"Of course," she said. "And you wait until I eat enough to get some flesh on me. Hey, speaking of eating, how would you like some candy?"
We fought. I lost.
At dawn, no less, the steward woke me up. "You'll be late!" he said, rushing about, laying out new clothes. He shaved me and pushed me into a cold shower and rushed me into my clothes so fast, and I was so groggy, I didn't get a chance to ask him what I was being late for.
Somebody pushed a roll and coffee at me as we got into a car. We sped off.
Finally I asked, "Where are we going?"
Madison's eyes glowed. "We're on our way to the outlaw hangout of El Cid!" he said.
We drove north along the coast. Suddenly the (bleepedest) biggest castle-fortress you ever saw stretched away to our right. I looked to the left. All along the mountaintops ranged the hugest fortifications I have ever seen. It was all in ruins but the white stone, the pillars, the steps which mounted to the structures perched upon the crags were impressive! It seemed to go on for miles.
"This is a 'hangout'?" I said.
"Yes, yes!" cried Madison. "The hideaway of El Cid! Get out of the car!"
"You want me to climb that?" I gaped.
They didn't pay any attention at all. They were up and away. I was being pushed from behind by one of our guides.
All day long, except for a picnic lunch eaten with the threat of eagles stealing it, I dizzily tried to walk with closed eyes so I wouldn't get dizzy and fall. A guide finally put a rope around my neck just in case.
At dinner, back aboard, I could hardly lift my fork. I desperately wanted to get to bed and cool my aching muscles with deep slumber.
A folklorico troupe suddenly appeared and performed for us on the sundeck. The Chief Steward kept waking me up. "These are the true dances of Valencia. This was Moslem for so long, the culture is stamped deep. Listen to the Arab scale they use in their music."
Teenie and Madison had to learn some of the dances. And when they found that Teenie could ripple her belly muscles in time to their refrains, they accepted her utterly.
In the bedchamber later, Teenie kept waking me up. "Oh, I've got to have some of those bangles! And did you see those gauze trousers? No? That's just it; they're so thin the audience can watch what you do with everything you've got. Oh, I've got to get some. Inky, for Christ's sakes, are you going to sleep on me? Now eat your candy like a good boy!"
And that was about all I could recall of that night.
But the next morning, the steward didn't seem to be in any rush and I blessed my luck.
I had Madison for company in the breakfast salon.
"You know what I found out?" he glowed, as he chomped his bacon and eggs. "That El Cid was an absolute PR masterpiece!"
"Don't talk so loud, Mad. My head hurts."
"Oh, you'll really love this," he said. "You're so amateur when it comes to PR that you just plain won't believe it. But El Cid was the total creation of PR men. In the eleventh century, too! You see, when he went outlaw against the king of Castile, he was really trying to set up a kingdom for himself right here in Valencia, totally separate from Spain. But his PR figured, hey, that's not so good for his immortality so they rewrote the whole script. They tailored it up so he looked like a Spanish national hero and he's been one ever since! Man, I wish I knew the name of his PR. What an expert he must have been!"
Such enthusiasm did not fit my mood. Trying to hold my head in a position where it would not hurt yet still not fall off, I went down on the dock, intending to limp off somewhere beyond the reach of sports directors-maybe to a cool, quiet park.
Teenie was standing at an ice-cream cart, probably intending to top off her breakfast with an helado. I stepped quickly out of view between two buildings. She might have ideas for more excursions.
Suddenly a cab came roaring up. An arm from the back seat suddenly pointed at Teenie. The cab screeched to a halt beside her.
A burly figure leaped out. The black-jowled man! He went right up to Teenie. He was shouting, but because of dock noise, I couldn't make out what he was saying. But he was angry!
Teenie took a bite of the ice cream, not looking at him. The man gave the ice-cream cart a shove.
I was amazed. Where had this man come from? And why was he so upset at Teenie for eating ice cream?
He had dropped his voice and I couldn't hear what he was saying. But he was shaking his fist at her! She just kept on eating ice cream.
He kept on talking. She offered him some ice cream. He pushed it away. She put her arm around his shoulder. He pushed it off. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and he grabbed out a handkerchief and wiped off the resultant sticky goo.
She was talking soothingly.
The ice-cream man apparently hadn't been paid yet. He was standing there with his hand out. He looked cross over having had his cart shoved. Teenie put her arm around the black-jowled man again. She was saying something in his ear.
Suddenly the black-jowled man reached into his pocket and pulled out some pesetas and paid the icecream man. Teenie took the black-jowled man's handkerchief and wiped the last of the ice cream off her hands. She was continuing to talk as she did so.
The man looked around helplessly. Then he opened the door of the cab. Teenie got in and they drove away.
Unease stirred me. But then I shrugged. I shouldn't have. In my stupidity, I assumed that there was simply no understanding teen-agers. Or middle-aged men who would fly all over the place just to get another crack at unripe tail.
Little did I know what Fate was building up for me. Had I even guessed, I would have run until there was no more wind left in me.
Looking back on it, I am utterly amazed that I never even came close to fathoming what was really going on!
I was at RISK!
Sitting in the owner's salon that afternoon, I came out of a brief doze with a start.
I thought I was seeing things!
Right there on the viewer was a green ring. That's all that was in the picture: a green ring. Like a smoke ring somebody had blown except that it was green.
I looked at the second viewer.
A green ring!
Oh, I knew that hashish would do me in. I was now seeing things! Yet I hadn't eaten anything but lunch.
I looked back at the first viewer.
Another green ring.
I looked at the second viewer.
Same thing!
I noticed something. I wasn't giggling.
I held my head in my hands. Maybe it wasn't the hashish. Maybe that blow on my forehead had altered my vision. Maybe this was the beginning stage of going blind.
A horrible vision of Teenie leading me around on a leash and beating me with a white cane rose to plague me. It was her fault for leaving the skateboard there.
I glanced back at the viewers. Heller's face was on one, Krak's face was on the other. Now I knew I was having visions. They were both wearing sun helmets.
I shut my eyes tightly.
Krak's voice. "Finished!" She sounded jubilant. I knew she meant me. Nothing else would give her such joy.
"Absolutely finished!" said Heller. He sounded so happy he could only be referring to my eyesight.
Experimentally, to prove him wrong, I cautiously opened one eye. Bang-Bang was on the viewer, full face. He was wearing an old marine fatigue cap that said LT. RIMBOMBO on it. My time sense was gone. Bang-Bang had left the marines years ago. "That'll really knock 'em dead," he said.
Another voice. Izzy's face on the viewer. He was wearing a war surplus steel helmet. Now I WAS seeing things. "What I'm afraid of is retaliation." I shut my eye. I was in no state to retaliate.
But I hadn't closed my eye quick enough. J. P. Flagrant's face. He was wearing an Indian war bonnet! Now I knew my vision was crazy. "What mean retaliation, paleface? Red brothers smoke plenty wampum. Do peace dance. Ugh."
Izzy's voice, "That's kind of you to try to reassure me, but they might get the idea it's a smoke signal to massacre everybody and hit the warpath yet."