The Bangover

by Valente, Lili

  I whip my head over my shoulder to see the wretched cat crouched low and wiggling his haunches, clearly intending to pounce and destroy my tender bits. I stand up fast—too fast, bringing my cock bobbing into Kirby’s face. “Sorry,” I say, taking a step back with a laugh.

  “Don’t worry about it.” She rolls her eyes, flapping a hand in my direction as she stands. “Are you always this comfortable waltzing around naked?”

  I prop my hands on my hips. “I don’t waltz, Larry. I stride manfully to my destination.” I stalk toward the door, exaggerating the length of my stride and the bend in my knees to deliberately look ridiculous. A husky Kirby laugh rewards my efforts.

  “You’re such a clown,” she says, shaking her head.

  This is what we should be doing—enjoying more coed naked friend time. Laughing, clowning, ordering room service, and fucking in every room in the suite until we finally get to the bed and I show Kirby what I can do to her body with the assistance of a few well-placed pillows and maybe a belt or two if we’re feeling adventurous.

  Instead, we’re dressed and out the door in ten minutes, with Murder accompanying us on his leash because Kirby is afraid he’ll decide to shred the curtains as revenge for being abandoned and cause damage our one-hundred-and-fifty dollar per night pet deposit wouldn’t begin to cover.

  “Sorry,” she says, snuggling the purring cat on the way down in the elevator. “I know Murder isn’t your favorite, but things are going to turn around for you two. I can feel it.”

  “He tried to eat my balls. Ten minutes ago.”

  She rolls her eyes. “He did not. He was just going to rip ’em off and play with them a little. He’s not a monster, for God’s sake.” She grins. “And he’s open to a truce. He told me so while you were getting me socks.”

  “Yeah? Fetching your socks? That’s all it took to soften him up?”

  “Actually, he liked your funny naked walk. But he also knows that my toes get cold, even when it’s hot outside.”

  “You’ve got cute toes.” I put an arm around her waist, and to my surprise Murder refrains from sinking a claw in my pectoral muscle. “Almost as cute as your boobs.”

  Kirby sighs. “I just hope that’s a secret you, me, and the handful of guys I’ve banged can keep to ourselves. I do not want my boobs made famous in a rock-star sex tape.”

  “We’re going to figure this out. Don’t worry.”

  But I’m worried, too. I don’t want to share Kirby’s boobs with anyone else, either. I don’t even like the thought of sharing them with that handful of guys she mentioned, even though they’re in her past. But I met almost all of them, and none of them were worthy of her.

  And you are?

  The thought zips through my head, and almost instantly a voice from deep in my bones shoots back, Hell yes, I am.

  Because I care about her more than all of those other losers combined.

  And I’m going to fix this. Or die trying.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kirby

  By the time the car drops us off at Vegas Photo City, it’s almost nine o’clock—I slept longer than I realized and thought it was earlier, thanks to the late-setting Nevada sun—but thankfully the store is still open.

  The strip mall is hopping, filled with couples pushing strollers from the fountain on one side to the ice cream shop and playground on the other, people standing in line for movie tickets, and a group of performers in tight black pants and T-shirts practicing fake-punching each other in the grass outside Sin City Acting Studios.

  As we pass by, I can’t help but stare.

  Some of them are awful, reacting seconds after the fake-punch fake-lands, but some of the performers are impressive. “They look like they’re really fighting,” I whisper to Colin as we cross the grass to the entrance to the photo shop, wincing when a tiny brunette sucker-punches a large bald man, sending him to his knees with a convincing groan of agony. “Ow. That was a good one. I wish I could fight like that.”

  “Fake fight like that, you mean?” Colin asks, arching a brow.

  I consider the question. “No, really fight like that. In the event of an emergency or a zombie apocalypse, I’d like to be able to kick ass and take names. Or at least take out a larger opponent. I think it might help me…freak out less.”

  He pulls out his phone, typing something into the notes feature.

  I grin, “Song lyrics attacking again?”

