Felony Ever After

by Helena Hunting

  It was hard to find the right words, but Verity attempted it:

  Larold has a latex fetish and a doll that looks like me in his bathroom.

  The Verity added:

  Hudson is mad because I questioned him after Lay came to my house and said Hudson might be a rogue agent inside a sex doll company.

  And then she added the cherry on the shit cake:

  A sex doll company owned by Hudson’s uncle.

  Angie didn’t respond for a few minutes, and then the dots appeared that indicated she was typing.

  Are you having a stroke or something, because that’s the craziest series of texts ever.

  Verity shook her head as she typed.

  I like that if I were having a medical emergency, we would text about it. I need you here with alcohol. Now.

  Angie sent a picture of herself in the back seat of a car service.

  Verity responded.

  Hooray! Please hurry. I’m getting started on the wine I use for cooking. Next up is rubbing alcohol.

  The next picture was Angie holding up a stack of cash.

  Verity put her phone down, grabbed her biggest glass for wine, and upended the dregs of her cooking bottle.

  Fifteen minutes later Angie unlocked the door with the extra key she had from watering the plants at Christmas. She was laden with bottles.

  Fireball.

  Tequila.

  Wine.

  Vodka.

  “Those last two are from Joseph’s cellar,” Angie said proudly. “The good stuff. He never even lets me go in in there in case I wreck something.” She lined the bottles up on Verity’s coffee table.

  That would cover all the hangover bases nicely. By the time they were done tonight, Verity would wake up wishing she wasn’t human. She got out a nice glass for Angie to use as she wished.

  Making sure her friend was seated, Verity then related her situation. They began her monologue with a couple of shots, and enjoyed a variety of drinks as the sordid tale unfolded: The sexy man stick of porn-gasms had called her his girlfriend less than twenty-four hours before her boss had confessed to being a weird sex maniac who was slightly obsessed with her, with a life-sized latex doll to prove it. Then she’d quit her job and her ex-boss had followed her home to accuse her newly statused boyfriend of sex doll industry misconduct. And then said boyfriend had been pissy at her about it.

  When she’d finished, Angie sat back and seemed to struggle under the enormity of what had happened. “Okay, forget creep-ass Larold for the moment. You think sexy as sin Hudson is making knock-off sex dolls of women we work with, and also possibly a replica of your vagina?”

  Verity pointed at her, choosing the Angie in the middle and noticing the room had begun to spin. “Yes. All of that.” She made a wrap-it-up circle gesture with her fingers. “I think… Maybe… Or not, but I have to ask, right? He’s so damn secretive, and I got a little freaked out. His uncle does own the company—HoneyBee. And Honeybee is Hudson’s nickname for me to boot.”

  “That’s overboard,” Angie said. “Like, on the crazy train? That information dumped its load in my brain. I cannot comprehend that Hudson would be so devious. He seems so into you.”

  Verity poured another glass of wine. “I know. But he’s all mysterious and shit. He’s like Batman. We finally had a real talk about his family this weekend, but I still don’t know where he goes when he disappears. I mean, it’s okay to be private, but not to lead a double life.”

  Angie nodded. “I don’t know, honey. I’m so sorry this happened. And on the Larold front, I can totally see why you quit, but I’ll miss you so much at work.”

  “You’re not quitting too?” Verity had hoped Angie might pack a box in solidarity, and perhaps to avoid becoming a sex doll in the future.

  “I can’t. I’m so sorry. I’ve put years into this company, and I have paid vacation coming up. I’ll keep my mouth shut about what I know, but I’ll have hawk eyes on Larold, and I promise to be a complete bitch to the girl that takes your place.” Angie patted Verity on the arm.

  “I’m unemployed. I’m unsure of my status with the hottest tattooed thief I’ve ever met, and there’s a not-entirely-completed sex doll of myself in my ex-boss’s bathroom.” Verity sighed. “I gotta do something about this.”

