by Amy Johnson
“What do you mean he won’t wake up? You kill him?”
“No. I dosed him. He’ll sleep like a baby.” She gave Josie a thorough once over. She might be clueless but when it came to fashion she was gifted. And creative.
“Dosed him? With what?” Mickey asked watching her closely through squinted eyes.
“Benadryl. I gave him three pills.” Mickey stood rigid, his mouth open. “Don’t worry,” Megan explained quickly. “It won’t kill him. It’ll just knock him out.”
“You sure?” From the sound of his voice he’d transformed into Michael. Responsible, reliable, and cautious Michael. Too bad his clothes stated the absolute opposite.
“I’m positive.” When he still didn’t look convinced she changed the subject. “And what’s with the clothes? You don’t look like cat burglars. You look like sex kittens.”
“Divas,” Mickey corrected. Once they got to the door and she felt covered from the entry way she trained the flashlight on them. Mickey was wearing a tight camouflage mini skirt with a ripped hem that was decorated with rhinestones nestled together in haphazard patterns. His shirt was also camouflage and had the words U.S. Army sequined on the front. The wiry hair from his chest and arms stuck out everywhere. His bleach blonde hair was ratted and nestled on top was a US Army visor, and he wore combat boots which he’d embellished with spray paint and glitter to give them a camouflaged diva look. With his height and build he looked like G.I. Joe the drag queen drill sergeant in a circus side show.
Josie on the other hand had traded in her glitz and glamour look for an attempt at a gothic Marilyn Monroe. She wore a black bustier and short black leather shorts that covered a miniscule amount of her pretty little butt. Her legs were encased in black fishnet stockings that were ripped and torn-purposely Megan assumed, and thigh high vinyl boots with heels that added a good six inches to her five foot six frame. Her platinum blonde hair was arranged in a flawless bob and her makeup was black and flawless. Tough Marilyn Monroe may have been her inspiration; Marilyn Manson was the end result. And as usual, she looked completely hot.
“I told you to wear something comfortable, something you could move in. You guys look like you should be trick or treating. Or better yet turning tricks,” Megan said as she began trying the keys.
“Good. That’s just the look we were going for,” Mickey said, admiring his get up.
“Yeah. I had to put together a special outfit for my first felony,” Josie said, giddy with excitement. “Plus if we get busted and go to jail I want to look hot in my mug shots.” She paused, pondered something. “You know if we get caught we could be on T.V. Maybe even Cops. They could do a special episode. You know Fabulous Fashion Felons or something like that. My Mom would shit a brick if I wasn’t dressed to the nines. She’d probably tape it and show it to all her friends and then…”
Megan continued trying keys doing her best to ignore Josie and her bulging cleavage. Mickey was holding the light for her while she tried the seventh key. The lock clicked and she swung the door open, and then slammed it shut again, covering her ears in a panic.
“What the hell was that?” Josie asked scurrying behind Mickey to hide.
“Sounds like an alarm,” Mickey said, stating the obvious. Megan stood frozen staring at the door. When had Ted installed an alarm? And why? They’d never been broken in to. The studio was located in a nice neighborhood. There seemed to be no need for an alarm. Of course he did have a lot of expensive equipment.
“You know anything about alarms?” Megan asked. The question, of course, was aimed at Mickey but it was Josie who responded by pulling a small satin looking sash from her bustier and examining the tools.
“I used to date this guy once,” She began and Megan and Mickey both rolled their eyes and shook their heads. “And he used to house sit for rich people when they were out of town, and he always had to…what do you call it? Circumvent their alarm systems. I watched him do it a few times. All you have to do is…”
Josie began to work on the alarm system with talk of ‘demagnetizing the connection’ and other terms that Megan knew nothing about. She just stood frozen in shock and disbelief as Josie matter of factly went through the how to’s of disarming an alarm, all the while using the tools as expertly as a surgeon would a scalpel. You know, for a woman with so little common sense she could surprise the hell out of you with some of the stuff she knew. This was evidence that she did have a brain but maybe it was programmed on the wrong channel.
