Fire in the Hole

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Fire in the Hole Page 13

by Debra Anastasia


  “May I kiss you, Dove Glitch?” His lips were inches from hers.

  “Anytime you want.” She waited as he brought to her lips the kiss that ended her story as an unlovable outcast and started a new one as a lovable outcast.

  After kissing and kissing, Johnson spun around Dove so they could both look at the night sky. Dove wanted to memorize the moment and hold it in her mind’s eye forever.

  Johnson’s phone rang in his pocket and vibrated against Dove’s butt.

  “Ooh la la.” She giggled as he answered his cell.

  “Yes… Hi, Shannon… Yes… She’s right here.” Johnson refused to stop hugging Dove and nuzzling her neck, but he handed her his phone.

  It felt couple-y, so right, to talk on his phone. Shannon’s voice was loud over the earpiece.

  “Did you listen to your voice mail? Well, since you aren’t congratulating me, I’m guessing the answer is no. I need you to come to my wedding next weekend.” Shannon sounded breathless and slightly Spanish.

  “Wedding? Who are you marrying?” Dove turned her head to share a secret look with her brand new fuck-monster. Johnson gave her a winning smile.

  Shannon gave an exasperated sigh. “King Preston, of course! Listen I have to go. We’re meeting with our subjects to discuss the coronation. Check your email for the invitation. Love you!”

  Dove handed the phone back to Johnson. “Talking to that girl is like taking drugs. Are you busy next weekend? I need to take a road trip and would love to have you join me.”

  “I’ll check, but I think I can make it.” Johnson kissed her again.

  Dove turned her head from his lips when she heard the leaves on a tall, nearby tree rustling with great gusto.

  The lovers watched as a cute, plump squirrel edged out on a thick branch. Dove sort of distrusted the humping fuckers since the last whore squirrel she’d seen a million years ago wouldn’t even put down her meal while she got it from the other horny squirrel. She mentally chastised herself. Not all squirrels are humpers.

  Johnson blew on her ear to get her attention, and Dove giggled. As if her light laughter was their cue, two more squirrels hopped out onto the branch. It was almost as if Mother Nature was showing off to celebrate Johnson and Dove’s new relationship status by having her furry creatures redeem themselves.

  Dove just wanted to tell Johnson she loved him and hear his words in return. As she opened her mouth, her sentiment dried up like a prune. The furry bastards had indeed started to screw, except this time to be even more whorrific, the third squirrel joined in!

  Dove covered her open mouth and shook her head.

  Johnson’s deep laugh shook them both. “I think the squirrels are trying to tell us something.” He turned her away from the spectacle.

  “I can’t even imagine what that would be.” Dove put her hands on his chest.

  The tree was shaking violently as if it was applauding the sex show it was hosting.

  “I think even with the rodents copulating as a backdrop, I should tell you that I’m thrilled you’re here. And I know it’s coming too soon, just like that third squirrel, but my strong feelings for you can’t be stopped.” Johnson smiled after his admission, and Dove laughed.

  “Johnson, my feelings for you will be tantric. They will be here all the time, no matter what they go through.” Dove kissed him this time, and the moon painted the scene with romance.

  Duke had heard from a cousin that Dove was on the roof, so he headed up to check on her. They didn’t see him. But he saw them. And he heard the declarations of strong feelings before he closed the door behind him. He knew he’d been too late when she visited him while he had his cast.

  But it still hurt. God, it felt like someone had peeled the skin off his dick and poured salt on it.

  Duke shuffled down the stairs to his room where his cousin was passed out on the sitting room couch and Helena was resting in a blissful sleep. He had to give up now. On Dove. On the hope of Dove.

  Flower stormed into the lobby of the hotel and stopped short. The place was crawling with people who looked just like Duke. She couldn’t help but wonder how the hell she was going to sort through all these lookalikes to find dead Duke without saying a word.

  She grabbed an old lady Duke and squeezed her arm until she locked eyes with Flower.

