Froggy Style (15 page)

W
e arrived at the Rose by fifteen minutes after five. The shop was already closed for the night. I hefted an eyebrow at Lollie. “Odd hours you keep.”

“We’re a small shop.” She crossed her arms defensively across her ample chest. “Most of our business is by appointment only.”

“Uh-huh.” Something bothered me, but I couldn’t place what exactly it was, maybe Lollie’s attitude, for one. No longer was she thwarting my every attempt at finding Spindle. In fact, since this morning when someone decided to play a live-action game of Frogger with me, Lollie seemed downright helpful.

“So what now?” I asked.

“I guess we could try Red at home.” She smiled, her dark eyes burning into mine. “That is, if you still want to find your fiancée.”

What? Stop looking for Sleeping Beauty? Was she crazy? I needed Beauty more now than ever. “What’s Red’s address?” I said in lieu of a better response. Lollie’s lips tightened, but she rattled off a string of numbers not too far away.

Red lived in a neighborhood known as Two Feet Under the Rainbow that catered to a flamboyant, bohemian, and often shorter group of artists, drag queens, and CPAs. An area so liberal that it made West Witchwood look like a Republican National Convention.

“Got that?” I asked Karl when Lollie finished giving us directions to Red’s bungalow. Karl rolled his beady eyes in the rearview mirror as he shoved the limo into gear. “Of course, sir. I am neither deaf nor blind,” he stopped to add, “unlike another certain someone.”

What the hell did that mean? I frowned, but Lollie’s sigh drew my attention. “What?” I snapped.

Her cheeks flushed. “Don’t snap at me. I didn’t lose your fiancée. This is your fault. Not mine.”

She had a point, but one I would die before admitting. I should’ve warned Sleeping Beauty that her life was in danger, and now it was too late. Spindle had her, and who knew what sort of torture he was capable of. I glanced at Lollie. Well, one person knew, and luckily—I popped the door locks—she was now trapped inside my limo.

Her eyes flew to the door locks and then back to me. “Don’t even think about it, Kermit. I’m annoyed with you, so you better keep your grubby hands to yourself.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I pressed the button to raise the privacy screen. Once Karl’s shiny dome disappeared behind the glass, I faced Lollie. “I need you to answer a question for me.”

“Yes, those pants make you look fat.”

“Funny.” I thumped my fingers against the leather seat, implying her comment was anything but. “But tell me this, Lollipop, will Sleeping Beauty be all right?” When she gave me that “are you demented” look, I quickly added, “Yeah, I know, you don’t know anyone named Spindle. Got it. But you don’t think he’d hurt . . . her, do you?” A hundred blood-soaked images raced through my mind.

The humor in Lollie’s eyes vanished. She reached for my hand, our first contact since our interrupted interlude twenty minutes ago. I found myself reassured by her touch, and a little turned on. Okay, a lot turned on, but I was a guy, for frog’s sake. A strong breeze in the right place was enough to turn me on.

“Everything will work out. It’s meant to be,” she said. “You’ll see.”

I grinned down at her fingers on my hand. “What sort of crap answer is that? I asked you a question and you turn all Zen on me? If I wanted a stupid answer I’d have asked Karl.”

The limo took a hard right, smashing me against the door frame. My face hit the window with enough force to rattle my teeth. “Oops. Stupid me,” came Karl’s voice through the glass.

 

Amazingly, we arrived at Red’s bungalow without further damage to my person. She lived just off the avenue on a quiet street in a row of tiny houses in an array of wild colors. Surprisingly, Red’s house wasn’t red. It was pink, bright, retina-shearing pink, the kind of pink unknown outside a super-gay rainbow. Jamming on a pair of sunglasses, I nodded to the house. “Not quite what I expected.”

From the front seat, Karl whispered, “Never judge a midget by her house color,” he paused, “or a princess by her sleeping habits.”

“What does that even mean?” My hands clenched at my side. “You’re as bad as she is.” I pointed at Lollie. “Why doesn’t anyone say what they mean anymore?”

Lollie shot us both a glare and carefully picked her way up the yellow brick sidewalk. What was it with Cin City and yellow brick, not to mention the pink flamingo lawn ornaments? Was everyone in the city color-blind? The whole city looked like something Simple Simon threw up after a ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl.

Lollie peered in the front window of Red’s bungalow. “No one’s home,” she said. “Oh, wait.”

“What is it?” I scrambled up the pathway to join Lollie at the window. My eyes scanned the front room, noting an upturned table and some broken dishes on the floor. Either a twister had swept through Red’s tiny house or someone had trashed the place, just like Beauty’s bedroom. Since we weren’t in Kansas anymore, I was betting on the second option. Had the vandal found whatever it was he was after? I scanned the rest of the room for clues.

