The doctor had made his entrance. He eyed both of us and grinned. “Which one’s the lucky fellow?”
Jason pointed.
I looked behind me and prayed God would deliver a fatted calf. Hey, it happened in the Bible! God provides! In desperate times!
Sweating, I gulped and gave a solid nod. I was a man. I could go through with an exam. I mean—
Holy hell.
The doctor’s hands were huge.
Side note: I’m well aware that I tend to exaggerate, but either he was having an allergic reaction or he was a giant.
“So.” He slapped on his gloves and rubbed them together.
Jason paled and put his fist in his mouth like he was going to throw up.
“You two together?” The doctor pointed between us.
“Yes!” I wailed. “And um, we want to be sure both of us are safe for . . . activities.” That’s right, bastard. I was going to throw Jason under that exact same bus and watch as the wheels went round and round.
“Oh.” The doctor glanced between Jason and me, then gave a firm nod. “All right, then, so I’ll just start with you and move on to your friend.” Holy shit. Those words made my entire body convulse. Swear I was rethinking having two balls and a bat. For once in my life, I just wanted to strike out. Break my bat, hand over the balls, and rock back and forth in the corner.
“Have you been sexually active in the past six months?” The doctor sniffed and started pulling out supplies, laying them across the table. I watched in horror as visions of getting abducted by aliens danced like sugarplums in my head.
People die from fear.
It could happen.
I read stories where people would just spontaneously combust.
And it was about to happen if the heat in my body and all-around shaking were any indicator.
“I have to—” Jason ran toward the door and slammed it behind him.
“Weak stomach?” The doctor chuckled.
“He’s afraid of my nakedness—makes him feel like less of a man.”
“O-okay.” The doctor laughed again and motioned for me to turn around. “Now, drop your pants to your knees.”
Let it be known that no man. NO MAN should ever hear those words from someone who could pass as his great-grandfather.
The cold air bit my ass as I turned and waited.
“Now, bend over.”
Shhiiitttttt.
I did as he said, cursing Jason and all his future children.
“Now, this may be cold.”
Just let it be small.
“And a bit painful, it’s totally normal to experience some discomfort.”
“Ha-ha.” I laughed dryly. “Guess we know what it means if it’s comfortable, am I right, Doc?”
And silence.
Worst thing to say when you have your pants at your ankles and the doctor’s about two seconds away from making you see stars. Where were the drugs?
“Now try not to tense up.”
Ha, seriously?
“Here we go.”
Oh. God. Did he need to count down?
“Turn your head and—cough.”
“Mother of God!” I shouted, hitting my hands against the metal table as the doctor made his intentions perfectly clear.
“Cough!” he shouted.
“Stop yelling at me!”
“I’m not yelling!”
“I want to go home now.”
“Almost done!” The doctor laughed uncomfortably.
I choked when he removed his digits from my special place. I had one of those moments, the kind where you feel so used you’re not sure whether you should cry or laugh.
“All right! You can put your pants back on.”
I felt ashamed. Like I’d just been screwed and not even offered dinner for my gallant efforts in the bedroom. Holy shit, was this what girls felt like after one-night stands?
Where the hell were my flowers?
At least give me a sucker or something . . . maybe a sticker? Saying I got . . . never mind. Those types of stickers were probably illegal.
“Now.” The doc took off his gloves and washed his hands.
Right. LIKE I WAS UNCLEAN!
He put on a new pair.
And the torture train just kept tooting.
Ha, tooting, see, it’s funny because . . . never mind.
“I’ll just need to draw some blood.” He pulled out a giant-ass needle and I had one of those moments that I’m sure every five-year-old experiences right before his mom holds him down while he gets a needle in the ass.
Terror.
“This won’t hurt a bit.” He laughed nervously.
HOLY SHIT, STOP LAUGHING!
I winced as he pricked my arm and started drawing blood. His lips were moving but I wasn’t really catching anything.
