Toby

It was time.

I told Ralph to put his funny hat back on and listen up. “We’re going in there now, all three of us, and I want you and your little buddy here to do exactly like I tell you. Got that?”

He nodded.

I didn’t even bother looking at Lou. She would do what her brother told her, I was pretty sure of that. If she didn’t, we’d get rid of her. But I wanted to keep her if I could. I wanted my mom to see them together, as a pair, the little gypsy children God loved so much He sent them a genuine replica of His only begotten Son’s own head.

I asked Ralph if he’d ever seen my mom.

He said he wasn’t sure.

I told him, “You’d remember, believe me. She’s a big old thing, and I mean huge. And she doesn’t like kids, especially your kind, no offense. But if this is gonna work, she’s gonna have to like you a lot, both of you. She’s gonna have to think you’re the next Children of Fatima, okay? So play it up big. Try and look as poor and sad and religious as you can, like you say the rosary night and day. But just remember, I’m in charge. Don’t touch anything, don’t say anything, don’t even move unless I tell you to. Understood?”

He nodded.

I checked on Lou. She was still gazing off, with that stupid hand at her hip. Plus I noticed a couple of tears running down her face—a nice effect, but it worried me a little.

“She gonna behave?”

“She’ll be all right.”

“Make sure.”

Then I took a long deep breath and let it out. “All right. You ready?”

He nodded.

I looked down at the Sacred Head of Our Lord and Savior in my lap. “You ready?”

I nodded the head.

They didn’t laugh, either one of them. Couple of real deadbeats, those two.