How Hard Can It Be? (21 page)
Chapter 24
“Y
ou’re late,” it hissed as I walked through the front door. “Yep.” I smiled and flipped Evangeline the bird as I made my way back to the hideous pink office.
ou’re late,” it hissed as I walked through the front door. “Yep.” I smiled and flipped Evangeline the bird as I made my way back to the hideous pink office.
I stood outside the closed door and practiced my deep breathing. I heard several voices and figured they were all in there. My hand shook as I reached for the knob. Would they all be angry at me for deserting them? Did they hate me? Shit. What was I thinking? They didn’t need me. I turned to leave and ran smack into my worst nightmare come to life.
“Leaving so soon?” the Viper spat.
Holy hell, what was wrong with her face? Her cheeks looked swollen like a chipmunk’s, and what little eyelids she’d had before were gone. “No,” I said trying to look away from her. “I was just plotting.” Her demise.
“Good,” she told me, “because it would be a shame if I had to press charges.”
“It would be, wouldn’t it?” I laughed.
“You think that’s funny?” she demanded, completely confused by my demeanor.
“Yes, in fact, I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Oh, Evangeline”—I gave her a lovingly concerned look—“you might want to check your boobs. The left one seems a bit smaller than the right one.”
She shrieked in horror and wobble-ran down the hallway as fast as her spindly legs would take her. Damn, that felt good.
“Hi honey, I’m home,” I said as I walked back into my life.
“Praise Sweet Baby Jesus,” Poppy Harriet yelled, smothering me in a bear hug. “Joanne was trying to have Pirate Dave peel the skin off of his secret admirer while Captain Hook pulled off her toenails with pliers.”
“Rusty pliers.” Joanne grinned evilly. Holy cow, her eyebrows were growing back. Bushy, just like LeHump had said.
“Welcome back, Rena,” Cecil said with relief written all over his face. Who knew Cecil would prefer double doinkers and blind trolls to skin peeling and toenail removal?
I scanned the room looking for LeHump. She sat in the corner with a big shit-eating grin on her face. “I knew you’d be back. Life’s just not as much fun without us.”
“You are correct, Madame.” I grinned back.
“Shall we get started?” Cecil asked, looking exhausted from his morning with the gals.
“Yes”—I smiled at everyone—“we shall.”
Pirate Dave was so depressed he’d forgotten he was a warlock. After eating six bags of frozen Schmiggy’s Potato Fun Balls, he remembered that he could magic off the one hundred and seventy-five pounds he’d gained over the past two weeks. “Son of a bitch,” he yelled, trying to move his lard ass to a wide-open area for the spell.
As pissed off as he was about having two tallywhackers, he missed looking at them. Admiring his man parts had been a large part of his life until he’d gotten too porcine to see his beloved peckers.
He was slightly worried about a heart attack. Warlock spells were vigorous and profane. Would his jiggly girth end up being the cause of his death? Wait the fuck a minute. He was a goddamn vampire, too! Vampires didn’t have hearts. What the hell and tarnation had he been thinking?
Pirate Dave danced in a circle and cussed up a storm. Break-dancing was difficult when you weighed almost four hundred pounds. Lightning ripped through the sky as Dave’s undulating ripped a great big hole in his breeches. A gust of glittering silver mist engulfed him and swirled across the deck of the ship. He swore twice as hard when a clump of the sparkly crap flew up his nose. Slowly he felt his body morph back to the hot, sexy, hairy bastard he’d been before he had used fast food as therapy.
“I’m back,” he bellowed, grasping his double man-rod lovingly. He waltzed with his wieners, turning joyous circle after circle across the deck. He couldn’t wait to show Laverne and Shirley. The local mermaids heard the ruckus and came to see what the fuss was about. They pointed and laughed at poor Pirate Dave’s twin wanks, but Dave didn’t care. Those mermaids were whores and they ate their lovers when they tired of them. Pirate Dave had lost four hundred and seventy-two friends over the years to those cannibalistic swimming bitches.
