Fire in the Hole

  Duke pushed Bill away, turned his back on him, and addressed Dove. “Sorry. Come with me. I don’t want to leave you here with him.” He held out his hand and she took it.

  He pulled her behind him, threading them through the crowd. All the different people from Pissboy and Cross-eyed Knocker’s wedding party congratulated him as he passed, slapping his shoulder and smiling at her.

  “Hold my beer.” He handed her his glass and climbed up on the wall of the fountain so everyone could see him.

  “Hey! Everyone!” Duke looked at her and winked.

  From where she stood, Dove could see Bill rubbing his cheek and giving Duke the evil eye. Beyond him, the party from the wedding Johnson was attending was walking through their rehearsal. The huge panes of glass and the lighting allowed her to see every move they made. Beth and Johnson were walking, her arm threaded through his as they carefully stepped through their choreography for the big day tomorrow. Just like they would when they married. It was like Dove could see into the future. Like her sadness was set to a perfect visual.

  She looked back at Duke in time to see his eyes soften with his tone. “You made a great wife. Even pretend style.” Only she heard him.

  Dove set his beer down by his feet and climbed up next to him.

  Everyone had their attention on them. Duke started to explain. “I have to confess— ”

  Dove covered his mouth with her hand and shook her head at him.

  “He was just going to thank you all for the sausage. He gets emotional about it.”

  Someone from the crowd heckled, “And you’ll be emotional when he’s cracking farts on you later.”

  He shrugged, and she felt his lips curve into a smile under her hand.

  Tough to turn that into to a positive. She tried. “Well, it’s true; when he passes gas, it smells a whole lot like he’s digesting a Dementor from Harry Potter…”

  The crowd laughed.

  “But it goes to show you what a great guy he is. He can fart and still have me.”

  Dove shrugged back at Duke and removed her hands.

  “Thanks, Pants-crapper. You don’t have to do this.” Duke he picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. She nodded and looked back at the tableau that held Johnson.

  He was watching her. She bet the spotlights littered around the patio cast enough light for him to see her. He’d probably watched Duke kiss her hand. Dove swallowed. The eye contact they held was full of hurt—from him as well, which was so ironic Dove felt like it would come alive and slap her.

  The wedding party he was supposed to be paying attention to played their parts behind him. Beth looked furious at his obvious distraction. She was doing a lot of gesturing with her left hand until Johnson turned to look at her; then she put her left hand quickly behind her back.

  Duke hopped off the fountain after wishing the wedding couple much success. Dove looked from Johnson to Duke, and the latter smiled at her like she had invented beauty.

  She’d made Duke’s night by not letting him divulge their secret. He helped her down from the fountain, and she hooked her arm in his. At least he would have a good night. It was probably a bad idea to continue pretending, but seeing Johnson and Beth made Dove want to have something in her life. Duke was a great substitute when he was dressed up.

  “Thanks for that,” he murmured in her ear. “You want me to go in there and tell the pharmacist about Beth’s mouthful of my pubes?”

  She lifted one eyebrow. “Not yet. But if we feed me enough alcohol, I might be changing my mind about that.”

  Johnson was a little more than drunk. Beth fluttered around him like a gnat the whole rehearsal. Finally, he sat on a barstool. The wedding coordinator was fit to be tied. He wondered if she needed some anxiety meds and started sizing her up to guess her appropriate dosage.

  It became his new favorite game. He spent considerable time trying to avoid going outside and acting like an asshole to get Dove back.

  Beth was acting shady, though he was doing his best to ignore her. She kept putting her hand behind her back. Like she was giving a prom date a surprise corsage. The wedding coordinator yelled at him again as he polished off the last of his rum and coke. He’d had more to drink tonight than when he’d lost his job do to the butt-fucking.

  “And if you don’t have the steps correct, the entire wedding will be a disaster. What was your name again? I swear, if you don’t have this down, I’m not working with you and your fiancée.”

  The wedding planner’s eyes were laced with bright red veins. She’d rimmed them with white, maybe to simulate a good night’s sleep, but it had a very off-putting effect.

