Fire in the Hole

  Preston set Shannon on her feet and turned regally to his new employee. “Marry us, peasant.”

  After the formalities were conducted, Preston cleared his throat and nodded, ready to say his homemade vows to his queen-to-be.

  “Shannon of Hoboken, your lineage is wimpy and limp, but your bravery and dedication make up for your lack of royal blood. Will you take my dick in your hands and mouth on a regular basis?”

  Shannon smiled and grabbed his package. “I will.”

  Shannon kept her hand on his member. “Preston of Epcot Disney, your lineage is one of a kind. Will you rule my pussy with the steady leadership you have shown for your countries forever?”

  “I will.”

  Preston smiled as the security guard pronounced them man and wife and King and Queen of Southern or Bust.

  “Je t’aime, mi amor.” He offered his tongue, which Shannon slurped on like it was covered in chocolate.

  The audience stood and clapped and hooted.

  Preston removed his tongue from the queen’s mouth and curtsied. “My people, free tacos from Big Peter’s ass for everyone!!”

  Duke leaned over to Dove and whispered, “Hey, if a taco’s free, I’ll eat it out of a dude’s ass. I’m okay with that.” He lit a Slim Jim in celebration and then tossed the still simmering meat into the explosive displays.

  The compound came alive with more Ke$ha. The conga line was inevitable. Dove grinned when Johnson pulled her close as he brought up her rear. They did indeed make their way over to a giant Big Peter with a taco stand in his butt.

  Johnson leaned down to Dove’s ear and whispered, “I can’t believe the things I do with you. My life has been boring without you.”

  The line ground to halt as the taco makers prepped the free tacos. Dove leaned against Johnson like he was her own personal wall. “I can promise you it’ll never be dull. Dangerous, maybe. Embarrassing, definitely.”

  Duke complained loudly that Steve the Cat was getting ass juice in the meat. Johnson and Dove looked toward the taco stand, and sure enough, Steve the Cat was suction-cupped to the counter, going to town on the spicy ground beef heaven.

  Duke started swearing as Flower rubbed his back. “Son of a fuck slug. He’s ruining my free butt tacos!”

  With everyone safely outside and on line at the giant ass, Big Peter’s Rocket City Fireworks, Fireworks, Fireworks! blew the fuck up from Duke’s wayward lit Slim Jim.

  As a celebration to Shannon and Preston’s wedding, Duke and Flower’s new cat, and free ass meat, the dangerous store put on a Disney-style fireworks show. Between the M-80s, sparklers, explosive pyrotechnic devices, and the lights from the emergency workers cleaning up I-95, there had never been a more spectacular sight.

  Duke sat on his couch as Dove waltzed past, carrying her groceries. Okay, she didn’t really waltz, she trudged. She shouted a small greeting to him, and he responded. He was in his underwear with his hands holding the family jewels. As he liked to do.

  Dove had been a stranger to him since Pres-asston and Shannon’s wedding. The pharmacist was in and out all the damn time. Flower had made regular appearances to flavor his Slim Jims, which should disgust him but gave him a medium woody, so he allowed it.

  She seemed to pantomime that she was an anti-sexual, which, in all honestly, would make their relationship a little difficult if it meant what he thought it did. Because he and sex were best buds. Breast buds, even.

  The Anastasias were headed to a Romance Writers convention for a week, so he had to make sure their various cats were still alive and whatnot. Shannon and Pres-asston were headed to their honeymoon to conqueror one thing or another. And Duke was depressed. He couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t. Seeing Dove with Johnson was like a knife to his balls. And he knew they were having sex all the time, too. From the moaning and thumping he could hear from outside her apartment door.

  He’d Googled @Lotsa_Vampersex’s Twitter and followed her on a new, fake account, but Dove was obviously too busy with her real man to flirt fake style with internet men.

  Duke needed a purpose beyond watching her comings and goings. Then he got stuck thinking about her coming for a few minutes. Love sucked. Being in love with a girl who was getting drilled by a pharmacist on the regular was worse.

