Chapter 4

“Come on babies, grease your lips, grab your hats, and swing your hips.
And don’t forget to bring your whips, we’re going to the Freaker’s Ball.
Blow your whistle, bang your gong. Roll up something to take along.
It feels so good, it must be wrong, we’re freakin’ at the Freaker’s Ball.”
-Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show, “Freakin’ at the Freaker’s Ball”

Troy’s doorbell rang. When it wasn’t immediately answered, it rang again. A series of short, quick rings followed. Troy ran to the door and opened it.

Helen stood on the dark, rain-splattered porch, her wet hair sticking to her face. Her bare feet were muddy and the torn, soaked pajamas she wore clung to her little shivering frame.

“H-hi, Troy. C-can I come in?”

“Yeah, ok,” he said, with the obliviousness of an 8-year-old. “Uh, wipe your feet, please.”

Troy let her in and shut the door behind her as a voice shouted from up the stairs.

“Troilus! Who is?”

“It’s Helen, Propappou. You don’t know her,” he responded.

“I went to Julie’s house, but nobody was home,” Helen said as she wiped her bare feet on the mat. She got most of the mud off of them, but there was still enough on her feet to leave muddy footprints as she and Troy walked up the stairs to the living room.

“Our parents all went to a party; she’s staying here tonight.” They entered the living room and he called to the blanket fort “Hey, Julie, Helen’s here.”

“None shall enter the fortress of Princess Mesmera,” said a voice from inside.

An old man wearing a red velvet smoking jacket walked into the room, his long, bushy beard hovering inches over the tray of pizza rolls and sausage, cheese, and crackers that he carried. “Hey, who you? Why you get dirt in...” He took in the sight of the wet 8-year-old in the ripped pajamas and set the tray down.

“Please, sir. I can’t go back home.”

“Oh, you Helena?”

The girl nodded, looking down at her feet and noticing for the first time that she was tracking mud. She immediately dropped to her knees and tried to wipe it up with her sleeve.

“Hey, hey, is all right, I get that. My name Byroni, everyone call me Propappou because I Troy’s Propappou. Helena, is good Greek name. And you friend of Troy, so you friend of Propappou too, like Julie. Hey, you Helena, he Troy; it work!”

He went to hug the little girl, but stopped when he saw her flinch as he got close. “Oh! That why you no can go home. Well, you safe here now. Julie, get out of there. Run home and get some dry clothes and shoes for you friend. Jammies too, is sleepover. Troilus, show her to bathroom to wash feet and go get blanket. I make cocoa and do fireplace, then take care of mud.”

The kids went about their tasks. As Troy took Helen to show her where the bathroom was, she stopped, turned around, and ran up and hugged the old man around the waist; soaking the leg of his pants.

“Thank you, Propappou. Nobody ever called me Helena before. It sounds nice.”

“Then that what Propappou call you from now on. You go get clean and dry off, Helena. Of to be the cocoa when you done.”

Contessa Helena de San Finzione sipped her cocoa while watching the servants clean and decorate her castle’s grand ballroom. The ball wasn’t for another two days, but whenever she held one, she liked watching everything come together.

She had chosen to wear a white blouse with black men’s slacks today, and the second phone that she kept for social purposes had been in the front pocket of her slacks, buzzing all day with RSVPs. The brief moments of stimulation from the buzz added to the giddiness she was already feeling as workmen carried in ladders to hang decorations.

She was doing something now, taking action instead of just waiting for Troy & Julie’s prank to go off. She knew they both preferred a quiet life, albeit one with a lot of polyamorous sex, but she could relate to that last part. Being able to have anyone you want, any time you want was too much to give up, even for true love. Dragging them into the spotlight and out of their comfort zone was the easiest way at her disposal to throw them off their game.

The other phone buzzed, the one that the police had been calling to report on the couple’s movements. They’d just returned to the hotel from a day at the beach. Two other women accompanied them to their room.

Helen took in the information and smiled. They’d just proven the point she’d been thinking about. And whatever they had planned next, they were probably going to be in their room for a while, possibly with the trunk that had somehow disappeared between checking into their hotel and the first time the police had searched the room.

She took another sip of cocoa. She had to see what they were doing in that room. Well, she KNEW what they’d be doing in there with their two new “friends,” of course. But she needed more than could be told from an empty hotel room or a telephoto lens. Bugging the room, naturally, would have been unsporting of her. If she could just drop by and take a look...

A text came in with the answer to her problem. Something she’d ordered yesterday was ready for pickup. Helen finished her cup and smiled as she buzzed for Maria. Somehow, drinking cocoa always made her feel like her luck was improving.

Maria arrived and collected the cup. “I make good, Contessa?”

Helena sat for a moment before answering. “Excellent, Maria. Not perfect. But that’s not your fault; there’ll never be a perfect cup again.” She tried to push the memory away and concentrate on the present. “The thing I made yesterday is ready to be picked up. I’d like you to do it and deliver it to their hotel.”

“Si, Contessa,” Maria said before turning away to take care of the cup and go get the item. La Contessa grabbed the maid’s arm before she could turn away. She rose from her chair.

“Let’s take this to the study. I have some special instructions for you before you go.”

There was a knock at the door to the hotel room. Troy Equals got up and went to answer it as the three women in the room went about stashing various items out of sight. A fourth beautiful young woman with long, black hair was waiting at the door; an envelope in her hand.

“Signor Troy Equals,” she asked.

“Yes. We met briefly a couple days ago, I think. Maria, right?”

“Si. I come with an invitation from La Contessa de San Finzione to her ball Friday night at Finzione Castle.” She extended the envelope and Troy took it. He opened it, seeing exactly what he expected; an invitation engraved in gold. He sighed and put it back in the envelope.

“Thank you. You can give her our RSVP that we’ll be there. Would you care to come in?”

“Si, Grazi.” Maria stepped into the room. A large trunk sat at the foot of the bed, Julie rapidly closing it as Maria walked in. Two more women sat on the couch with a mostly-empty bottle of wine and a laptop on the coffee table in front of them. They closed the laptop when Julie looked their direction. All three were dressed only in bikini bottoms.

“Sorry,” Troy explained as Julie reached for a bathrobe. “We’ve just come from the beach. Hey, let me ask you something: Is every place in this country called San Finzione something?”

“Most of la familia’s holdings, si. Not all. Before we speak further, Signor Equals, La Contessa advise me to tell you that if I start to feel like say to you or Signora Equals or you friends private things about her or you try to make me forget things, I am ... eh ... grilleto to fall into deep sleep where only she can wake me.”

“That bitch,” Julie said, rising from the bed and walking over to the couch. “She’s probably making you remember every tiny detail and word while you’re here, too. Aren’t you, you fucking cunt whore bitch slut?”

“Si. And I am to answer things like that from you with ‘Right back atcha, ya skanky cow.’”

Julie sat down between the other two women, putting a hand on each of their knees. “Well, part of the jig is up anyway. Brenda, Claire, this is Maria, she’s Helen’s personal maid. When she gets back home, Helen will make her report everything she hears and sees; and Maria’s seen the wedding video, so she’ll recognize you two and tell her you’re here with us. So, if you’ve got anything to say to Helen, now’s the time.”