Hogtied: Mingo McCloud, #7

by AJ Llewellyn

“Really?” I was excited now.

  Francois was on the move. Where the hell is he going?

  “Yeah. It’s called an Oenophile.”

  My spirits sank. “Oh, joy. Another one.”

  “You’ve already got one?”

  “We’ve got three. They’re wine bottle openers.”

  “Oh. Can I have it? Can I use it as a sex toy?”

  “I gotta go.” I ended the call and ran with the iPad in one hand, the phone in the other. My cell phone was ringing again but I muted it. Fast. I hurried to the house just in time to see Francois break into the backdoor and take Lippy down on the kitchen floor. I was so impressed. He had handcuffs, but no weapon. The element of surprise, not to mention Francois’s superior skills proved matchless. No wonder I was so hot for the guy.

  Leilani was sobbing and having trouble breathing. Lippy must have bound her hands behind her after they finished the dishes. She hurtled toward me, and I held her tight after depositing everything on the kitchen countertop.

  “Don’t take the tape or the zip-ties off before you get a photo,” Francois said to me.

  My hands shook as I did as he commanded.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Leilani yelled, falling into my arms again. It was hard removing the zip-ties.

  I tried talking to her, but she was a mess. A freaking mess.

  Francois stood, his foot on Lippy’s back. “Where’s Mrs. Plinky?”

  Lippy said something that sounded like, “Fuck you.”

  As I snipped off the zip-ties from Leilani’s wrists she said, “She’s on the bed. He tied her up and left her there. I hope she’s okay. She’s been awfully quiet. And Lippy here went over and hit the neighbor in the head with a George Foreman Grill. For a retired boxer, George still packs a punch.”

  “Call the police,” Francois commanded me. “And keep your foot on this idiot. If he makes any sudden moves, kick him. Hard.”

  “Roger that.” I moved over and put my foot on Lippy’s ass hoping he couldn’t feel my whole body trembling with fear. I was an accountant for cripes’ sake. Not a ninja assassin.

  I made the call. Leilani and Francois rushed out the backdoor. Leilani returned.

  “I think he killed the neighbor. Francois told me to come back and make sure you call 9-1-1.”

  “Me?” Lippy lifted his face from the floor. “I never killed anyone in my life!”

  “Shut up!” we screamed at him in unison.

  “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

  “Help!” I yelped. Well, that always seemed to work for Benny.

  “Do you need fire or ambulance?” the operator asked in her calm, maddening voice.

  “Ambulance.” Leilani came into the kitchen and I could tell by her stricken expression it wasn’t good news. I took a deep breath. “We have a homicide,” I said.

  Francois came in as the operator assured me help was on the way and that I should check on Mrs. Plinky.

  “Don’t,” Leilani said to me. “I just went. I can’t unsee what I’ve just seen.” Tears streaked down her cheeks.

  “She’s dead?” I couldn’t believe it. A double homicide!

  “No, she peed and pooped all over herself. I can’t unsee it. Or unsmell it. She’s glad we’re here but she’s plenty embarrassed.”

  “She must have been terrified.” I’d take her word for Mrs. Plinky’s condition.

  Francois returned and took the phone from me. We have a witness to the neighbor being hit in the head. He’s alive. He’s breathing, but he doesn’t look good. Unresponsive. I gave him CPR, but he needs oxygen,” he was saying into the phone.

  The operator kept him on the phone.

  “All I wanted was to cook,” Lippy whined. “I just wanted her to taste my food.”

  It seemed like forever but was really only minutes before a squad car arrived with an ambulance on its tail. Francois ended the call as the second ambulance, the medical examiner, and more squad cars arrived.

  Two injured people. People pee and poopies. And a grill being used as a lethal weapon.

  On my wedding day.

  I went outside, feeling sick. As one ambulance took the neighbor away, another one took Mrs. Plinky.

  “I just bought my duvet,” she said, wailing as they wheeled her inside. “Six hundred thread count!”

  A third ambulance arrived, and one of the paramedics checked over the still-weepy Leilani.

  “Maybe we should call off the wedding,” I said as Francois joined me.

  “No fucking way.”

