“Guys!” Jason poked his head out of the room and took a huge breath of air. “Things just got real in here.”
The nurse, the hot one, ran out of the room with tears streaming down her face.
“Lawyer up, gummy bear bitches!” Reid yelled. “I’m coming for you!”
“Yeah,” Milo grumbled. “Let’s go before Reid has a hernia.”
I walked as slowly as humanly possible toward that room, hoping that in the five seconds it took me to get there, a miraculous healing would occur. Either that or Reid would just pass out from the pain.
No such luck.
He looked like he was giving birth as he lay on the bed clutching his stomach. “Dude, the drugs aren’t working.”
“Here we are!” The nurse stepped around us, holding a giant-ass needle in her hands. If someone approached me with that big a needle I’d start running. I wouldn’t even hesitate.
Reid was clearly in too much pain to remember he also had a needle phobia, so when the nurse approached with the relief and he actually turned around and lifted his ass into the air, I thought, hey, big brother’s growing up.
She inserted the needle.
Reid jerked to the left.
And something snapped.
I was hoping it was a bone—seriously, nobody wanted a needle stuck in his ass. That shit took surgery.
The nurse stumbled backward. “Don’t move!”
“What?” Reid started moving.
Jason ran to Reid’s side and held him in place. “Sorry, buddy, the hot nurse says you can’t move.”
The nurse blushed and ran out of the room.
“Guys.” Reid shuddered. “Is my naked ass pointing towards the sky?”
Complete silence blanketed the room as we all tilted our heads in unison. Reid’s ass was in fact pointed toward the sky, but he was probably too high to realize it.
I coughed and mumbled, “Course not,” while a chorus of praise rang from the group. “Reid, you look great! After all you’ve been through! Is that a six pack?” I elbowed Milo, who was laying it on a bit thick.
“Whew!” Reid nodded. “Good, because I totally can’t feel my legs right now.”
“Bad sign?” I mouthed to Colton.
He shrugged as the nurse walked back in with a doctor.
“Well, damn.” The doctor examined the spot where the needle had gone into hiding and then slapped Reid’s ass.
I coughed to cover my laugh.
But then the doctor slapped Reid’s ass again.
And I lost it.
Hey, I got a prostate exam! It’s not like it’s all been flowers and rainbows for me either!
Jason sent me a seething glare as he fought to hide his smile. Reid moaned. The doctor slapped again.
It was like a really poorly made porno, like one you’d show kids in order to get them not to watch porn. All you’d have to do would be to say, “And this is what happens when you watch naked people . . .”
You puke, get gas, and have a hot nurse watch while an elderly doctor slaps your ass in order to locate the needle that broke under your skin.
“Aw, there it is.” The doctor smiled.
“He found your balls, Reid! Yay!” I joked.
Reid showed me the finger.
“Probably a bad time to do that . . .” Jason commented.
“Now, I’m going to squeeze a bit.” The doctor’s gaze was focused on Reid’s whiteness as he pinched.
“Ouch!” Reid wailed. “That hurts!”
“Stop moving!” The doctor swore. “I’m almost there.”
“Please don’t say those words to me.” Reid shook. “Please don’t say those words!” He was full-on begging.
“Aghhhhh!” the doctor yelled as he pulled out the needle that had embedded itself in Reid’s skin.
At some point Colt had covered Milo’s eyes and Jason had covered Reid’s, not that Reid could actually see his own ass, but I think it was the principle of the matter.
“Now”—the doctor clapped his hands together—“you’ll have to lie on your stomach for a bit while the nice nurse gives you an IV. I’ll come back in to check on you later. Are you going to be okay, son?”
“Go.” Reid’s voice shook. “You’ve done enough, just go.”
The doctor chuckled and walked out of the room while I whispered under my breath, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
I received a smack from Colton for that one.
Two hours later, when Reid had finally fallen into a fitful sleep and I was contemplating sneaking out, my e-mail alert went off.
