STRANGER IN TIME
by Neil
[email protected]
~~~~~
"After her!" Captain Grisham shouted. "Don't let her get away!"
The Queen of Swords was on the run after a per usual run-in with Grisham and his soldiers. They were chasing the masked, black-clad vigilantress through the desert on horseback, firing their guns at her.
The balls whizzed by her and Chico although some actually almost hit their target. "They must have been taking more target practice," the Queen mused sardonically. "They've gotten better."
Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder and gasped in agony. Damn it! I'm hit! Thank God she was almost at the hidden canyon where she would often escape Grisham's men and clear her thoughts. She had since upgraded the cabin she and the late diviner Seamus O'REILLY built. They had hung thick fur pelts on the interior walls to keep the cold out. At this moment, she was pleased they had built a bed so she could rest. Just a little further... there's only a few hundred feet to the cabin. Suddenly, the canyon's maw seemed to open invitingly and let her in. As she entered, a mist appeared and swallowed her up.
~~~~~
"Whaddya mean she vanished?" Grisham demanded. "How?"
"I do not know, Capitan," Solardo replied. "I know I shot her in the shoulder. She rode into a canyon." Solardo paused, then admitted, "Then she was gone."
"Si, La Reina de Espadas es un espirita!" Lopez chimed in.
"Don't be stupid!" Grisham groaned, wondering what God he offended to get stuck with two such Brainiacs. "C'mon. The Colonel isn't going to like hearing she got away--again!"
~~~~~
The Queen's shoulder burned with pain as she felt her black tunic moisten from blood. She looked around and saw that the desert had disappeared. It had been replaced by a smooth gray road with yellow lines stretching as far in front of her as the eye could see. Chico neighed, as if sharing his mistress' confusion.
"I do not know where we are, Chico," the Queen's voice soothed her mount's ear, "but I know we are not in Santa Helena anymore."
The Queen rode silently trying to get her bearings when a loud noise assaulted her eardrums. She turned and saw four youngish people in strange clothes glaring at her. What really caught her eye was that they appeared to be in a carriage--with no horses to pull it.
"Hey, Zorro!" One of the people shouted in English. "Get the hell out of the middle of the road! Y're blockin' traffic, ya dumb bitch!"
Surprised, the Queen guided Chico to the side of the road as the carriage rode--for lack of a better word--seemingly on its own power. The person who yelled at her glared back at her as he raised his fist and stuck the middle finger up at her. The Queen stared blankly. Is that gesture supposed to mean something?
She couldn't get over watching that carriage move without horses. "Brujeria! Trajabo de Diablo! Such things were not possible!" Suddenly, she saw another carriage glide up and stop. The Queen saw the carriage had another structure attached that was just large enough to accommodate a horse. She saw a young woman about her age and Spanish-looking glance at her inquisitively.
The driver asked, "What in the hell are you supposed to be?"
The Queen was surprised by such a garish greeting from a stranger, a young lady, who seemed at first glance to be sweet. The Queen replied, "Could you tell me where I am?"
"You are about a half-hour outside Los Angeles." Isabella pointed down the road at the horizon that contained the start of an outline of a city that the Queen had been trying to figure out what it was as she was riding.
Los Angeles?! Madre di Dios! Five hundred miles in half an hour? She tried to take in what had happened to her, reflexively massaging her shoulder. She winced then asked the girl, "Is there an infirmary? I think I injured my shoulder."
"You're hurt?" All of a sudden, Isabella was concerned for her. Only then did she notice the matted blood on The Queen's black blouse. "Hop in. I won't spare the gas."
Spare the gas? What is gas? The driver got out of her carriage and brushed her hand along Chico's neck, much to his satisfaction. He sniffed her hand, probably looking for food.
"Let's put your horse in the trailer," the girl gestured to the attached structure. "I just dropped off my horse, Leonardo, at the vet. He..." The girl bent down to check. "Yep. He can rest up in there." Before leading Chico into the horse trailer, the girl stuck her hand out to The Queen. "I'm Isabella Ramirez."
"La Reina de Espadas," the Queen smiled.
"Queen of Swords?" Isabella said in confusion, then giggled, shaking her head. "Well, to each his own."
"This is Chico."
"Well, Chico," Isabella gently settled the horse into the trailer. "Make yourself at home."
After Chico was settled in, Isabella hopped into the driver's seat as The Queen took the passenger side. She was extremely nervous, but excited to see first-hand how one of those magical carriages worked. Isabella turned a small metal object clockwise on a post in front of her, having to stretch her arm around a big wheel. The Queen peered closely to see what magic potion would be released. Wait until I tell Marta!
The carriage roared to life, making the Queen jump with surprise and hold on to the back of the seat and the dashboard. Suddenly, it was moving down the road at an almost inhumanly fast pace. There was a heavy thunk in the trailer and the Queen looked back to see if they had lost Chico. The Queen let out a squeal as Chico was neighing bloody murder from the trailer.
After both Queen and horse were acclimated to the moving vehicle, her heart rate relaxing, Tessa sat back on her seat and tried to figure out where the magic was as she had stared at the wheel and little metal thing that had the foot of a small animal dangling off of it. When she looked back outside, they were very close to the buildings of the skyline, scaring the Queen. She'd never seen buildings so high and was sure they were topple. She read a sign, BIENVENIDO AL LOS ANGELES. She pointed at the sign with disbelief. Isabella said, "Welcome to Los Angeles."
"We are actually near Los Angeles?"
"No, not near. We're here." Isabella raised her hands off the wheel to indicate the city they were riding in.
They had gotten down that road so fast, the Queen hadn't even realized it. The Queen's mouth dropped at the sight that greeted her: People of all ethnic groups were everywhere. There seemed to hardly be any space. She saw glass and stone structure rise to the sky seemingly out of sight. Horseless carriages were everywhere and the horrific cacophony of noise assaulted her ears. Dios mio! Where the hell am I? Both men and women were wearing the same clothing, if they were wearing much clothing of any sort. Scandalous! Do they not have any shame?
Isabella was guiding the carriage from an attached wheel about chest high as the Queen looked around with mixed horror and fascination at this madness that surrounded her. Suddenly, an enormous white building loomed up beside them and Isabella them stopped.
"Here we are," she chirped. "St. Mark Memorial Hospital."
There was an engraving near the top that gave the hospital's name in letters big enough to see everywhere. "What's this?" the Queen asked, trying to keep her strength up.
"A hospital. People go here if they are sick or injured."
"Are there doctors inside there?"
"Well, who do you think work in a hospital? Lawyers?"
From the way Isabella looked at her, the Queen decided to keep quiet and roll with the flow. Her shoulder was killing her and if there was a Dr. Helm inside, she may be all right. The two women entered the ER through two sliding glass doors that whipped open as soon as they stepped on a grating. The Queen noticed people sitting in chairs in a large room off the side and there were a lot of men and women dressed in light blue coats scurrying around behind a large white counter. The Queen thought it was wood, but it couldn't be. It was too smooth. She took her glove off to feel it. She'd never felt a surface like it.
An older woman hopped up on a high stool and pulled a form off a pile, then pulled a pencil from behind her ear. She asked Isabella, "What are you doing here today?"
Isabella laughed and said, "You can't get rid of me, Helen." She told the Queen, "I'm a little clumsy," with a shrug.
The Queen asked Helen after looking her over, "You work?"
Helen chuckled, "I don't have a sugar daddy."
"A what? What is that?"
"Never mind." Isabella asked Helen, "Can she get a doctor? My friend needs some work. She's still bleeding, so she should get right in."
Helen looked at Tessa and asked, pencil poised on the form. "What's the matter, hun?"
"I was shot."
"What?!" Oh, the paperwork, the older woman sighed.