  “Have you ever considered therapy-based anxiety medication? I think you might benefit. I mean, I’m no doctor, but yours should certainly consider it for you.” Johnson nodded. He knew he shouldn’t be saying anything at all; it was inappropriate. Then slowly her words came back to him like a bad dream. “Did you say ‘fiancée’?”

  “Beth? Your fiancée? I use that term lightly because that ring you gave her is as fake as my breasts. Get your steps right and I won’t tell her. And also? If you can’t spring for a real ring, you can’t afford me, either.” The wedding planner flung her hair over her shoulder and flounced away.

  A ring? Maybe he would have figured that out sooner if he hadn’t been drinking like alcohol was the milk from a mother’s teat and he was the babe in arms. Beth had been hiding her hand the entire night—and now it made sense. Before he could heave himself off the barstool, Duke and Dove came into view. She pointedly ignored Johnson, though Duke gave him the happiest middle finger he’d ever seen. Their hands were entwined. Probably off to have more anal sex.

  He needed to leave. He needed to go home and lick his wounds. This godforsaken nightmare wedding could have uneven numbers. Which grated hard on Johnson’s number fetish, but he would have to allow it to avoid seeing Dove and Duke together again.

  He pushed off from his stool and stumbled over to Beth. She smiled at first until he said, “Let me see your left goddamned hand, Beth.”

  She yipped and tried to run. Johnson caught her by her waist and pulled her flush to him. “The ring. Show me the big, fake ring you’re wearing.”

  Beth used her right hand to grab a fistful of his hair. “Now see, this forcefulness would have kept us together. Bethie likes.”

  Johnson pulled her hand out from behind her, and she looked at the floor guiltily as he took in the very shiny jewelry that would have been fit for Cleopatra if it were real.

  “You can wear this all you want, but don’t put my name on it, Beth. We’re over and you know it.” Well, that was what he was trying to say. Instead, he was pretty sure he mumbled,

  “The ring is the thing.

  We only had a fling.

  You need a new king.

  Your bling is a sling

  For you to cling

  To my swing.”

  Damn Dr. Seuss drunk rhyming. “I’m going upstairs to sing about how we’re not a thing.”

  With that, he released her; she stumbled, and he turned on his heel. As he staggered across the lobby, the concierge ran over to him.

  “Mr. Fitzwell!”

  He stopped and turned.

  “We had a slight flood. Your room assignment has been changed. Well, we had to refuse your request for a separate room. Your new room is number 515, and you’ll be sharing with Beth Granley as you had originally planned, but I made sure you had two beds. We had your things moved over. Luckily nothing was damaged in the flood. Here’s your new key.”

  Johnson took the key and shook his head. If he was remembering correctly, his new room with Beth was adjacent to Dove and Duke’s. He was far too drunk to make any changes, and his night just got infinitely worse.

  Dove crawled into the bed next to Duke and buried her head under the pillows. After Duke had paraded her past Johnson at the bar, she’d turned around to talk to him. She just wanted to say hello to him. Explain that she wished him well. Sh
e was in the Mother Teresa stage of her drinking, which was, granted, a very short window of time. She’d turned and saw Johnson grab Beth like she was made of sex and he wanted a bite. His back was to her, but she’d watched as they admired Beth’s new ring together. Dove had run back to the elevator in time to ride it up with Duke.

  Duke yanked her out from under the pillows and pulled her against his chest. He petted her back.

  “He doesn’t deserve you, Dove.” His deep voice rumbled through his chest.

  “No. I don’t deserve him. And I didn’t get him. The pretty blonde gets him. I bet she does the splits during sex. And I’m just not that flexible.” She sighed.

  “Nailing a girl while she does the splits is painful. She pinches your dick with her pelvis bone.” Duke hugged her to him with both arms. He smelled amazing, and she had a great view of his flagpole starting to rise.

  “Um.” She didn’t know what to say. It just kept getting bigger.