  Very deliberately, Flower let go of the woman and made a distinctive wanking-off-the-tubular-turkey motion with one hand by her crotch. Then, because she imagined quite a few of the Dukes made that very movement all the fucking time, with her other hand she pantomimed biting into a girthy sausage, wiping the imaginary grease from her chin, and massaging it into her pre-orgasmic but not-really-there Duke balls.

  The old lady perked up. “Oh, you’re looking for my grand-nephew, Duke. He went up to his hotel room with Dove a few hours ago. I bet he is having his way with her—hard and messy—in room 514. You’re welcome, my dear.”

  Instead of congratulating herself on the success of her game of one-way charades, she felt her heart drop on the floor. It lay there, legless and beating, just like That Poor Bastard. It was her drive to fix the unfixable, to want the unwantable, that made her put her heart back in her chest. Figuratively speaking, of course, but she went through the motions anyway just to freak people out.

  Flower took the stairs instead of the elevator because nobody gave stairs enough love, either. She tried to step loudly so the stairs knew she was really using the hell out of them. She got to the fifth floor and cranked open the door, slowing her roll.

  She was thrilled that Duke was still alive because, honestly, death is a little tough to overcome. But now she was going to have to unplug Duke’s dick from Dove’s vagina and kill that bitch to death. And then she would have to come up with the perfect ten words to make Duke understand that he belonged with her.

  The door to room 514 looked just like the other doors in the hallway, but there was a shit ton of noise coming from behind it and it was propped open with the swing bolt. Pushing through, Flower walked into a lounge area instead of a bedroom. It was obviously a suite of some sort. She nodded and stepped toward the door from which the noise was seeping out and put her ear against it. She heard the sounds of passionate lovemaking.

  No. Wait. It was passionate, whore-bombing jizzbags. That was loud, professional sex!

  Flower opened the bedroom door, which was easy to do because it was unlocked. Duke was watching porn with glazed eyes. His hand was nowhere near his penis. He looked at the open door and nodded. Flower shut the door behind her and crawled into bed next to him.

  “Hey, freak show. If you’re looking for Dove, she’s with the pharmacist.” Duke sighed heavily.

  Flower shook her head.

  Duke tried to smile. “You’re here to see me? Huh.”

  Flower watched the porn for a few minutes, trying to get her ten word inspiration. Not one of the words or unintelligible phrases the people on the screen were uttering or moaning was helpful.

  Duke started talking. “I’ll tell you what. I should have said more or tried to stop her. I know he’s going to hurt her heart.”

  Thinking of Dove with a broken heart softened Flower’s hard resolve to kill her because she had such empathy for imperfect things. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her nametag, and held it out to Duke.

  He took it from her, and his fingers brushed hers. Flower accidentally panted with orgasmic pleasure.

  He raised his eyebrow and read the tag out loud. “The Slim Jim Factory. Hello, I’m Flower!”

  Flower looked anxiously from his crotch to his hands to his face. When she saw his sweatpants tent up with an erection, she knew he understood.

  “You’re working in the Slim Jim factory?” Duke sat up and caressed her nametag.

  Flower counted as she put all her hope in her words. “I bring home lots of free samples.”

  “Well hot damn, legless-cat lady! That’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.” Duke looked at her as a woman for the first time.<
br />
  Flower grimaced like she was waiting for someone to take a picture of her colon.

  “Wow. You’re awkward.” Duke laughed.

  Flower bit her lip. She didn’t want him to think of her as a joke. She only had three words left. She needed to be sexy, perfect, and confident with her remaining words. She knew in her heart what those words were. She’d been keeping those words safe ever since Duke had hugged her after That Poor Bastard’s timely death. Duke could tell she had something else to say, so he muted the porn. Flower started and stopped a hundred million times between her head and her tongue.

  What if he runs out screaming? What if it doesn’t change how he feels about Dove?

  Everything rested on these three words.

  “I…”

  Duke leaned closer.

  “Love…”

  He nodded for her to continue.

  “Sausage.”

  Duke’s whole face changed. Flower covered her mouth. She had finally shared one of her many deep, dark, dank, slightly moldy secrets.