"No, she wasn't shot," Isabella quickly said. "She has a cut. It's just a cut. Can we get Carl?"
"I'll page him," the older woman said. "What did you get yourself into this morning, Izzy?"
"Nothing. I found on the highway. Just get Carl. I'll get her situated in..." she stretched her head to the open exam door in the back. "Number 4."
Twenty minutes later, Isabella and Tessa were still waiting in Number 4 when a balding man wearing a tye-dyed lab coat strutted in, to the tune of something on his walkman. Tessa was surprised by the man and looked at Isabella for an answer.
"Carl's cool." Isabella hopped down from the table and bonked Carl on the arm, "Hey!" He smiled at her and took his earphones off. "My friend needs some stitching, and no questions, certainly no reports filed with the authorities, if you know what I mean."
"Fine," the doctor replied and looked at Tessa. "What can I do you for?"
"My friend her has hurt her shoulder."
"Of course," Dr. Reiner smiled at the Queen's outfit. "One of those fetishist types, I see. Oh, well. To each their own."
Fetishist? What is that? The Queen removed her black tunic, revealing a white undergarment soaked in blood near the shoulder. Dr. Reiner touched it gently.
"I'm sorry, my dear," Reiner put a hand on the Queen's shoulder. "I need a closer look. I must ask you to remove your shirt."
The Queen removed her tunic. Reiner gasped at the large bloody wound. "My God!" Reiner exclaimed."What happened."
"It is-how you say-'a long story'." The Queen calmly replied. "Can you help me?"
"Of course I can. I'm a doctor."
Reiner rubbed some liquid on the wound, causing a burning sensation. He then inserted what looked like very thin tongs and pulled out the ball fired by Corporal Solardo. He then cleaned wound and sewed it up.
"You're kidding me!" Reiner laughed as he looked at the ball. "Someone shot this at you?"
"Why is that amusing, Senor Doctor?" the Queen replied slowly.
"Because this went out of style around 1840 or 1850."
1850? It is 1818. What joke is this? The Queen looked around and saw a calendar on the wall. Her mouth dropped upon seeing the year glaring at her in large numbers. "2001?!" she gasped. "Impossible! Incredible!"
"Yes. It's 2001. What year do you think it is?"
"March 23, 1818."
Both Isabella and Reiner looked at her oddly, then Reiner burst out laughing. "Are you serious?!" he guffawed. "1818?! You're about 200 years off, darling."
"Actually," Isabella smiled sympathetically, "183 years, to be exact."
"That is priceless. This broad came from 1818. Oh, driver. Get me to Bellevue and step on it!"
His laughing was getting on the Queen's nerves. Suddenly, the Queen backhanded him into the wall and she was immediately on him with her dagger at his throat. "This is not amusing!" she growled. "How can this be 2001?"
"It is, lady," Reiner was now unnerved at this masked woman glaring with a knife against his neck. "The calendar says so."
"You are lying! I am being chased by Grisham's soldiers and shot at, I enter the canyon and now you tell me I am 183 years in the future?!"
"That's about the size of it."
Isabella gently pulled the Queen back, removing her dagger from the doctor's throat. Suddenly, the masked woman inexplicably felt her eyes well up with tears. She began to sob softly as Isabella comforted her. Where was she? What strange place was this and would she be able to return home?
The Queen awoke and found herself in bed. The sheets were of ordinary quality and the blankets of ordinary cloth, yet it was adequately comfortable. She got out of bed and found herself staring in a full-length mirror. Her mask, happily was still on and her trousers were on as well. However, she saw herself wearing a sleeveless multi-colored shirt of a swirling design and that she was barefoot. The Queen looked around the room and saw it was white with black furniture. She walked to the bookcase and saw authors she recognized as Cervantes, Borges and Shakespeare. However, there were names such as Pushkin, Twain, Austin and Spock that were completely foreign to her. Who were these men and what significance did they have to her hostess Isabella? Isabella walked in and the Queen gasped in horror at what she saw: Isabella was almost completely NAKED! Only minuscule bits of blue satin cloth covered her private areas.
"Good morning, stranger." she smiled. "Sleep well?"
"Madre de dios!" the Queen sputtered scandalized. "What in the name of the Father are you wearing?!"
"It's called underwear."
"You're naked!"
Isabella smiled sympathetically at her guest, obviously lost and confused. She began to rub the Queen's back consolingly.
"Whoever you are, you should realize that times have changed. This isn't the 19th century and it is certainly not 19th century Spain."
"Spaniards would never shame themselves like this!"
"I hate to break it to you. Spain's changed as well. Been there last summer on a nude beach."
"You lie!"
Isabella decided not to argue further. She took a t shirt and a pair of jeans out of some drawers and tossed them to the Queen. "What are these?"
"Clothes. Unless you want to wear that bloody shirt."
Tessa got into the bright yellow t shirt that had the slogan of "Shit Happens" and the jeans, which were a little tight around the hips. After lying down on the bed, she was able to zip them up. The Queen sat at the kitchen table along with Isabella and spent most of the time regarding the meal before her with contempt.
"I'm sorry it's not to your liking," Isabella smiled with gentle sarcasm, "but this ain't the Ritz and we all can't have champagne and strawberries for breakfast."
"What do you call this?" the Queen replied trying not to be insulting.
"Bacon. Scrambled eggs. Hash brown potatoes. Orange juice. English muffins buttered with strawberry jelly."
The Queen found herself eating the fare and it was adequate in taste for commoner food. She returned to where she slept and changed into the rest of her riding gear and sword. Isabella glanced at that and the dagger in her boot.
"You don't need them. Leave them here."
"Why? How else can I punish the wicked?"
'You are lucky Carl didn't press charges when you attacked him yesterday. Leave the hardware."
The Queen was almost afraid to go back outside when Isabella indicated that it was time to leave. Isabella nudged the Queen's healthy shoulder and said, "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. Let me show you where I work."
The car roared down the highway until it reached Los Angeles. City of Angels! What a joke! The angels would never live in this! The car finally reached a large structure with what looked like a giant pair of scissors standing on top of it. The structure was an ugly greenish-purple color with a pink sign reading GRISHAM-MONTOYA STYLE FANTASY. Grisham and Montoya are here?! How?! The two women walked in and saw a large number of women either at sinks or sitting under large hollowed-out domes. Both men and women milled around, cutting hair, gossiping, telling about their relationships, etc. The Queen noticed that most of the men serving the women had almost feminine behaviorisms.
"Where are we?" the Queen queried, trying to fathom all this.
"It's called a 'salon'," Isabella replied. "We wash, cut and style people's hair."
"The men here almost act like they're women."
"It's called they're gay."
"'Gay'? As in they are happy."
"No. 'Gay' as in they like other men."
"What about Montoya and Grisham?"
"They are partners. Partners in the salon and partners in the bedroom, if ya know what I mean."
The Queen's eyebrows arched toward the ceiling ward at the unlikely visual. She knew Montoya was intimate with Governor Reyes, as well as his share of ladies, but Grisham was strictly a ladies' man. He looked like he would rather kill Montoya than make love to him and the same held true from Montoya. An amused smile played with her lips. "How long have Grisham and Montoya been intimate?"
"I guess eight or nine years."
"Try twelve," a voice chirped behind the Queen.
Both women turned and saw Grisham! Yet, it was not quite him. Like other men in the salon, he had the almost feminine carriage and his hair was close-cropped and dyed a whitish-blonde. His shirt was black silk and sleeveless and his pants were blue-black leather. Grisham's neck and left wrist had several gold chains wrapped around them and three hoop rings hung from each of his ears. "Izzy," Grisham teasingly scolded. "You're late."
"So sue me," Isabella replied. "Traffic was a bitch."
"Anyway," Grisham smiled at the Queen. "Who's Zorro here?"
"May I present La Reina de Espadas."
