Finding Cupid

by Daisy Dexter Dobbs

  It took Dake a minute to figure out what Lula was talking about and then he remembered a previous conversation about him and Zeb getting on each other’s backs. Instead of correcting her, he just tugged her close, nuzzling his chin in the sun-warmed curls at the top of her head. “Yeah,” he said. “Zeb’s okay.”

  Lula came to a stop. “Cupid’s Love Shack,” she read aloud from a bright pink sign splashed with black and silver lettering. She turned a hopeful smile on Dake. “Oh, perhaps we’ve finally found Cupid!” she said, all bouncy and excited.

  Before Dake could even open his mouth to tell her the place was just a seedy dive where women danced topless on the bar, Lula had raced into the place.

  “Aw, shit,” Dake mumbled as he followed her inside.

  He arrived just in time to hear the big burly tattooed bruiser inside the door ask her in a deep baritone, “Lookin’ for some lovin’, honey?” Dake stiffened as he saw the guy run a finger up Lula’s arm. Double shit. The last thing he wanted was to get tangled with some horny meathead twice his size.

  “Come on, Lula, this isn’t the right place,” Dake said loud enough for her to hear him over the booming base reverberating through the darkened room. Locking onto her arm, he tugged. Lula remained in place.

  “No thank you,” she answered the greasy-haired bruiser as if he were an upstanding member of society. “I have plenty of loving from Dake.” She smiled up at Dake, patting his chest. “I’m here looking for Cupid. Is this his headquarters, perchance?”

  “Just like the sign outside says, little lady. This here’s Cupid’s Love Shack. If you’re lookin’ for work,” he added, giving Lula an appreciative once-over, “talk to the man himself.”

  “The man? You mean Cupid?” Lula asked.

  Bruiser nodded. “He’s right over there.” He motioned toward a guy in a shiny blue suit with slicked back hair and plenty of gold around his neck, wrist and fingers. His stark blue-black hair was an obvious dye job, no doubt to make the guy appear younger than his fifty-something years.

  “Thank you,” Lula said. “And I think your flesh artwork is just lovely,” she added, reaching up on her tiptoes to smooth her fingers along the tattoo of a bleeding skull at the top of his shaved head. “Very imaginative.”

  “Thanks.” Bruiser cracked a gap-toothed smile. “If you like that, I got me some other even more imaginative tattoos elsewhere on my body that I can show you,” he oozed with a snicker and devilish eyebrow jiggle.

  “She’s not interested,” Dake said, swallowing hard when the bruiser looked down at him as if he relished the idea of squashing Dake like an ant. And the guy could probably do it too.

  “Perhaps another time,” Lula said, with a kind smile before turning back to Dake. “That was very rude, Dake,” she whispered as Dake dragged her back toward the entrance. “I think you may have hurt his feelings.”

  “Are you kidding? There’s no room under all that beef for feelings,” Dake said at her ear, tugging her harder. “I’m telling you, Lula, this isn’t the right place. Now let’s get out of here before you get us in trouble.”

  “I must be sure, Dake.” With that, Lula shook off Dake’s hand and was on her way toward Mr. Slick and Shiny, AKA Cupid.

  Damn, but she was a hardheaded, impulsive nymph. The man who ended up marrying her was going to have his hands full, that’s for damn sure. With more time and practice, Dake figured he’d be just the man to tame Lula’s tenacious ways. Shit! There were those crazy commitment thoughts floating around inside his head again. Shaking his head as if to dislodge the offending thoughts from his consciousness, Dake went after Lula.

  “Hi, sugar,” a female voice oozed. “How about a lap dance?”

  Dake looked up to see a redhead pole-dancing on the bar. Wearing a g-string and silver star-shaped pasties with tassels over her nipples, her tits looked about the size of cantaloupes. Really, really big cantaloupes. While she certainly couldn’t hold a candle to Lula’s fresh, natural beauty or sensuousness, Dake’s independent-minded cock gave a hearty Well, helloooo there! salute in response.

  “Mmm, hey there, handsome,” another dancer said. “Like what you see?”

  This one was younger with bright pink hair, a matching g-string and pink-daisy embellished nipple clamps. One glance at the fine chain dangling between her too-big-to-be-real tits had Dake’s cock ready to do the horizontal mambo. Damn, stupid, traitorous appendage. As if his beautiful, winged, stubborn nymph wasn’t already enough to handle.