  “Sorry. He doesn’t listen to me. I told him we’re friends, and he says you were naked in here taking a shower and that means he has thoughts. But don’t worry; I’m in charge because I’m bigger.”

  “Maybe I should hop over to your sister’s room. You know. Because you only have this one bed.”

  He tilted her chin up with his finger. “You drunk?”

  She nodded, pressing down again and again on his finger.

  “You should go then. For sure.”

  “It’s getting pretty big.” She tossed that in as an ego booster.

  “Thanks. That just made it bigger.” He grinned at her.

  Dove pushed herself off the bed and gathered up her PJs. After changing in the bathroom, she returned to see Duke had porn on the screen.

  “I’ll let you be alone with your date.” She hurried out the door after seeing his smirk.

  In the sitting room, she opened the door out to the hallway by mistake, realizing she had the wrong door in her sleepy drunken stupor in time to see Johnson open the next door and pull Beth into his room.

  She quietly closed hers and cursed. She wasn’t even surprised that fate would set their rooms next to each other. That was what she expected. By the end of the weekend, she fully anticipated Johnson and Beth having sex on top of her own fucking face.

  She crossed the little living room and knocked.

  The door was flung open. “Hello, lover.” Duke’s sister, Helena, was incredibly tall, made up mostly of leg.

  She had a cupcake-patterned, see-through nightie on. Dove tried not to stare at her nipples. She shook her head and addressed the tall cupcake advertisement. “Hi, Helena, I’m Dove. Duke told me we would be sharing a room?”

  Helena looked flustered. “Really? I thought he knew about my condition.”

  “If it’s a problem, I’ll just stay on the couch. You know what? That’s exactly what I’ll do.” Dove started backing up.

  Helena grabbed her arms and dragged her into her lair.

  “Wow.” Dove wished she’d let go. “You’re strong.”

  Helena released Dove’s arm and slammed the door shut. The tall woman began doing up an elaborate row of locks. The situation was moving past awkward and merging into scary as the last lock clicked into place. Helena must have brought a fistful of travel locks with her.

  “I was just about to go to bed. It’ll be fine. I have an extra bed.”

  Dove didn’t know what else to do, so she got into the second bed, which had a pretty afghan on top of the hotel bedspread and some extra fluffy pillows.

  Helena pulled heavy-duty, mental institution-strength Velcro strips out from under the bed and attached one to each leg of the bed.

  “I can do my legs, but do you mind doing my arms?”

  “Um. I’m a little uncomfortable. This has a very scary tone. The locks. The restraints.” Dove inched back to the door.

  Helena gave Dove a sweet smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve been living in Canada where the locks and restraints are common. And really, I put the locks up as a silly precaution.”

  In Dove’s drunk mind this all made sense. She got out of bed and after a little figuring, lightly bound Duke’s sister to the bed.

  “No, tighter please!” Helena smiled as though Dove was helping her pick up dropped reams of paper.

  “Okay?” Dove made both restraints far tighter than she wanted to.

  “Thanks. I just need one of those pills from the table. Would you mind?” Helena pointed with one bound hand.

  Dove opened a bottle and popped a small blue pill in Helena’s mouth. Helena described the rest of her sleep ritual so Dove could help. She turned on a huge white-noise machine and a portable fan and then turned off the light.

  Dove was disorientated by the sudden blackness and had to feel her way over to her bed. The blackness was welcome. She planned on crying the whole night through. It was wildly dark, which must have taken some planning. Most hotel rooms Dove had stayed in had a few random night-lights and blinking electronics that burned all night.

  It was so dark Dove couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or shut. Helena began talking as if she wasn’t impersonating a frog in a biology class, laid out and pinned down for dissection. “I’ve had some bouts with insomnia, hence all the different sleep aids. I’m sure my restraints look alarming, but I assure you, they’re just for safety’s sake. I used to suffer from night terrors, but the doctor prescribed some SleepSom to help me finally get some rest.”