"Sword Queen? That's cute. A bit egotistical though."
"Why?" The Queen queried, curious that Grisham was making no move to capture here.
"That's like me calling myself King of Hairdressers. I'm good but I ain't that good." Grisham wiped his hands off with his towel and stuck one of them out. beaming amiably. "Name's Mark Grisham, co-owner of this fair establishment."
"The Queen of Swords," the Queen replied warily shaking hands. Still no hostile action taken.
"I like the Zorro motif. The lace mask is a nice touch."
"I met the Fox the other evening. He gave me his mask a remembrance."
"That's cool." Grisham causally touched the mask and ran a finger along the material. Suddenly, it came off, revealing Tessa Alvarado. Tessa was embarrassed but Grisham's reaction completely threw her.
"My God, you are GORGEOUS!" Grisham's hand were on his hips, arms akimbo. "I absolutely hate you!"
"Why?" Tessa was completely at a loss. Why was Grisham not trying to arrest her?
"Darling. If I had a face like that, I wouldn't hide it. I'd flaunt it all over town. You could give the Pope a wet dream!"
"Charming," she replied with an acid smile. "Anyway, the name is Maria Teresa Alvarado, daughter of Rafael Tobias del Leon y Alvarado."
"Don't be gauche," Isabella teased. "Tessa is an aristocrat."
"Well," Grisham executed a mock-cavalier bow. "My apologies your Ladyship."
Suddenly, the sound of Largo al factotum rang throughout the salon and in entered a well-built handsome man with dyed-blonde hair and an amiable smirk. It was Montoya!
"Largo al factotum della citta! Largo!" Montoya's voice was a rich baritone as he proudly sang the famous character Figaro's self-promoting aria.
Tessa smiled to herself. I never knew Colonel Montoya had a wonderful singing voice. She joined the others in applauding after he was finished. "So," she chirped. "Luis Ramirez Montoya can sing Il Barbiere Di Sivgilia"
"I don't know any Luis Ramirez Montoya," Montoya replied a bit confused. "My name is Constantino Montoya, but you may call me Tino."
"Are you related to the Colonel?"
"I don't know anyone by that name."
"My apologies," Tessa shrugged and offered her hand. "I am Maria Teresa Alvarado, daughter of Rafael Tobias del Leon y Alvarado. You may call me Tessa."
"Well. Welcome to LA, Tess."
Isabella walked over to a large box sitting on the counter. It had a glass center and an oblong item was sitting on top of it. Isabella picked up the item and touched it. Suddenly, people appeared! Some were talking while others were shouting. Tessa looked at this with disbelief. She walked up to the box and rapped her knuckles on it and looked it over confusion and curiosity on her face. "How do they put the people inside this?" Tessa queried. "Where is the opening?"
The room exploded with laughter. Tessa glared at the people in the chairs and standing around convulsing with mirth. Isabella was chuckling sympathetically. "I am pleased you are amused," Tessa smiled acidly. "Now why is my question so ridiculous, if I may ask?"
"You're kidding," Grisham grinned. "You've never seen a television set?"
"What is a television set?"
"That thing. You turn it on and you watch it."
"For what?"
"Information. News. Entertainment."
"That does not answer how people get inside this television set."
"Those are images. Transmitted throughout the country."
Tessa was distracted by a chirping sound and saw that it originated from a small rectangular object on Grisham's hip. Grisham picked it up and looked at it. Tessa looked at it, her face stamped with confusion. STEVEN 1-773-758-9900. It meant absolutely nothing to her. Tessa took it and examined it closely while Grisham pulled out another rectangular object with a tiny metal rod attached, touched it a few times and began talking to it!
"What's wrong?" Grisham smirked. "Never saw a pager? What?" Grisham was distracted by the object! "No, not you. Some broad here who is acting like she's never seen a TV set or a beeper."
"Who is he talking to?" Tessa asked Montoya.
"His brother Steven in Chicago."
"How is that possible? He is talking to that whatever-it-is."
"It's called a cell phone and what you have in your hand is a pager."
"What do they do?"
"You don't have these." Montoya's smile showed he found it hard to believe this woman had never heard of these.
"I do not. This is brujeria. Trabajo de Diablo."
"No. Science and technology."
"Such things are not possible."
"She is not from here," Isabella put in. "She is from 1818."
"OK." Montoya smiled. He pronounced with a flourish, "And I'm Pablo Picasso."
Grisham finished his conversation and touched the oblong object again. Suddenly, there was a bullfight on the TV. Tessa smiled. Well, something familiar. The matador was very efficient and the bull was a worthy adversary, although she had seen far superior.
"That is so cruel," a customer with a short-sleeve white jersey with red letter spelling PETA objected. "The poor animal."
"Why is it cruel?" Tessa asked, surprised anyone objected to bullfighting.
"That poor animal is defenseless. You people have no right!"
"No right to what? Bullfighting is a beautiful event."
"It's murder of an innocent animal!"
"Don't mind her," Grisham put in. "She's one of these animal right's nut cases."
"Animal right's?" Tessa was completely lost.
"Yeah. Animals are more important than people. She is part of this group that wants to ban such things as bullfighting."
"That will not happen."
Isabella finished three customers and put an arm around Tessa. "I think I'll call it an early day," she said.
"You weren't here even two hours," Montoya replied.
"I know, but I thought I'd show Tessa around and get her up to date."
"Whatever," he flipped his hand at her, then directed his finger to her, "You work double shift tomorrow."
~~~~~~
It was a beautiful day in sunny Los Angeles and Isabella was giving Tessa a tour of the sites: Disneyland. The Forum. The HOLLYWOOD sign. Tessa took this all in with a mix of bemusement and curiosity. The two women stopped at a large glass building with a huge marble sign saying GALLERIA. "First, my dear Tessa," Isabella smiled, "We'll get you some clothes of your own."
"Yes," Tessa relied. "An appropriate dress."
The only dresses in the entire shop were micro-minis that Tessa wouldn't be caught dead in. She looked at Isabella, who replied, "Well, you wanted a dress."
"I think I will look at the..." she took a deep breath and said, "Pants. Quando in Roma..." Tessa smiled sardonically.
"Face come Romani."
"When in Rome, do like the Romans?"
Isabella looked at the bag Tessa was carrying and gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm afraid whatever money you may have is worthless here."
"What do you mean? I have 2000 reales."
"Which doesn't mean doo doo here."
"Doo doo? What is doo doo?"
"Excrement. Crap. What you leave in the toilet. Remember the toilet? The white thing I had to explain to you last night?"
"Yes, the object that you..." Tessa's eyes flared with surprise. "You do not need to be disgusting."
"Let me buy your duds. Consider it a late/early Christmas/birthday/welcome to 2001 gift." She looked around the shop and at a price tag and told Tessa, "Let's go someplace else. This is almost out of my price range."
Isabella and Tessa entered THE GAP and headed toward the jeans section. Tessa found the several pairs she tried on a bit snug, but comfortable. She liked the shirts and even tried on two "jump suits"--clothing where the shirt and jeans seemed to merge into one denim outfit. Isabella bought three of each for Tessa--jeans, jump suits and shirts. She also picked up two pairs of cowboy boots.
The two ladies next went into GAIL'S DANCE WORLD where Tessa tried on a black outfit which covered her from neck to ankles. The outfit was snug yet comfortable and made of a shiny stretchy material. Interesting. I feel a bit naked, but I can move my arms freely.
"It's called a unitard," Isabella chimed in. "Dancers and acrobats wear them."
"It feels comfortable," Tessa agreed, "but I feel like I am wearing nothing."
"Look at it this way. The next time you make one of your nocturnal attacks for justice, you can blend into the shadows wearing this."