  “I’m sorry,” he heard Lula saying a few yards away, “but the chapter on street smarts suggested that disrobing in public here on Earth was strongly discouraged and could lead to unwieldy situations. Those are indeed your own rules, are they not, Cupid?”

  Aw hell. “Thanks, ladies, but I’m going to have to take a pass,” Dake said to the dancers with a polite nod and wink before double-timing it over to Lula and the guy she hoped was Cupid.

  “No problem. We’ve got a back room,” the guy coaxed. “Very private.”

  “But, Cupid, I still don’t understand why you need to see my breasts and ass,” Lula said. “I can assure you they are still perfect and no worse for the journey from Olympus.”

  “Jesus, Lula, what the hell’s the matter with you!” Dake grabbed her and turned her toward him, shaking her. If he hadn’t taken off work today, there’s no telling what kind of dangerous fixes she’d find herself in. “Are you so lamebrained that you can’t tell this scumbag isn’t Cupid?”

  “I take exception to that,” the scumbag said, lifting his forefinger. “I mean, you can’t expect me to hire exotic dancers without eyeing the goods now, can you?” His lip curled into a half-smile.

  “He…he told me he was Cupid, Dake. He even showed me his official chariot license to prove it.”

  Dake screwed his features. “His what?”

  The scumbag flipped out his wallet, giving Dake a gander at his driver’s license. It read Cupid Batagglia. “See? I’m on the up and up, pal,” the scumbag said, as if he expected Dake to give him the seal of approval.

  “Aw, shit, Lula. He’s not—”

  “Besides,” she cut in, “Cupid’s supposed to be incognito, remember?” Lula’s chin trembled as she looked up at Dake with a wide, innocent, trusting gaze and he felt like a goddamned bully.

  “Honey, do you really think Cupid is going to go running around Earth disguised as a pervert?”

  “I take exception to that,” the scumbag said again, raising his forefinger as before.

  “You got a problem here, Mr. Batagglia?” the bald, tattooed bruiser piped up as he edged toward them. When he flexed his muscles in a show of strength, his biceps looked bigger than the dancers’ cantaloupes.

  “I was conducting an employment interview with this lovely young thing when this sleazeball insulted me,” the scumbag accused.

  “I’m a sleazeball?” Dake squeaked out in surprise, clapping a hand against his chest. “Oh that’s rich. Look, you oily son of a bitch—”

  “I take exception to that,” the scumbag said with a nod to Bruiser who stepped in, grabbing Dake by the seat of the pants and shirt collar as if he weighed no more than a sack of flour.

  “Hey. Hey! Put me down, you fucking meathead.”

  Bruiser complied once he’d carted Dake to the entrance, kicked open the door and tossed him onto the sidewalk like yesterday’s garbage.

  Soundly deposited on his ass in the midst of curious passersby, Dake scrambled to get to his feet to give Bruiser what for. But before he could act, he watched in astonishment as Lula’s balled fist connected with Bruiser’s nose with a resounding crunch.

  “How dare you manhandle the man I love!” She waved her hand in the air as if it smarted. Dake wouldn’t be surprised if she’d sprained it good punching the guy like that.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” Bruiser bellowed, his hand cupping his nose and blood seeping through his fingers. “You broke my fucking nose. You stupid cunt, you broke my fucking nose!” His
expression turned murderous as he stepped toward Lula.

  “Unless you cease and desist,” she cautioned, bravely standing her ground, “I shall be forced to inflict further bodily harm. It is not my desire to mete out damage to any mortal being, so I beseech you to retreat now while you still have the opportunity.”

  Just as Bruiser pulled back his fist to sock Lula, Dake captured it in one hand while connecting his other fist with the guy’s nose, resulting in another sickening crunch.

  “Don’t even think about messing with the woman I love,” Dake growled. “Now go back to the hole you crawled out of, you piece of shit.”

  Lula gasped. “Oh Dake!” she shouted as she jumped up on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting kisses all over his face. “You love me! I knew it. I knew it!”

  In all the commotion, Dake hadn’t even realized he’d said the L word, but bursting out with it that way sort of felt good.

