha’s platform shoes clunked across the ship’s deck. He moved like an injured cat, but one that could still claw and bite. He raised his gun. “You are responsible for this.” In his other hand, he held the remains of General Good Times.
“We’re responsible for your unfortunate experiments in taxidermy?” Adina asked.
“Don’t be insolent, beauty queen!” The Peacock raised his arm to strike. Duff stopped him.
“I don’t think so, mate.”
“Wait … You are familiar to The Peacock. Did I kill your family?”
“No.”
“Huh. Disappointing.”
“I’m Duff McAvoy of The Corporation’s wildly popular cable show, Captains Bodacious IV: Badder and More Bodaciouser.”
MoMo let fly a small squeal of excitement and clapped his hands. “Of course!” MoMo embraced Duff, kissing him on both cheeks. “I am number-one fan of your show.”
“That’s great!” Duff laughed in relief. “That’s … that’s brilliant.”
Adina forced a laugh.
MoMo tapped the gun against his forehead. “You are … don’t tell me … Casanova of the Sea?”
“That’s me.”
MoMo raised an eyebrow at Adina. “And you are his latest conquest, yes?”
Adina cut her eye at Duff.
“Yeah, we were just about to film a bit for the show, so, you know, nice to meet you. No need to stick around. It’s dead boring, filming,” Duff said, trying to edge away.
“No, no, no. We must make the moment. MoMo will help. With the gun, I will force you both to walk the plank. You will die together. This will be romantical, yes?”
“No!” they yelled.
“Ah, but you are young. Plenty of time to realize these special moments. Then again, considering you are about to die, maybe not. This will be the best show ever!”
“Wait!” Duff called. “Adina didn’t do anything wrong. Let her go.”
“Really? That’s … wow,” Adina said.
Duff kissed her.
MoMo clapped. “Oh, a gesture so beautiful. Like the smell of a spring flower layered like an onion on a sea of hope.”
“Yikes,” Adina muttered.
“Bravo, Ser Peacock!” Duff clapped. “You are truly a poet.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. In fact, what would you say to working with me on the blog? Casanovas of the Sea?”
The Peacock nodded, grinning. Then he stopped. “Better yet: You die and I take over the blog. To the gangplank.”
“I’m going to add this to my reasons for hating you,” Adina said as they edged out onto the gangplank.
“I may be a fuckup, Adina. But I really like you. I swear.”
He grabbed her hand. Adina felt the warmth of Duff’s fingers. Then she bent them back with all her might and Duff hissed in pain. “I. Will break. Your fucking. Hand,” Adina cooed.
“Hello, lovebirds! Time to die!” The Peacock edged out onto the gangplank and jumped up and down. “Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy!”
Adina and Duff fought to keep their balance. “Cut it out!” Adina shouted.
“Soon I will be reunited with my lady love, Ladybird Hope.”
“You and Ladybird …?”
“It is she who arranged for me to be here. To buy the weapons. But we were betrayed by these Corporation types who do not understand our love.”
Adina’s mind whirred with connections. “Wait a minute — you and Ladybird Hope? She’s behind the arms deal? But then … Ladybird Hope knew we were here. Ladybird organized the pageant. Ladybird is on The Corporation’s Board of Directors.”
“Yes, yes,” MoMo said, gesturing in a get on with it way. “She multitasks, my little minx.”
“Don’t you see? If Ladybird organized all of this, she’s the one who tried to frame you for our murder!”
MoMo’s eyes narrowed. His mustache twitched like a bug suddenly on its back. “My ears burn with hate for what you say. You will answer for this to Ladybird herself. I avenge the General.” He raised his gun.
“No!” Adina said. “You’re right. Let’s talk to Ladybird. I’m sure she’ll clear everything up. We can talk to her back at the compound.”
“Ladybird is here? Now?”
“Yes!” Adina lied. “Plus, you will love the compound. Weapons galore! And gummi bears.”
MoMo clicked the gun against his teeth, thinking. Then he leveled it at them again. “You will take me to this compound now.”
Agent Jones bent over, gasping for breath, his gun resting against his knee for a second. The blonde had given him a sharp kick to the kidneys and sprinted ahead. Agent Jones had lived through a lot in his years with the agency, but tonight marked the absolute nadir. If he didn’t get this under control, his entire career was headed straight for the crapper. No pension. No inscribed pen set. Just the knowledge that he’d been defeated by a pack of teen beauty queens. He flashed on an image of his father in his clown suit just before that final party. In the memory, his old man stood
before the hall mirror, the stubble on his cheeks poking through his white face makeup like beach scrub. “Happy birthday,” he’d croaked to his reflection, practicing a smile, but only managing a grimace.