I checked the message and felt the color drain from my face.
“Records clean! Pack your bags, your flight leaves tomorrow.”
“Well, hell,” I muttered.
“What?” Jason yawned. His jaw was starting to turn yellow from the punch he’d received.
“I don’t have herpes. Damn it.”
“And you wanted them because?”
“Now I have to go on the show!” I swore and almost threw my phone. “Hey, we’re at a hospital, so there has to be some sort of curable disease I can catch by tomorrow, right?”
Jason shrugged. “There’s always the gummy bears.”
“Dun-dun-dun . . .” Reid sang from his bed, lifting his arms into the air like he was directing an orchestra. “I still taste them. It’s the red bears that are the worst, they have more bark to their bite than the green ones. Holy shit! Am I going to hate Christmas now? Because of all the red and green?”
“Go to sleep, Reid.” I rolled my eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MAX
Reid was out of the hospital, but because of the number those devil bears had done on his digestive tract, the nice doctor—you know, the one who needled him—said he wanted to do a checkup in a few days.
I instructed Reid to wear a cup just in case the doctor got too friendly.
Reid did not laugh. Instead he’s been wallowing in his apartment ever since.
At this point I was a bit concerned for Reid’s mental health. I mean, when you lose your sense of humor, what do you have left? But Jason assured me that while I was on the Island—ugh, I still shuddered thinking about it—they would keep an eye on Reid.
“Do you have everything you need?” Milo asked for the third time while I pulled my bags out of the car.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Toothpaste?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Advil, just in case?”
“Yes.”
“Condoms?” Jason coughed.
“There will be no sex!” I yelled, gaining unwanted attention from a nice elderly lady who had a patch over her left eye and a permanent smile on her face. Mighty Max quivered in fear.
“Sure there won’t.” Jason rolled his eyes. “How about a bet?”
My ears perked up. “What kind of bet?”
“You fall prey to your carnal nature,” Jason tapped his chin, “and you suck it up and finally start looking for a job away from your family’s dynasty and drop the whole poor-me act you’ve got going on.”
“I have direction!” I seethed. “I just . . . need more time!”
“Sure.” Jason chuckled. “But hey, if you can’t handle it, then—”
“Fine,” I snapped. “And when I win, you have to dye your hair black, get a nose piercing and wear a shirt that says, ‘I feel things’ for an entire week.”
Colton burst out laughing. “Can you imagine the reaction at the police station?”
“So?” I held out my hand. “A gentleman’s wager?”
“A gentleman’s bargain.” Jason took my hand in his and shook.
“Guys are so stupid¸” Milo muttered as she stepped into my arms and gave me a hug. “Now keep your pecker in your pants or I lose two hundred bucks to Colt.” She tugged my ear so hard I saw stars. “Seriously, Max. I don’t lose bets. I don’t care if you have to tape it down, just don’t let it out.”
“I’m really—” I swall
owed. “Really uncomfortable right now.”
“Good.” Milo stepped back. “Remember this conversation every time you want to dip your honey into a pot, and we’ll be golden.”
“You just ruined both honey and drugs for me. I’ll never get high again.” I sighed.
“Dude.” Colt slapped me on the back, then whispered in my ear. “You get yours, you hear?”
They were officially the worst friends in the history of friendship.
“Right.” I nodded. “I’ll try to, um—”
“Don’t try, man. Trying doesn’t get you to third base. Trying gets you a walk to first. All right? You want a grand slam, how do you get a grand slam?”
How sad that he was trying to convince me to sex strange women. I had half a mind to feel sorry for Milo for being married to a man that desperate to win a bet.
Then Milo made eye contact with me and crossed her legs, then gave me a thumbs-up.
Never mind. They deserved each other.
Colt pushed me away from the crowd. “Look, if you need, like . . . help getting your bat to . . .” He bit his lip. “Swing?”
