High Score (2 page)

Yeah, right!

At least, it sounded better than the truth. Moving to the small community of Loveland a few miles from Denver had given him the chance to make a new start and forget how rotten people in the entertainment business could be.

Joe asked, “What ever happened to your partner?”

Now why is Joe suddenly curious about that double-dealer?
Thor’s shrug served as a silent answer.

“The reason I’m asking…”

The beseeching expression in Joe’s eyes put Thor on the alert. “Yeah?”

“I was just thinking…” Joe’s quick smile was overly bright. “I wondered if you’d like to be my partner managing the Bad Boys.”

“
Your
partner!”

“Yeah. You see, I don’t have the background you have in managing talent, but I’m willing to do my share of the grunt work. We could take the Bad Boys on tour and make both of us rich.”

“Sorry, Joe. I can’t right now. I’ve got the store to run.”

“I know, but—”

“Hey, Joe!” Dot waved a colorful tape box in the air. “He’s got
Sweet Stuff
number four!”

“Really?” Joe glanced over his shoulder at Dot, but remained slouched against the counter. “Okay, Thor. I’ll tell you what. Let’s swap. Your store for my contract with the Bad Boys.”

Thor laughed.

“Seriously,” Joe insisted. “I’m out of my league with this. Once I run out of bookings here, I don’t know where to go with the Boys.”

“You’ll get the hang of it.”

“I don’t think so. I tried for months to break into the best nightspots in Vegas, San Francisco, LA, and Seattle. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Success doesn’t happen overnight. You have to give it time.”

“Joe!” Dot called. “Ask Thor if we can go in back and watch this video.”

Thor waved her toward the rear of the store. “Of course you can, Dot. Help yourself.”

She blew him a kiss and turned to weave her way through the aisles.

“She’s pretty
and
nice, Joe,” Thor said quietly. “What’s she doing with a hick like you?”

“Wish I knew.” Was his cousin blushing? His face and neck usually had a natural rosy tone, so it was hard to tell. “She’s moving in with me this week.”

“Go on!”

“It’s true.” Joe smiled. “She’s the one. I can feel it.”

“Well, congratulations! You lucky dog!” A jolt of envy coursed through Thor. Joe may have always looked up to his older cousin and believed Thor had everything a man could ever want, but look who had a good woman by his side.

“I’m lucky, all right. And that’s another reason I don’t want to go on the road with the Boys right now. It wouldn’t be a good time to leave Dot behind.”

“Take her with you.”

“That won’t work. She’s got a job she likes right here.” Joe’s expression grew even more dejected. “To be honest, she’s not too excited about my being an agent. She thinks I should have more reliable way of earning a living. She’s hung up on regular paychecks.”

“She’s got a point there.”

“I know. But I only got in this business because I watched you make a killing at it. You’re my role model.”

“Now, Joe, don’t lay a guilt trip on me.” Thor remembered the skinny little kid who used to tag after him on the school grounds, emulating his every move. The teenager who had bought a used car from Thor, then gone out and wrapped it around a telephone pole. Joe, like a kid brother, had always looked up to Thor for no good reason. Because, no matter what sort of example Thor set, Joe always seemed to end up with the short end of the stick.

Except now he’d found
the one
. Happiness glowed in his eyes when he talked about Dot. That made him a winner in Thor’s book.

“Okay, okay,” Joe folded his hands together as though in prayer. “Sell me the store. I’ll trade the Bad Boys in on the contract.”

“Joe—”

“You can take the Boys to the top. They’re good, you said so yourself. It’s something you know how to do, and I don’t. You know you want to. I saw that gleam in your eye when you were negotiating the bookings. You loved getting back into the game. Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

Thor sighed, his gaze traveling slowly and speculatively around the dim interior of his claustrophobic shop.

Joe smiled like the little weasel he was. “And I’ve got a big Harley I can give you as down payment.”

* * * * *

Steering her sporty convertible into the small paved area in front of High Score, Shelley glanced around for a parking place. What if someone she knew saw her? Other than Rita, there was no one else she could trust with her secret mission.

No back alley, no hulking dumpster, not so much as a bush to offer concealment for her car. Remembering Dickie’s deception boosted her resolve. That, and the fact that only two other vehicles occupied spaces in the cramped lot. Chances were probably slight that she would run into an acquaintance. With a show of bravado, she parked her Spyder near the front entrance and got out.

As she stood scrutinizing the front of the store, Rita joined her.

A sign on the swinging glass door read
Cum on in
. A decal claimed
Everybody’s doing it!
According to a faded flyer taped to the glass, the
Power Stroker
, ushering in a new era in men’s pleasure, was available here.

Shelley fought the instinct to turn and run. “If any dirty old men try to talk to us, we’re leaving.”

“Okay.” Rita shoved her way through the door without further hesitation. Shelley followed. Just inside, she paused to orient herself to the dimly lit interior. Only one other customer shared the premises, a young man in a ponytail browsed through merchandise in the far left aisle. When the door thudded shut, he didn’t even glance up.

Shelves of books and videos lined the walls of the small establishment. Down the center, counters displayed an assortment of odd-looking items. The sight of leather whips, handcuffs, and rubber dildos sent a shiver down Shelley’s spine. Strangely enough, they didn’t disgust her as much as they intrigued her.

Did people actually pay money for those things?

Rita touched her arm and pointed out a poster on the left wall. A muscle-bound Viking wore a helmet with horns. Iron-studded leather belts crossed his chest and cinched his waist, securing his animal skin garments. A huge, elaborately designed sword hung from his belt. A young and lovely maiden knelt before him, her hands bound behind her back. She was naked beneath her thick, black, hip-length hair.

A row of similar posters lined the walls above the bookshelves. All of them featured well-armed Vikings towering over helpless damsels.

