The Lonely Hearts Hotel(84)
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ROSE WENT TO SLEEP that night in a dingy hotel called the Truelove Hotel. She lay in the tiny room that was not much bigger than the bed. She was happy. It was the first time she had felt fulfilled in this way. It was silly, as she had only accomplished the very first part of her enterprise. She hadn’t engaged in anything strenuous yet. She hadn’t worked day and night assembling the strangest, most unusual clown show anyone had ever seen. She hadn’t yet found the people who would put Montreal on the vaudevillian map. But she had taken one step. The red lights on the marquee across the street were like the cigar tips of men smoking in the dark.
As she walked down the street to the train station the next morning, she noticed that everyone was smiling at her. The reason was simple: she was smiling at them. They were all simply smiling back. She had an egg sandwich from the dinner cart on the train. There was a skinny vase on the table that looked just like an icicle, a single flower sticking out of it.
49
THE COMPLETE MAN
Rose began planning her extravaganza the minute she got home. She ordered: 40 tubes of white face paint 20 spools of black ribbon
40 sticks of brightest red lipstick 25 skullcaps
18 yards of white silk with red polka dots on it 40 Elizabethan ruffs of all sizes 20 Napoleon hats (two-cornered, black) 14 pairs of XXXX-large black shoes 1 pair of XXX-large black shoes (with the sole unstuck) 25 sticks of black greasepaint
7 attachable red wax noses
10 bright orange buttons
1 box of detachable polka dots made from fabric of various colors 3 poodles, white
3 packets of pink hair dye for poodles 17 white rabbits
3 geese
27 doves
40 pairs of white gloves 35 cardboard clouds
5 spools of yarn
1 tiny violin
1 tiny piano
1 tiny trumpet
8 gallons of shredded newspaper for papier-maché Paste for papier-maché
Chicken wire
She rented out a vacant hangar at the port in Old Montreal for her company to practice and rehearse in. She had to walk through Old Montreal to get there. Then she went in search of clowns. She put an advertisement for clowns in the newspaper. She went by all the theaters she used to frequent, rounding up her favorite clowns and talking them into joining her revue.
Clowns from all over the city joined Rose’s troupe. She wanted a clown whose performance was as rich as a Tolstoy novel. She wanted a clown as sophisticated as a Chekhov character. They understood that the clowns were not going to be in the background. They would not be running around the perimeters of spectacular acts, like lion tamers and elephant trainers and ringleaders. They were not to be considered children’s entertainers. No! They were artists. They were the most intrepid performers in any circus. They delved into the dark heart, plucked out the secret flowers and offered them to members of the audience.
Clowns of all shapes and sizes came to the hangar leading out to the river, which led out to the sea. They auditioned. It was a strange sight to see all the clowns sitting together and having lunch. People didn’t know whether what they were seeing was a marvel or whether it was unholy.
Rose and Pierrot had a wonderful time looking for the clowns that Rose had been impressed by and luring them into their new company. Pierrot went to bail the clown she had seen at the Ocean Theater out of jail and get him a lawyer. Having accomplished this task, he was walking down the street, completely absorbed in his thoughts. He was humming the last bar of his musical composition when a large black car pulled up beside him. The car door opened and two arms reached out and snatched him up as easily as if he were a child.
Pierrot found himself sitting in the backseat between two rather severe and ugly men. He thought these might be McMahon’s men, but there was no talking to either of them. The looks on their faces implied they would respond to any query by belting him in the mouth. Pierrot thought it was probably a defense for not knowing how to make conversation.
He assumed there might be some sort of fee McMahon would charge him for doing any kind of theatrical enterprise in the city. He relaxed and thought this was simply a matter of course. McMahon just wanted to have a business tête-à-tête.
Despite the absurdity of his profession, Pierrot now liked to think of himself as a working stiff.
The car bounced as if someone was jumping up and down at the foot of a mattress.
The men brought him up to McMahon’s office, where he had, of course, been many times before.
“It turns out that your apple was a lot harder to move than anybody could imagine. No dealer would touch it. So what do you think about that? It belonged to a Russian princess, if you can believe it. It was stolen from the home of the Russian ambassador. It was going to be temporarily put on display at the museum here in Montreal. And what should happen but it got swiped five years ago and disappeared without a trace. There was never any ransom for it. It never turned up on the black market. The Russian government put the pressure on the police to get that apple. And guess what?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Do you? You have the worst head for business that I’ve ever encountered. So allow me to deliver to you the long and short of it. You owe me twenty thousand dollars.”
“Hmmm. That’s difficult. You see, I of course had no idea about this unfortunate circumstance involving the Russian princess, one of the unlucky Romanovs I’ve read about in the paper, no doubt. And I don’t have any of the money left.”