“…And that should do it.” Josie tried the door and it was pure silence. No buzzing from the alarm. No ear scattering shriek. “See? Piece of cake.”
“Uh Josie, this guy, where is he now?” Mickey asked.
“Jail. I don’t know what for. He said it was a bum rap.” And her IQ was back in the negatives. She must’ve burned what few cells she had disarming the alarm.
“Josie, you ditz,” Megan snapped as they entered the office. “He’s in jail because he wasn’t house sitting for anyone. He broke into those houses and probably robbed them blind after he rolled you around in the sheets. Jeez!”
“You know him? I didn’t think he was your type.” She shrugged and pulled on her gloves. Megan began looking for sharp objects to impale herself on. The only person on earth more stupid than Josie was Mickey for bringing her. And beyond him was Megan for calling him. She knew better.
“No! Josie, I don’t know him. It just doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out…You know what? Never mind! Just be quiet. You’re giving me one hell of a headache. A migraine I think. It’ll probably kill me. Or at least I hope it will.” She rubbed her head and then looked up to God. She crossed herself and then began mumbling unintelligible babbles. Mickey and Josie looked at each other and then at Megan who was still having her own private conversation with God. Megan caught them staring and shivered.
“You see what you’re doing to me? Now I’m acting like my mother. I’ll probably start wearing pink curlers to the grocery store and polyester house coats. I need a life. I need some sanity. I need some serious therapy. I need…”
Josie, not being the patient subtle one, raised her hand and slapped Megan across the face causing her to lose her balance and trip over a tripod. She hit the ground with a thud and lay on the floor once again staring at the ceiling, a stunned look of disbelief on her face.
“You hit me!” Megan growled.
“I was saving you from a nervous breakdown. You need to snap out of it sister. You’re giving me a headache.” She inspected her manicure. “Now get up and let’s see what we can find.”
Jackson Westin lay crouched under the desk in the reception area. He’d cased this place for a week and not a soul was ever around after seven. The one night he’d decided to make his move was the night ‘The Insane Clown Posse’ chose to break in. Just his freaking luck. He’d been so careful not to make a sound. Not to emit even a shred of light while he searched and these three yahoos came in and crashed the damn party. And with all the racket they were making he’d undoubtedly get caught.
At first he thought it was that scatter brained secretary Tiffany coming in to retrieve something she’d forgotten. Or that sleaze ball Ted Malone coming in to get it on with Tiffany. When he’d heard the alarm sputter and then shut off, he’d hidden, figuring they’d just go upstairs and get after it. That’s when he’d simply slip out unnoticed, the same way he’d come in.
He heard a deep male voice and a faintly familiar female voice. Ted and Tiffany he thought. But then he heard another female voice and he had to choke back his surprise. Ted and two women? No way! Sure Ted was something with the ladies but two at a time? Not a chance. Hell, he didn’t even know what to do with the one he had.
That thought made him hot with anger. All through middle school and high school Megan Johnson had been the object of Jack’s desire with her simple beauty, her grace, her good girl image and enthusiastic attitude toward life. She was the one reason he went to school every day. God knows it wasn�
�t for the education, school wasn’t his thing. Neither was dealing with authority. But he dealt with it anyway just to see her. To sit behind her in Math and daydream of her and him exploring the unknown. Or to get a glimpse at that sweet crooked smile that made the blue in her eyes sparkle brighter than any star. Yes, she was the only education he wanted. And she never even noticed him. Sure she’d smile back or cast a shy wave to return his. But she never once spoke to him and probably didn’t even know his name.
Then the summer before high school he went to his uncle’s for the summer. He worked in his uncle’s construction business and was supposed to be learning the ropes. He stayed so busy with work during the day and getting into trouble at night that he’d almost forgotten about Megan. Almost. When he arrived home two weeks before school he barely resembled the boy he was when he’d left. He’d grown three inches and added thirty pounds of muscle to his scrawny frame. He looked like a man, broad shoulders, defined biceps, thick chest. The first day of school he’d turned the heads of the cheerleaders on campus. He strutted around, showing off his meat, like the campus was one big supermarket and he was the only beef cake display. He would have enjoyed the attention too if he hadn’t seen her.