“All donnne.” His voice was low. Why was he talking so slow?
“Youuu cannn gooo noowww.”
I shook my head and tried to go to the door but was met with total blackness before I took two steps.
The last thought in my head?
I was trapped in a room with a man who’d just seen my Mighty Max. I hoped to God he hadn’t liked it.
CHAPTER THREE
MAX
So apparently they do still give suckers. But the catch is you have to cry really hard in order to receive one. Either that or you have to pass out. I sucked the lollipop and winced as I slowly walked out the doors and toward the waiting car.
Jason was listening to music and tapping the steering wheel.
My balls were sad.
Really, that was all there was to it. I could sugarcoat it and say I was man enough to survive the exam, but I swear to all that is holy, I would never be the same. I’d probably shriek every time I saw an old man with large hands.
It had taken ONE experience to classically condition me to hate grandparents everywhere.
“So.” Jason cleared his throat. “Sorry for running out on you.”
“He touched me,” I whispered.
“I know, man . . .” Jason coughed. “I just, I panicked. No man should have to . . .”
“He yelled at me.”
“Max—”
“I said, I said . . .” I started rocking back and forth. “I said I wanted to go home.” My teeth clacked together as I started sweating. “And at night. When I go to sleep. I’ll see those hands, Jason. I’ll see both of them.”
Jason cleared his throat. “I, uh, I sort of got something for you.”
“You did?” I blinked away the fear and watched as Jason handed me a paper bag.
Curious, I opened it and smirked. A six-pack of beer and chocolate.
“The, uh . . .” Jason scratched his head. “The chocolate has a flower on it, you know, kind of like . . . special chocolate.”
My eyes welled with tears. “You did this for me?”
Jason nodded and patted my back. “He didn’t even ask for your middle name before doing—what he did. What type of doctor does that?”
“A monster.” I started unwrapping my special chocolate.
“Yeah, well.” Jason put the car in drive. “We’ll get you drunk enough that you won’t remember.”
“God, let’s hope so.” I polished off the chocolate and cracked open a can of beer.
“Dude!” Jason smacked me. “No open containers.”
I stared at him. And downed the whole thing. Then opened a second. “You were saying, Officer?”
“You know I can arrest you, right?”
“Do it. I’ll just tell everyone you went with me to a prostate exam—and liked it!”
“You wouldn’t!”
“You know that bus—the one that keeps running me over? I’d chain myself to you, no hesitation. So you should really think through all your choices, Jason. Revenge is a bitch.”
He pulled up to Colt and Milo’s house. “Believe me, I know.”
“Hey!” I pointed to all the cars parked in the driveway. “Are we having
a party?”
“Yup!”
Smiling, I grabbed the rest of my beer and waltzed through the front door.
“Congratulations!” Milo started jumping up and down, then threw her arms around my neck. Panicking, I pushed her away.
Colt pried her arms from me and held her back. “Careful, babe, he’s been with the doctor.”
“HE TOLD YOU!” I yelled.
Colt smiled. “So, got any STDs?”
“Swear, I’m this close to purposefully infecting myself with herpes so I can pass it along like a true friend. Feel me?”
Milo raised her hand. “You’d be passing it on to both of us.”
“Milo!” I gritted my teeth. “Not now!”
“You drunk enough yet?” Colt smirked.
Grumbling, I stepped past him and looked at the banner they’d hung in their hallway.
“To the new Bachelor.”
“Tell me—” I downed another can of beer. “Did you know, Milo? Did you help your satanic brother?”
Milo’s guilty face was all it took for me to charge toward her, but she hid behind her husband.
“Come out and fight me like a man!” I demanded.
“But I’m a girl!” she said from behind Colt. “And think of it this way, you get to be the Bachelor.”
