The Infamous Frankie Lorde 2, page 10
At the sound of her name, the large lioness looked our way and yawned before turning her back to us again.
“That’s not very polite, Sugar!” the guide, whose nametag read MICHAELA, right underneath the Born to Be Wild logo, scolded playfully. “These folks came from all over to see you!”
At that, Sugar turned her head once more, and gave us a roar that could only be described as bored.
I was convinced it was her way of letting us know she wasn’t impressed by our presence.
“That a girl,” Michaela said and pressed a button that dropped a treat down to the golden cat.
She licked it up with one swipe of her enormous tongue and then went back to ignoring us.
“Now, I know Sugar looks cute and all—she primped all morning for you guys—but there’s a reason there are so many obstacles between that sweet cat and us,” Michaela said. “First off, even though she’s only four, Sugar weighs in at a whopping two hundred seventy pounds. Second, the fastest human in the world can run twenty-eight miles per hour. A lion can get up to nearly twice that. Third, and most important, she’s all muscle and claws. Oh, and teeth.”
“Yeah, don’t want to forget those,” Ollie muttered.
“That’s why we all need to be so careful when we’re around exotic animals like Sugar,” Michaela said. “As a predator, lions and other big cats are hardwired to hunt and prey on those weaker than them. And I hate to break it to you, but you are all weaker than Sugar. Yeah, even you, beefcake.”
This drew a few laughs from the families gathered around us, but I was already raising my hand.
“Yes,” Michaela said, pointing to me. “Narwhal girl.”
I blinked and glanced behind me to see who she had called on.
Then Ollie elbowed me in the side. “That’s you,” he hissed, pointing not so subtly at what was on my shirt.
I looked down and read the print. Even upside down, I knew what it said.
Save the Narwhals (They’re the unicorns of the sea.)
“Right,” I said, pulling my jacket closed out of embarrassment. Then I cleared my throat and spoke up. “Um, you said that Sugar was rescued in Florida. Is that how you get most of your animals?”
“Good question, Narwhal,” Michaela began. Slowly, everyone turned back to our guide and eventually forgot all about me. And my shirt.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” Ollie laughed quietly. “Narwhal girl. That’s so going to be your new nickname.”
“Only if you want me to kick your butt,” I retorted. “You know I took krav maga for a few years when we were in Israel. I can disarm a person as fast as I can steal your wallet.”
Ollie stopped laughing.
“So, some of our animals are born here in captivity,” Michaela said, answering my question. “Which means we get to raise them from when they’re just this big.”
She held up her hands to show a space about the size of a volleyball.
“So, probably smaller than when any of you were first born,” Michaela added to give some context.
I could hear a few awwws break out around us and then a woman shouted, “Can we pet the babies later?”
Michaela shook her head.
“Sorry, like I said before,” she answered. “They’re cute, but deadly. If you want to leave here with all your limbs, can I suggest you visit the zoo gift shop and snag a snuggly stuffie that won’t bite?”
A few more laughs around me.
Was she practicing her standup routine or something?
I sighed and raised my hand again. This time, I didn’t wait for Michaela call on me.
“And where do you get the rest of your animals?” I asked.
“Ah, yes,” Michaela answered. “It’s true, most of our exotic animals are rescued all around the country. Usually from people who owned them privately and for whatever reason, can’t anymore.”
“Wait, regular people keep animals like Sugar…as pets?” I made it sound like the idea was preposterous, even though I knew it was true.
“Another great question,” Michaela said, sounding like she meant it. “The truth is, there are more captive tigers in the US than there are in the wild, in the whole world. And part of that is because some people think it would be cool to own a lion or a tiger or a monkey, and don’t think of the consequences—like how expensive it is to feed them, the kinds of enclosures you need to keep a fully grown big cat from harming anyone.”
“These people are so clueless that around sixty percent of exotics that end up at rescues are abandoned pets,” Michaela said. “But those are the lucky ones, because it’s estimated that ninety percent of wild animals that are kept as pets die within the first two years of captivity. This can be because of ignorance, neglect, a lack of resources—and yes, euthanizing.”
“They kill them?” an older man said off to my right. “Geez.”
I watched another woman shudder and then sneak a sad look over at Sugar.
Michaela saw this too, and must have decided the topic was a little too depressing for her upbeat adventure.
“Well, why don’t we move on to the tigers!” she said, pointing us in the direction of the next exhibit.
I was bummed to move on, because I’d barely skimmed the top of the information I’d wanted from Michaela. But it wasn’t like I could force her to stop and give me a solo lesson on the ins and outs of exotic animal life.
Ollie and I began to follow the rest of the group and I gave one last lingering look back at Sugar.
“Narwhal!” a voice called out.
I looked up to see Michaela moving through the group and hurrying over to us.
“Hey,” she said as she landed in front of me. She pushed her glasses up onto her face and then tightened her ponytail.
“Lane,” I said, offering her my middle name instead of the nickname she’d given me.
