Fire in the Hole, Page 4

  What could he have said? Maybe I’m a roommate or a workout buddy?

  She turned to see a lady dressed in a purple pantsuit with a large, pansy-trimmed hat headed in their direction, pulling the oldest suitcase known to man behind her. Duke put his hand possessively on Dove’s lower back.

  “That’s my Gammy. Her name is Vaguna Gizz. And I told her that—” Duke’s improvised informational session was cut short by a loud shriek.

  “BooBoo Bear! I finally get to meet the girl that stole your heart. This must be Dove.” The case’s wheels squeaked the way only rusted metal pressing against more rusted metal could.

  Dove put on a tight smile. Things aren’t looking too great so far.

  “That you’d elope without us? That is insane!” Behind Vaguna Gizz, there was an army of people who looked like varying versions of Dove’s neighbor and current wedding date.

  Duke did not make a pretty woman.

  She struggled to maintain her smile as she looked at Duke’s sheepish grimace. She whispered out the side of her mouth, “Eloped?”

  He leaned down to whisper to her as the Duke-ish army surrounded them. “I was trying to tell you…”

  Dove turned to face him and placed her hands on his two evil cheeks. “We were in the car for five hours, you hairy asscrack.”

  One of the Dukes in a dress piped up, “Look at that, they already have pet names for each other. What’s yours for her, cousin?”

  Duke closed his eyes and looked away from Dove. “I call her ‘beautiful,’ of course.”

  Dove pulled her hands away as if she’d been burned. “Duke?”

  He shrugged as if it was nothing. What she’d expected him to say was “Baggy Snatch,” or “National Geographic Boobs,” or even “World Vart Champion,” but he wasn’t looking at her the way he would if this were a game.

  Dove had a sinking feeling. A sick, scary feeling that she might be in for a very long weekend.

  The last thing Johnson wanted to do was attend this wedding. After being with Beth for any length of time, Dove just got more attractive.

  His phone buzzed as he checked into the hotel. He opened it hopefully, but it wasn’t @Lotsa_Vampersex or any other persona of the girl he was dreaming about.

  Hey Johnsonie rehearsal is 8 2nite. C U there <3 Bethy-poo.

  Johnson rubbed the bridge of his nose. This whole weekend was bound to be pointless. Obligation kept him here. Beth was a bridesmaid in a wedding that had been planned for what had to be ten years. The groom had very few friends, so Beth had happily volunteered Johnson as a tuxedo filler. Of course, Johnson was here as he’d promised. He couldn’t imagine backing out even though he and Beth had parted ways. He knew how much work went into weddings, having been to more than his fair share of them lately. All his cousins were tying the knot, and his parents seemed to get more disappointed in him every year that he didn’t provide them with a grandchild. They seemed to have no such expectations of his younger brother, however. He was allowed to be forever youthful.

  Instead of marrying Beth, like his parents expected, he was doing the exact opposite. He hoped they would understand Dove’s in-between-job lifestyle. They loved that Beth had a solid plan for her future, and her job as a drug rep was steady. What his parents didn’t know was Beth’s salary was based on sales, and Johnson knew she spent far too much time shopping online rather than doing her job. But that was in the past. As soon as he put in the weekend here and did his part so the wedding numbers were equal for the bridal party, he would be done with her.

  While pulling out his credit card, he tried to figure out how to word the situation to the perky concierge. He knew Beth was counting on them sharing a room so she could claim him some more, even though they’d broken up. He’d ascertained from more than a few of her friends that she hadn’t been brutally honest about the current status of their relationship.

  “Listen, you don’t happen to have an extra room do you? Because my sleeping situation has changed a bit.” Johnson gave her a sad shake of his head to try and convey the situation without getting into too much detail.

  The concierge wrinkled her nose and lifted her eyebrow with interest. “Actually, we do have a room available. I just finished canceling a reservation for a guest who won’t be able to stay with us.” She held out her hand for his credit card, her long fingernails clacking around his Visa like a crab’s claws.

  Johnson sighed. At least he would have a nice, personal space where he could use the Twitter.