  Angie touched her Fireball glass to Verity’s wine glass. Verity sank down into her couch and pulled out her phone. No new messages from Hudson. No cute pictures. No calling her Honeybee, which she’d loved and now maybe hated.

  She tapped on her Twitter app as Angie went into the kitchen to find food. Of course she stalked Hudson. She had no new mentions, but Hudson was tweeting his ass off.

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  You know when it’s time to drink? Every time you click on her picture on your phone. #BottomsUp

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  I thought she trusted me. #AnotherOne

  He was hurting. But really, he was a little fragile. Ugh, men. Damn him and his hot, tattooed, delicate-flower self.

  Verity slammed back a Fireball shot and found the courage to tweet back. Angie reappeared with a plate of nachos and slid down next to her to assist.

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  Honeybee my ass. #HudsonNeedsaPounding

  She didn’t link it to him, but it gave her lady situation some happiness to see him tweet right at her. He was Twitter stalking her as well.

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  @VerityPics03 I would #Honeybee your ass allllll day. #HudsonWantsToPound

  “Oh, he didn’t!” She looked at Angie with wide eyes.

  “You do ass stuff?” Angie replied with equally wide eyes.

  They giggled together before Verity responded, slurring a bit. “Not yet. But if we get through this, with enough lube and as drunk off my tits as I am now, I might consider it.”

  Then Angie got all conversational, putting her hand over Verity’s phone so she couldn’t see the screen. “You know, I think if it was with someone I trusted, and I knew more about how to make that door more accessible? I might consider it too. I mean, Joseph is super interested in my thunderdome, but he hasn’t wanted to get in there with his man hammer yet. If I put the no-no hole on the table, he might take the bait.”

  Verity moved Angie’s hand, ate a nacho, and refreshed the page. She probably needed to respond to what seemed to be Angie telling her she and Joseph hadn’t had sex yet, but the appropriate comment eluded her… if there even was one.

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  If I close my eyes right now I can see your ass in my head. #Splinters

  She tried to find a comeback in her fuzzy head.

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  If I close my eyes I see you tricking me into letting you into my life.

  No hashtag, no joke. She’d accidently spoken her worst fear to him.

  Angie bit her lip and hit refresh after reading Verity’s response.

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  I’ve never tricked you. This isn’t a game.

  “Oh my God, are we having a fight on Twitter? This could not get any worse.” Verity shook her head and tucked her phone in her bra. “What the hell were you just talking about?”

  “Forget it. And forget him for a little while,” Angie urged. “The only thing he needs to say is I’m sorry, and that’s not going to happen on Twitter.”

  “Yes, screw this. If he wants to chat, let’s do it in person.” Verity stood and weaved a bit. Despite the nachos, there seemed to be plenty of free alcohol left in her system. Still, she was ready to roll.

  She pulled her phone out of her bra and saw that Hudson’s latest tweet was a picture of a beer on a table at the Library Bar. She flipped the phone to face Angie, who squinted and then nodded as a slow smile spread on her face.

  “This is the best idea you’ve had all day. And you’ve had a ton of good ones. You are so the idea girl. Quitting your job? Great idea. Getting Lay to give you the latex replic
a of yourself? Stellar. Just gotta follow through. The excessive drinking? Also masterful. And how we’re going to kick ass in person. I love it. Let’s dress you up, though. We’ll make Hudson’s balls cry big, girly tears when he thinks of all the anal he could have had with you tonight.”

  “Did I tell you he has his tongue pierced? And his dick pierced?” Verity asked, holding Angie by her face. “Do you know what that means to a vagina? Are you aware of the commitment he’s made to my vagina’s happiness? He slapped his man meat out somewhere…” She waved a boozy hand at the city. “Thought about pleasure, and took a stab in his pee hole. Do you even understand that?”

  “You did mention that already. And the tongue one is hard to miss.” Angie nodded seriously. “Let’s find the hottest thing you own and pour your boobs in it. Have I told you you have great tits? Your tits are the sweetest friends with my tits.”

