Molly Moon & the Monster Music by Georgia Byng Page B

HORRORS!” Mr. Proila roared. “LET’S SEE YOU!” He stood up and peered frustratedly into the pond. “Where the hell are they? YOU HAVEN’T STOCKED YOUR POOL!” he yelled to the maître d’.
    â€œSir, we have,” the man replied, making sure Mr. Proila could read his lips. “You must be more quiet, then they will come.”
    â€œQuiet?! What are you talking about? If this was my restaurant I’d keep the fish so hungry that they’d be eating each other! I’d keep them so hungry that they’d come up and take the bait even if a rock concert was going on in here.”
    â€œIf we kept them that hungry,” the maître d’ explained gently, “there wouldn’t be much flesh on them for you to eat when you caught them.”
    Hiroyuki, Chokichi, and Toka quietly got on with their fishing, ashamed of Mr. Proila and the fuss he was making.
    â€œRidiculous!” Mr. Proila spat. Then his phone, vibrating in his pocket, distracted him. He passed it to Miss Sny to take the call, then, turning to one of his bodyguards, said, “Go to Fongi’s. Get me some bluefin tuna. Don’t want any of this boggy pond fish anyway.”
    The bodyguard nodded and left at once. Mr. Proila then got off the boat to march up and down the platform part of the restaurant, speaking with fierce intensity to Miss Sny, who translated what he was saying to the person on the other end of the telephone line.
    Molly, Hiroyuki, Chokichi, and Toka each caught themselves a silvery fish and gave it to the waiter to prepare. Gerry looked very uncomfortable.
    â€œHave you got any vegetarian food?” he asked a waiter.
    â€œCertainly,” the man said. “Sushi rolls with cucumber and vegetable tempura—that’s vegetables fried in batter.”
    â€œThat sounds nice.” Gerry was relieved.
    â€œDo you always eat out?” Molly asked Chokichi as they waited for their food.
    â€œIt depends on Mr. Proila,” Chokichi replied. “Sometimes he goes out on his own, but if he wants us there we have to jump to it.”
    â€œLike a controlling parent,” said Molly, thinking of Lucy and Primo.
    â€œNo, he’s not like a parent at all,” Chokichi replied. “He doesn’t love us. He just loves the money we make for him.”
    Molly nodded. For some reason, the way she felt at the moment, this didn’t seem a bad arrangement at all. Then she asked curiously, “How did he get to the top? I mean, everyone seems scared stiff of him. Even though he’s so small, and deaf. People could just pick him up and throw him over their shoulder, or his enemies could say things behind his back. It’s amazing he’s as powerful as he is.”
    Chokichi nodded. “Being small doesn’t matter. He’s got four very loyal and very big bodyguards. He pays them lot of money. And with deafness—Mr. Proila not always deaf. He was in a shootout.”
    â€œA shootout? Really?”
    â€œYes. To save Mr. Proila’s life his bodyguard fired some gunshots, but guard’s gun was very close to Mr. Proila’s ears. Burst his eardrums. Three yearsago.”
    â€œWhat happened to that bodyguard?” Molly asked.
    Chokichi checked to see that Mr. Proila wasn’t lip-reading him. “Nobody know,” he said. “He disappear. Mr. Proila say he move away, but nobody know for sure.”
    Molly nodded, her hand on her coin. Strangely, she was beginning to admire Mr. Proila.
    Petula watched her mistress. Again that acrid, bitter-lemon smell was coming from Molly. It was a smell that made Petula feel queasy and very uneasy. Petula sidled closer to Gerry. She was scared by whatever was happening to Molly, but most of all she was saddened. Saddened because her instinct was to keep away from Molly, and this felt unnatural, for Petula still loved her mistress. She didn’t know what to do.
    The waiter brought miso