  A woman with a violent case of Strabismus and a set of exceptional mammary glands slapped her hand on the counter close to Johnson.

  “What the hell? People are coming here after having just eloped? That’s not even cool.”

  The woman was furious. The problem was Johnson wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or talking to the lady behind the desk. Her squinted eyes were focused on them both.

  “I want to make sure none of this is brought up at my wedding. Bunny! Go get my mom. It’s bad enough this place turned into a wedding factory. I don’t need to fight for the spotlight at my own reception.”

  Johnson figured out how to tell that the woman was actually speaking to him when she aimed her breasts at him like a set of properly working eyes.

  “I’ve been planning the wedding for almost two years, and only last week they finally broke the news that they had divided the ballroom into four sections--each with its own wedding reception!”

  Johnson nodded as though this might be important information.

  She continued “If I have to take a piss at my wedding, I don’t want to fight with three other brides for the stall.”

  Johnson tried to find an eye to look into.

  “Are you in a wedding this weekend?” She heaved her breasts like they were little hands with urgent questions.

  “Um, yes, I’m a groomsman.” Johnson tried flipping through the receipts in his wallet to see if the lady would disappear if he stopped looking at her.

  The woman screamed through him like he was a screen in an open window. “Duke! I hope you brought me sausage. How dare you get married before my wedding?”

  Johnson’s mouth dropped open. He knew damn well Duke wasn’t a common name. None of his customers had that moniker. The excited, well-endowed woman pushed past him. Johnson ignored the concierge trying to hand him the key card for his new, Beth-free room and turned in time to see Duke lift Dove’s chin in a supremely loving way. They were surrounded by a crowd of burly men and ugly women.

  Dove’s tight expression was not the picture of happiness, and she looked away from Duke. Her beautiful brown eyes landed on Johnson’s face like butterflies.

  A smile started to form on her pretty face, but then she slid her gaze to Johnson’s left and her expression hardened. Dove looked back at Duke and planted a kiss right on his lips. Johnson’s stomach fell and his hurt turned to anger. He put it together quickly; Duke had somehow married Dove in the few short hours that he had been apart from her.

  All of a sudden, there was a wet, sloppy slug on his ear. Johnson swung up to slap the disgusting pest from his sound-detecting organ and wound up almost coldcocking Beth.

  Dove put her lips on Duke, who immediately engaged his full body in their kiss, responding eagerly. She felt dead inside. She’d never expected to see Johnson here, of all damn places, surrounded by Dukes, and her first thought had been pure joy.

  Then she saw Beth. The whoring slutbag of a ballmuncher stood right next to Johnson, mid-porn stance. She had almost exposed a breast and was just about to lick Johnson’s ear. Dove closed her eyes and felt like she might faint. Luckily Duke’s huge arms kept her standing.

  When their kiss became wet, she realized she was crying. Duke pulled back, looking alarmed. Dove inclined slightly with her head, and the Slim Jim King looked in Johnson and Beth’s direction. Dove didn’t have the heart to watch them screwing against the reception desk, which was surely the next step for them.

  Duke wiped her face dry with
his two big thumbs and tried to block her from all the other people with his body. “Hey, let’s get you upstairs.”

  As he hooked his arm around her, Dove kept her eyes on the floor, and he beat back the Dukes, making sure they had the elevator to themselves. He put their stuff on the floor and pressed the door close button.

  As soon as the doors closed in front of them, Dove wrapped her arms around her belly and gasped. Pain racked her.

  Duke rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, Dove. If it helps, Beth’s a sore whore with four on the floor.”

  Dove shook her head. “Stop rhyming and get me to a fucking bathroom.” She farted ominously.

  “Jesus, don’t crap your pants again.” Duke firmly pressed the number five button over and over on the elevator’s massive keypad as if that would make the machine go faster.

  “It’s stress IBS. Oh God, it hurts. Why does my ass think exploding will solve my problems?” Dove took to her knees and groaned.

  “Christ.” Duke stepped back and glared at the slow-moving digital numbers marking their progress. “I’m sorry you saw Johnson and Beth like that.”