But there she was. In her short cheerleading getup, pom poms and all. Her hair had grown out and she’d… developed over the summer. She was beautiful before, but now her skin was a sun bronzed golden, her body had taken on the curves of womanhood, and her eyes were the bluest blue he’d ever seen. She was talking with the girls from the squad and she tilted her head back and laughed, her lips forming that crooked smile. And he fell in love all over again.
Only this time, she’d notice him. He’d approach her, and she’d talk to him. He’d make her laugh and she’d smile at him with that seductively wicked smile, her eyes melting him upon impact. His daydreams would no longer be dreams.
And then Ted Malone, all star quarter back, Mr. Homecoming King himself came up and swept her into his arms, lazily dropped her into the grass and toppled on her in a playful embrace. And she greeted him with that smile. Jack went back to the shadows again. Once again invisible. Unnoticed.
The thought of Ted Malone turned his stomach now just as much as it did then. He’d married Megan. Had some fairytale wedding. But it wasn’t enough for him. Now he cheated on her and treated her like garbage. He hadn’t any proof before now but he didn’t need it. He’d seen Megan around town. She didn’t recognize him of course, but he’d never forgotten her. And she was just as beautiful now as she was then. Even more so. When he saw her and cast a smile her way she still smiled back. That same crooked smile that stole his heart. Only now that sparkle in her eyes was gone.
Chapter Eight“Help me up!” Megan growled and Mickey reached down and scooped her up.
She dusted the seat of her pants with her hands and fixed her eyes on Josie.
“Josie, if you ever do that again, I swear to God, I’ll drop kick you so hard your boobs will deflate.” She retrieved her flashlight from where it had fallen. “What the hell were you thinking anyways? You just don’t go around slapping people.”
“Well, you were irritating me! I had to do something. I chipped a nail, if it makes you feel any better.” It did. Except that Megan felt the welt on her cheek where it had chipped.
“I’m irritating you? Are you serious? You are a constant irritation. Like hemorrhoids, only there’s no cream called ‘Preparation’ Josie to relieve the burn.”
“Well if it weren’t for me we wouldn’t have made it inside. I disarmed the alarm. And I’d rather be a hemorrhoid than a zit that just oozes and oozes green puss and nonsense babbles.”
“Are you calling me a zit?”
“Are you calling me a hemorrhoid?”
“That’s it, hold my flashlight Mickey. Lolita’s going down.” She shrugged out of her jacket. “Or better yet, give me back my flashlight. Maybe I can use it to knock some sense into her.” Mickey held the flashlight over both of their heads.
“Ladies! As much as I’d like to a see a cat fight. Trashing Ted’s studio is a bad idea. Let’s get back to finding dirt on Ted.” He handed Megan her flashlight back and gave her a stern look. “Plus Josie would kick your bony little butt and let me tell ya, honey,t wouldn’t be pretty.”
“I’m pretty sure I can take her.” Megan said her eyes still on Josie who was in a mock fighting stance.
“I used to date a guy,” Josie began, “who was a black belt in…well he was a black belt in something and he taught me some moves. So if I were you, I’d apologize real quick.” Josie was flouncing around in front of Megan and it was all she could do to keep her eyes off Josie’s jiggling boobs. If this went on much longer Josie would knock herself out and Megan could still claim victory.
“Dream on, Lolita.”
“Okay, I’m going to let it slide this time but only because you used my code name. But one more comment and its lights out. Got it.?” Sure, whatever! All this time Megan had been thinking about speeding buses and alien abductions and all she really had to do was piss Josie off. Who knew? One thing was for sure, Josie was full of surprises. As long as Megan had known her- over 15 years- and the woman could still shock the hell out of her.
“We good?” Mickey asked tapping one humongous foot, his hands on his hips.
“Yeah,” Megan and Josie both answered.
“Good. Let’s get this show on the road. This thong is wreaking havoc on the twins.”
Mickey adjusted his underwear from his crotch, turned on his flashlight, and began searching for evidence that Ted was a lowlife cheating bastard.