  The Anastasias returned from their romance convention with tons of bags and covered in fake tattoos. They dropped by on their way upstairs, and Duke got off the couch to help them drag their things up to their place.

  Steve the Cat was intense about their arrival. What a weirdo. Duke collapsed in one of their chaise longues and unloaded all his feelings on the Anastasias. Debra Anastasia sat close by and listened intently as Mr. Anastasia put away their clothes. When he got to the end of his tale, she nodded.

  “I’m glad you came to me. You have to know I’m the best person in this building to talk to. Especially right now. I’m full up on romance right now I’m bursting. I will tell you how to get this Dove to fall for you.” She jiggled her breasts.

  “Okay, I’m listening. Telling her the truth from my heart has kind of crapped out on me.” Duke wondered if he should take notes.

  “The truth is the most horrible way to land a girl. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll get to work on you right now. I will put every genre I can think of that sells well on your body.” Debra stood and rubbed her hands and thighs together.

  Then things just got a little crazy.

  Shannon was in the passenger seat again. A married woman. A queen. Preston was driving in a very French way. Or what Shannon had assumed was French; she had a lot to learn.

  Leaving Southern or Bust to go on their honeymoon seemed like a great idea until Preston told her where they were going.

  Disney World Resort. More specifically, Epcot.

  His left eye had been twitching since they hit Georgia, who was praising its peaches and pecans left and right on billboards and signs that littered the side of I-95.

  She was a little scared. The people of Southern or Bust had welcomed them as their monarchs. Shannon couldn’t decide if Preston was trying to conquer more land, or just leave S.O.B. to fend for itself after the brief influx of money from the wedding and pretty much blowing it up. Preston was singing French songs and making great speeches while he drove. By the time they got to central Florida, she could take it no more.

  She risked it. “Please tell me if we’re on a vacation or if this is the battle of your life?”

  Preston nodded at her. “You are observant, my queen. Yes. Yes, this is more than just a time to enjoy the sweet, roasted nuts in little sacks or even the waffles that are shaped like a mouse. Southern or Bust has emboldened moi. It has made me strive for the ultimate greatness. I will ask for my rightful throne.”

  Shannon nodded. “It makes me proud of you and for you. Either way—vacation or invasion. However you need to do this, I’m in. My king.”

  When the car passed under the welcome sign, they clasped hands. Nothing was ever so welcoming and terrifying at the same time.

  Duke looked in the mirror Debra Anastasia provided. He was covered in temporary tattoos that were either her swag or her author friends’ swag from the convention.

  He was wearing guyliner and a leather jacket and holding a motorcycle helmet. His hair was spiked all over the place, and he had piles of leather necklaces and leather cuffs.

  Debra Anastasia couldn’t stop buzzing around him with advice. “You have to dominate the conversation. Be dangerous. Be elusive; be an asshole. But then slip in your tender side. Be a bad guy with a heart of gold. Be a billionaire. Be a mob boss. And then, just when she’s ripped off her panties and lit them on fire, you hit her with the biggest whopper of all. You tell her you’re her stepbrother.” Debra gasped at her own revelation as though she didn’t plan on anything that ever came out of her mouth.

  “I feel stupid. What the hell does being someone’s stepbrother have to do with sex?”

  “Do you want Dove or not?”

 
“I want Dove,” he admitted.

  “You have to understand that the taboo of banging your stepbrother is very hot right now. Every other book had a stepbrother on the cover at the conference. Women eat it right up with their pussy. This is what you have to do. The pharmacist isn’t doing this. He doesn’t have a romance novelist advising him. This is your edge. Actually, I think you can make her call you that, too. Edge. Tell her that’s your name.” Debra Anastasia pushed him out the door.

  Mr. Anastasia gave her the thumbs up from the window in their apartment that overlooked the parking lot. “He just left.”

  “Now’s your moment. Go! Do all the things I said. I write love; I know how this shit works.” She waved at him like he was her firstborn getting on the bus to camp.