“Right,” she said with a smile. “Sometimes it’s just easier to refer to guests by what they’re wearing.”
“It’s cool,” I said, though I hoped to never hear myself referred to as Narwhal ever again.
“So, Lane,” she started again. “I was vibing that you’ve got a lot of questions about big cats.”
“I do,” I said, nodding. “But I know you have a whole script to stick to….”
I gestured at the people who were milling around us.
“Well, why don’t we talk while we walk to the tigers? What do you wanna know?”
“Oh,” I said, surprised by the gift I’d just been given.
My own personal expert? Yes, please.
“Awesome,” I said, trying to organize my thoughts quickly. “Uh, okay. I guess I’m sort of interested in learning more about the exotic animal trade?”
Michaela raised an eyebrow as we walked.
“This for a school project or something?” she asked, practically handing me my cover.
“Yeah,” I said easily.
“Over the holiday break?” she continued.
Ollie and I nodded.
“Yeesh,” she said. “That sucks.”
“You have no idea,” I answered.
“So, how can I help you get an A on this project?” she asked finally.
“Well, isn’t it true that some people think that if you raise a big cat from a cub that they won’t, um…attack you later? Like, they’ll basically be like a really big house cat?”
“People do think that, Lane, but it’s also why so many of them end up abandoned,” Michaela answered. “Let me set the scene for you: A tiger cub is just over two pounds when it’s born. Super cute, especially when you get to feed them out of a baby bottle. At that size, they’re totally manageable.”
Michaela lifted up her phone and showed me a picture of herself holding a brand-new tiger cub.
“So stinking cute, right?” Michaela said. Then she added, “The tiger, I meant. Not me.”
Ollie and I nodded. The cat was just about the cutest thing I’d ever seen. It made me almost forget it was a dangerous, wild animal.
“So, out the gate they’re small and cute, but by just three months old, the tiger baby is officially dangerous,” Michaela said, showing us another picture of herself with the same tiger a few months later.
It was definitely bigger—about thirty pounds bigger. His paws were the size of my hands, and his claws were like full-blown knives.
“At this age, a tiger cub is already big enough to push down an adult human. And even its play bites can do damage,” Michaela said.
She stopped walking and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt. Underneath was a long, white scar down the length of her arm. Michaela saw me eyeing the injury and held it out.
“Go ahead,” she said. “You can touch it.”
I reached out and felt the jagged scar. The skin there was ultra smooth, like when ice cream melts and then hardens back up. Up close, I could see all the little dots where the wound had been held closed by staples or stitches. Most people might’ve been grossed out by a scar like that, but I kind of liked it.
It was like a strange badge of honor.
And I had a feeling Michaela felt the same way.
“Freaky, huh?” she said, a little twinkle in her eye.
“It’s rad,” I agreed.
Ollie looked between the two of us.
“You two are super weird,” he stated bluntly. “No offense, but nothing’s so rad that I’d let a tiger claw me.”
“And that’s my official stance, too,” Michaela said seriously. “It took thirty-six stitches to close this baby up. And Sweet Pea was only playing around. She didn’t even mean to do it. Imagine if it had been on purpose.”
“Please don’t make me imagine it,” Ollie said, looking queasy.
“Fair enough,” she said. “Anyways, just because a person raises a cub, doesn’t mean the animal loses their natural instincts. Those stick around long after they’ve grown.”
“So then why are people allowed to own exotics in the first place?” I asked.
“That’s a complicated question with an even more complicated answer,” she said. “Right now, there are no federal laws in place banning exotic animal ownership in general. However, over a dozen states have banned private possession, another dozen require a license or permit to own them, and about seven states have a partial ban.”
“Where does Connecticut fall in there?” Ollie asked.
“It’s illegal to have a tiger as a pet if you’re simply Joe Schmo here in Connecticut,” Michaela said. “You’ve gotta have a zoo or sanctuary/rescue license.”
“Gotcha,” I said, filing that away.
“So, if it’s illegal in a lot of places, then why are there still so many animals out there?” Ollie asked her.
“Supply and demand,” Michaela answered with a shrug. “It’s not that expensive to buy any kind of animal you want over the Internet. You can bring home a monkey for a few thousand bucks. And tigers are even cheaper. You can get one of them for under $300. That’s less than one of those fancy show dogs.”
“Geez,” Ollie said, shaking his head.
“And costs are low because it’s such a huge industry,” Michaela continued. “The illegal business of selling exotic animals is second only to drugs in the US—bringing in around ten billion dollars annually. And yet, you’re way more likely to get jail time for smuggling drugs than say, a sloth, into the country.”
“That’s messed up,” Ollie said.
“It’s totally messed up,” Michaela agreed.
“Thank you,” I told her. “I’m definitely gonna get an A on this one. I know you’re busy….”
“Nah, I love talking about this stuff!” Michaela said. “It’s why I’m here.”
Then she winked and walked back to the front of our group before beginning to tell the group everything she knew about tigers.