Interesting thought. Tessa tried to picture herself making a night visit to Montoya, Grisham or even Dr. Helm wearing this "unitard". I couldn't. There would be such a scandal in town and back at the Court. Still... it is very comfortable. Tessa decided to get two black unitards. The spree continued with several slacks, gowns and six pairs of dress boots as well as two pairs of leather pants. The next store was VICTORIA'S SECRET.
"Absolutely not!" Tessa exclaimed.
"Why not?" Isabella replied amused that a woman would not want sexy lingerie.
"I am the daughter of a Don! I do not parade around naked like some puta!"
"Everyone likes Victoria's. It's sexy. The ads are tasteful. Women feel sexy wearing them. Guys like women wearing them. Hell, I have a few pairs myself."
"I noticed. What would your mother say if she saw you wearing them?"
"Quando in Roma, remember? I don't know how you got here and I'm not sure how or if you can get back to your own time. Until then, loosen up and have fun."
Try as she might, Tessa's breeding and the rules of Spanish propriety could not permit her to try on any Victoria's Secret item. Isabella told the saleswoman hovering around them, "Perhaps another time."
They walked back out to the mall and into CIRCUIT WORLD. Tessa walked around the strange store, her face registering a blank slate of confusion. She picked up a small oblong object, similar to the one Grisham had and began to examine it. Isabella smiled as Tessa examined the strange objects trying to register them in her mind.
"Can I help you, miss?" a man came up to Tessa wearing a blue shirt with the word CIRCUIT WORLD in yellow and a small rectangle with STEVEN written in black. Tessa assumed that this was the man's name.
"Yes you can," Isabella walked over. Tessa eyes showed gratitude. "My cousin Tessa here is from Spain visiting and I'm taking her shopping."
"I see," Steve replied. "She is acting like she has never seen a cell phone before."
"Tessa's from a very remote town that has little in the way of modern conveniences."
"I see."
For the next hour, Steve earned his commission explaining to Tessa how a pager, cell phone, regular telephone and other means of communication worked. Tessa listened in fascination. Madre de dios! This is miraculous! Tessa started seeing herself inside one of the "boxes" she saw in the salon. She walked up and touched the glass. The image inside the box did the same thing.
"You aren't going mad," Isabella put in. "That is an image of you on TV. See that over there?" Isabella pointed to a suspended rectangular object pointed at Tessa. "That is called a video camera. It records your image and puts it on this screen here."
Tessa was totally confused. How could an image--whatever that was--transfer from that camera onto this TV? Sorcery. This future is Diablo's work.
"Don't worry," Isabella interrupted Tessa's thought. "Contrary to Polynesian myth or what you may believe, a camera does not take your soul. It simply gives you an image of yourself. This is what's called progress."
"I call it witchcraft."
"Compared to where you live, it may very well be considered that. On the other hand, someone may consider your period barbaric."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Never mind. I'll explain later. Right now, I could use some lunch."
Tessa and Isabella walked into TEX-GRILL BBQ HOUSE. After a ten minute wait, they enjoyed a steak lunch with grilled fries and salad. Tessa found it quite satisfying although not quite what a proper Spanish lady would eat. Thus far, it was an interesting time in the future, though she wished she was back at Santa Helena. Poor Marta must be having a fit right now.
~~~~~
Tessa and Isabella entered STYLE FANTASY the next morning, Tessa looking with the times sporting a blue denim shirt, black leather pants and black boots. For underwear, a compromise was reached with a bra-girdle combination resembling a wrestling singlet that protected her modesty.
"Well," Montoya smiled in approval. "Welcome to the 21st century, dear."
"I feel a little odd," Tessa replied, "but it is very comfortable."
"Don't worry. You think that's uncomfortable, try walking around in six-inch stilettos."
"Stilettos?"
"They're shoes," Grisham put in, "except the heels are very sharp and very thin, almost like the blade of a stiletto knife. Hence the name."
"How do you like the 21st century so far?" Montoya asked as he flipped through TV channels.
"I told Isabella," Tessa replied, "that if this was 1818, all this would be considered Diablo's work."
"Well, it's called science and, yes, it can be a bit confusing." Montoya stopped flipping at a performance on a certain channel. The stage was set in Oriental style and a stocky-built Spaniard was dressed in a Tartar outfit.
"Madre di Dios!" Tessa exclaimed. "Don Alejandro Segui! I did not know he sang."
"No," Grisham smiled. "That's Placido Domingo and what we're watching is Puccini's Turandot. Quiet. He's about to sing."
Domingo began singing the opera's well-renowned Nessun dorma. His voice was rich. Powerful. Confident. Gorgeous. God Himself was speaking to Tessa through that heavyset Spaniard on the television stage. It was so moving Tessa felt her eyes water up. Dios mio! This is powerful music! Grisham and Montoya were preparing for the final note.
"Here it comes!" Grisham crowed. "Vincero!"
"Vincero!" Montoya shouted.
Both sang, "VINCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"
The music continued as the audience wildly applauded Domingo. The customers applauded Grisham and Montoya (although their Vincero was just a mite off-key). Montoya noticed Tessa's eyes tearing. "Don't feel bad," he smiled. "Every time I hear Turandot I sob like a baby. Puccini has that effect on people."
"That was magnificent, though it is almost overwhelming."
"Of course. People often say if Puccini was born a century later, he would be writing music for Broadway or Hollywood."
"You like opera?" Grisham asked.
"Of course. I know most of Rossini and Mozart's works by heart," Tessa replied.
"Well, lucky you. Starting tomorrow, there is a week long opera festival with Mozart, Rossini, Puccini, Mussoursky, Wagner and Borodin."
"I would be honored to go, although the last few names mean nothing to me."
"You speak German or Russian?"
Tessa made a face as she ate a piece of bread-based item of food Isabella called pizza. The tomato/cheese combination accented with pepper and pepperoni was actually good. "Dr. Helm tried to teach me German the other day, but it is a frustrating language and he can't speak it that well himself."
"Oh God," one of the other hairdressers intoned. "Take a look at this." The scene on the TV was outside a courthouse and a well-dressed Italian-looking man of fiftyish was surrounded by the press and several well-built men in suits. His handsome face exuded quiet menace and his aura was of one not to be trifled with.
"Don Vittorio Ragusa," Montoya proclaimed in mock solemnity. "The biggest crook to curse LA."
"Who is this Senor Ragusa?" Tessa queried, seeing a lot of Colonel Montoya in Ragusa.
"Perhaps the most powerful Mafia don in LA. You name it, he's done it. Gambling. Prostitution. 900 numbers. Racketeering. Murder. Sixteen times convicted and sixteen times acquitted."
"How, if he is such a criminal?"
"It's called he has a damn good lawyer who gets him off."
"Lawyer?" The term was unfamiliar to Tessa.
"Someone who represents you. His or her job is to fight for your interests and for a fair ruling."
"But the ruling is unfair in this case."
"To the many people he has hurt or killed, yes."
"Does he fence?"
"He's been a member of the LA FENCING CLUB since '85 and the club has lunch at DOCKSIDE GRILLE twice a week."
"In fact," Isabella smiled ironically, "I almost forgot. This afternoon we have been invited to Ragusa's son's graduation celebration."
"Lucky us. To what do we deserve the honor?"
"Mrs. Ragusa has her hair done here every Saturday and she insisted."
"Call her," Tessa put in. "Use whatever-you-call that thing on your hip and tell her you will not come."
"And why not?"
"You do not want to be associated with criminals."
The salon smiled in amusement at Tessa's rather simplistic view of right and wrong. They also knew that Ragusa wielded as much stroke around Los Angeles as most producers. "Tessa," Grisham replied. "Ragusa isn't a man you say no to."
"Why not? He hurts and kills people. Why should you accommodate him?"
"I'll explain later. You have two hours to get ready."
"I am not going," Tessa adamantly said.