  They proceeded to bump their boobs together.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Angie dragged Verity to her closet.

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  I’ve never thunk Fireball was a bad idea. #RageDrinking

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  Angie made me sexlicious. #GreatTitBuddies

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  Pierced dicks are fucktacular. #PoundTown

  Chapter 19

  Drunken Ninja Style

  Helena Hunting

  Twenty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds later, Verity looked like getting laid was her main purpose in life. Angie had paired a hot pink micro-mini—which she’d worn last Halloween when she dressed up as the slutty pink Power Ranger—with a black lace thong.

  On top, to compliment her skirt, was a silver sequined top with a deep scoop neckline. Verity looked like she was hiding two disco balls inside her shirt. And they very much wanted to be free.

  The ensemble was made complete by a set of seven-million-inch silver sparkling stilettos.

  Angie stood back and assessed her handiwork. “You’re smokin’ hot. It’s perfect. What do you think?” Unable to wait for a response, she grabbed Verity by the shoulders and smiled proudly. “You’re gorgeous. High tit!”

  They bumped boobs again until one of Verity’s popped out of her bra.

  “Let’s go make Tattoo’s balls cry!” Angie shouted.

  They piled into an Uber, Verity nearly flashing her ass at the world as she climbed inside. This skirt was nothing like the ones she wore to work—more like one she’d wear to work. She was learning now that it wasn’t super functional for sitting. Not that she planned to do much sitting at the bar. She would confront Hudson, give him hell for being so pissy about her asking questions, and maybe try to have a real conversation—though she wasn’t exactly dressed or mentally prepared for that last part. She and Angie hadn’t thought much past the hotness assault.

  Surely Hudson wasn’t a bad guy. And surely if he thought about it a little he could understand why she’d needed to perform a mini-inquisition. A hit of anger raced through her. He’d better not be lying. Because that she couldn’t tolerate. She was finished with the part of her life that involved a liar.

  Verity now knew for certain she was drunk and confused. But she would carry out this half-assed plan anyway, because that’s what people did when they were drunk and making bad choices.

  The Library Bar was packed when they arrived. Verity strut-wobbled inside, clutching Angie’s arm for support. She knew why these horrible shoes had never been out of the box. They were a nightmare. She was a bit of a nightmare right now. Dressing a little outside her usual norm—well, a lot outside it—had felt empowering in the closet with Angie, but out and about, she worried she wouldn’t seem appropriately serious about talking to Hudson. The hungry looks—and was that an ass grab?—from men in the crowded front section seemed to confirm this fear.

  After a moment she spotted Hudson at the bar. Oh, God. He looked delicious. His beanie had been discarded on the bar beside him, and his hair stuck up in the back, like a little kid who’d been rushed out of bed in the morning and forgot to use a comb.

  He wore a pair of low-slung jeans and a studded belt. His T-shirt hugged all the perfect muscles in his back and his slumped, defeated shoulders. He knocked back his drink and signaled the bartender for another. He thumb-typed something on his phone, then dropped it back on the bar.

  Verity rooted around in her purse until she found her phone and checked Twitter.

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  That you’d believe that fuckhead over me says a lot.

  He was still trying to Twitter fight.

  She shoved her phone back in her purse and teetered over to him. Someone definitely tried to pinch her ass this time. She punched him in the dick, drunken ninja style.

  Hudson didn’t so much as glance at her when she sidled up beside him, getting right into his personal space. When he continued to ignore her, she employed her first tactic, words:

  “I thought this might be an easier way to have our conversation.”

  Hudson looked up from his drink, his blue, slightly bloodshot eyes widening when he realized she was the one invading his bubble. His eyes slid from her face to her chest and then lower. His mouth dropped and suddenly he scanned the room, frantic. He brought his hands up, and moved them around, wax-on, wax-off style. It looked like an interpretive dance.

  “Are you trolling for men?” He seemed incredulous, and pissed, and rather turned on.