  Duke clomped down the stairs in Mr. Anastasia’s motorcycle boots. Dove was going to open her door and laugh in his face. Duke had a ton of misgivings thinking back to the horrible story Dove had read to him by Debra in the car on the way to Pissboy’s wedding. He knocked anyway, the need to see her face overriding any sense at all.

  He put one arm up on her door and waited, looking at the floor. When the door opened, he counted to five and then looked up at her, being sure to make eye contact slowly.

  She was in her pajamas—her favorites—and she’d been eating a yogurt, but she stopped the spoon moments before it touched her lips, her jaw hanging open.

  Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

  He made the same prayer for himself that he made for her.

  “Duke?” Her eyes widened as she took in his whole getup.

  “Fuck you.” Duke closed one eye. He was supposed to be a charming asshole, not just a flat-out dickhead.

  “What?” Dove set her yogurt down on the table by the door.

  “I mean hi. I’ve recently come into some money. I mean a lot of money. And downstairs I have a motorcycle. And I’m here. My name is Edge.” Duke tried to give her an intense stare.

  “I feel like you could be having a bad reaction to some dicey sausage? Are you okay?” Dove seemed like she wanted to put her hands on him. Then she went ahead put her soft palm on his forehead. “You’re not warm.”

  Completely out of character now, he called her out. “Would you know what warm felt like on a grown man? Or a baby, for that matter?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I guess not. This is a new… look.”

  Duke felt like a huge tool standing in front of her. “Yeah.” He should have had a backup plan. Like a reason he was dressed up like Halloween was screwing Pirate Day.

  “Party?” She bit her bottom lip and looked him up and down.

  “You want to party?” His dick perked up.

  “No, I meant are you going to a party?” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Yeah.” Her suggestion was a great backup plan.

  “Whose?” She stretched her arms above her head, pressing her breasts against her thin pajama shirt. He remembered what they felt like on his tongue.

  “You wouldn’t know him.” His mouth was a little dry.

  “Okay. Did you need something?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  Debra Anastasia had said the best move was telling Dove he was her stepbrother. He had his doubts. According to her, at this point, he and Dove should have been playing an adult naked Jenga game by now.

  “No. All good.” He rubbed his forearm, and one of his fake tattoos was peeling up.

  “Okay.” She grabbed the door handle in preparation for his departure but then seemed to think better of it. “You know what? Let’s take a selfie. You look awesome.”

  Dove left the door open as she wandered back into her apartment to find her phone. When she came back, she was smiling. “You look great, Duke. You’ll win the prize for best costume at the party.”

  He should tell her he’d dressed up, hoping to have a Cinderella moment with her. He’d sat upstairs and let Debra Anastasia poke him in the eye like ten times with the liner. And his feet didn’t even fit in these damn boots.

  Dove poked at the screen of the smart phone until she had it set to take the picture with him. She slipped under his arm, and he gave her hair a sniff. Conditioner.

  Damn it.

  He looked at the camera as she struggled to press the shutter button. Her arm was too short to get them both in the frame. He took the phone from her and held it further away, getting them both on the screen. He gave it the best Blue Steel he could, eliciting a giggle from her.

  The picture was adorable. In it, she was looking at him with the genuine smile her laughter had painted on her lips. He kept the phone and hit send, programming it to send his phone a copy. As he found his number, attached to Sausageman, a text beeped through, displaying the first few lines from Johnson at the top of the screen. He wasn’t trying to pry, but he automatically scanned the text out of habit.

  Hey pretty girl! So sorry I won’t be able to come over tomorrow. Beth’s pregnant. We’ll talk soon.

  He looked at Dove, who took the phone and tapped on the message so she could read the whole thing.

  “That has to be autocorrect. Right? Right?” Dove filled in the message box with her answer:

  Read what you just wrote, is that what you meant to send?

  Duke found himself in the horrible position of having to defend his least favorite person in the world. “I’m sure it’s a typo. There’s no way he would be stupid enough to pull this shit again. Telling you important shit in a message instead of in person. Again.”