***
“Shit!” Jack Westin muttered from his spot under the desk. These idiots were going to be here for a while. He couldn’t see them and had no idea where they were or how he was going to get out unnoticed. He thought the studio had been filled with losers from the Ted Malone fan club but from the sounds of the conversation they were with him on the Castrate Ted Malone quest. Maybe they should align forces and have a picnic after Ted was neutered.
He’d been tempted to hop out when the cat fight almost occurred. All he could see was a pair of perfect legs in fish net stockings but he had a feeling that the body that belonged to those scandalous legs was worth going to jail for. But then the male with them had stopped it and he saw no point in going to jail if he wasn’t going to get to see some girl on girl action.
One of the voices sounded vaguely familiar. He couldn’t place it but he’d definitely heard it before. Soft and sugary with just a touch of venom. Dangerous combination. He’d bet his boots that the girl with the voice-hopefully the one in those fishnets- would be a lethal combination as well. He pictured her in a catholic girl get up, her back facing him. Then she slowly turns around and calls his name in that sweet but deadly voice. He reaches for her and she faces him giving him that shy smile. Ah yes. That tempting, innocent crooked smile.
And where the hell had that come from? The last thing he needed to think about right now was Megan Malone. Although every fantasy he’d had since about age fifteen revolved around her and those ocean blue eyes, her hair long and full, mussed about from a wicked night of…. He began silently reciting the Gettysburg Address. Nothing could kill a fantasy or a hard on like Ole Honest Abe.
He heard the male voice holler at the other two to look at something. He snuck a peek and then quickly jerked his head back under the desk willing his mind to stop playing tricks on him. For that brief second, that small granule of time, he could have sworn that the girl with the hat was Megan Malone. He wanted it to be her more than anything, but then he wanted every girl to be her.
***
“What?” Megan whispered, joining Mickey at the reception desk with Josie close on her heels.
“Look at this.” ‘This’ was a framed photograph of what appeared to be two lovers embracing in front of an ocean like backdrop. It was a beautiful photo that made Megan’s eyes sting with tears. Not because of the dreamy look on the lovers’ faces or the peacefu
l serenity of the ocean tide. Not even the intimate embrace or erotic heaviness of their eyes bothered her. What bothered her was that the awestruck man in the photo was Ted. And the woman was Tiffany Triple D.
“Looks like we found Miss Little League,” Josie muttered. “The slut. Check out her nose. I think it’s had work.” She squinted at the picture. “Yep, that’s definitely a nose job. When we find her and kick her narrow behind remind me to get the name of her plastic surgeon. He’s really good. Don’t you think?” Megan snapped the picture from Josie and sat on the floor forcing herself not to cry. Ted had lied. Big flipping surprise. He’d said she was a client, a friend. He’d told her it wasn’t what she thought, when it was exactly what she’d thought. Ted was a jerk. A liar, a cheat and a drug addict, with a swim suit model of a girlfriend on the side. The rat bastard. Tomorrow she’d call Sergio and tell him to clear his schedule. Ted was playing the field. Why shouldn’t she?
Because she was raised better than that and her mother would kill her, that’s why. Plus she suffered from the Catholic Guilt Syndrome, which had been pounded into her head by her mother since before she could talk. The guilt would eat her up inside and she’d be even more miserable than she was now.
“Where was this?”
“In her top desk drawer,” Megan put it back. So Tiffany Triple D, Ted’s friend, was his secretary too. Convenient. She went back to Ted’s desk to see what other depressing evidence she could find that would further confirm his indiscretions.
She was going to have to divorce him. No amount of love in the world could excuse his behavior. To hell with what her mother would think. To hell with Catholic guilt. And to hell with Ted. Her and Spot and the pups would move on and Ted and Tiffany could pump iron or each other or whatever tickled their home wrecking fancies. She was done being the stupid housewife.
She sat in Ted’s chair and began rifling through his drawers. In the bottom drawer of his desk she found a bottle of Wild Turkey Whiskey. When did Ted start drinking? she thought. She fingered the cap off and took a long pull, letting the amber liquid go straight to her stomach. It burned like hell, but the burn felt good. It dulled the throb in her heart.