  Duke smiled. “You work for Slim Jim and you love sausage? You might just be perfect.”

  Flower shook her head.

  “Well, Flower, let’s watch some Food Network together and just be quiet for a while.”

  Flower couldn’t help feeling happy for her heart, even though it was whole now. As “Chopped” popped up as the next program on the network, both Duke’s and Flower’s mouths dropped open when the contestants opened their food baskets to reveal the contents they would be challenged to cook with.

  Ted Allen, the host, named the ingredients as they were pulled out of the large baskets by sweaty chefs. “And in your basket you will find Rocky Mountain oysters, Slim Jims, and beef sausage that you must use to make your dessert. Good luck. Time starts now.”

  Duke turned to Flower as she turned to him. They both started laughing at the same time. Flower was thankful that laughter was not words because she was planning on doing a lot of it with Duke.

  Dove went back to Duke and Helena’s suite late --so late it was actually early morning. Johnson waited in the hall. She was going to get her stuff and sneak back out. Johnson wanted to get started on driving home, and they decided to stop at a hotel on the way if they were too wiped out. She tucked her hair behind her ears and started poking around, using her phone as a flashlight. Dove grabbed her trash bag and filled it with the things she’d strewn around the room. She’d decided to just take the essentials and text Duke to ask him to bring home whatever she’d left behind when the light came on. Dove gasped at the shock of it, and then pointed at Flower, who was sleeping in the room’s only chair.

  “She came up to tell me she loves sausage,” Duke whispered.

  “Wow.” Dove whispered back.

  “So you settled it with him?” Duke looked at his folded hands.

  “Yeah. He and I are going to head back.” She grabbed a few more things off the floor. “If I forget anything—”

  “I’ll take care of you. No worries.” He still wouldn’t look in her direction.

  “Please tell your family I said good-bye.”

  He nodded now, uncharacteristically quiet.

  “I’ll see you at home.”

  He nodded again.

  Dove felt awful leaving him when he was obviously sad, but she tiptoed out of the room, anyway, and met Johnson in the hallway. He had a suitcase for his things, and he gave her trash bag a quizzical look.

  “Emergency packing.” It occurred to her she didn’t even own a suitcase like a normal adult.

  He opened his suitcase and added her bag to it before zippering the now-swollen luggage shut. “There we go.”

  He held her hand as they left. She was totally confident she had made the right choice… well, except for the little voice in her head nagging her to be a better friend to Duke.

  The week passed like spicy gas, slow and sticky. Duke had told his family that Dove and Johnson had gotten a head start on the three-way honeymoon, but in the harsh, sober light of the morning, he had been pretty sure the jig was up. His family knew his girl had left with another guy. And his asshole cousin managed to get about four hundred digs in before Duke could finally get into Dove’s car and go home. Flower had driven behind him the entire time in the dead lady’s car she’d hotwired. He wasn’t totally interested in Flower as a girlfriend, though she seemed to think the deal was sealed. It didn’t hurt anything to be nice to her.

  He thought he’d get to avoid Dove and Johnson for a little longer, but when he’d opened the e-vite from Shannon, he knew he’d be going to her wedding. Mostly to make sure Shannon wasn’t doing it under duress or what not.

  Duke packed an entire suitcase of Slim Jims. It was a long ride to Southern or Bust for Shannon and Prick-ston’s wedding. He hoped Shannon was piss-ass drunk on the ripe, old fucking tequila they pumped out of the dead gas stations at that fucking craphole to marry that bastard instead of in her right, sober mind and making a horrible choice.

  Flower sat in the passenger seat of his rental car with a hobo’s bundle of shit. He wanted to ask her how she got in the locked fucking car—but the hell with it. He wouldn’t have her waste words. She’d been his shadow this past week, and he allowed it.

  He also had a sleeve of delicious sunflower seeds to keep his mouth busy. The Slim Jims combined with the sunflower seeds was his “cure” for long road trips.

  Dove and the fucking pharmacist were on their way, as well, but he wanted to ignore them. Of course the timing was such that they were all pulling out of the lot at the same damn moment.