“Well, that was…eye-opening,” I said.
“That was terrifying,” Ollie said, shuddering. “That scar. So. Gross.”
“Are you kidding?” I exclaimed. “That was epic.”
Ollie shook his head. “You’re nuts,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re my mentor.”
“I don’t have to be, you know,” I said casually.
Ollie snorted. “Because there are so many thieves out there willing to take on a kid like me?” he said sarcastically. “I had to practically force you to do it.”
“True,” I agreed. “Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead.”
Ollie stopped walking.
“Hold up,” he said, waving his finger in my face grandly. “What are you talking about?”
I sighed.
I’d wanted to tell Ollie about my talk with Angus almost as soon as we’d had it, but for some reason I’d been holding back. At first, I told myself it was because I didn’t want to freak him out. But the truth was, I wanted to figure out how I felt first.
The only problem was: I still had no idea what I wanted to do.
“Soooo,” I started, trying to keep my voice light and airy. “One of Dad and my old partners in the ’industry’ got in touch.”
Ollie’s eyes grew big.
“Is there a job?” he asked, sounding excited by the prospect.
“Not exactly,” I said slowly.
Ollie’s face fell.
“Okay,” he said. “Well, then, what?”
“I told him how I was feeling about being stuck here, and he kind of, sort of, may have invited me to go on the road with him?” I said, squishing up my face until his became a blur.
“Oh.”
I opened one of my eyes and saw that Ollie was focused straight ahead. He looked like he was thinking and I gave him the time to get his thoughts in order.
“Are you going?” Ollie asked. I could tell he was holding back any emotion he was currently feeling, and felt bad that he was keeping that side of himself from me.
I kicked at a rock.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I told him I’d think about it. He’s going to come through town in a few weeks and I’m supposed to give him my decision then.”
Ollie nodded.
“Can I ask you why?” Ollie said quietly. “Like, is it really so awful for you being here?”
I hadn’t expected this question. At least not in the way he’d asked it. And to his credit, it was a fair one. But how could I explain it in a way that wouldn’t hurt Ollie’s feelings?
“Being here—I just feel stuck, Ollie,” I said, trying to choose my words carefully. “Until I got here, life felt so big, so open. Like I could go anywhere and do anything. Now I feel like I’m in a—”
“Cage?” Ollie finished for me.
I let out a breath.
“Yeah.”
Ollie was silent again as he mulled this over.
“There’s something else, too,” I added tentatively. “It’s hard to explain, but I feel less like myself here? Like I can’t be the real me. Or maybe like the old me is slipping away? I don’t know if I can fulfill my destiny living here in Greenwich. Being restrained like this. I’m afraid I’ll never make it out.”
Ollie turned to me, a pained look on his face.
“I actually know how you feel, Frankie,” he said with a sigh. But when his gaze finally met mine, it was with a tremendous amount of guilt. “There’s something I have to show you.”
And then he took my hand and led me away.
Entry Twenty
“I haven’t been a hundred percent truthful with you, Frankie.”
My stomach sunk.
It had to be bad if Ollie had kept it from me. Because, let’s be honest: it’s not like Ollie held much inside.
And I was his best friend.
What could he possibly have hidden from me?
“Don’t tell me you were lying when you said I looked skinny in these pants,” I said, mock-horrified.
When he didn’t break out laughing at my joke, I took a breath.
“Okay, so what did you do then?” I asked my drama queen of a friend.
“I didn’t really do anything,” he said deliberately. “And maybe it’s not really that big of a deal.”
“I’m sure it isn’t,” I answered, glancing out the window absently. I wasn’t even sure where we were going. Ollie had ordered us an Uber on his parents’ account before we’d left the rescue, telling me our destination was a surprise.
And I hadn’t pushed him on it even though I loathed
I think it shows just how much I’ve grown since moving here.
“What part of town is this?” I asked as we pulled off onto a private road and I started to see houses that were at least three times the size of Uncle Scotty’s.
“Byram,” Ollie answered.
“Why are we here?” I asked, the flutters of curiousity starting to creep in.
I glanced out my window and saw that we were driving along the beach now. It was the first time I’d seen a body of water since moving to Greenwich and I got excited.
I always loved the beach. Dad and I would seek them out anywhere we went on our adventures. I’d even learned to surf in Hawaii one summer. I missed the way the sound of the waves drowned out all the noise in your head.
I could’ve used that living here.
We pulled up to a house that looked like it belonged on Cape Cod. Standing three stories tall, the mansion—because let’s be honest, that’s what it was—had a big red door in the middle, with two large windows flanking either side of it. The boxlike windows continued along the rest of the facade like freckles on a face. On one side of the house was a tall, cylindrical structure, sort of like a lighthouse, but almost completely glass. Large, steep roofs were held up with strategically placed white pillars, giving the place an even grander feel.
The place was opulent for sure, but somehow it still managed to give off an aura of quaintness.
Ollie still hadn’t answered my question from before, and I turned back to face him.