  The message made a swish tone and her face fell. “Motherfucker. Is he kidding me right now?”

  She handed the phone to Duke and shook her head, throwing her hands in the air.

  Duke looked at his response:

  No, it’s correct. We need to talk. Soon.

  “He just left. He just left. Why not tell me thirty minutes ago?”

  Duke set the phone down and wished he wasn’t dressed like a tattoo artist who ate Captain Jack.

  Dove made her way to her couch and collapsed. He shuffled over and took his giant leather jacket off. Underneath, he wore a “sleeveless gun show,” as Debra Anastasia had called it. He eased down next to her, lifted her head, and put it on his lap.

  “Do you want to be alone?” He pushed the hair away from where it had fallen and covered her pretty face.

  “No. If that’s okay. If you can stay.” She sighed and crossed her hands over her chest like she was a mummy.

  He looked at her sad face and responded the only way he could when it came to her. “I can stay.”

  Shannon held his hand as Preston swiped the wristband to enter the park. She did the same. They were dealing with the fact that they had to buy tickets into his homeland. Shannon had eventually convinced him that it was like buying a plane ticket to get somewhere, and Preston was able to settle down. She’d seen an increase in his need to fight since his glorious balls had dropped. Luckily, none of those fights had been with her. She seemed to have a pre-ball immunity.

  Once they entered the park, Preston had only one goal. Find his throne and claim it. It was the smallest invasion ever. Just the two of them.

  It was balls-assed hot, and instantly, Shannon regretted wearing her wedding gown, but it was the fanciest thing she had with her. The employees were unfailingly friendly. Their good cheer just seemed to make Preston more furious. He started walking faster.

  “So, what’s the plan? Have you scoped out this place?” Shannon hugged his forearm to keep up with his quick pace.

  “Non. I have not. I will heed the inherent programming of my ancestors to lead me to victory.” Epcot France was indeed across a little bridge, where Preston stopped and held his heart. “For my mother.”

  Shannon waited a moment before asking, “How was her yoga class this morning?”

  “It was good, my warrior queen. Not as much farting from the woman in front of her, in any case. It was a good sign.” He nodded intently at Shannon while making deep eye contact. “And now, we return to my homeland.”
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  Preston and Shannon landed in Epcot France quietly. He surveyed the area while nodding and occasionally biting his knuckle. “It is magnificent. Perfectly clean and beautifully rendered.”

  Shannon had to agree. It was lovely.

  “It seems the restaurant is the hub of activity. Shall we start there?” Shannon was tremendously hungry, so she hoped their invasion/reclaiming could start off with a nice meal.

  Preston pulled her hand to his and kissed it. “Smart queen. Yes. Let’s see how the people live. See what needs attention for when I assume power.”

  So far, so good. He seemed happier and was walking taller. Shannon hoped that the powers that be could understand how important this was for Preston.

  Flower watched as That Bitch is Screwed scurried around on the floor with her new toy. She was far more able than That Poor Bastard had been. Of course she was happy the cat had mobility, though she mourned a little the loss of the replacement she thought she’d found in the kitty.

  She tossed another mouse, and TBiS chewed on it after chasing it down. Flower had made sure her wood floors were as smooth as glass, ensuring that the cat would not be injured as she made her way around like a wheelbarrow.

  Her relationship with Duke was going well. She felt like he understood what she meant— at least most of it time. She wondered if she should stop speaking ten words a day now that he knew she was a girl.

  But the ten-words-a-day thing made her feel invincible. And it made a lot of her decisions for her, which she also liked. Mostly, she handled problems by observing them, and that had given her an advantage.

  And now, as she prepared TBiS’s meal for the night, she was grateful that at this pace, she and Duke would be married at least by the time they were forty.

  Dove knew lying in Duke’s lap to seek comfort was probably shady as shit. She knew how he felt. And his sympathy boner was making her current position more than awkward.