  Duke liked to treat rentals like bumper cars. He spent money on the extra insurance so he could do anything he wanted to the vehicle. He ripped the rear view mirror from the windshield and tossed it in the backseat. Then he backed up until he crashed into something, switched gears, slammed down the pedal, and flew toward the exit.

  He looked over at Flower, and the bitch had put on a football helmet. Despite his surging anger, he almost smiled. Ten-word chicks came prepared.

  The stupid pharmacist with his black minivan waved Duke through, being the better man in the race. Duke gave him the finger, and Flower flashed her tits.

  The pharmacist looked shocked and awed and pulled in front of Duke instead of waiting—probably to protect his delicate sensibilities.

  Duke let the minivan get a good distance ahead on the road before he locked eyes with Flower and slammed on the gas. The car reared up like a horse and took off. Both Duke and Flower started laughing at the panicked looks they were assuming were on Dove and Johnson’s faces as they zoomed forward manically. They rammed into the back of the minivan repeatedly.

  Over and over.

  It was a twelve-hour ride to Southern or Bust, and Duke fully intended on shaking the pharmacist’s fillings loose all the way to the Carolinas’ border.

  Finally, Johnson pulled his big, now dinged-up minivan into a gas station. Duke pushed him up to the next gas pump with one final bang and got out. Turns out the fucking rental needed gas as well.

  Johnson got out and stormed up to Duke. “You know what? I’ve been patient with you, but you cannot keep rear-ending me all the way to the wedding.”

  Duke scratched his balls and farted. He swiped his card at the pump while Johnson tried to set him straight. Flower got out of the car, as well, still wearing her helmet.

  “Is this because Dove is with me? I thought you and the quiet girl were together now.” Johnson pointed from Flower to Duke and back again.

  Duke pounded his balls and held a peace sign up in Flower’s direction. She responded by pounding her crotch and flashing two fingers, as well.

  “Do those genital gang signs mean you understand?” Johnson ran his hand through his fucking hair in frustration.

  Duke shrugged.

  Dove slammed her passenger door shut before stepping between Duke and Johnson. She pointed at Duke’s face. “Listen, Barfalingus, I’ve had enough of getting it up the ass from you. I h
ave a headache, and I think you’ve detached my uterus. Duke, are you listening?”

  He looked over her head. Dove grabbed his nipples through his shirt and twisted. Duke started barking like a dog.

  “Are you listening?” Dove squeezed harder. “Your balls are next.”

  Flower was busy digging through a trashcan, which was making a weird noise.

  “Fine, Pants-crapper, I’m listening.” He disengaged the gas nozzle from his tank and jammed it back in its holster.

  “You will stop hitting Johnson’s minivan.” Dove waited until Duke put his blue eyes on hers. “Say it. Out loud.”

  Duke sighed. “I will stop giving it to Johnson up the ass. Happy? Can I go now? I have a wedding to take Flower to.”

  Dove let go of his nipples and stepped away. “I guess. I don’t like this hostility. It’s pissing me off. And it’s making me think we won’t be friends anymore, and that kind of makes me want to cry.”

  Duke put his big hand on her shoulder. “Dove, I’m not trying to kill you or your sad sack of a boyfriend. I just like to vent my aggression through the art of rental car abuse.”

  Flower dove headfirst into the deep trashcan like it was a pool. Her helmet hit the bottom with a resounding thump.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have to pull my date out of the garbage.” Duke snarled in Johnson’s direction and made his way to Flower’s feet.

  Johnson escorted Dove into the gas station, shaking his head in Duke’s direction. Flower’s kicking feet were getting panicky, and Duke pulled her out quickly. When she returned to the surface, she had a grubby Santa hat without a pom-pom and a screwed-up cat in her arms.

  Duke pointed at the animal. “That cat has no front legs and no ears. Is it alive?”

  As if the earless cat heard him, it gave a pathetic mew.

  Flower’s smile was huge as she carefully assessed the misshapen cat. “It’s a girl.”

 

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