  Benny turned up at the parking lot, waving at me. He moved through all the looky-loos, the news crews that had showed up, and shoved his way past the cops who were processing the scene.

  My cell phone rang again. It was my mom. The first guests have arrived. You’re getting married in 90 mins! I’ll give them a beer. Hurry.

  I texted back, Thanks. Be there soon x and really hoped I would.

  Benny was out of breath, when he fumed, “Well, I’m glad you found him, but I wish you could have done it before he committed murder.”

  “Don’t blame us. We couldn’t find your tracker.” Francois stood, hands on hips staring Benny down.

  Benny flinched. “I took it off and put it on Sage’s car. I forgot to tell you. He found it before I could even ask you to start following him. That’s what we’ve been fighting about. He says I don’t trust him.”

  “Well, you don’t, do you?” Francois was pissed. “You make life so much harder than it needs to be, Benny.” He looked at me. “Take Leilani to our place and get her cleaned up. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He glanced at Benny. “Lippy’s got multiple arrest warrants and he’s wanted on the mainland on check kiting charges. I suggest you meet him at the Wahiawa police station and sort this out. We’ve got a wedding to handle.”

  Benny opened and closed his mouth.

  Francois dropped a kiss on mine, and I hightailed it to Leilani.

  “Where’s my dog?” she asked as I helped her to the SUV. I had no idea how Francois would get home, but I knew somehow, he would.

  “She’s at our place.” My hands shook as I started the engine. The whole experience had been unsettling. Francois and I had both left the keys in the ignition. It was astonishing the vehicle was still there and not stolen, completely stripped, and left burning on some remote dirt road.

  “Oh, thank God. That Lippy. What an effing freak. He was obsessed because Mrs. Plinky owns a noodle bar on Beach Walk in Waikiki. He looked at this as an audition for a position as chef. Can you imagine giving him a job after he breaks in and ties her up? He’s just a loon.”

  “How was the saimin?”

  “He wouldn’t let me try it. He said I was rude.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s my girl.” I patted her knee as I drove.

  “It smelled good, though. We havin’ saimin today, Mingo?” She wound her hair around her index finger. She always did this when she was very nervous. One time, during a very complex fraud case, she was so upset by the way she perceived the court proceedings to be going, she wrapped her hair around her pen, and it got stuck in there. I’d had to cut it out with a pair of scissors back at her house.

  “No saimin. But we’ve got fish, shrimp, sushi, kalua pork, salads, lots of desserts. Oh. And a partridge in a pair tree.” I said this to see if she was listening.

  She started to cry. “When Mrs. Plinky got um, lippy, he threatened to put a plastic bag over her head. It frightened me, Mingo. He had this look in his eyes. I truly think he was capable of it. So, I stopped being mean. I asked questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  She shrugged, swatting at the tears on her face. “What spices he used in his cooking. He liked that. Then I asked him why he got fired from his job and he went crazy. Turns out he put laxatives in his boss’s lunch one day.”

  “That’d do it.” I glanced at the dashboard clock. Francois and I were getting married in se
venty-three minutes.

  “I think he’s nuts. He got mad at his boss because he said he needed to cut back on staff. He’s still mad about it. He said he’d been doing break-ins at restaurant owners’ homes. I mean, I feel sorry for the guy being homeless and everything, but holding people hostage over soup is about as freaky as it gets.”

  “I hope the neighbor’s going to be okay,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah, me too. I saw him a couple of times. He was on the phone. He waved to me, but I couldn’t wave back. I was so worried when Lippy went out and beat him up. And you know that Mrs. Plinky, she’s so nice. When I went to check on her, she asked me how Matthew was. Matthew’s the neighbor.”

  “Oh, okay.” I pulled into my driveway once the gate opened, astonished to see six vehicles all lined up there like steadfast tin soldiers. My mom and Mele ran out. I ran past them all. I needed to pee, needed to hug my kid, and I needed to drink some iced water. Stat.

  Ferric was entertaining the guests who’d arrived. He wasn’t warm and sweet as I’d expected. He seemed a little unhinged if you ask me.