“I’m not making anybody a balloon animal today,” Agent Jones said to himself. He started running, pouring on speed despite the ache in his back. He saw a curve of blond hair poking out from behind a tree just ahead and smiled. At last his luck was turning. He’d take down Miss Texas. Any ambivalence he’d felt about killing these beauty queens had been erased by this one’s relentless campaign against him. She’d come to symbolize everything that was wrong with his mediocre life. Carefully, he crept toward the tree where she was hiding. “Gotcha,” he whispered, reaching out for her. “Ow.” He slapped at his neck where the mosquito had stung him and came away with a needle-thin dart. Before he could react, another hit him in the butt. He looked up to see Taylor pulling the tube from her mouth. His hand reached out and came away with a blond hairpiece. Off to his right, the ghost of his father seemed to be standing in the trees, grinning. And then the jungle began to turn upside down.
The pirates and the girls had made it back to the compound conference room.
“Petra!” Sinjin ran for her. He had not removed her bathrobe.
Petra threw her arms around Sinjin. Then she slapped his face. Then she kissed him.
“What the hell happened?” she demanded. “I ought to kick your ass and break up with you.”
“I know! I’ll explain everything, I swear.” He rubbed his cheek and gave a naughty smile. “Hot! Like a she-cat. Grrrr!”
“Call me a she-cat again and I will kick your ass on principle.”
“Right. Got it.” Sinjin saluted. He hugged Petra. “I was really worried about you.”
“Color me unconvinced,” Petra said.
“When I saw that dead man in the lagoon, I thought the black shirts were after us and that we’d brought further danger to you babes,” Sinjin explained.
“Because it’s all about you,” Adina singsonged.
“I thought if we left, they might follow us and leave you babes alone. And hopefully, we’d make it to a port and get help. Not a great idea, but the best I had at the moment. And then Ahmed discovered a jar of lady hair remover that turned out to be a bomb… .”
“That didn’t work, ’cause whoever engineered it was a moron,” Ahmed finished.
“Anyway, we were heading out to sea when my conscience got the better of me. Bloody inconvenient, having one of those. I thought of my lady love, Miss Petra, back here, eating grubs from the sand, and me wearing her heels on the ship — mind, I looked unbelievable in them, a glam-rock captain of all captains. But there I was on the bow in m’ heels and fishnets, the wind blowing my hair about, all romance-cover hero, making my man nipples stand up all nice ’n’ twimbly. And I thought, ‘Wait a minute, hold on — why are we running? We can’t do this. We’ve got to face these arsebuckets ourselves.’ So I said, ‘Mates, are we mice or are we men? If those ladies are in trouble, then by Blackbeard, we’ll stand with them and fight. So let’s turn this ship around. One for all and all for one, ladies included, even playing field, what’s fair for the goose is fair for the gander, damn the torpedoes, don’t stop till you get enough, rock the Casbah, God save the Queen, and full speed ahead.’”
“Actually, Cap’n, you said, ‘Cor blimey, I need to take a piss.’ Then you said them other bits,” George said.
Petra put a hand to her heart. “My hero.”
Sinjin kissed Petra’s hands. “Petra, I’ve got me faults. I’m a bit full of m’self and I might steal your clothes on occasion. But I’m loyal and well read and I’ll stand by your side no matter what. Byron’s balls! I’m absolutely barmy for you. Will you have me?”
Petra smirked. “Shut up and kiss me.”
The girls swooned as Petra swept Sinjin up into her arms.
“God, you’re lovely. And quite strong.” Sinjin kissed her hard on the mouth.
“Later. We’ve got to try to upload this video of Ladybird and MoMo,” Mary Lou said.
“Ladybird Hope and The Peacock really did the nasty?” Nicole asked.
“Uh-huh. Don’t remind me. I want to wash my eyeballs. Just … I mean, the hot tub and her crown and the Elvis wig …”
“You are totally scarring me for future sex,” Shanti said.
“She can’t be trusted. She’s in on this.”
“In on it? Little girl, I masterminded it.” Sudden fluorescent light brightened the gloom of the conference room. The flat-screen TV popped on. Ladybird Hope sat behind a replica of the president’s desk in a fake oval office.
“You think she got that from the Delusional Home Furnishings Superstore?” Petra whispered.
“I heard that, Miss Rhode Island,” Ladybird chided.
MoMo pushed Adina and Duff into the room.
“Adina! Duff! Crazy dictator man with gun!” Mary Lou called. “Okay. Roll call of doom all done.”
“Well, hello, MoMo.” Onscreen, Ladybird gave a stiff wave.
“I am here, my flightless fowl.”
“Actually, the ladybird isn’t a bird at all. It’s a type of beetle. A pest,” Shanti said pointedly.