  Dove farted and burped at the same time. At last, the elevator dinged, and Duke held the door open, but Dove just looked up from the floor and grimaced.

  Duke shook his head and moved their stuff onto the carpet before picking her up like a baby. While he was jogging with her, Dove was popping off gas like a machine gun with every pounding step he took.

  “Room 514, room 514. My sister told me we were in a suite of rooms at 514.” Duke ran around like a headless chicken getting a blow job from a cactus.

  Dove buried her face in his chest and burped again. Finally, Duke stopped jiggling her like a bomb Jack Bauer was trying to throw into a dumpster. He kicked the door four times.

  “Helena, open the damn door!”

  Dove tried to wiggle free of Duke’s hold. “God, Duke, just get me in there. I can’t wait anymore!”

  Duke kicked the door again. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. We’ll give your ass muscles a release soon.”

  Duke’s sister opened the door, and he rushed past her with his armful of loaded Dove. “Grab our bags, okay? They are by the elevator.”

  Johnson pushed Beth away as she fought to embrace him and watched Dove kiss Duke. The big asshole then tenderly held her face before rushing her to the elevator. Beth’s whiny voice bounced off Johnson’s consciousness.

  It couldn’t be. Johnson didn’t believe it. During their night together, they’d had such a connection. He’d never felt so free with a woman. He tightened his fists and decided to fight for her. Even if she was married, they could get it annulled.

  Johnson looked around and located the stairs. All his running paid off as he quickly left Beth and pulled open the door like there was free money behind it. He pounded up one flight after another, yanking open the fire doors to have a peek into the hallway. He wasn’t even out of breath when he arrived at the fifth floor. He pulled open the door in time to see Duke carrying Dove over the threshold.

  “God, Duke, just get me in there. I can’t wait anymore!” Dove was squirming in her lust.

  Her new husband responded with urgent gusto. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. We’ll give your ass muscles a release soon.”

  Johnson stood in the doorway and ground his teeth. It was all lies. Dove was involved with Duke—so involved they were married. All the rage blew out of him like a candle on a slobbery dog’s birthday cake.

  Lies. It was all lies.

  And above all, Dove had let Johnson believe she didn’t like penis up the anus.

  Dove was as angry as a person on the toilet could be. She pounded her legs and growled like an animal. Tears of frustration spilled over the tops of her rolled, angry lips that were like rocks in the way of rapids.

  “Stupid Beth with her stupid tits and her stupid, evil brain!” Dove stomped her feet again.

  She stared into the mirror directly across from her just to see how angry she really was.

  Man, I look ugly when I cry.

  Splotches of red covered her neck and face like she had been face-humped by an angry mosquito and that mosquito’s stinger was his pecker.

  Do mosquitoes even have a pecker? I mean, they must have some sort of prick to jab into your skin.

  Dove watched confusion morph the expression on her face as her brain pondered whether mosquitoes even humped at all.

  Were they just dry-fucking skin?

  Dove’s scientific ponderings were interrupted by another huge stomach cramp. She moaned and rocked back and forth. As she braced herself for the sickness, her ass surprised her and let out a massive fart. It echoed winningly off the interior of the bowl. Four teeth-shaking farts later, Dove was able to leave the confines of her plumbing prison.

  Helena, Duke’s sister, was nowhere in sight. Dove vaguely remembered they were all sharing a two-bedroom suite with a sitting room. Duke was sitting on the king size bed in his room, holding a picture.

  “Out so quick? I thought I was going to have to send in a canary to check the air quality before calling the hazmat team to wipe your ass.” Duke popped off a wimpy-sounding sympathy fart.

  “I was just passing gas.” Dove sat next to him and sniffled.

  “Girl, you weren’t passing gas in there. You were tear-gassing the masses. You were shooting gas out of a fiery cannon. You were—”

  Dove held up her hand. “Could you stop? I’m kind of brokenhearted here.”