“Oh my God,” I screeched when I noticed a pair of feet encased in ruby red slippers sticking out from under a couch. My heart slammed in my chest. Was that Sleeping Beauty on the floor?

I kicked in the front door and ran to the body. My knees went weak. Up close it was far worse than I could’ve imagined. My stomach gurgled as bile settled in the back of my throat. What kind of monster would do this?

My answer came in the form of the telltale click of a round being chambered in a 9mm pistol. “Well, well, well, how about a little firepower, scarecrow?”

“R
ed,” Lollie yelled to the short chick in the doorway with the 9mm pistol in her hand. “There’s no need to shoot him. Jean-Michel will pay for a new door. Right, Kermit?”

I nodded, afraid I’d lose my lunch if I dared to open my mouth. Karl ran inside the room, pulling to a stop at the vile sight in front of us. “Is that the Wicked Witch of the East under your couch?” he asked with a frown.

The supposed dead wicked witch leapt up, the minidress wrapped around him like a second skin barely covering his cankles. The small man said, “We’re doing a production of
The Wizard of Oz
with a gangster twist for our theater group next month. Red and I were just working on our parts.”

“Sick bastards,” I said, unable to face another second of their depravity. “You should be locked up.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Lollie rubbed her chin. “Your precious fiancée isn’t dead. No one’s hurt. Nothing’s going on but a harmless little fun.”

Karl answered for me. “My lord is dreadfully fearful of flying monkeys or anything to do with
The Wizard of Oz,
really.”

Lollie hooted with laughter and then sobered when she caught sight of my face. “You’re not kidding. Are you really afraid of a movie?”

I took a deep breath. “The Wiz damaged a lot of people. You might not realize it, but that movie is nothing more than a Communist-fairy propaganda film.” I pumped my fist. “Flying monkeys. Come on, people!”

“Um . . . right,” Karl said. “I’ll just take my lord outside for a bit of air while you talk to Ms. . . . Red.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me from the horrific scene unfolding before my eyes.

“Monkeys, Karl. Flying monkeys,” I whispered as he led me out the door.

 

I recovered from my ordeal soon enough, but decided, for the sake of my mission, to stay in the air-conditioned limo until Lollie returned with some answers. It was the princely thing to do.

Seven minutes later Lollie’s perfectly rounded rump plopped down on the seat next to me. She fanned herself with her other hand. “Whew, it’s hot out there. We’re in for one long summer. And you know what that means. . . .”

“Just spill it.” I grabbed her arm. “I’m a big boy. I can take it. What did Red say?”

Lollie grinned. “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little frog too?”

“Funny.”

“I thought so.”

“Enough of the comedy act.” My voice grew cold. “Is Sleeping Beauty still alive?”

Lollie licked her lips. “Yes.”

Relief rushed through me. I needed her alive until death did us part and my curse was broken, but after that, she was on her own. Spindle could have her for all I cared. “Whew, that was close.”

She didn’t appear to share my joy if her frown was any indication. “Don’t go celebrating just yet.”

My brow furrowed. “Why?”

Wincing, she looked away, out the window, seemingly lost in thought or plotting my immediate murder, which seemed more her style.

“Why not!?” I demanded.

She took a deep breath. Her chest rose and fell in an appealing manner before she turned back to me. “I’m so sorry,” she began. Never words I enjoyed hearing, and yet, coming from Lollie’s mouth, I hated them that much more. I wanted her body, not her pity.

“Just tell me,” I said, each syllable dripping with frost. “What is it? What happened?” Had Spindle deformed my sleepy bride in some manner? Was she now ugly as well as tired?

Lollie heaved a sigh that nearly cracked the window. “Sleeping Beauty wasn’t kidnapped.”

“Sure she was.” I rubbed my eyes. “We found that rose in her bed. How else would it have gotten there?”

She arched one eyebrow.

I shrugged.

Her other eyebrow followed.

“What!”

This time her eyebrows waggled up and down.

“For God’s sake, woman, make sense.”

The privacy screen dropped, and my manservant’s big bald head appeared through the hole. “What the lady is trying to say is, Princess Beauty and the infamous Spindle were together.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know. That’s why we need to find them.”

“Idiot,” Lollie muttered. “In the biblical sense. Your sweet fiancée, who you swear tried to kill you, is sleeping with Spindle.”

A stab of pain circled my heart, but I waved it off.

She nodded.

I started to laugh. “Not possible.”

“It’s true,” she said. “Red said—”

“She lied.”

“I’m sorry, Kermit.” Her fingers brushed my arm. “At least now that you know the truth about your bride, you can move on with your life. Forget about her and find true love.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Her brow furrowed. “Why give yourself a chance to find true love?”

“No, why should I forget Sleeping Beauty? So she doesn’t wear white to our wedding.” My shoulders rose and fell. “Big deal.”