“Yeah.” I winced. “Wouldn’t have gone with that word choice.”
“All you have to do,” Colt whispered in a low voice, “is just imagine how good winning feels. You want to win the game, don’t you, Max?”
“Uh, yes.”
“You hesitated.”
“I was confused.”
“About winning?” Colton smacked my chest. If he kept smacking me I was going to kick him in the nuts. Feel me? “You want to win, Max. Losers don’t get prizes.”
“Right.” I nodded.
“You want a prize.” Colt held my face in his hands. “And we don’t lose to Milo. Okay?”
“So . . .” I sniffed. “Just to be clear, you want me to play baseball with the girls? And you don’t want me to lose?”
“What?” Colt shook his head. “No, it was a metaphor!”
I gave him a dumb look, wondering how far he’d take it.
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and then held out his hands in front of him. “You know those noodle toys? That people have at their pools?”
I managed to keep a straight face. “You mean those really hard ones that people beat each other with? Those noodles?”
“Yes!” Colt sighed in relief. Damn, teasing him was just too easy. “Imagine that you’re the noodle.”
“I’m the noodle.” I repeated. “Got it.”
“And you want your noodle to make contact with the um . . . tube. The floating tube!”
“Why?” I shook my head. “Why do I want the tube?”
“Because she’s—it’s hot!” Colt all but yelled.
“But I’m already cool because I’m in the pool.”
“Someone left you outside the pool and you’re very . . . hot, and dry, and needy, you need the tube.”
Holy shit. Why wasn’t this getting filmed? I crossed my arms. “I see, so I need the tube in order to feel . . . satisfaction?”
“Yes.” Colt rubbed his hands together. “So glad we understand each other.”
“Hey.” Milo walked up to us. “Max is gonna miss his flight if he doesn’t leave now. What are you boys whispering about?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” I chuckled and put my arm around Colt’s neck. “He just thinks the best way for me to find that special girl is to have a pool party. Baller idea.”
Colt groaned.
“Seriously.” I nodded. “Can’t wait to smack my noodle around those tubes, it’s going to be . . . so refreshing.”
Colt stiffened.
“Well!” I slapped his back. “I’ll see you guys on the other side! Remember, I left my will in the safe.”
“Bye!” Everyone waved but Jason.
“Look.” He pushed me away from everyone and slapped my back. “I know you’re pissed we forced you into this, but think of it as an extended vacation where you can really think about what’s important in life.”
I squinted. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Yes.” His jaw flexed as he looked down at his feet. “You can’t just sit around all the time. A man needs purpose, and maybe this is what you need to find yours.”
“A dating show?” I asked sarcastically, irritated that he was actually making sense.
“Enjoy yourself.” He nodded. “You never know, you may find the one, and in my mind that’s the easiest way to find direction . . . a woman can motivate a man to do anything.”
The man should have taken a long hard look at himself in the mirror—I wasn’t the only single bastard, not by a long shot, and how the hell would a woman make my life better? Women always equaled more drama.
“Are you saying I need love in order to find a job?”
“Well, clearly threatening you didn’t work.”
“You’re not my dad.”
“It’s time to stop arguing when your comebacks are along the lines of ‘You can’t make me’ or ‘You’re not my dad.’ Just saying.” Jason held up his hands.
“Max!” Milo huffed from a few feet away, “you need to go!”
With one final look at Jason and the rest of the crew, I nodded my head and turned on my heel.
Suddenly I felt really optimistic about the opportunity.
Optimistic, until I saw a group of twenty-five women. Boarding. The. Exact. Same. Plane.
“Welcome!” The orange guy from before ran in front of me. “We’re going to start filming so just . . . act normal.”
Someone reached into my pants and added a microphone to my shirt. My mouth dropped open as the heads of the women slowly turned.
Unfortunately I recognized one of them right away.
The barista from Starbucks.
Yeah, here’s hoping she doesn’t push me out of the plane.