“I am thinking of it that way! It sounds like a free ticket to hell! Those women are crazy! You do realize you’re putting me on an island with twenty-five Jaynes? The last episode we watched, a girl said her job was people watching. PEOPLE WATCHING IS NOT AN OCCUPATION! And they want me to find love? I’m officially going to be the first Bachelor that tries to get abducted by pirates.”
Jason cleared his throat. “They couldn’t actually prove that pirates were parading around that island, man.”
“Not,” I seethed, “the point. How do I get out of this without breaking the contract? Or getting fined for already signing something that I’m pretty sure one of you forged? All I have to do is tell them you screwed me over. Case closed.”
Nobody spoke for a few seconds, then Jason piped up. “We kind of sort of had a lawyer help us . . . um, lock you into the contract. Even if you said it was forged, technically your signature is on it, and you can’t prove we did anything, especially considering all the e-mails back and forth between you and the casting directors.”
“E-mails? You hacked my e-mail?”
Milo rolled her eyes. “You’ve had the same password all four years of college.”
“And now I have to change it!” I yelled, bordering on hysteria. I was completely and utterly screwed.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Okay, let me ask a different question. What if I don’t find someone I’m fond of?”
“Oh.” Milo stepped away from Colt. “No worries, as long as you finish the last episode you’re still under contract. We had a lawyer look through everything and—”
Colton smacked his hand over Milo’s mouth while Jason groaned behind me.
“Betrayed.” I shook my head. “By my best friends. A bunch of Judases!” I roared, running over to the silverware drawer and pulling out knives. “You wanna stab me in the back while you’re at it? Huh?”
“Max.” Milo rolled her eyes. “Put the knives down.”
“No!” I waved the knives in the air, slowly backing up. Unfortunately there was a chair there. I tripped, sending the knives into the air.
The minute my ass met the floor, I saw one knife impale itself in Jason’s thigh. What are the odds? Right?
“Son of a bitch!” Jason wailed, slamming backward against the wall, causing the clock to fall on his head. He slumped to the floor, cursing the entire way. With shaking hands he pulled the knife out of his leg. Please . . . there wasn’t even any blood. “This is why you need to do the show! You’re a danger to me and everyone else around you! The universe is clearly trying to tell you something, man.”
“That’s right.” I pointed at him, ignoring all the universe-being-out-of-whack shit pouring from his mouth. “Karma’s coming for you.” I made a cutting motion with my hand.
Just as Jason tossed the clock at me, I ducked, causing it to hit Colt in the stomach.
“Guys!” Milo stomped her foot. “Stop it! Max, you’re going. The papers are signed; stop being a baby. Plus your face is perfect for TV.”
“Flattery won’t work.” Okay, fine, so my chest puffed up a bit, but still.
“Two of the contestants are models.” She held out a DVD.
“What’s that?”
“Your women.” She grinned. “Wanna see?”
“Damn it.” I crossed my arms and stared at the DVD. “Are there any brunettes? You know I love brunettes.”
“Ten.” Milo winked. “After all, I helped them cast. What kind of friend would I be if I let them pick out all those girls?”
“Aw, Milo.” I pulled her in for a hug while Colton glared. “You really do love me. I almost like you again.”
“Yeah, well. Jason and Colt helped.” She held up her hands as if she wasn’t the only one who’d done the dirty work.
I clenched my jaw. “And when you say help, they picked all the crazies?”
“Two.” Colt coughed. “But to be fair, the producers were adamant about picking a few girls who were . . . untamed.”
Smirking, I rocked back on my heels. “Just call me a zookeeper ’cause I’ll tame them all day. All day, son!”
“Yeah,” Milo croaked. “One hasn’t shaved her legs in ten years.”
“Son of a hairy bitch.” I groaned and pressed my fingers against my temples. “Fine, put on the DVD, but I want whiskey.”
CHAPTER FOUR
MAX
“Okay.” Colt rubbed his hands together. “Now does everyone have a work sheet and a pencil?”