  “Maybe. You’re the one Twitter fighting with me. I came to talk in person. I had the crappiest of mind-bendingly crappy days today. And when I dare to ask you to help me sort through things, you freak! What am I supposed to think? You’re all—” She gestured to his appearance. “And secretive. And your dick is pierced!” Shit. That last part wasn’t supposed to be spoken aloud.

  “What?” Hudson pushed his stool back and stood.

  He tried to put an arm around her, but she shoved it away. “You don’t get to break up with me and then put your hands on me!”

  “Break up with you?” He looked confused. And panicked. And angry.

  “You yelled at me and pulled a Batman out my window!” Verity shouted. People were looking, and not just because her top was like a mirror and her skirt seriously needed more fabric.

  “You’re right. We do need to talk. In private.” Hudson’s jaw ticked. It was hot, like a super-spicy dried meat stick from 7-Eleven.

  He held out his hand and waited for Verity to take it. When she hesitated, he leaned over to whisper to her. “Every guy in this entire bar is looking at you right now, and unless you want me perpetuate the stereotype you’re so intent on assigning me by forcing me to commit mass murder, you’d better damn well come with me.”

  Verity wanted to be affronted by his order, not turned on, but he was so sexy and angry. He also clearly knew her well, which was a good sign, wasn’t it? Or just a sign of thorough researching? The idea of mass murder over her was a little exciting, as well as terrifying, of course. Also, her judgment had disappeared, riding into the sunset on an alcohol-fueled emotional roller coaster. For one or more of those reasons, she allowed Hudson to guide her through the bar, shooting hate-glares at anyone who dared look at her. Which was everyone, thanks to her ridiculous skirt and batshit-crazy attitude.

  They came to a set of stairs at the back of the bar, which Verity had never noticed before. A burly, bearded bouncer barred the way. He looked Verity over like she was a burger he’d consider eating.

  Hudson snapped his fingers in his face. “Eyes over here.”

  Burly bouncer narrowed his squinty gaze.

  “I need a VIP room. Now.”

  “This isn’t that kind of place. There’s a hotel down the street,” Burly said with almost no inflection.

  Hudson pulled out his wallet and flashed a pile of benjamins. Like, a legit pile. “She’s not a goddamn hooker, she’s my girlfriend.”

  When Burly glanced at Verity, Hudson snapped his fingers an inch from his fac
e. “Do I need to speak to your manager? Look at her again, and you’ll be out of a fucking job.”

  “Room Three.” Burly took three bills from Hudson’s ragey fingers and dropped a key in his hand.

  That was a lot of money for a bike messenger to shell out so they could talk in private. Where had all the money came from? Was the illegal sex doll trade truly that lucrative?

  “I’ll call for service when I want it.” Hudson gestured for her to go ahead of him.

  She held the railing tightly and teetered up the stairs.

  Hudson muttered something behind her.

  Three guys appeared at the landing, hesitating as Verity continued her perilous climb. At least Hudson was behind her to prevent her from falling all the way to the bottom. One of the guys made clicking sounds with his teeth as they approached.

  “I will murder the fuck right out of you if you so much as breathe in her goddamn direction,” Hudson growled.

  The new death threats made Verity’s lady parts swoon.

  “Sorry, man,” one of the guys muttered, rushing down the stairs.

  “Verity! What are you doing?” Angie called from below on the other side of the bouncer. “I can see up your skirt! In hindsight, cheekies might have been the better option!”

  Verity put her hands on her ass, and Hudson looked over his shoulder.

  “We’re going to talk,” he called down.

  “I’m out,” Angie yelled in parting. “I still have to work tomorrow!”

  Verity waved, but lost her focus as Hudson took another step up so his chest and then his stomach brushed against the back of her. “If you’re going commando, I might lose my ever-loving shit.”

  Verity’s knees wobbled, and not because of the insane shoes. She huffed indignantly and faux-stomped up the remaining stairs, carefully.