"No problem," Isabella put in. "You're new here and shouldn't be obliged to go."
~~~~~
The Ragusa beachfront home was packed with family, friends and well-wishers. Vittorio Theodore Ragusa, Jr., had graduated and Ragusa, Sr., was a proud father. He and several uncles were bandying around their favorite childhood stories while Montoya and Grisham listened politely, not wanting any trouble. Isabella and Mrs. Ragusa were discussing the perfect spaghetti sauce while Junior continuously tried to hit on Isabella.
Suddenly, everyone heard the loud neighing of a horse and headed out to the beach. To their amazement, a large chocolate-brown stallion was galloping fiercely toward them. Even more amazing was the rider holding the reins. It was a woman clad in what appeared to be a black unitard, black gloves and boots, a blood-red sash and a mask of finest lace. A finely-crafted sword hung at her waist and a dagger stuck from her right boot. What little face was visible was set in a grim mask.
"Senor Vittorio Ragusa!" The Queen announced to all gathered at the balcony. "You are charged with murder, prostitution, and other atrocities! Do you admit your sins?"
The guests murmured wondering who this odd woman was. One of the bodyguards present started to reach for his gun, but Ragusa ordered him to ease off. "That's quite a charge." He smiled. "Do you have proof? Who gave you the right to make such wild accusations?"
The Queen dismounted and jumped from the beach sand onto the balcony. She walked up to him and dropped a packet at his feet. There were photos of him involved in various activities and several cassettes. The Queen put one in a small portable player and the voices heard where Ragusa and two men planning a hit on an LA judge. Ragusa smiled. "It didn't do the DA any good. They couldn't pin it on me."
"Because you--how you say--greased a few palms?"
"What are you gonna do about it?"
The Queen removed her glove and slapped Ragusa face with it and dropped it on the ground at his feet. "In the name of all those you have wronged, I demand satisfaction for your deeds!"
The crowd murmured in disbelief. A duel? Did they still do those? The members of the fencing club, especially, were buzzing at the woman's brazenness to challenge Ragusa who was quite a fencer. "Why don't you humor us, Mr. Ragusa?"
"All right," Ragusa smirked as he picked up the glove and handed it back to the Queen. "You have a date. Right now, my son's graduation party is going on. You mind waiting?"
The Queen pulled out her sword, causing the guests to gasp and whisper even louder. Who was this crazy woman? What did she want? "Right now, Senor." The Queen demanded icily. "Unguarded blades. To the death."
"I have a family--"
"Who you disgrace with your very actions. Death is the only option."
"And who the hell are you to decide that?"
"I am the Avenging Angel sent by the Holy Father Himself to punish the wicked." The Queen raised her blade and pricked Ragusa's cheek with it. She ran it gently down the side of his face close to the jugular, leaving a fine thin line of blood. "You have a choice. Fight for your life and die honorably or I will cut you down like the cowardly dog you are!" The Queen also fired off some vile insults in perfect Italian.
"Is that so?!" Ragusa fumed. "You got a lotta balls coming here and insulting me like that, kid! All right, whatever you want. It's your funereal. Tonio! Get my saber!"
~~~~~
The Queen and Ragusa touched blades and the duel was on. The Mafia Don was a highly skilled fencer as exemplified by his smooth fluid style. However, the Queen was no slouch. The lightweight material of her unitard made it very easy to move around. The advantage changed several times and the crowd was enjoying it, including Montoya, Grisham and Isabella. "Damn!" Montoya crowed impressed. "Home girl got skills!"
"No shit!" Grisham agreed. "She swings a mean blade."
"You go girl!" Isabella shouted.
The Queen nodded curtly at the support as she parried and danced gracefully around the beach. Suddenly, Ragusa launched a slashing attack at the masked swords woman who sidestepped him, slashing his throat on the way. She then executed a beautiful split as she rammed the blade home. The crowd gasped as Ragusa fell dead onto the sand. Ragusa's wife and son threw themselves on him and began sobbing.
The Queen got to her feet, crossing herself, and dropped her signature tarot card onto the corpse. "May the Holy Father forgive your soul." She held her sword in salute and mounted her horse. Chico neighed as he reared back and rode off carrying his mistress into the sun. Montoya and company walked over and Isabella picked up the card. "The Queen of Swords," she intoned wryly.
"I was kidding about the Zorro reference," Grisham put in. "I didn't actually expect her to do something like this."
~~~~~
The Queen was riding Chico through Los Angeles, a number of people glancing at her strangely. She came across a grocery store--as Montoya called it earlier--and saw people gathered outside. Sensing something amiss, she rode Chico into the alley behind the store and slithered in the backdoor. She heard voices and sauntered panther-like to investigate. The Queen then came upon a group of people sitting on the floor tied up and gagged with two men standing over them holding guns. From personal experience as Tessa Alvarado, she recognized this as a hostage situation.
"I'm warning you!" One gunman shouted, "We want a helicopter in twenty minutes or these bastards all die!"
"Yeah!" The other chimed in. "Helicopter and free passage! Nobody stops us or people start dying."
One of the thugs suddenly found himself disarmed, courtesy of a whip appearing out of nowhere. His gun clanged on the ground and the Queen hurriedly slid it back behind her. He turned only to get a knock out punch right between the eyes. The other spun and found himself face-to-face with a masked, black unitard-clad woman flipping her whip at his hands. His gun also fell to the floor. One of the hostages slid it under his foot toward the wall behind him.
The Queen cooed in a soft, husky alto, "Is this a private affair or is anyone welcome?"
"Who the hell are you?" The thug demanded, looking at his gun behind the line of hostages sitting against the wall. "How the hell did you get in?"
"Through the back door. Why are you doing this to them? What offense have they done to you?"
"That ain't none of your concern, spic!" The thug turned to the entrance again. "Who the hell sent this bitch in here?!" He nudged his passed out buddy with his foot.
"Release these people," The Queen demanded.
The thug laughed as he pulled out a monster Special Forces knife-over a foot long with a razor-sharp serrated edge. The Queens smile broadened as she drew her sword. "Well, en garde," she purred. "Or, I think you would say, 'bring it on'."
Like her duel with Ragusa, the Queen parried and countered gracefully while the thug's attack was more awkward and undisciplined. The Queen continuously countered, sidestepped and sent her opponent crashing into groceries, frustrating him even further. Howling like a mad bull, the thug charged at the Queen who fluidly monkey-flipped him into the soda refrigerator, his face hitting the sliding door head on, knocking him unconscious. The Queen prodded him with her boot to confirm that he was incapacitated.
She walked over to a frightened but relieved bunch of hostages, pulling off the duct tape that covered their mouths. The group was multi-racial. She asked in both Spanish in English, "Is everyone well?"
"Si," one of the Hispanic hostages replied. "Which angel sent from God are you?"
"La Reina de Espadas."
"Gracias, Senorita Reina."
The Queen slit the ropes holding them and they all hurriedly unbound themselves. She led them to the door then walked out to a sea of people including heavily armed police and reporters. The people regarded her with wonder about where she had came from. Mostly agog at how she had taken care of the situation and the hostages were fine, were filing out of the door that The Queen held open.
Several policemen broke rank to escort them to safety as others began dispersing the crowd. "Show's over, folks. Go about your business. Nothing to see here."
One reporter asked, "Who the hell is she?"
"I don't know," a cop grumbled to him. "You ask her."
"I would, but she's gone."
When they all looked to the door again, all they saw was a tarot card. The Queen of Swords.
~~~~~
Chico rode past STYLE FANTASY and the Queen noticed that Isabella and Grisham were inside. When she walked in the door, Grisham clapped and said, "Well, the Avenging Angel returns. We were quite busy today."
The Queen replied, "What do you mean?"