  Dove waited to see what else the woman would say, but over the roar of the fan and the white noise, she heard regular, peaceful breathing. Helena was asleep. Dove tried not to feel claustrophobic. Really, the hotel room was very womb-like. Warm and restful. Duke’s sister is on to something. Dove closed her eyes, thinking she should be well-rested and able to leave the hotel early and then she wouldn’t have to see Johnson again.

  Johnson.

  The pain seemed to become a second skin. She never thought she’d love a pharmacist. Pills never interested Dove before. Well, except for that pill that turned people into nighttime zombies and made them do things they never thought they would in a million years.

  She was smiling as she thought of the stories she’d read on one forum: a woman screwing the pizza boy, people eating every damn thing out of the fridge and not remembering they did it. She almost laughed out loud.

  What was the name of that funny medicine again? SomFlower? SleepMate? Oh that’s right. SleepSom.

  Oh my God!

  SLEEPSOM!

  Just then, Dove heard the distinct ripping sound of Velcro being pulled apart.

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Mr. Nuffleup wants to fuck me!” Helena’s voice was much higher now than it had been when she was awake.

  Dove had admired Helena’s long legs before, but now they sounded as if they were launching the woman around the hotel room like a gazelle.

  “Hairy puppets want to screw me. Back up, frog! Who knew your dick was so big? Purple? It should be green!”

  In her effort to escape whatever it was that was chasing Helena in her imagination, Dove had luckily fallen into a touch lamp, which illuminated Helena’s look of pure fear along with the rest of the hotel room.

  It was creepy because Helena looked very awake and was able to track all of Dove’s movements, but she must be sleep walking. Finally, the gorgeous woman caught up with Dove and pressed her against the ridiculously secure door.

  “I’ll save you from the horny puppet zombies, person. Can you reach my shank? I keep it strapped to my thigh.” Helena’s skin was incredibly soft, plus the SleepSom had made her even freakishly stronger than she already was.

  Dove reached between Helena’s legs because, damn it, if this chick had a shank, Dove wanted control of it until Helena was in her right mind.

  “Frog! You fucker. Get your nose out of my girly parts!”

  Dove cringed, searching Helena’s outer thigh instead, and found she did indeed have a homemade shank in a holster.

  Dove pulled it out
and flung it across the room.

  There was a fierce knocking on the door.

  “Open the damn door, Helena! The puppets are not here.”

  Hearing her brother’s voice seemed to calm Helena, and she began singing a sweet song in a very high-pitched, horror movie style.

  “Duke! She’s got me locked in here!”

  Duke talked Dove through the process of unlocking the tiers of metal holding them in, and she was finally able to free herself and fling the door wide open.

  “Your sister is out of her mind.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I forgot about that. She’s usually normal, but those new sleeping pills are pretty insane.”

  Dove smacked him hard in the chest, and he caught her hands, laughing at her.

  Helena commenced singing louder.

  There was a knock on the door to the suite. Duke pushed past Dove. “I’ll get her back into her bed. She must have forgotten to tell you about the auxiliary restraints. I ordered room service. Can you get that?”

  Dove nodded as Duke closed the bedroom door. He could hear Helena talking about the puppets again.

  She pulled open the front door without looking through the peephole. A rumpled Johnson with glazed eyes stood on the other side.

  A put together Johnson made her vagina purr. Sloppy Johnson made it roar.

  She sighed the word hi and leaned against the door. She was so angry with him, but her heart was the quickest forgiver of all time as it rose to the top of her throat with hope.

  It was him.

  Johnson leaned against the doorframe. He knew he was a mess—his hair was everywhere and his shirt was unbuttoned because he had felt like it was strangling him. The screaming that had cut through the thin walls had kept him from falling asleep. That and Beth in the bathroom, crying and snorting about being dumped again. The room had been spinning, and he’d had to keep a hand on the floor to make it stop. He was past the rhyming drunkenness; now he should either be asleep or thinking deep, mathematical thoughts.

  But the thought that the obvious threesome focused on anal sex in the next room had gotten out of control and Dove’s yells and screams were of her in trouble overrode his common sense at leaving a new bride with her husband and their willing friend. He was banging on the door before he could stop himself.