Free The Adventures of Mademoiselle Mac 2-Book Bundle by Christopher Ward Page B

speed, spraying a group of well-dressed diners coming out of a gleaming brasserie. He looked back at his handiwork in the mirror, waving a redheaded plastic Viking. I tried to hide my head in shame as he was gagging with amusement.
    â€œWhy are you so mean, Blag?” I didn’t bother to correct myself this time. “And why do you hate Rudee so much?”
    â€œRuuudeee Darooo.” He stretched out the words with obvious distaste. “I’ve been hearing that name since I was a kid. It’s not even his real name. Ask him about it sometime, why don’t you? You want to know why, I’ll tell you. Our families arrived in Paris at the Gare St. Lazare on the same train, ready to start new lives in ‘The City of Light.’ We both came from nothing, but my family did something, and my father built the Moulin D’Or from the ground up, while Daroo’s parents taught kids like us in the basement of the Église Russe. And just because he could play the organ, he was the golden boy; but when they needed someone to knock down a wall or move some giant piece of furniture, it was, ‘Hey, Blag, give us a hand, will ya?’”
    The resentment in his voice was heavy, and he paused before almost whispering, “I introduced him to Sashay. If we hadn’t owned the club, she wouldn’t have had anywhere to perform. Nobody buys that ‘Queen of Dreams’ act any more.” He fell silent as we neared the lights of CAFTA . But he still buys it, I thought.
    â€œThanks for the ride ... Antoine.” I tried to muster as much kindness in my voice as I could. I’d heard two tales of woe tonight, and I could’ve done without either of them. He just stared ahead, seeming to focus on the windshield wipers. I was glad he didn’t come in with me to add to Rudee’s stress level, and I needed a moment to collect my thoughts before heading inside.
    As I walked into the bright light and warm oven smells of the café, the volume increased right away.
    â€œHey, it’s the little runaway!”
    â€œRudee, your chick has returned to the nest.”
    â€œHey, little one, is Blag your new best friend?”
    Rudee threaded his way through the laughing and shouting tables of cabbies, trying to look amused, but I could read his expression from across the room. The ridge of his brow looked like a plow heading in my direction as he made his way to the door. I froze. I’d never seen Rudee like this. When he reached me, he threw his arms around me and squeezed me like he wanted to wring me out. “Little Mac, for flying out cloud!” His voice was trembling. “I was so worried about you. Where ... what ... oh, don’t tell me now, let’s go.”
    We rushed out the door to hooting from the drivers and into his car. As we drove to the church, the tension was awful, with Rudee shaking his head and muttering, “I was in a panic ... mon dieu. ...” as I sat very still and very small in the back seat. It kind of reminded me of that time I fell out of the tree and sprained my knee in my secret grove in the canyon, and my mom and dad and the neighbours had to search until they found me. They’re happy you’re alive, but once they get over that, you know you’re going to hear the expression “just worried sick” a few thousand times before the night is over. Rudee jumped out of the cab and hurried down the path to the side door of the church, his hair flapping with every step.
    I could see that the lights were on in his room, and I heard him saying, “Here she is, thank the clouds.” Although I wondered who he was talking to, I was totally surprised to see Sashay sitting in Rudee’s little kitchen. Her elegant swirl of scarves, skirts, and hair seemed so out of place in the bright little bare-bulb room with the lingering odour of overcooked vegetables. She swept me up in her lavender cloud and smiled calmly at