"First you kill Ragusa in a duel and then waste two crooks who were holding hostages."
"How did you know about the hostages?"
"It's on the TV," he said, pointing at a reporter in front of the store, talking hurriedly about the course of events.
"I was meting out justice," the Queen proudly proclaimed.
"Tessa," Isabella interjected. "You obviously mean well and, miraculously, the police are not pursuing the Ragusa killing."
"Why should they?"
"The reporter on TV said that the Chief views it as a gangland killing and decided to close the case. The point is, this isn't 19th century Europe where they dueled to settle the matter of honor."
"You had duels as well. Hamilton and Burr?"
"Good point," Grisham conceded. "However, we don't do that anymore. We also don't dress like Zorro and just flout the law playing Holy Avenger."
"If the so-called authorities can not punish those who deserve it, then somebody must do it."
"That is not for you to decide. Nobody can be judge, jury and executioner."
"Dr. Helm has often told me that as well," Tessa softly conceded.
"You should listen to him. However," Grisham smiled. "Those were some sweet fencing moves and, frankly, the bastard got what he deserved."
"Where is Senor Montoya?"
"He didn't leave the party with us, he went home. He needs to rest up for Opera Week."
"Excellent," the Queen smiled removing her mask, revealing Tessa. "I look forward to a delightful diversion."
Tessa gathered her clothes folded in a pile behind the receptionist's desk and went into the ladies' room to change. Back in her denim and leather ensemble, she exited with a satisfied smile. "I have to say," she chirped. "Wearing that unitard? I felt naked yet, at the same time, it felt so liberating."
"You got a nice figure, bitch!" Grisham hissed in mock cattiness.
"Are you jealous?" Tessa put her hand on her side and thrust her hip toward him, now accustomed to their catty comments and antics.
"Am I! Tino is asking me why I can't look as good as you."
"You are a man, Marco. I am a woman."
"Enough," Isabella interrupted. "We can exchange makeup tips later. See you tomorrow."
Isabella rode slowly behind The Queen atop Chico back to her apartment. After settling Chico for the night, the two women entered the beach house. Suddenly, a voice appeared. "559-4088. You have three messages."
Tessa spun around, looking to see if there were spirits, but Isabella patted her back comfortingly as she walked to a rectangular box-for lack of a better word-and pushed a button.
"Hi, Izzy," a male voice said. "It's Peter. How're ya doing? Saw the news. Isn't that great that bastard Ragusa got his? Finally! Call me later."
"Isabella," an older woman said in Spanish. "The news this evening is more exciting than usual!"
Isabella told Tessa, "That's Mom."
"A Queen of Swords? Dios Mio! Call me."
The third message simply was a click and a hum. Tessa looked at the box wondering what trickery it held. She held it and shook it as if to try and exorcize whatever demons were hiding.
Isabella said, "Well, well, well, Tessa. You're more popular than a good old fashioned car chase!" Isabella laughed as Tessa was prodding, shaking and whatever to the machine to try and get voices. "It's called an answering machine."
"What is 'an answering machine'?" Tessa asked, "and why can't people be bothered with talking to someone face-to-face?"
"Sometimes time and whatever else doesn't permit it. This is to let the person know the sender is thinking of you and did try to call."
"I do not think I will ever become accustomed to this century."
"You weren't born in this century. Let's get some sleep and brush up on our arias for tomorrow."
~~~~~
It was Thursday mid-afternoon and Isabella, Montoya and Tessa walked out of Richard Wagner's Die Fliegende Hollander (The Flying Dutchman). Tessa looked as if she was about to collapse. Monday was the beginning of Opera Week and Mozart Day with Don Giovanni and The Magic Flute. Tessa had always loved Mozart and watched both with rapt attention. She had always thought German an ugly language but The Magic Flute was light and airy, so the German didn't bother her.
Tuesday featured Puccini's La Boheme and Turandot. Both were powerful and moving. Tessa felt emotionally drained especially after Turandot, since she lived in the Bel Canto Era. Wagner was another matter entirely. Every muscle groaned from sitting in one spot for so long. The plots were plodding and inane. The music heavy and deafening. The whole experience was an interminable bore and she found herself sitting through Die Valkure, Siegfried and Flying Dutchman. She had to fight numerous times to keep from falling asleep. Now I know how Captain Grisham and Jack Stiles felt about Marriage of Figaro.
"Madre di Dios!" She exclaimed as they all walked out of the theater, "I never thought that performance would end!"
"That's Wagner," Montoya smirked. "He likes them long."
"Long is one thing, but that was excruciating!"
"We still have Die Meistersinger Von Nurnburg." He noticed Tessa glaring at him. "Of course, we can skip that and do something else."
"Please. I felt like I was enduring the Inquisition sitting through that nightmare."
"We have Faust and Carmen tomorrow. Both are in French."
"Good. I can speak French."
As if to test her, Montoya spoke a phrase and for the next ten minutes, he and Tessa were engaged in a spirited witty dialogue in perfect French. Isabella decided to suggest the trio go to lunch. They dressed casual in headed to DIBIASE'S, a new family-style restaurant.
They ordered wine and resumed their opera discussion after the waitress left. "What is Carmen?" Tessa asked.
"It's about Gypsies," Isabella replied. "Actually about one Gypsy in particular."
"This Gypsy," Montoya smirked, "is, to be blunt, a bitch. She sleeps around, plays with men's hearts and dies unrepentant."
"I traveled with Gypsies. My duena Marta is a Gypsy. She's wonderful. She's my confidant. My mother. My sister. My friend."
"L'amour es enfant de Boheme," Montoya sang, "Il n'a jamais, jamais conu de loi."
"'Love is a Gypsy child who has never known the law'. An interesting interpretation of love, I must say."
Suddenly, a crash grabbed their attention. A slightly inebriated man had struck his female companion after they had been arguing. "It's over, Rick," the woman stated. "I've had it!"
"Listen, bitch!" Rick yelled, "I own you! It's not over til I say it is and it will never be over! I won' let it!"
"The hell you won't!"
People were trying to enjoy their meals and ignore the spectacle with minimal--if any--success. Tessa's eyes narrowed as her jaw clenched in anger. She rose from her seat, grabbing her backpack. "Will you excuse me?" Tessa softly stated. "I must, as you say, use the little girl's room. Order something for me."
Tessa rushed to the bathroom before Isabella or Montoya could say anything. Rick had now begun to really tear into his girlfriend, knocking her to the ground and proceeding to kick her in the ribs. The scared waitresses were gathered together behind the counter.
"You are my property! You talk to nobody until I say so!" KICK! "You don't leave the house without my permission!" KICK "You don't-"
He was stopped by a hand on his arm. "You are quite the romantic, Senor." Rick turned to see the Queen standing regarding him with a mix of pity and contempt. "It is a wonder any woman would want anything to do with you."
"Back off, lady!" Rick pulled a steak knife from his table and held it in a threatening manner. "This doesn't concern you."
"It doesn't?"
"No. Bitch here needs to know her place and neither you nor anyone else can stop me. So hit the road!"
The Queen's smiled cruelly broadened as she uncoiled her whip and lashed him squarely in the crotch, dropping him in agonizing pain. "Let us see how you fare with a woman who fights back."
"OOOOHHH!!" Rick moaned. "My balls! You are gonna pay!"
"Then come collect from me."
Rick lunged the knife at the Queen who sidestepped him, forcing him to crash into a party of six. Their pasta meals flew into the air. They covered their heads with their arms and the pasta landed on their shoulders and laps. Rick tried again only to be kneed five times in the crotch and thrown into another table. The third time he was hurled into his table and the girlfriend's lap who was watching this with disbelief. "Go! Go," she rooted the Queen on.