  “Well you sure as hell aren’t broken-farted.” Duke grinned, but when Dove didn’t return his smile, he nodded. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry about the pharmacist being here. I’m sorry he’s back with his whore. But I have a gift for you. Remember when I was having trouble placing where I knew Beth from?”

  Dove shrugged.

  Duke continued. “I know her from… my dick! She lived on my penis for a few hours. And I took a picture—do you want to see?” He held out the old, beat-up photo. “She’s had a nose job since then, and, well, getting the braces off changed her face a bunch.” He extended his arm further.

  Dove hugged her chest and shook her head. “No. Stop trying to make me see that. How can anybody live on somebody’s dick?”

  Duke moved closer to her. He grabbed the back of her head and forced it in the direction of the printed media. Dove tried neck-fighting but lost. She closed her eyes.

  “Come on. Dove, look at it or I’m taking out the 3-D version.” Duke was smiling when she opened her eyes and sighed.

  She took the picture from his hands. It was an extremely close shot of an angry girl with her mouth surrounded by a lot of public hair that was obviously not her own. “Tell me what I’m looking at here, you freaking pervert. I don’t even know.”

  Duke’s voice assumed the cadence of a knowledgeable college professor. “What we see here, Miss Glitch, is one Beth Granley, Duke’s ex-girlfriend pre-operatively and before her name change. Do you see this enormous hump on her nose? Well she had that removed. Her official, government, parent-given name was Whiffle Baller. Also, imagine if you will, her glasses turned into a prescription for contact lenses. The reflective substance you see there is her metal braces.”

  Dove stopped feeling sorry for herself while she tried to decipher all the parts Duke was explaining as if the photo were fine art. “Whose pubes are these?”

  “Well, Miss Glitch, those would be mine. While receiving oral sex from one Miss Granley, she got a little too enthusiastic and her mouth gear got hopelessly tangled in my man hairs.”

  Dove knew she shouldn’t, but—the hell with it—she started laughing.

  Duke talked over her laughter. “You see, she and I were in a tiny club bathroom. I didn’t even have my wallet or phone. Miss Granley stayed on my Don Johnson for two hours after she got stuck. First, she refused to let me get help, threatening my poor penis with her massive incisors while keeping her big feet pressed against the door so I couldn’t get out. Then I was able to reach into her purse using some Chuck N
orris moves and take this picture of her angry face, which I sent to my phone. I had to blackmail her into letting me call one of my buddies.”

  Dove had to slide off the bed so she could laugh harder. Duke touched the top of her head to get her attention, and when she looked at his face, he had a relieved smile.

  “More! Tell me more!” Dove sat crossed-legged on the floor, still holding her new favorite picture.

  “Well, in walks Dean, who was pretty shitfaced, and he pulls out a giant Leatherman with a six-inch blade. Whiffle starts shaking her head, which—as you can imagine—hurt like a bitch. So I held her head steady.” Duke reached down and covered Dove’s hair like a hat with his hand to demonstrate the maneuver.

  “And then I called 911 from the crapper with a girl on my dick. While we were waiting, I kept the door propped open so I could watch for the ambulance. I also kept her face covered because everyone was trying to snap pictures of the bitch. Finally, the cops, the firemen, and the ambulance showed up.”

  Dove took Duke’s big hand off her head but held on to it to make sure she wouldn’t fall over.

  “So, the paramedics get there, and Whiffle and I are put in neck braces and packed for travel. Oh, yeah I know.” He paused to pull Dove back up on the bed to sit next to him. “Eventually they removed her like a tick from my man stick. She was furious—when she left she had hairy teeth! But here’s what I learned from that experience: One, the term ‘Jaws of Life’ will always make me laugh; those firemen had some great comic timing. Two, I’m glad I covered her face because in this day and age, she’d have been the laughingstock of the entire world, even if she deserved it. Third, I’m glad I took the blackmail photo because it made you laugh.”

  Dove’s laughter tapered off, and the happy emotion quickly gave way to tears. “Duke, I just wanted to be the handsome man’s girlfriend. I mean, nothing good ever happens to me. And now that it did? And I got to be in his arms? It feels even worse to have it ripped away.”