Carl Hiaasen – Sick Puppy

“Goth? You mean bats and vampires and shit like that.”

“Ya,” Katya said, “and blude vership.”

“Also, good dance clubs,” Tish added.

Clapley chuckled caustically. “Blood worship and rave. You’re definitely in the right town.”

His whole body twitched and perspired with wanton anxiety. Every ounce of concentration was required to steady the coffee cup in his hands. Meanwhile, the Barbies were giddily diverted by a shirtless young man racing backward on Rollerblades; the requisite ponytail, Oakley shades and a white cockatoo on one shoulder.

“Girls.” Robert Clapley felt like a teacher who hears giggling in the back of the classroom. “Katya! Tish!”

Their naughty smiles evaporated.

“Do you still want some rhino dust?”

Tish glanced at Katya, who cocked an unplucked eyebrow.

“Vere?” she asked suspiciously.

“The condo in Palm Beach.”

“Ven? You have now?”

“Not today,” Clapley said. “Day after tomorrow.”

Tish said, “No boolshit, Bobby? You got horn?”

“I will.”

“How you find? Vere it is?” Katya demanded.

Clapley could hardly bear to look at them, their hair and makeup were so appalling. Plus, they were noshing like a pair of starved heifers!

“Vere you get dis horn?” Katya persisted.

“From a real rhinoceros. I’ll be shooting it myself.”

Tish froze, her waxy cheeks bulging with bagel. Katya sat forward, the pink tip of tongue showing between her front teeth, like a kitten’s.

“Black rhino. A monster,” Robert Clapley said. “The hunt is all set for Saturday morning.”

“You shoot rhino? No boolshit?”

“That’s right.”

“What if you don’t hit?”

“Then it will probably kill me. Just like it killed another man a few years ago.” Clapley affected a rueful sigh. “A truly awful thing, it was. The guide says this is an extremely dangerous animal. A rogue.”

The Barbies sat big-eyed and transfixed. Another teenaged Rollerblader skated past, swinging his spandex-covered buns, but the women remained riveted upon the great white hunter.

“Don’t you worry. I won’t miss,” Clapley told them. “I never miss.”

Katya said, “Big gun, ya?”

“The biggest.”

“Then, after, you bring home horn!”

“Only if you’ll be there waiting.”

The women nodded in syncopated enthusiasm.

“Fantastic. But you can’t tell anyone, especially not Mr. Brown,” Clapley warned. “This is very risky, what I’m doing for you. I could get in lots of trouble.”

“OK, Bobby.”

“Not to mention trampled to death.”

Katya tenderly put a hand on top of Clapley’s. “We love, Bobby, that you would do such risky things for us. To shoot so dangerous rhino.”

“Haven’t I always given you whatever you wanted? Haven’t I? You and Tish asked for more horn, and this is the only way I can get it for you. Putting my life on the line.”

“Thank you, Bobby.”

“So, I’ll see you both Saturday night? With blond hair. Please?”

Tish tittered. “Tall shoes, too.”

“That would be fantastic.” So much for the Goth shit, Robert Clapley thought. He was rapturous with triumph and longing; soon his twins would be home.

In the lobby of the Marlin, he hugged both of them and said: “I trust Mr. Avalon Brown got you a nice oceanfront suite.”

Tish looked questioningly at Katya, who seemed embarrassed.

“No? Well, maybe after the movie’s a big hit.” Clapley leaned in for good-bye kisses, wincing at the fumes of a sickly, unfamiliar perfume.

“What is that?” he wheezed politely.

“Name is called Undead,” Katya replied. “I think by Calvin.”

“Lovely. Tell Mr. Brown I’ll be in touch.”

“Be careful to shoot rhino, Bobby.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Clapley said. “Oh, I almost forgot. Dr. Mujera will be flying in from South America next week. Just a reminder.” He tapped an index finger on his chin. “Assuming you girls are still interested.”

“Maybe.,” Katya said, guardedly.

“Ya, maybe.,” Tish said.

“Only the best for you two. Right? He’s the top guy in the whole world.”

“But Mr. Brown says he loves our chins, like is now.”

“Is that so,” Clapley said thinly.

“Good chins for movie light-ink,” Tish elaborated.

“Soft,” Katya added. “He says soft angles look better. Not sharp, like on American models.”

“Dr. Mujera has operated on many, many international movie stars.”

“For real, Bobby? Chins of movie stars?”

“I’ll speak to Mr. Brown myself. I believe he’ll be very pleased with the doctor’s qualifications.” Robert Clapley looked at his wristwatch. “As a matter of fact, I’ve got some time now. Why don’t you girls phone the room and ask Mr. Brown to join us for a drink?”

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