  “We’re almost late,” he said through gritted teeth. “Are you and Dad trying to give me a heart attack today?”

  I waved at the guests who were mingling in the backyard. The place looked lovely and festive. It looked…ready for a wedding. A small podium stood by our water fountain feature of the water goddess, Nāmaka. In Hawaiian legend, she was the older sister of Goddess Pele. We loved her, too. The sitting statue of Nāmaka had a purple water lily tucked over her left ear and another one in her outstretched palms.

  When we’d sent out our invitations, we’d included small sheets of handmade paper and asked all our guests to write her a note with the things they were grateful for and to leave them like offerings in a bowl by her feet.

  The kahuna who was performing our wedding ceremony would bless the notes, then burn them in an ancient wedding ritual right after our handfasting. He would explain we would be honoring both the water deity and the fire one because love is like fire. All consuming. We wanted to help our friends and family realize all their dreams and to remember to be grateful for all that they had.

  We were expecting thirty and it looked like about ten or twelve were already here. People waved at me. Even Dani waved, which made me happy. I waved back, then Ferric grabbed my arm.

  He whispered in my ear, “Dad, Alika won’t even look at me. Won’t talk to me. She says she wants to be my friend. Is that what friends do?”

  “No, it isn’t.” Alika was fast joining the list of people whose asses I wanted to kick today. “Just be nice. The nastier she gets, the nicer you get.”

  “I should ask Dad for advice. He’d say I should go tell her to get—”

  “Ferric!” I shook my head. “No! Be nice. Be soft. I love you. Stay gold, pony boy.”

  Yeah, I was stealing a line from The Outsiders, but it was one of my favorites. I’d introduced Ferric to the book and the movie. I felt it was safe because there wasn’t a single shark in it. I gave him a hug, then dashed to my bedroom. I stripped off my clothes and took a quick shower in the en suite bathroom and was thrilled when Francois joined me a couple of minutes later.

  “That was fast. Everything okay?” I asked. I could tell he had sex on the brain the way he kicked his shoes into the stratosphere and whipped off his clothes. All the while, he let his gaze traverse my body.

  “Yeah. I missed you. You’re gorgeous, babe.” He pressed himself against me in the shower stall. We had people waiting outside and by the sounds of things, more guests arriving, but I was a little busy. Besides, they sounded happy. There was music and laughter. I closed my eyes. Keola Beamer’s Slack Key Music Box always revved my engine. In fact, it made me want to do the hula. And fuck like a demented bunny.

  “How’d you get back here?” I asked Francois, already out of breath as he licked and sucked my earlobes and throat. The hot, soapy water falling between us only inflamed my carnal intentions toward Francois. I loved the shower gel scent. It was called Snowman and the label said it would contain a hint of citrus and a huge dollop of sexy. So far, I concurred.

  “Benny brought me. Don’t wanna talk about him now.”

  I kissed him. “Neither…” Pant…pant, “do I.”

  Francois turned me around, using a white sponge to squeeze soap suds from my neck down my back and between my ass crack. He let his hands linger there, running his fingers up and down, pressing them into my tail bone, then releasing me. Warm water was squeezed down my back, then he positioned me so the shower water cascaded straight down my body. He returned to touching my crack and cheeks, pressing a thumb at my hole, then taking it away. I arched back toward him, trying to get his finger, any finger, inside me. He kept teasing me, but I didn’t care. I knew I was going to get fucked and waiting only made things better for both of us.

  He spun me around and took possession of my cock, which was already hard. He sucked it until it bounced against his chin, then placed some noisy kisses on my ball sac, fondling them with soap-lathered fingers.

  “Is this our new soap?” he asked. When I nodded, he rasped, “I swear it haunts my dreams.” He sucked my cock again making me feel amazing. His actions grew more frantic. He sucked me so hard and deep I was on my toes now.

  He turned me around again and squeezed more suds onto my ass crack, rubbing his hot cock head against me. I moaned, anxious for him to be inside me. He took his time, poking, prodding that thing, and finally just sticking it in me. He fucked me with abandon, then turned me halfway around to face him. My lover kissed my mouth and eyes, then taunted my nipples with sensuous licks. I lifted my right leg up high to give him better access to me.