“You girls over eighteen?” A tall man behind the counter to their right gazed at them with eyebrows raised in inquiry. He looked to be in his late twenties. His enormous biceps and broad chest stretched the heck out of his knit shirt. Except for his modern jeans and pullover, he looked like he could be one of the Vikings on the posters, complete with an untrimmed beard and a mass of golden-brown hair falling halfway to his shoulders.

Tongue-tied, Shelley stared at him. He was huge! And he had the indolent sexy look of someone who had quarts of testosterone pulsing through his veins.

Rita cleared her throat. “We’re over eighteen. You wanna see ID?”

“Nah, I’ll take your word for it.” He smiled, revealing white teeth beneath his mustache. “Help yourselves. If you have any questions, let me know.”

Shelley nodded mutely, then turned to follow Rita down the center aisle.

“Wow,” Rita whispered. “Look at this!” Even her whisper sounded too loud for the small room. She picked up a flesh-colored dildo that was a foot long. When she pushed the button on the base of it, a little motor inside caused it to writhe.

“My God!” Shelley wondered how Rita could bear to touch the lifelike thing.

“I’m going to get it,” Rita said, her eyes sparkling.

“You’re kidding!” Shelley felt conspicuous. Glancing over her shoulder toward the front of the store, she noticed the big brute watching them.

His smile reminded Shelley of a predator—a lion because of his mane. She had plenty of questions, but she didn’t dare ask him for fear he’d pounce.

“What would you do with it?” she whispered, then felt stupid. “I mean, aren’t those for single women?”

“Heck no! Skeeter will get a real kick out of this.”

Shelley couldn’t imagine how her friend planned to share the dildo with her husband, and she didn’t ask.

“French ticklers!” Rita yelped. “Help me pick some out, will you? Each one’s different.”

Ticklers?
Shelley puzzled over what a person would do with a soft plastic doughnut bristling with tentacles on one side. Some designs were flattened with wavy edges and others sported clusters of what looked like thick bugs’ antennae or a snail’s eyes. Suddenly she got the picture. A male could slide the doughnut onto his penis in order to give his partner extra stimulation where it counted during intercourse. Just the sight of those suggestive objects started a quiver between her legs.

“I am
not
going to help you choose sex toys!” she said. “You pick out your own. I’m going to look at the books.”

Shelley moved to the bookshelves on the outer aisle. After checking out every title from Bondage to Water Sports, Shelley felt more confused than enlightened, especially since few books included a table of contents or glossary. Unsure of the erotic lingo, she couldn’t tell which, if any, she wanted.

Rita moved up beside her and started eyeballing the book titles.

“I have no idea what I’m looking for,” Shelley confessed.

Rita called over her shoulder, “Hey, Mister! Can we get some help over here?”

Shelley cringed. “Why did you do that? I don’t want to talk to strangers about this.”

The Viking moved toward them in a loose-jointed stride. He had to be way over six feet tall—not someone she wanted to meet in a dark alley—or even a crowded sunlit park.

“What can I help you with?” His deep voice resonated off the walls and ceiling.

Shelley ignored him, focusing her attention on a title on the bottom row.

Rita called him over, let Rita talk to him.

“My friend here is getting married in two weeks,” Rita explained. “And I promised to buy her a book about sex. Something she can take on her honeymoon. Something basic.”

“Something basic…” he repeated. He reached up and took down one book, then reached for another. “These might be helpful. They cover a variety of topics and activities, and they’re geared for females. No serious S&M or bondage—except for a little mild stuff. Some of the books over there on that shelf, now, are hard core—you probably don’t want those.”

“Probably not at this point.” Rita accepted the books from him. “Say, I have another question for you. I’m planning a bachelorette party for next Friday night, and I want to hire a male stripper. Do you know where I can find one?”

Shelley, wanting nothing more than to drop out of sight, continued studying the bottom row of books like a myopic woman without glasses. Suddenly aware that her butt stuck boldly out in space, she straightened and risked a peek at the Viking. Sure enough, his gaze was riveted on her bottom. He looked up, caught in the act, and smiled without a hint of apology.

“I have good news and bad news,” he said. “The good news is my cousin’s the manager of the Bad Boys. Ever hear of them? No? There’s a poster of them above the cash register.”

Shelley glanced up and spotted the 16 X 20-inch framed poster featuring four hunks wearing tight leather pants and gypsy boleros over bare chests.

Not bad!

“He gets a lot of calls to rent them out to parties,” he continued. “The bad news is they’re booked solid every Friday and Saturday night this month.”

“Shoot!” Rita said. “Do you know of any other groups?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, sorry. Wish I could help.”

“Are you a stripper yourself?” Rita asked hopefully.

Would you please shut up, Rita, you moron?

Shelley couldn’t believe how bold her friend was. She wished the man would go back behind his counter where he could only watch them from a distance. As it was, his gaze kept switching to Shelley, as though he assumed she was equally interested in his information.

“I’m not into that. You’ve got to be an exotic dancer to do it well, and I don’t have the moves.” His expression turned more serious as he turned toward Shelley. “There’s one thing you might be interested in. A counselor in sex therapy is giving a workshop for couples next month. He left a flyer on the bulletin board over there.
Relationships and Marital Sex
—something like that.”

Rita peered at her. “What do you think, Shelley?”

“I’ll wait and see.”

“Shelley, huh? Nice to meet you.” He smiled and extended his beefy hand. “I’m Thor Ryersson.”

Shelley hesitated, wondering if she should encourage overtures from this purveyor of sex products, but finally succumbed to her compulsion for politeness and put her hand in his. What felt like an electric current ran up her arm and raised the voltage in her nipples. For a moment, she couldn’t unscramble her thoughts. “This is my friend, uh—” She fought a mental block for a second or two. “Rita.”