  He finishes and tucks it back into his jeans’ pocket. “No, making a note to hire you a fight coach. Bet we can find one who will make house calls, so you won’t even have to leave your lair to learn how to kick ass.”

  “Thanks,” I say, touched. “That’s sweet.”

  “No, it’s selfish. Ever since you told me about that letter, I’ve been worried. This will put my mind at ease a little. Knowing you’ve got a leg up on the creeps.”

  My nose wrinkles. “Speaking of creeps, I’ve been thinking about Regina.”

  Colin pauses beside the glass doors leading into the store. “What about her?”

  “Do you think she might have had something to do with this?” I motion toward the demolished drone in his hands. “I mean, it seems like an awfully big coincidence, doesn’t it? The encounter by the pool and then a video drone outside our room later that same day?”

  “Excuse me, sorry.” Colin steps out of the way as an older woman with an armful of camera equipment hurries out the shop.

  He touches my waist as he moves, guiding me farther from the door with a confidence that sets off shockwaves of awareness inside me. My brain instantly starts replaying highlights from Sexy Times with Colin, no video recording required, and within seconds, I’m so flustered I’ve managed to get myself tangled in Murder’s leash and almost fall on my ass trying to step back into the grass.

  Colin catches me, his hands firm on my hips. “Gotcha,” he says, helping me unwind myself, while I bubble and fizz and things low in my body unzip, unspool, unravel.

  I did my best to avoid touching him on the way over here for just this reason. Touching him makes me feral. Our first time—a first time that was so comfortable and intimate and perfect—did nothing to take the edge off my hunger for him.

  If anything, I’ve gotten even more ravenous. I want to be naked with Colin again as soon as humanly possible. I want to memorize his taste, his smell, and the feel of his skin warm beneath my lips. I want to tattoo the way he kisses me into my memory banks, right along with the feel of his teeth on my shoulder, his hand down the front of my panties, his fingers tangled in my hair.

  Just looking at our legs so close together in the car—his thigh thick and muscled beneath his jeans: mine shorter and curvier—made my panties wet all over again. I want to straddle his thigh and squeeze mine tight, making it clear he isn’t going anywhere until I’ve had my way with him.

  Who cares that our benefits will expire in a week? A week of the best sex of my life is worth it.

  I’ll just have to save up my memories and thumb through them later when I’m alone and wishing I wasn’t.

  “I don’t know,” Colin says, once I’m free of the leash and Murder is lounging in the grass, alternating between aggressively licking his crotch and watching the stage fighters roll around with a bemused expression that conveys exactly what he thinks of humans and their ridiculous hobbies. “The timing is odd, but Regina’s the jealous type. I can’t see her being okay with watching me bang another woman. We used to go to this sex club together, but she never wanted to actually do anything while we were there. She was too possessive to let me take my clothes off.”

  My brows lift, but I try to play it cool as I ask, “Did you…want to take your clothes off?”

  He shrugs. “Not in front of other people, no. But I could have been into trying one of the private rooms. She wouldn’t even do that. She was afraid they had cameras hidden in there somewhere.”

  “See!” I poke a finger at his too-trusting chest. “She’s paranoid about cameras. Prob
ably because she’s a secret drone enthusiast who films people without their knowledge!”

  Not only is Regina a logical suspect, she’d be easy to find. She lives in Vegas. All we’d have to do is cruise by her condo, demand all copies of the incriminating files be purged from her hard drive upon penalty of Serious Lawyering Up, and we’d be back at the hotel with our hands all over each other in no time.

  “Eh, I just don’t see it,” Colin says, doubling down on defending his evil ex. “She’s not the most tech savvy person. She has an assistant who helps her manage her social media. If she can’t figure out how to post a story with a universal link, I seriously doubt she’s going to know how to fly a complex piece of machinery.”

  I prop a hand on my hip. “But Regina heard me tell you what room we were in.”

  “So could have anyone hanging around the lobby while you were checking in. Or one of the staff could have leaked the information. The Legacy is known for their discretion, but if the price was high enough…”

  I purse my lips. “Okay, so who do we suspect, then? A sleazy celebrity gossip site?”