The Queen drew her sword and held it to Rick's throat as everyone gasped. "I could kill you," she purred. "You, though, are not worth sullying my blade." The Queen dropped Rick with a right uppercut and walked over to the girlfriend to check on her.
The manager finally appeared and announced, "I've called the police. Thank you...." He looked the Queen over. "Ma'am."
The restaurant erupted into applause and voices could be heard saying, "That's the Queen of Swords!"
The Queen disappeared. Rick was settled prone onto a booth holding his groin as two waitresses sat on top of him so he couldn't get away. Two of the police carted Rick off as Tessa emerged from the bathroom. She smiled at the proceedings, "Did I miss something?"
"Tessa," Montoya scolded disapprovingly."You can't keep doing that."
"He was beating her," Tessa replied. "Nobody would help her."
"It was nobody's business."
"So I am to let him humiliate her publicly and do nothing?"
"Well," Montoya shrugged. "It's best not to get involved."
"Did you order something?" Tessa asked. "I am quite hungry after having to sit through five of the most torturous hours of my life."
"I'm sorry," Isabella put in, "but seeing a man get pounded in his crotch, even if he deserves it, kills the mood for lunch."
"Contrary to what you two might think, I get no pleasure out of what I do. It just must be done. That's what I was born to do."
"If you don't mind my asking," Montoya smiled unpleasantly, "Have you killed anyone since you became the Queen?"
Tessa lowered her head and all of Helm's words floated into her head. For an instant, she wondered if she would ever see him or Marta or Vera or anyone from her life again. She shamefully nodded, then confessed, "I've lost count. I tried to drown myself one night out of guilt and because I felt whatever I did was not good enough. That nothing would change."
Tessa looked at the menu and saw 'buffalo wings'. She let out a laugh. "Buffalo can not fly." She saw their looks and realized that it must be another modern thing that she could probably never understand. Having lost her appetite that her situation could be permanent, she walked outside. Montoya and Isabella followed her. This is such a strange world I have landed in. Can I go back? Tessa strangely felt something else, almost a sense of liberation. There were no social propriety here. After all her emotions flooded over her, Tessa found herself actually daring to ask herself, Do I even want to go back?
"A penny for your thoughts," Isabella interrupted Tessa's reverie.
"I beg your pardon?" Tessa replied, the expression meaning nothing to her.
"You're off in La La Land. What are you thinking of?"
"Marta. My home. My time. Poor Marta must be worried sick about me."
"No offense," Montoya put in, "but you would be better off in 1818 or wherever you came from? You have a knack for adapting, but this city doesn't need another costumed freak playing God."
~~~~~
The performance of Faust was an enjoyable experience with the famed American bass, Samuel Raymond--a maestro--as the fiendish Mephistopheles. Tessa found herself humming L'e veau d'or while leaving the theater. Tessa viewed Carmen with mixed emotions as the opera reminded Tessa of Marta and her people. Tessa remembered Olivia who, like the lead character, was a shameless flirt and played with men's hearts like a violin. She was also killed by a former lover so the ending was especially poignant for Tessa. However, she enjoyed Votre toast because it accurately told of the goings on in a bullfight.
"Isabella? Constantino?" Tessa purred gently. "Did you not like the opera?"
"Yes," Montoya replied underwhelmed. "Ms. Carmen got what she deserved."
~~~~~
Tessa, Grisham and another stylist, Rick, were at the Forum getting ready for a Metallica and Manowar concert. She had a pleasant week of Opera and as they found their seats, she was looking forward to seeing more. The lights went out and suddenly, Tessa's ears were raped by the most horrific sound she had ever heard. Tribal rhythms pounded her brain. Screeching and metallic growling assaulting her ears.
Tessa saw large groups of people going around in circles pumping their arms and moving their heads frantically up and down to the rhythm. MADRE DI DIOS! They are possessed by Diablo! Tessa was shoved, pushed, fondled, thrown into the middle of several mosh pits all with her ears being battered and crushed by the horrific cacophony that seemed to originate from the lower depths of Hell.
Four hours later, Grisham and Rick were waxing euphoric about the concert while Tessa stumbled along in a daze, her head pounding and ears ringing. "Dios mio!" Tessa exclaimed. "I am deaf!"
"That's Metallica and Manowar," Grisham chirped in. "Both bands loud and proud."
"What were those people doing? I was getting assaulted."
"It's called moshing."
"Moshing? What is that exactly?"
"Think of it as like an Indian war dance."
"Well those musicians--though they do not deserve to be dignified with such a title--certainly 'made war' with my hearing. I feel like I was being bombarded with manowars."
"Well, Tino's the opera buff. I like listening to it, but I'm more a rock and roll guy."
"You have the oddest expressions I have ever heard. What is rock and roll?"
"What we listened to."
"I will stick to opera, thank you."
The trio went back to Grisham and Montoya's apartment where Tessa's headache was so great she had to lie down on the sofa. She soon fell into a deep sleep. Grisham pulled Tessa's boots off and pulled a blanket over her as Rick got a pillow from the bedroom and placed it gently under her head. The two men stealthily headed toward the bedroom where Montoya was lying in bed watching a gay adult channel and shut the door.
~~~~~
The next day Tessa woke up and found herself on the sofa, still wearing the clothes from the previous night. When she sat up, she saw Montoya, Grisham and Rick at the table eating breakfast. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Montoya smirked pleasantly. "Sleep well?"
"Si, gracias," Tessa replied. "My ears are still ringing."
"They'll be that way for awhile."
"You want some breakfast?" Grisham gestured to an empty chair.
Tessa stood and smoothed out her denim jumpsuit. Her bare feet padded across the carpet as she sat down next to Rick. The fare-scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast and orange juice were filling. Grisham's eyes twinkled wickedly. "Today's my day off, so have I got a treat for you."
"What is this treat, Marco?"
"You'll find out."
~~~~~
Grisham and Tessa drove to a field outside Los Angeles. Tessa saw a large half-cylindrical-shaped building and what appeared to be a number of large bird-shaped objects made of metal. Grisham drove up to the front where a youngish girl of twentyish or so greeted them. "Good afternoon, Mark," she said with a playful wink. "How're the 14-year-old boys?"
"That's Tino's turf," Grisham chuckled wickedly. "This is my friend Tessa from Spain. It's her first time here."
"Welcome to America, Tess."
Tessa nodded politely, unsure what Grisham had in mind. She walked up to the metal birds and began circling them, feeling them under her fingers, her face curious and wondering. "They're called airplanes, Tess," Grisham informated her.
"What do these airplanes do?"
"Fly."
"Fly? You mean like birds?"
"Along those lines, but not quite."
"How do they fly? Do they flap their wings?"
Chuckling, the pilot and Grisham walked over and helped Tessa into a small prop plane and fastened a belt around her waist. Grisham got in next to her and the pilot got in facing a board with knobs, buttons and the like. Suddenly, there was a whirling sound and Tessa felt herself moving. She looked out and shrieked in horror. She was in the air! The airplane was flying well into the sky, the airfield and hangar now looked like toys.
Tessa was saying every prayer she could think of, scared out of her wits. This is witchcraft! People can't fly! This is impossible! Grisham was laughing at this comical display. Tessa hissed, "What is so amusing?"
"For crying out loud," Grisham chuckled. "We ain't gonna die. Sheila here is the best pilot I know."
"What is happening?"
"It's called flying. You know, in the air, several thousand feet above the ground. I don't suppose you have planes back in 1818?" That last part had a sarcastic edge.
"Senor Grisham. If the Holy Father had wanted us to fly, he would have given us wings."
The plane flew over Los Angeles, which resembled an expanded model set. Tessa looked out the window in awe and fear. Everything was so tiny. So insignificant. Tessa felt like she was with the angels. The birds. With God Himself. Fear gave way to exhilaration. Tessa was actually sensing a feeling of liberation and started laughing with delightful giddiness.
