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I know that look. It’s the kind of look I get when Charlotte texts me. Fuck! What the fuck!
“What the hell, Dad?”
“Relax, it’s your mother. I can show you the text if you want.”
“No, I’m good, thanks. Fuck, you two are a couple of freaks.”
He grins foolishly. After thirty fucking something years together, he’s still in love. I should be praising him, but knowing Mom is on the other end probably sending him dirty texts is enough to make me shudder.
“Anyway, I’m heading off. Got me a date with my freak.”
“Date? Mom’s in Vegas?”
“No, son. It’s called Skype. Maybe you should use it sometime.” He pats me on the back and says goodbye.
Even my dad is getting laid more than me. I need a mind erasure as quickly as possible. The vodka bottle is nearly empty and what better opportunity to see what Madame Kiska is up to. Not surprised one bit, I walk out to the main living area to find Rocky in his boxers, hands cuffed, and feet chained. She runs her whip along his torso as he mouths off vulgar words at her.
“You keep your mouth shut, you understand? Only Madame Kiska can speak!” Her accent is strong as her whip cracks along the floor.
“Hey, Rocky, how about a selfie for Nikki?”
“Yeah, yeah! C’mon, Rocky!” Elijah slurs his words. His Elvis suit is still on, but for some reason, he’s wearing aviator shades even though it’s almost midnight. Fuck, Adriana is gonna kill me. He’s beyond wasted.
“Nah, fuck, guys, don’t! She’ll fucking have my balls.”
“Thought she already did.” I chuckle.
Elijah grabs the keys that hang on the back of Madame Kiska’s belt, much to her disapproval. He dangles them in front of her, Rocky begging someone to un-cuff him. I hold my phone up ready to take a picture.
“C’mon, Elijah,” I roar. “This pussy needs a selfie.”
“I’m serious, you guys. Don’t you fucking dare. She’ll have your balls, too.”
Elijah continues to dangle the keys, but Rocky being double his size, attempts to reach out for them, knocking them out of Elijah’s hands. I scramble for them as they fall to the floor. Now, this is fucking fun. I throw them to Elijah as he catches them with two hands. Rocky continues to beg, but this is way more entertaining. Elijah tells me to go long, and before I know it, I’m standing near the doorway.
“Leexxx, this one is to win the Super Bowl.” He throws the keys with force. In my intoxicated state, I pretend to leap like a football player but miss as we watch the keys fall into the pool.
“What the fuck!” Rocky’s girly scream echoes in the room.
Elijah and I run over to the pool, scratching our heads in unison.
Elijah stares blankly into the pool. “I guess they’re gone.”
“You guess they are gone?” Rocky repeats.
“Dude… you’re screwed.” I break out into hysterics, Elijah following me.
“Get the fucking keys!”
“All right, keep your panties on.”
It’s a warm night, and without even realizing I’m fully dressed, I dive into the pool. I search the bottom as much as I can, given my state of intoxication I am barely able to see straight.
I come up for air. “Sorry, it’s gone. I’m sure she has another set.”
We run inside to find Madame Kiska. She’s rubbing her tits in that geek’s face. We interrupt the floor show to ask about the keys. She cracks her whip at the interruption until she realizes what we said. “No, I don’t have another set. Why the hell did you guys do that?” Her accent disappears and is more notably replaced with a southern twang.
We explain the story again hoping it makes sense, forcing her to pull out the spares.