“Speaking of pests, I can’t wait till I can enact some new immigration laws. Hope you have a cute little Hindi handbag to hold your papers, Miss California. I’d hate to think of you being exported to some call center in Mumbai.”
“Deported. People are deported. Products are exported,” Nicole corrected.
“Well, my goodness. Thanks for reminding me to overhaul textbooks during my reign.”
“You’re running for president, not queen.”
Ladybird scratched a file over the end of a less-than-perfect nail. “Actually, I figured out that running for office is a lot like being in a beauty pageant. Look good. Smile and wave. And tell the people only what they want to hear.” She blew away freshly buffed nail fuzz. “Oh, and make sure you wash your hands after applying self-tanner. Otherwise, people might think you’re secretly Mexican.”
“Serape means ‘cape’!” A grinning Agent Jones burst into the room wearing only a fig leaf. He threw his arms into the air and stretched his fingers into peace signs. “We are all beautiful star flowers!”
“What the hell?” Jennifer said.
Ladybird squinted. “Agent Jones?”
“Who is that unfortunate man?” Sinjin asked.
“The Corporation agent who tried to kill us,” Petra explained. Sinjin took in the sight of the man in the fig leaf trying to commune with the ergo chair. He raised an eyebrow.
“He had on more clothes,” Petra said.
Agent Jones put a finger to his mouth. “Agent Jones is gone. I am Man Flower.”
“Agent Jones,” Ladybird barked.
“Man Flower.”
“Agent Jones, I am trying to quiet the hideous screaming I feel inside just looking at you. It’s a shame that after all your years of dutiful service, you will not be able to partake in the pension plan. Not that it matters; we’re cutting that anyway.”
Agent Jones held Sinjin’s face in his hands. “I’m going to make balloon animals. People need balloon animals.”
“How right you are, strange delusional man,” Sinjin said.
MoMo shot at the ceiling and everyone jumped. “Where are my weapons?”
“Just relax, Peacock,” Ladybird snapped. “Are you wearing the special shoes I sent you?”
“Just as you requested, Ladybird.” MoMo hopped onto the conference room table where everyone could have a better view of his platform blue suede shoes. He executed a series of tricky dance steps.
Ladybird’s lips curled in distaste. “Was that necessary, MoMo?”
“Our love brings the dance fever. It is like the King, always and forever.”
“Well, maybe not, MoMo.” Ladybird repositioned a bobby pin and patted the pouf at the back of her head. “See, if I’m gonna be the leader of the free world, I can’t b
e seen canoodling with the crazy dictator of a country we’re about to go to war with.”
“What are you saying? We are not to be at war. I will let you have your little factory when we are married. But first, the weapons.”
“Mmm, not so much, Peacock. I thought of something better. You get framed for killing our girls. We kill you in response. Then we go to war with your country and set up shop without anybody regulatin’ or gettin’ in our hair. Oh, and I get elected president.”
“What … what are you saying, Ladybird? It’s like you are the devil in disguise.”
“Oh, MoMo. We had some swell times. And now, it is time for you to die.”
Ladybird turned a dial on her signature diamond watch. MoMo grimaced and grunted in pain.
“Electrical current. Tucked into the heels of those blue suede shoes I gave you for Christmas,” Ladybird explained.
“Acckkk! Gah!” MoMo’s body twisted into unnatural shapes as he moved around the room. He shook, convulsed, and finally fell to the floor, dead. Ladybird Hope sighed and readjusted her watch.
“Well,” she said, patting her hair. “He always did love to dance.”
Tiara glared at Ladybird. “You’re a D-E-W-S-H.”
Ladybird’s eyebrows knit together in concentration. “Do you mean douche?”
“We never did cover spelling in Smart Class,” Adina said.
Jennifer marched toward the screen. “When The Corporation finds out what you’re doing, they are so going to drop you as a sponsor.”
“Listen, Little Orphan Lezzie, who do you think is puttin’ me in power? The presidency is now a Corporation-run business. And I intend to be Chairman of the Board. I’ve already got what I need — footage of ROC soldiers and an explosion. That’s what America will see on Barry Rex Live in about ten minutes. America will demand justice. I’ll make that justice my campaign promise. There will be T-shirts — made in my factories, of course — to show support. They’ll have your faces on ’em and some neato phrase, like, ‘Because they never got to walk the runway of life.’” Ladybird sighed. “Unfortunately, none of you will be around to watch the show. Can you imagine what a great moment that will be when I, Ladybird Hope, the best Miss Teen Dream who ever lived, appear at the televised memorial and lay a crown on the memorial grave of the beauty queens? I’ll give a speech about how we cannot let your deaths have been in vain, and then, as a final tribute, I will play a moving cello solo. I’ll be back in the game. Shoot, I’ll own the game.”