"That's the spirit!" Grisham patted her on the back.
"This is amazing!" Tessa giggled. "I have never seen anything like this."
"See that?" Grisham gestured to an enormous stretch of land with buildings and huge metal birds. "That's Los Angeles Airport, commonly called LAX. Planes fly out of there 24-7. They fly everywhere on the planet."
"They fly to Spain?"
"Sure, almost every country in the world. From here to Madrid takes about roughly nine or ten hours."
Nine or ten hours? Instead of several months? Incredible!
The plane landed about an hour later as Montoya pulled up in his convertable. Tessa got out of hte plane, her face a mixture of awe, bemusement, exhilaration and relief. Grisham got out followed by Sheila and planted a kiss of greeting on Montoya's lips.
"Well, well, well." Montoya smiled. "If it isn't Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart. Did we enjoy our flight?"
"It was the most incredible moment of my life!" Tessa's heart was still racing. "I felt like I was with the angels."
"She was scared shitless the first ten minutes," Grisham purred silkily, "but loosened up afterward."
"How long have you Americanos had airplanes?"
"Since the Wright Brothers first flew one at Kitty Hawk in 1903."
"Wright Brothers? Kitty Hawk?"
"Kitty Hawk is just outside Charlotte, North Carolina. Orville and Wilbur Wright were two brothers who invented the airplane."
"Actually," Grisham cut in, "it was da Vinci who first sketched an airplane back in 15... whenever it was."
"Leonardo da Vinci?" Tessa's eyebrows raised skyward. "He invented this airplane?"
"Not quite. da Vinci had a lot of great ideas, but he ditched them partway through, the plane included."
"So these Orville Brothers were the first to actually build and fly one?"
"Give the lady a cigar." Montoya said.
~~~~~
The next day, Isabella and Tessa were watching the Los Angeles Lakers taking on the Mavericks in professional basketball. The two were sitting two rows behind Jack Nicholson, glancing at the game but neither one were really concerned about the home team being down by 15 points. The Americanos' customs are getting stranger by the day. Men in their underclothes running up and down the floor just to put an orange ball into a netted circle some ten feet off the ground?
"Isabella," Tessa softly intoned. "This is a strange yet wonderful place. I am seeing things that I never would have dreamed possible."
"However--"
"However, I really should be going back. God knows what mischief Colonel Montoya is plotting and my poor duena Marta must be beside herself."
"We'll see what we can do, but I've been talking with the guys and we haven't come up with how to get you home, Dorothy."
"Gracias," Tessa smiled as she and Isabella watched the rest of the game in silence.
~~~~~
While they tried to figure out a way to get Tessa home, Isabella thought another nice diversion would be good for them all. They went to the musical, "Chicago," which rocked the sold out crowd. Tessa watched this with bemusement. What is a Chicago? Why are they paying homage to women who killed their husbands? What is jazz? What is a Broadway?
"That was certainly interesting, Isabella," Tessa said as they left the theater. "Opera now days still have women killing their husbands."
"It's a universal theme."
"Was that a popular opera? It seemed that the people enjoyed it. I certainly did. I enjoy seeing people dance."
"I love musicals," Isabella replied. "Who knows? I might write a musical about a masked avengress from the 19th century who appears and rights all wrongs. Sort of a female Don Quixote."
"Cervantes would be honored," Tessa smiled dryly."And so would I."
~~~~~
The next morning, Tessa dressed in a demin shirt, jeans and boots. She got Chico into the horse trailer and Isabella drove them out on the highway toward where she had found the historic visitor. Her saddlebags were filled with some of the clothes Isabella had bought for her, including two unitards for her to wear as the Queen.
Isabella eyes were red from sobbing. "Well," she smiled, "it's time to say adios. Tino and Mark apologize for not being here, but they hate goodbyes."
"Well, my best wishes to them," Tessa returned Isabella's smile. "They were two of the most interesting men I have ever met."
"You're the most interesting person I have ever met. That I ever will meet. Are you sure you don't want to stay? You can work at the salon, I'm sure."
"I must try to get home," Tessa softly said. "I am honored to have considered you my friend. Thank you for everything."
"Thank you for making life interesting."
"Vaya con dios, Isabella," Tessa embraced her warmly. Isabella reciprocated.
"Vaya con dios, Reina de Espadas."
"I will never forget you."
"You'd better not. Those pictures in your dufflebag will make sure of it."
Tessa mounted Chico and, with a final wave and a blown kiss, guided her horse back to where she came from. The two rode for half an hour until Tessa excitedly saw a mist in the distance. She kicked Chico's side to ride faster toward it. Before too long, Tessa and Chico were enveloped by it.
Tessa found herself next to the cabin in the canyon. It is still here! I am home!
As she rode back to the Alvarado hacienda, she hummed Habanera from Carmen. There were soldiers surrounding her home. Two of the riderless horses out front, she recognized as belonging to Montoya and Grisham. Tessa smiled at the image of the other Montoya and Grisham so intimate and open about it.
She walked in and saw Montoya, Grisham, Marta, Helm and a few soldiers. "Well!" Helm exclaimed. "The Prodigal Daughter returns."
"Tessita!" Marta rushed Tessa and embraced her fiercely, sobbing in relief.
"I have missed you, Marta. All of you."
"Senorita Alvarado," Montoya smiled oilily. "We are very relieved that you are well. I assume, then, you were on holiday."
"In fact, I was."
"And where were you for almost three weeks?" Grisham smirked glad his ticket to Dondom was still alive and well.
"America," Tessa smiled. I am not lying. They would never believe it if I said when in America I was at.
"America?" Montoya burst out laughing. "Just riding around this barren land?"
"Yes," Tessa shrugged. "Something like that."
"What made you decide to visit America?" Helm smiled observing Tessa's wardrobe.
"It seems like a fascinating land with fascinating people."
"I suppose that's one way of describing Americans."
"Sour grapes, doc?" Grisham mused and motioned to her denim attire. "Senorita, I must say I don't recognize the clothes you are wearing."
Marta glared at him disapprovingly. Montoya's expression was one of distaste, but amusement.
Tessa said, "It's the latest trend, Capitan."
"That is irrelevant," Montoya put in. "The point is that God has brought our lost little lamb home and we are grateful."
"Yeah. Welcome home, Tessa." Grisham smiled. Tessa nodded in gratitude.
"If you excuse me," Helm interjected," I must see if Senorita Alvarado acquired any illness in America."
Nodding, Montoya signaled Grisham and the soldiers to leave the hacienda. As the hooves faded in the distance, Marta melted the walls with Rom oaths. "Where the hell were you?!! I was worried sick!!"
"In America, Marta," Tessa replied, sorry to have had her worry.
"I thought you were dead! Or worse, that Montoya had gotten you!"
"Actually not, " Helm interjected. "Montoya had gotten back from Monterey yesterday."
"Why was Montoya in Monterey?"
"He came back with more men, more guns, cannons."
Marta tightly embraced her charge, relieved that she was well. Tessa embraced Marta just as tightly. It was good to see her duena again. Her mother. Her sister. Her confidant. Her friend.
Helm shuffled his foot against the floor, not wanting to interupt their reunion. He couldn't help but wonder where she had been. He couldn't think that she just took off for a little vacation in the netherlands. Maybe there was more to the spoiled girl than he thought.
Despite the lecture that Marta gave her, the Gypsy was glad her young ward was home. "You must be famished," she told Tessa.
Tessa shrugged, she had eaten, but wanted to eat Marta's cooking again. She asked, "Dr. Helm, would you like to join us for dinner?"
"I'd be honored," he said with a smile.
As they sat down to a big lunch, Tessa smiled and said a silent prayer for Isabella and everyone she had met during her stay in the City of Angels 183 years in the future.
THE END