CHAPTER NINE
MAX
“Well, go ahead.” Orange man ushered me forward, and I stumbled a bit and tried to think of an excuse as to why I needed to stay back and stare at the ground. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t ready for this! I had absolutely zero protection, no backup whatsoever. And was I really stable enough to find love and keep it? Not that I wanted love, but if it presented itself . . . yeah, I was overthinking things. It was a TV show. I needed to get in, get out, and go home. Period.
Safety! I needed safety or a home base or something that I could like sit on that would protect me from the women. Invisible cloaks be damned! Hell, where was the elderly eye patch lady when a guy needed her? She’d have scared even the bravest of women. Swear, I’d kangaroo myself into her fanny pack—and like it.
“Ladies.” Orange man clapped his Oompa Loompa hands together. “Welcome to Love Island! I’m Rex Harding, and I’ll be your host for the next three weeks.”
Oh, so were we all choosing porn names? Was that how reality TV worked? If so I would totally call myself Maximus Hightower. Dibs. For real. I could see my tagline now. “Afraid of heights? Why not climb my tower?”
So my tagline needed work.
“Ladies.” Rex pushed me toward the crowd of perfume. My throat started constricting as flowery scents invaded my nostrils and choked the life straight out of me. Must. Get. Oxygen.
I had a sudden vision of a giant flower chasing me through the airport with a woman attached to every petal.
“As you can see”—Rex cleared his throat—“this is the new Bachelor, Max.”
Maximus Hightower, but whatever.
A series of sighs and giggles erupted from the swarm, making me shake a little in my tight leather boots.
Must. Not. Make. Eye. Contact. Swear my balls didn’t know whether to rejoice or just tremble with fear. On one hand, I had a few beautiful women salivating in my direction—on the other, I had a few beautiful-but-desperate women salivating in my direction, and a desperate woman was not an attractive woman. Feeling lonely was a foreign emotion for me, but over the past ten minutes that’s exactly how I’d felt. It sucked, because it made me wonder ho
w much I relied on my friends to keep me happy while I found myself.
One of the girls licked her lips and mouthed a “Hi.” Then promptly dipped one of her talons into her mouth and bit.
Tremble with fear. Definitely tremble with fear.
“So.” Rex laughed. “Everyone be sure to check your bags. And remember, nothing over fifty pounds.”
I snorted.
All eyes went to me.
“Ah.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Dare I say a few of you are going to be overweight?”
Some of the girls gasped and covered themselves with their arms.
What? I meant their suitcases! Not them!
Sighing, I scratched my head and grabbed my own suitcase and stood in line.
“You’re shorter than I thought you’d be,” a tall woman who looked like she could eat me sniffed above my head.
Um, I was six-one. Not short by any means.
Then again, I only came up to her shoulder. Holy shit, her feet were huge! How did she find heels? She was an Amazon and I was the little plaything she wanted to chase through the forest. Shit. Did that make me Little John? Or like . . . Maid Marian? You know, from that one cartoon with the foxes.
Damn, I’d had a thing for Maid Marian when I was little. She was foxy. Ha-ha! Yeah, I was glad I had myself to keep me company while I fought for my life.
I stepped away from Predator and shrugged. “Yeah, well, you’re tall.”
Good one, Max. Swear brain cells everywhere just rolled over and died with all the juice it took for me to come up with that one.
“I know.” She smirked. “But height has its advantages.”
Okay, I’m a dude. We have perverted minds and all that. But I had nothing. Nothing. I tried to conjure up images of what the hell height had to do with anything and all I could think of was her picking me up with her bare hands and me wrapping my legs around her chick-style and holding on for dear life lest she drop me on my head and cause me to have a concussion.
Focus on her face, Max. If I focused on her face things looked better. She was pretty, with dark hair and bright-green eyes.
And then she smiled.
And that damn shudder happened again. Why were women suddenly terrifying me?
The Consequence of Revenge Page 5