  “Hell yeah, I love you,” he admitted, locking his lips with hers. “What a woman,” he added once their kiss had ended.

  “God damn, God damn, God damn!” Bruiser yelled.

  At the sound of Bruiser’s roar, Dake dropped Lula, pushing her aside. She stumbled and fell on her ass, giving an Oooph! as she landed. Dake saw tears mixing with the blood on Bruisers cheeks. He was pissed. Big time. This was clearly no time to be gentlemanly and help Lula up.

  “You fucking assholes. I’m gonna kill the both of ya.”

  As Dake prepared to defend himself, Lula jumped up and hopped on Bruiser’s back, beating on him with her fists and biting his ears. Damn, his little nymph was a firecracker!

  That brief instant Dake took to admire Lula’s foolish bravado cost him dearly. Before he even knew what was happening Dake saw Bruiser’s ham hock of a fist just before it made contact with his nose. This time, the sickening crunching sound came from Dake. He clutched his nose in an attempt to stop the flow of blood. Fuck, that hurt.

  Belting out a deafening cry, Lula jumped off Bruiser’s back. She came around to the front of the guy, waving a chastising finger as she gave him a verbal what for.

  “I warned you. I warned you!” she shouted. “But you didn’t listen.” Bruiser responded by swatting Lula in the face with the back of his hand. Tears sprouted, but still she stood her ground.

  Before Dake could move in to push Lula aside and beat the living shit out of Bruiser, she grabbed the guy’s shirt, fisting it in a bunch before thrusting her knee up between his legs, connecting with his groin. Then she kicked him on one knee. It all happened so fast, Dake almost missed it.

  Big bald Bruiser collapsed to the sidewalk, squealing like a pig as he supported his balls with one hand while clutching his twice-broken nose with the other. Damn, the guy looked like he was in agony, but with the image of Bruiser swatting his sweet, brave Lula across the face, Dake gave in to his baser urges and kicked the guy in the gut just for the hell of it.

  “Dake! Dake! Are you all right?” Lula cried, wrapping her arms around him amidst whooping shouts, applause and whistles from the crowd that had gathered.

  “I think this is the part where I’m supposed to say my hero and give you a big kiss,” Dake teased, laughter only increasing the blinding pain at the center of his face.

  “You’re the one who’s the hero,” Lula said adoringly. Dake liked the way it sounded, even though it was Lula who basically beat the crap out of the guy and not him.

  “I’m okay,” he told her. “Nothing to worry about, just a broken nose. What about you, sweetheart?” He winced as he saw the pink imprint of the guy’s big hand across Lula’s pale cheek. “God damn son of a bitch,” Dake swore, smoothing his fingers over her hot cheek.

  “I’m all right,” Lula said.

  Dake lifted her fierce punching hand to examine it. “Can you move your fingers, honey?” Lula wiggled them and nodded.

  “It hurts, but there are no broken bones,” she said.

  His arm secured around Lula’s waist, he kissed her cheek. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  “Not so fast, buddy,” a man’s voice rang out just as the sound of sirens drew close.

  Dake looked up at the uniformed guy whose hand rested on his holstered gun. Damn. The cops.

  “Up against the wall,” the cop said. “Both of you. Feet spread.”

  A squad car pulled up, lights flashing, siren winding down, and two more cops got out, inspecting the scene, talking among themselves and handling Bruiser.

  Lula followed Dake’s lead, positioning her hands high on the brick. “What’s happening, Dake? This makes me feel frightened.”

  “Oh, so now you’re frightened,” Dake answered with ironic laughter as the first cop read them their rights. “It appears we’re being arrested,” he explained. “For disorderly conduct. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay once we get down to the station and explain.”

  “We have been busted?” Lula sucked in a gasp. “Oh no. I have read about this and watched many films on the subject. What will Cinnamus and Cupid say when they return to Earth and discover I’ve become a convict in shackles? Oh Dake, I do not look good in horizontal stripes.”

  Dake chuckled. Like everything else since he’d met her, Lula was going to make his first arrest experience exceptionally memorable. He was just about to say something reassuring when Lula raised her voice.

  “Police brutality! We want a lawyer! Attica! Attica!”