He turned his back to the waterlogged hookers and that’s when the screaming began. Horrible screams. Worse than Shirley on a bad day. He grabbed a mirror to see if possibly another penis was growing out of his back. No, it was worse, far, far worse. Pirate Dave’s knees buckled and he dropped to the deck, wailing in agony. That blind motherfucking troll had given him two gifts. Not only had he damned Pirate Dave with double skin flutes, he had tattooed Dave’s back with the most heinous, evil, monstrous, enemy in the entire world . . . Across Pirate Dave’s back, covering it from shoulder to ass, in bright vibrant color was the feared and hated and dreaded . . . giraffe.
The silence lasted approximately thirty-seven seconds before the entire room burst into hysterics.
“Oh shit,” Shoshanna said, “I wish Nancy had been here for that one. Where in the hell did that come from? Do you have something against giraffes?” she laughed.
“Kind of,” I muttered sheepishly.
“A little odd,” Cecil agreed, “but strangely entertaining.”
“I think you’re enjoying yourself, Cecil,” I teased. “You’d better watch out; before you know it we’ll be showing up at your house for casseroles and poker.”
“It would be an honor, Miss,” Cecil said quietly, dipping his head to hide his blush. Damn it, he was making it very hard to hate him.
“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat,” Joanne said, pulling out a small comb and gently running it through her eyebrows. “Goodnight all. Rena, I’m so glad you came back.”
Poppy Harriet scooped me up into another hug. “Rena, thank you for dealing with the finance issues. The young lady from your firm is outstanding and said it will be fixed next week.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek and another big squeeze.
Cecil took his leave with a slight bow and a tiny smile. “I’m happy you came back. We need you.”
Then it was just me and LeHump.
“What made you change your mind?” she asked, pulling on her lime-green coat, then straightening our desk.
“It wasn’t any one thing,” I said trying to figure it out myself. “It was just right.”
“I’m glad.” She smiled and smooshed my face in her little hands.
“Shoshanna, does the offer to stay with you still stand?” I asked, realizing I had nowhere to go.
“You bet,” she said. “Door’s always open to friends.”
“Great. It’ll only be for two weeks, I took a transfer to Iowa,” I told her. Why did saying that make me feel nauseated?
“Iowa? What the fuck is in Iowa?” Shoshanna was surprised.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I’m very excited about it; it’s a great opportunity.” I plastered a huge smile on my face and prayed she wouldn’t notice how fake it was.
“Hmmm.” She gave me a long stare. “Running away doesn’t usually solve anything, little missy, but if you have to go, you have to go. Come on, you can follow me home.”
“No, I can’t. I’m going to my folks’ anniversary party tonight. My stuff’s in my car. I’ll just change and leave from here,” I said, thinking it out as I spoke. “I should be back at your place around eleven. Twelve at the latest. I’ll walk out with you. I have to get my outfit for tonight.”
“Lead the way, roomie,” she laughed.
I rolled my eyes and hoped like hell she didn’t snore.
Why had I shoved all my clothes in the suitcase without folding them? I examined the three extremely wrinkled dresses lying on the desk and couldn’t decide which one was the lesser of all evils. Jenny would definitely have a snarky comment about sloppy personal hygiene. Although giving her ammunition to insult me would free me up to call her bubble butt or tubby tush or hulking heinie. That made the evening ahead a bit more tolerable.
I yanked on a very expensive and wrinkled wrap dress. At least the teal and navy pattern hid some of the creases. Whatever, the party wasn’t about me. It was about my parents celebrating their wedding anniversary. Something I’d never have.
I was unsure whether I would tell everyone Jack had died in a bizarre gardening accident or whether I’d tell them he’d turned out to be gay. I’d have to cry a lot if I went with the dead thing. I’d left my waterproof mascara back at the apartment, so that was out. Gay it shall be. Jenny would love it, but it was better than the truth.
I slipped on the designer pumps that represented most of my last year’s salary and said good night to the heinous pink office. Walking through the foyer, I heard voices. Jack and Evangeline’s voices. Fuck, shit, fuck, fuck, how did I lose track of the time? I had planned to be out of here by five. Maybe I could make it to the front door.
“Let me show you the foyer, Jake darling,” Evangeline purred.
“It’s Jack,” he politely corrected her.
“That’s what I said. Jock.” She tried to giggle flirtatiously, but it sounded kind of donkey-like.