  Francois let out a gasp. The music was driving me wild, turning me on so that I was swaying and rocking in time with it. I was Francois’s extra special, exotic hula boy. He grabbed my cock from behind and tugged on it, letting soap and water drift over the tip. I was going crazy and I knew he was too. He fucked me until he came, making me come with him. I shot all over his hand and he bit and sucked my shoulder.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. He wiggled his brow. “To be continued.”

  We turned off the taps and got out of the shower, both of us grinning. Drying off, we got dressed in our matching white boxer briefs, white linen pants and shirts, then my mom almost broke the door down with her knocking and kicking. Francois let her in. She ran past him with our maile leis.

  “Everybody’s here!” She tossed our leis like confetti, and we grabbed them. “Come on!” She jumped up and down like a demented flea.

  “How do I look?” I asked her.

  “I wish you’d worn a wedding dress, like I asked. They make such nice ones for gay men now. I think the guests will be so disappointed.”

  “Why will they be disappointed?” Francois asked.

  “Well…I may have conveyed the idea Mingo was going to be dressed like Princess Diana.”

  I stared at her in horror. Francois just laughed. We put on our leis, and Francois took my hand. We walked barefoot outside our room and for me, the world stopped. Nothing existed at this moment except him. This beautiful man.

  “I love you,” Francois said, looking at me.

  “I love you, too.”

  As we walked through the living room and reached the petal-strewn path to the kahuna outside, everybody stood and turned to watch us. I felt nothing but love from everyone.

  My mom stood in front of us. She turned, sniffling. “My boys.” She wormed her way between us, and we hugged her.

  “Ferric’s waiting for us.” Francois wiped at his eyes. We kept moving and as we walked outside, that’s when I heard the music. Mele was singing the 1926 classic Hawaiian Wedding Song and I may have shed a tear, or two, as my mom and Ferric accompanied us down the aisle.

  Mom stood to my left, Ferric to Francois’s right. I spotted Shenice, Francois’s ex, the mother of our son Ferric and wondered what the hell she was doing at my wedding. How many people had F
rancois invited and not mentioned to me?

  She seemed happy enough however, sitting beside a man I’d never seen before. He looked a bit weird with a shaggy haircut and sunglasses. I think he may have been asleep.

  I’d forgotten about Leilani, but she stood waiting for us on the little podium, in her linen pants and shirt, a splendid haku—head lei—made of maile lei atop her flame-colored hair. I could smell her pikake lei and it filled my heart with joy. She smiled and teared up as we reached her.

  When Mele sang, “I will love you longer than forever,” I cried like a nine-year old girl. I’d forgotten all my vows, but as we hugged Leilani and the kahuna, Ferric did us both proud with the masterful way he handled the handfasting ceremony. He wrapped the special strand of maile lei around our joined hands and everyone got to their feet to watch. My mom was supposed to be taking photos, but she was too entranced to put the camera up to her eyes.

  The kahuna waved burning branches of woven sweetgrass around us and chanted a wedding blessing, and everyone went quiet. I felt in that moment that we’d stepped back in time, to a sacred place. A feeling of old Hawaii. A time, as they once said, days that were days indeed.

  “Long ago in time,” the kahuna said, “couples didn’t have the money for rings. In our islands, people showed their love for one another publicly by binding their hands together.

  “Mingo, for how long do you take Francois Aumary to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  That was easy. “For all of eternity.”

  “And, Francois, how long do you take Michael “Mingo” McCloud to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  “Forever. And ever. And ever.” The smile he gave me was so magnificent, I fell in love with him all over again.

  I didn’t let go of Francois throughout the entire ceremony and I knew I never would in my life. He was mine. Mine! And I knew I was the luckiest guy in all the world.

  Chapter Five

  The kahuna made figure eights, signifying eternity around us until we exchanged our rings.

  He clapped his hands together. “We will now honor the notes your guests have written.” He glanced at the guests behind us. “Francois and Mingo want you to know dreams are always possible. Be passionate about your love. Your life. And always, always, chase your rainbows.” He beamed at us. “I now pronounce you husband and husband!”