  He shakes his head. “No. At least, I don’t think so. We were inside our hotel room, not in a public place or even out on the balcony. From what I understand, not even Star Blanker traffics in content that’s such an obvious violation of privacy. I’m thinking it has to be a paparazzo working on his own, branching out into Peeping Tom videos to boost his bottom line.”

  “Gross.” I shudder. “I know I should be more worried about the world watching us doing it, but right now I’m just as skeeved that some sicko has already seen both of us naked and vulnerable.”

  “I know. Me, too.” Colin gathers me to his chest, his forearm settling in the hollow of my spine as he cradles the back of my head, making my body light up despite the reason we’re hugging in front of this store. “I didn’t want to share that with anyone but you.”

  I rest my cheek on his chest, coziness and dismay warring for supremacy inside me—joy and grief, dancing their endless, circling dance. I close my eyes, focusing on the cozy feeling. I refuse to start mourning the end of this when we’ve barely gotten started.

  I pull away with a sniff of determination and find Colin shooting Murder a suspicious look. I glance down at my cat, who is still happily cleaning his junk, and then back at Colin. “What’s up?”

  “I hugged you again, and he didn’t try to carve out any of my internal organs.”

  I smile. “See. I told you. You guys have turned a corner.”

  Murder rumbles softly from the grass, almost as if he understands Human as well as I understand Cat, making Colin and I both laugh. “Come on, baby. Time to purse up to go inside.” I gather Murder in my arms and tuck him into my bag, supporting his weight from beneath. He pokes his head out from between the straps and immediately starts to purr.

  Colin shakes his head as he reaches for the shop door, holding it open. “I can’t believe he actually likes being in there.”

  “I used to keep catnip in there when he was a kitten,” I say, passing into the icily air-conditioned store with a shiver. “Now he associates my purse with feeling high and happy.”

  “I get it,” Colin says, his hand lingering at the small of my back as we start toward the Help Counter on the right side of the store. “I could easily come to associate being inside your purse with feelings of happiness and well-being.”

  I arch a wry brow his way. “Oh yeah? Are you sure we’re still talking about my purse?”

  “Or something else that starts with P,” Colin says, pinching my waist. “Now stop talking about your pussy before you get me hard in public again, Larry. You’re shameless with that shit.”

  I huff with laughter, but we’re at the customer service desk before I have time for a comeback. A squat man with a tiny red goatee, incongruously dark black hair hanging in greasy clumps to his chin, and a nametag that reads Bender, steps away from the open camera case on the table behind him to face us across the carpeted counter. “Hey, can I help you?”

  “Yeah, I’m Colin and this is Kirby. We were hoping you might know who purchased this drone,” Colin says, setting the battered piece of machinery between us. “It looks like a pretty high dollar item. Probably don’t sell a ton of these, right?”

  “What happened to it?” Bender says, reaching for the drone.

  “Retribution,” Colin says vaguely. “So what do you think? Is it ringing any bells?”

  The other man shakes his head as he turns the machine over. “Nope, I don’t work the sales floor. But this isn’t a model we sell. It’s a rental. See?” He points to what’s left of the Vegas Photo sticker on the blade. “Cute cat, by the way. I have three.”

  “Thanks so much,” I say as Colin and I exchange hopeful glances and Murder purrs louder inside my bag.

  “So if it’s a rental there will definitely be a record of who checked it out,” Colin says.

  Bender nods. “Yep. And the credit card on file will be charged the full amount for a replacement. This thing is too wrecked to repair.”

  Colin smiles, taking pleasure in the damage he’s inflicted. But I’m not so sure this is a good thing. I doubt having a credit card charged to replace an expensive drone is going to make this douchebag happy or eager to play nice once we finally track him down.