I could hear their approach. My stomach lurched and I started to sweat. I wasn’t going to make it. Frantically, I ran around the foyer, trying to find a fornicating statue to hide behind. Dang it, none of the fuckers would hide me well enough. This was so not happening to me. Here I stood in a room full of screwing statues, in a wrinkled dress ready to be busted by a walking cadaver with tits who had designs on my ex-boyfriend who thought I was insane. Life didn’t get much better.
Just as they entered I made an Olympic dive for the mounds of bejeweled baby pink silk that the Viper called curtains. Safe, but shaking like a leaf, I promised God and Buddha and Peyton Manning that I would be a better Lutheran. I would go to church every Sunday and I’d even try Speed Dating for Lutherans with only a partially bad attitude. I peeked out and realized I was going to be a witness to Jack doing Evangeline, or Evangeline doing Jack, or Jack freaking out on Evangeline, or God knew what . . .
“So Jim,” she cooed, looking him over seductively, “have you ever seen anything like this?” She threw her arms out like Maria in
The Sound of Music
and fell flat on her face. Guess the weight of those knockers wasn’t compatible with arm movement.
The Sound of Music
and fell flat on her face. Guess the weight of those knockers wasn’t compatible with arm movement.
“Oh my God,” Jack gasped, helping her to her feet. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Jonsey. I’m fine.” She tried to laugh it off as she rubbed her ginormous rack all over him while he helped her up. If it wasn’t so pathetic, I’d be pissed.
“It’s Jack,” he said stiffly, trying to ease her away. “Can I get you an ice bag or something? Your eyes look a little odd.”
My teeth clamped down on my bottom lip. Extreme pain would keep me from laughing or gagging. So far, so good.
“My eyes are turquoise and they’re feasting on you,” she shouted, pointing at him with one clawed hand while death-gripping a statue of a woman performing a blow job with the other.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, clearly appalled by what he’d just heard.
“Oh Jeff,” she tittered, “don’t play coy. It’s clear what you want.” Her voice lowered and she drew her purple feathered miniskirt farther up her leg. What the hell was she wearing? “I can feel the heat. I’ve been salivating over the manly bulge in your jeans since you arrived. I feel flattered and a bit frightened of such a large love stick.” Had she just really called his penis a love stick?
“There must be some misunderstanding,” Jack said, backing away. “I’m from the Minneapolis Police Department. I’m here to discuss a donation, Ms. O’Hara.”
“Oooh, you’re a kinky one, Jeb. You want to be paid?” she leered, moving to take off her top. “I believe we can arrange a little stipend for services rendered.”
“Oh no, no, no, no, no.” Jack was either trying not to laugh or not to cry. He moved quickly and shoved her shirt back over her head, pulling her wig way over to the left, revealing a shiny hairless head. Oh. My. God. I had no idea she was bald. Shoshanna would pee her pants. Jack, in a state of panic, attempted to fix her wig before she realized she was sporting a bad, bad look.
“Oh John,” she moaned, grabbing her bosom. “I love when you manhandle me like this.” She reached out and tried to grab his love stick.
“Jesus Christ.” Jack jerked his love stick out of her reach and made an effort to catch her as she slid off the statue she was posing on. The weight of those hooters made her life downright dangerous and Jack wasn’t quick enough.
“Enough foreplay,” she shrieked as she took a tumble to the ground, knocking her wig clean off her head. “Take me to the boudoir and ravish my bosoms.”
Did she realize she looked like Uncle Fester with boobs? Jack blanched and quickly kicked her wig away before she noticed the state of her head. Why he was still being civil was beyond me.
“Ms. O’ Hara, I’m not here to have any kind of relations with you or your bosom,” Jack ground out, trying to hold on to his temper. “I am here to speak to you about a donation. Just a donation. Nothing more.”
“Don’t be naive,” she hissed. “Your Sergeant Gerald sent you here to be my new paramour. Nothing more.” She repeated his phrase and laughed a little maniacally. “You will be my toy until I tire of you. If you don’t, there will be hell to pay and I don’t think your grandfather or Rena need any more pain in their lives.” She repositioned herself on the floor in what she felt was a sexy pose, stuck her claw in the air and beckoned him to her. “Now bring your love stick to me and slap it between my trembling thighs,” she said silkily.
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