The Stingray Shuffle полностью

The women hugged on the steps of the Mediterranean resort before crossing the lobby for the courtyard.

They set five books on the table and pulled out chairs. Meeting time.

The waiter arrived.

“Strawberry coladas,” said Sam. “Five.”

“Diplomatico rum,” said Maria.

The waiter nodded and left.

Sam patted the cover of her new hardcover. “Did everyone finish it?”

“Imagine that,” said Teresa. “Sam’s a Krunkleton fan.”

“Of course I am. He put us all in the book.”

“I think it’s his best yet,” said Maria.

So did the critics, and Ralph Krunkleton’s career had rocketed into mediocrity with the release of Blender Bender. Ralph turned Sam’s character into an undercover OSS agent, judo-chopping her way through a human jungle of deadly narco-criminals and ex-husbands. Paige became a plucky crusader against the bloody ivory trade in West Africa who is marked for death and overcomes the odds with an unwavering moral code and trusty machine gun. Maria and Teresa teamed up to run a prestigious New York fashion house until their top designer is snuffed by the mob, and they go on a merciless rampage of vengeance and cleavage. Rebecca became a nun with attitude, who finds no sin in hair that holds up under all conditions. Ralph even created cameos for Dee Dee Lowenstein and the other performers from the train, which Tanner Lebos was able to parlay into small but crucial roles in Police Academy Eight and Nine.

The five women all stopped for a long moment and looked at each other with knowing smiles, all sitting there in thousand-dollar sundresses.

“Has it sunk in yet?” asked Teresa.

“Not remotely,” said Maria. “I’m still walking on air.”

“It’s like I’m permanently trapped in the moment I opened my suitcase,” said Paige. “A million dollars takes up a lot less room than I would have thought.”

“I remember every second, every detail,” said Maria. “We’re all standing there looking in Paige’s suitcase, thinking, what the heck is going on? That can’t be real money.”

“Then Sam opened her suitcase…”

“No, Teresa opened hers next,” corrected Maria. “I told you, I remember every single detail. The National Guard rescued us, Amtrak put us up in suites at the Hilton, and there we were in the room, Paige’s open suitcase full of money, nobody breathing, so Teresa opened hers. When we saw the second million dollars, the rest of us literally dove for our own suitcases…”

“…every one full of money,” said Rebecca. “And then we all looked at each other and said it at the same time: ‘Serge!’ ”

“I still can’t believe we’re being allowed to keep it,” said Paige.

“Believe it,” said Sam. “We paid that lawyer enough. We paid everyone enough.”

“What a country,” said Rebecca. “You can buy anything.”

“You sure we don’t have anything to worry about?” said Maria. “I’m still expecting a knock at my door.”

“I told you, it’s all a matter of knowing which lawyers are wired in with the current administration,” Sam explained. “Our attorney knows the Washington attorney who had lunch with the IRS attorney…”

“What on earth did he tell him?”

“The truth,” said Sam. “That he was representing a Florida attorney who was representing an offshore corporation — remember? The company they set up for us? — and the attorney says the corporation tripped over five million dollars of drug money but had nothing to do with any of the crimes connected to it.”

“And they gave us immunity just like that?”

“No, they turned it down,” said Sam. “That’s when the IRS started getting calls from the staff of congressmen sitting on their budget committee. The ones we contributed to.”

“But what about those drug guys? Won’t they come looking for it?”

“They think it floated away. Everyone on that train thinks it floated away.”

“But if we have the money, what blew into the river?”

“We can thank Ralph Krunkleton for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You remember how everyone in The Stingray Shuffle was chasing five million bucks?”

“Yeah?”

“And you remember how Ralph’s agent brought a briefcase on the train full of scripts and props to act out the book, toy guns and knives…and play money…”

“Play money blew into the river?”

“It’s the only answer.”

The drinks arrived, and Sam proposed a toast. “To Serge, wherever he is.”

The women clinked glasses.

“To Serge…”

A twenty-eight-foot trimaran tacked across the Gulf Stream below the Bahia Honda Bridge in the Florida Keys.

“Hey, Johnny,” said Sasha, an alternate Tampa Bay Buccaneers cheerleader and first-string dope date. “Let’s go to Key Lois.”

Johnny Vegas was a member of the all-virility team, wearing an America’s Cup rip-stop nylon yachting jacket, his black Vidal Sassoon mane snapping in the wind. He stood at the helm, turning the large chrome wheel with panache.

“But baby, Key Lois is off limits,” he said. “It’s federal law.”