  And I’m betting getting his info won’t be easy, either. But I have to try. “So, do you think you might be able to tell us the name on the rental?” I lean in, batting my lashes, earning myself a snort of amusement from Colin, who I kick beneath the counter as I continue to flirt in Bender’s general direction. “I know that’s probably not protocol, but we’d really appreciate it.”

  “It’s not,” Bender confirms. “Sorry, but records are private.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I totally get that, but we really need to find this guy.”

  “Yeah, he had the balls to— Ow!” Colin’s words cut off with a yelp of pain as I kick him again.

  “He had the balls to film a music video and run off before he got paid or even gave us his real name. Everyone on set just called him Boss ’cause he was so good,” I say, lashes batting faster as I will Bender to believe me.

  If there’s one thing I’ve learned from interviewing cops to add real-life flavor to my tales of supernatural mayhem, it’s that you get more information when people think you’re one of the shiny, happy people. Drama and conflict clam people up; goodwill and appreciation keep tongues flapping.

  “And he did a stunning job,” I say, my eyes going wide. “I can’t believe some of the aerial shots he got. They’re devastatingly good. We’re definitely going to use them in the final cut of the video, aren’t we Mr. Donovan?”

  I drop the famous last name, and Bender’s lips go twitchy. And then his ears. And then his gaze cuts back and forth to Colin and me as he debates what to do next and apparently decides to play it cool.

  “Well, I usually wouldn’t share private information on a customer,” Bender says. “But since the equipment was damaged and he’s going to be charged, it only seems right to make sure he gets paid.”

  I dazzle in his direction. “Oh, thank you so much. That’s so sweet of you, you’re the absolute best.”

  Bender’s cheeks flush as he bobs a little bow in our direction before jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go grab the paperwork from the back. This was checked out earlier today, so it won’t be in the computer system yet.”

  “Earlier today,” I hiss to Colin as soon as Bender is out of earshot. “So it could have been Regina!”

  “Or anyone else who read the message board and found out we were staying at the Legacy,” he says, smirking down at me. “Nice feminine wiles, by the way. You kind of looked like you were having a seizure there for a little bit, but clearly, that does it for Bender.”

  I sniff. “Hey, it worked. I don’t see you getting any information out of reluctant informants.”

  “True, you’re the master,” he says, drumming his fingers
impatiently on the counter. “I wonder who it is? The suspense is killing me.”

  “If it’s Regina you owe me five bucks.”

  “How about five orgasms instead,” he says, making my nerve endings hum.

  “Five bucks and five orgasms,” I whisper as Bender swings back into view at the end of the row of shelves.

  “Done,” Colin murmurs behind his hand. “And if it’s not Regina you’re going to sing karaoke with me at my favorite Vegas dive bar later this week.”

  My lips part to make it clear I will be doing no such thing—I do not sing in public, ever—but Bender is already slapping a sheet of thin yellow duplicate paper down on the counter. “P. Eater Incorporated.”

  I blink. “Excuse me?”

  He shrugs and taps the bottom of the page. “P. Eater, Inc. That’s all I’ve got. And the credit card number, but I can’t give you that.”

  “Of course not,” I murmur, spirits sinking.

  “No address?” Colin asks. “Somewhere we could mail the check? We’d really appreciate it.”

  “We just want to make things right,” I add with an earnest nod.

  Bender exhales, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he glances toward the front of the store. “I’ll write it down for you, but don’t tell my boss, okay? Or anyone else.”

  I lift three fingers in a salute. “Scouts honor. Thank you so much.”

  Bender writes the address on a sticky note and discreetly passes it to Colin, who hides it in one palm as he lifts his other hand to bid our accomplice goodbye. I thank Bender again, cuddle Murder closer, and follow Colin to the door. He waits until we’re outside in the warmer air, crossing the now empty grass outside the acting studio before he glances down at the note and grunts.

  “What is it?” I ask, pausing to let Murder out of my bag. He gives a full body shake, stretches, and proceeds to sniff the grass with an intensity that makes me think there must have been food in the vicinity not long ago.

  “A post office box,” Colin says, pulling his cell from his pocket. “In Texas.”