Read Online The Queen of Patpong by Timothy Hallinan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Timothy Hallinan
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You’ve been Miaow the whole time I’ve known you, so just let me have a few weeks—”
“It’s been a few weeks. It’s been a few months.”
“Well, I need a few more. I actually have some other stuff on my mind.”
“Look at this,” Mrs. Shin calls from the hallway, although they can’t see her yet. “No, wait. Mia, go turn on the overhead lights. That’s the switch right inside the door.”
Miaow gets up and hits the switch, and the apartment brightens somewhat.
“Okay,” Mrs. Shin says, “look here.”
She comes into the room with something hanging over her open fingers, a glittering strip about ten inches long and six inches wide. It flashes when it catches the halogen lights recessed in the ceiling.
Still at the light switch, Miaow narrows her eyes and says, “What is it?”
“Look at yourself,” Mrs. Shin says proudly. “Well, I know you can’t actually look at yourself, but feel how you’re squinting to see what it is? That’s what everyone’s going to do.” She comes to the table and holds out the glittering hand, and Rafferty sees that the strip is made up of rectangles of mirrored plastic, each about two inches square. Small holes have been bored in each side and white thread passed through the holes so the squares could be sewn together.
“This is your cloak of invisibility,” Mrs. Shin says. “Bigger, obviously. It’ll hang from your shoulders to the floor, and we’ll put a couple of white spotlights on you. You’ll just be a dazzle, a sort of moving sparkle.”
“Ohhhh,” Miaow says, coming to the table. Rafferty hasn’t seen her face this open and this rapt in months. “It’s beautiful.”
“Siri’s going to want it,” Mrs. Shin says, and then she laughs. “But it’s all yours.”
Miaow reaches out and passes her fingertips over the surface of the mirrors. She swallows before she speaks. “A sparkle. I’ll be a sparkle.”
“You’re already a sparkle, Mia. That’s why you’re playing Ariel.”
A deep flush darkens Miaow’s face, and she quickly looks down at the table. Rafferty watches the reaction with a twinge of jealousy. It’s been a while since anything he said or did made his daughter this happy.
“Oh, I hoped you’d be pleased.” Mrs. Shin gives Miaow the strip of mirrors, and Miaow turns it over in her hand.
“You’re good,” Rafferty says.
“They deserve good,” Mrs. Shin says. “They’re wonderful kids. And it’s a wonderful play. An enchanted island, spirits, a magical storm, a shipwreck, revenge turning into forgiveness. How could you not love it?”
“I’ll work on Caliban.”
“Please. You know, there’s one clue that Shakespeare might have known that Caliban had a better side than the one we see, although you have to look at the play on the page to find it. He speaks in verse, Caliban does. The clowns speak in prose, but Caliban speaks verse, and he’s got that beautiful speech about waking up from good dreams and wishing he could dream again.”
“I can identify with that,” Rafferty says.
“Oh, don’t be silly. You’re drowning in blessings. You’re living in a city you love, you have a beautiful wife and an amazing child. Oh, and speaking of your wife—her name is Rose, right? This play is eating me alive. Look at this place, it’s filthy. I need somebody to help me clean.”
“No,” Miaow says immediately. “Her girls—I mean, they . . .”
“They’d be great,” Rafferty says, fighting down an urge to kick Miaow in the shins. “I’ll give you the number for the agency.”
“But . . .” Miaow is rocking back and forth in sheer anxiety. “Those girls, they’re not . . . they’re not really . . .”
“I know all about it, Mia,” Mrs. Shin says. “I think you should be proud of what your mother is trying to do. Giving those women a chance at a different kind of life.”
Miaow says to Rafferty, “You told her?”
“Sure,” Rafferty says. “I’m proud of Rose. You should
“It’s been a few weeks. It’s been a few months.”
“Well, I need a few more. I actually have some other stuff on my mind.”
“Look at this,” Mrs. Shin calls from the hallway, although they can’t see her yet. “No, wait. Mia, go turn on the overhead lights. That’s the switch right inside the door.”
Miaow gets up and hits the switch, and the apartment brightens somewhat.
“Okay,” Mrs. Shin says, “look here.”
She comes into the room with something hanging over her open fingers, a glittering strip about ten inches long and six inches wide. It flashes when it catches the halogen lights recessed in the ceiling.
Still at the light switch, Miaow narrows her eyes and says, “What is it?”
“Look at yourself,” Mrs. Shin says proudly. “Well, I know you can’t actually look at yourself, but feel how you’re squinting to see what it is? That’s what everyone’s going to do.” She comes to the table and holds out the glittering hand, and Rafferty sees that the strip is made up of rectangles of mirrored plastic, each about two inches square. Small holes have been bored in each side and white thread passed through the holes so the squares could be sewn together.
“This is your cloak of invisibility,” Mrs. Shin says. “Bigger, obviously. It’ll hang from your shoulders to the floor, and we’ll put a couple of white spotlights on you. You’ll just be a dazzle, a sort of moving sparkle.”
“Ohhhh,” Miaow says, coming to the table. Rafferty hasn’t seen her face this open and this rapt in months. “It’s beautiful.”
“Siri’s going to want it,” Mrs. Shin says, and then she laughs. “But it’s all yours.”
Miaow reaches out and passes her fingertips over the surface of the mirrors. She swallows before she speaks. “A sparkle. I’ll be a sparkle.”
“You’re already a sparkle, Mia. That’s why you’re playing Ariel.”
A deep flush darkens Miaow’s face, and she quickly looks down at the table. Rafferty watches the reaction with a twinge of jealousy. It’s been a while since anything he said or did made his daughter this happy.
“Oh, I hoped you’d be pleased.” Mrs. Shin gives Miaow the strip of mirrors, and Miaow turns it over in her hand.
“You’re good,” Rafferty says.
“They deserve good,” Mrs. Shin says. “They’re wonderful kids. And it’s a wonderful play. An enchanted island, spirits, a magical storm, a shipwreck, revenge turning into forgiveness. How could you not love it?”
“I’ll work on Caliban.”
“Please. You know, there’s one clue that Shakespeare might have known that Caliban had a better side than the one we see, although you have to look at the play on the page to find it. He speaks in verse, Caliban does. The clowns speak in prose, but Caliban speaks verse, and he’s got that beautiful speech about waking up from good dreams and wishing he could dream again.”
“I can identify with that,” Rafferty says.
“Oh, don’t be silly. You’re drowning in blessings. You’re living in a city you love, you have a beautiful wife and an amazing child. Oh, and speaking of your wife—her name is Rose, right? This play is eating me alive. Look at this place, it’s filthy. I need somebody to help me clean.”
“No,” Miaow says immediately. “Her girls—I mean, they . . .”
“They’d be great,” Rafferty says, fighting down an urge to kick Miaow in the shins. “I’ll give you the number for the agency.”
“But . . .” Miaow is rocking back and forth in sheer anxiety. “Those girls, they’re not . . . they’re not really . . .”
“I know all about it, Mia,” Mrs. Shin says. “I think you should be proud of what your mother is trying to do. Giving those women a chance at a different kind of life.”
Miaow says to Rafferty, “You told her?”
“Sure,” Rafferty says. “I’m proud of Rose. You should
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