  Holy shit! Dake’s jaw dropped. “Jesus, Lula, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Demanding our rights,” she explained with conviction. “The legal chapter of my Everything You Need to Know About Earth textbook covered the topic of prisoner rights and inhumane conditions and—”

  “Lula.”

  “Yes?”

  “Just shut up…please.”

  “But—”

  “Ma’am, if I were you, I’d listen to your boyfriend,” the cop advised.

  “Remember the part where the nice police officer said we have the right to remain silent?” Dake asked Lula.

  “Yes.”

  “This might be a good time to do just that.”

  “Okay. Dake?” Lula’s voice was small and quiet now.

  He let out noisy sigh of exasperation. “Yeah.”

  “I-I’m truly sorry I got us into trouble.”

  Resting his forehead against the brick, Dake mumbled, “Forget about it.”

  “Dake?”

  “What.”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “Me too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “It’s not that funny, Zeb.”

  “I beg to differ. You look just like a thug, Dakin.” Wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, Zeb caught Dake in the viewfinder of his cell phone’s camera and took a picture as his brother fumed. “Mom was always worried you’d get into trouble one day. If she could only see you now.”

  “Where’s that compassionate inner woman of yours when I need it?” Dake complained, fingering the thick gauze bandage over his nose. “I’ve got a broken nose, for chrissakes.”

  “Poor baby.” Zeb patted his brother on the shoulder. “I’m sure the crooked line will give your face some much needed character.” He dissolved into laughter again before turning to glance at Lula. “Ugh, your cheek looks nasty, darling. Didn’t they put any ice on it?”

  “Lula told the nurse that nymphs don’t like ice,” Dake said with a resigned roll of the eyes. “That, of course, is after she answered all the officer’s questions. You know, like her full name being Lula, daughter of Arrius and Venuvia, her age being three hundred fifty, her address being Olympus and her race being nymph. When the cop asked for identification, she told him she failed the chariot test twice and doesn’t have a license yet.”

  Zeb chuckled. “I’m surprised they didn’t keep her for a psychiatric evaluation.”

  “They tested her for drugs,” Dake said.

  Lula nodded. “They made me urinat
e into a little plastic cup.”

  “She obviously passed the pee test,” Zeb noted.

  “I did indeed.” Lula beamed a smile. “When they asked if I’ve taken any stimulants, depressants or drugs of any kind, I explained to them that the only mind-altering substances I’ve ingested while on Earth are wine and chocolate. I asked the police officer whether or not Dake’s semen would also be considered mind-altering, but he just gave me a strange, rather bug-eyed look in response.”

  Zeb fell back into laughter. “I wish I could have seen his face.”

  “Oh it was very red,” Lula offered. “Naturally, I expressed my concern for his wellbeing.”

  “Naturally,” Dake chimed in, arms folded across his chest.

  “And when I touched my lips to the policeman’s forehead to check for the onset of fever the way my mother had taught me, his face grew redder yet.”

  Zeb exchanged looks with his brother. “It seems you two had quite an interesting experience.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. With all of Lula’s help,” clearing his throat, Dake hung invisible quotations around the word, “it’s a miracle they didn’t lock us up and throw away the key. Thank God several witnesses came down to the station and corroborated our story.”

  “Can we leave now?” Lula whispered. “I’m not particularly fond of this place. It makes me feel itchy all over.” She shook her body, wiggling everything as she shuddered. In that instant, it seemed every male eye in the vicinity was on her.

  “Of course, darling.” Wrapping an arm around Lula’s shoulder, Zeb led her to the police station’s exit, leaving Dake to follow. “I hope you’re not planning on resuming your search for Cupid at this late hour. I think you and my brother, the thug, have probably been through enough for one day.”

  “Gee, Zeb, you’re a real comedian. You’re so funny you should take your show on the road,” Dake said, sarcasm dripping from each word. Zeb offered a saccharine smile in response.

  Breathing a sigh, Lula shrugged. “No. No more searching. I think I would just like to rest for a while. If I haven’t found Cupid by this time I doubt I will. His headquarters are well hidden indeed. Besides,” she reached for Dake’s hand, clasped it and smiled up at him when he squeezed back, “I’d like to spend the rest of my time here with Dake before I have to leave for Olympus in the morning.”