“T
ake me home,” Lollie ordered, her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pulled into a pout. “Now.”

“What’s your problem? So I marry Sleeping Beauty. It doesn’t mean we,” I gestured between us, “can’t be . . . friends.”

“That’s exactly what it means! I won’t be your mistress.”

A pain shot through my heart. “Come on, Lollie. Be reasonable.”

She struck me instead. Her fist slammed into my arm with enough force to leave an imprint on the sleeve of my shirt. I rubbed my aching muscle.

“Reasonable?” she whispered through clenched teeth. “I’m being unreasonable? You’re still planning on marrying a woman who is fucking another guy!”

She had a point. But why was she so pissed? I was the supposed cuckold. If anyone was going to be angry, it should’ve been me. Yet I couldn’t muster even the slightest bit of rage, mostly because Lollie was vibrating with enough for the two of us.

When I didn’t respond, she said, “I’ll show you reasonable, you . . . you . . . prince.”

“I look forward to it, mademoiselle,” I said with a smirk. “It will be a side of you I haven’t seen before.”

A low growl reverberated from her vicinity.

“Sir,” Karl said from the front seat. “Perhaps you should ride up front with me until we arrive at Ms. Bliss’s shop.”

By the speed of the cactus flying by my window, I was fairly sure we’d arrive at the Rose in a matter of seconds. Karl was in some hurry. I wondered why.

“I’m good,” I said to Karl. “Besides, what’s Lollie going to do? Cheat on me like Beauty?” I snorted. “Perhaps she’ll try to kill me like my dear bride.”

In hindsight, tempting fate wasn’t the smartest move on my part. No sooner had the words left my mouth than the window next to my head shattered. I dove across the leather seat, throwing Lollie to the floor. Karl swore as he twisted the wheel.

Three more shots followed. The back window exploded, showering us in glass. Lollie tried to push me off her, but I held fast. As pissed as she was at me right now, she’d be much more annoyed with a bullet in her brain.

“Get off me!” she demanded, trying to scramble from underneath me to grab her large black bag. Since I didn’t consider a handful of tampons and a tube of lipstick worth dying for, I tossed her to the floor. Flying bits of debris dug into my back and legs. The pain seemed distant, though, as my body rocketed with adrenaline. My breath came in short gasps as my blood pounded through my veins.

Another shot whizzed by my head, embedding itself in the minibar. A whiskey bottle shattered, spilling amber liquor down my back. Lollie stopped fighting me then, and instead yanked me closer to her. “Stay down,” she ordered like a drill instructor.

Like I had other plans.

“Hang on, sir!” Karl yanked the limo into a spin, tires screeching against the pavement. The vehicle skittered and then finally righted itself. Again, Karl slammed his foot on the gas, and we shot forward, playing chicken with the black Ford Unicorn with a prince-shaped dent in its grille.

The driver appeared to be one big black blur as we charged each other. “Karl,” I warned as the limo sped up. My hands gripped the driver’s leather headrest.

“Not a good time for complaints, sir.”

He had a point, so I shut up and pinned Lollie to the floor, protecting her with my own body, which wasn’t nearly as altruistic as it sounded, at least not to my semi-stiff penis.

The Unicorn hurtled closer.

Lollie screamed and closed her eyes, her nails digging into my back. Perverse pain and pleasure curled in my stomach. Even though we were about to die a horrific death, her body against mine felt right. Like we belonged together. Forever. Or at least until I tired of her. I gave it a week. Maybe two if I brought along a gag.

Sadly, two weeks would be a record given the length of my prior relationships. Not that I wanted happily ever after. A night of no-strings-attached debauchery was just what the veterinarian ordered, or so I assured myself, lying in bed, alone, in the dead of night.

“Ahhhh!” Karl yelled, bracing his arms in front of his face as the two vehicles came within five feet of each other. The Unicorn swerved out of our path, went into a tailspin, and crashed into a roadside glass slipper stand. Slippers flew into the air, shattering against the Unicorn with a crash.

“Oh my God. We’re alive,” Karl said, pulling his hands away from his eyes. I helped Lollie from the floor, assessing her for injuries. Besides a few cuts on her forehead and cheek, she appeared unscathed.

The same couldn’t be said for the limo, though. Shards of glass littered every surface. Not a single window had survived the attack. The minibar looked like a victim of a giant on a bender, the door hanging on one hinge as various alcohols pooled into deadly concoctions served only at frat parties.

“Nice driving.” I patted Karl on the shoulder. “Aren’t you glad I taught you how to play chicken?”

“Not especially.”

My lips curved into a wide grin. “I said I was sorry. Besides, you were only in the body cast for a couple of weeks.”

“Six months, sir.” His hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles growing white. “And it still hurts when I pee.”