I lifted my pencil in the air and momentarily imagined shoving it in Colton’s leg. Instead I wrote my name at the top of my work sheet—you know, like I was still in third grade—and sat back on the couch.
“Jason?” Colt offered a pencil. “You participating?”
“Hell, yes, I am.” His snicker was not giving me warm fuzzies. Then again, I’d probably lost all ability to feel warm fuzzies after my run-in with the doctor that morning. I would have sold my left nut for a bag of frozen peas to sit on. But that would have meant showing weakness.
I needed to get used to hiding all weakness lest any of those women see a chink in my armor and attack me with their razor-sharp nails. I’d watched the entire last season with Milo since I had nothing better to do, and now that I’d moved to the area I had exactly no friends, except for her. Those women had been crazy, straight-up crazy. Maybe it would have been better to stay in the city and be miserable there, but my parents were too close and I knew it would be only a matter of time before they came knocking. I didn’t have the strength to say no to my father’s face when he offered me the shiny nameplate and job I didn’t want. I hated letting people down and letting him down from afar seemed like a better option.
“Attention.” Colt cleared his throat. “Each person has a work sheet with twenty-five spaces. Now, as you write down the girls’ names, I want you to associate the contestant with something that will help you remember her.”
I raised my hand, not really because I had any questions but because I figured it was the fastest way to stop the roller coaster of doom that I was currently sitting on. Maybe if I told them the idea of going on a dating show hurt my self-esteem, they’d buy it? Then again, even if they did buy it—I still had a damn contract I would have to get out of.
Colt eyed everyone. “Any questions?”
I raised my hand higher.
“Anyone?” Colt’s eyes passed over me. “Okay, good. Press ‘Play,’ babe.”
Grumbling, I put my hand down and waited. The DVD started, and music that sounded suspiciously like a wedding march floated in the background. “Welcome to Love Island,” a voice said.
“Holy shit. I saw this movie! They almost died!” I pointed at the TV
and cringed. Island, island—why did that sound like a trap? Did I have a way to escape? What if I got an allergic reaction and needed a hospital? I was allergic to bees! Did they realize that if I got stung I could die? And what about island fever? It’s a real thing! And rashes, and spiders, and ho-oly shit on a stick.
Goats. What the farming hell?
Did islands have goats?
I suddenly had a horrifying vision of a red-eyed monster chasing me toward sharks and pirates. What would be a worse death? Being kicked by a goat or eaten by it?
“Wait!” I raised my hand. “I have a question.”
Colton turned up the volume, the bastard.
“Twenty-one days to love!” the voice boomed as the TV showed visions of beaches and couples laughing as they ran like gazelles across the white sand and tackled each other in the water. Swear I saw a shark in the distance.
“Are you ready to meet the contestants?” The music picked up.
“No.” I shook my head. “I will never be ready. Ever. Not in a million years will I be happy to be sitting on this couch and watching crazy in the form of twenty-five single and sexually frustrated women try to sell themselves to me.”
I blinked and thought about what I had just said. Sexually frustrated . . . hmm . . .
“Meet Flora!”
A girl jumped in front of the camera and giggled.
Those green eyes be crazy.
“Hell. No.” I tried to get up from my seat but was pulled back down by Milo.
“She could be really sweet!”
I glared at Milo, then watched the TV as the blond girl frolicked. Yeah, no exaggeration, she freaking frolicked through the park and then picked up a stranger’s puppy and let it lick her lips.
I wrote down her name and then wrote “germs” next to it. Bad juju. Hmm, would the word germs actually help? I scratched it out and replaced it with bitch. You know, because she licked a dog’s face.
“I just want to fall in love,” she said to the camera. “Is that so wrong? I want a man who can take care of me, who will provide for me, who will go on adventures with me.” She sighed and giggled happily. “I know he’s out there somewhere.”
“He is,” I said under my breath. “But his name isn’t Max.”
Colton fast-forwarded the DVD.
The Consequence of Revenge Page 2
