No Strings Attached

by Julie Moffett

  Basia rolled her eyes and laughed.

  “To you, my dear cousin.” Jolka leaned over the table, giggling, her hand with the glass outstretched for a toast.

  I saw the disaster a split second before it happened. Later I would look back and think I should have anticipated it, but I didn’t. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  My phone vibrated in my pocket just as Jolka leaned over tapping her glass against Basia’s. Her white frilly blouse swayed and then dipped into the candle in the centerpiece. When she straightened, the blouse was on fire.

  “Aaaagh!” she screamed, ripping off her blouse and throwing it to the floor.

  As everyone gasped, Jolka’s sister, Victoria, leaped into action. She snatched her vodka and tonic and threw it on the burning blouse. The fire surged.

  “Oops!” she said. “I thought it was my water glass.”

  I snapped out of my trance and grabbed the first thing I could find at hand to beat out the fire. Unfortunately, the object, while big, was also light and plastic. I stared at it for a second, trying to figure out what it was.

  Grayson, who was standing next to me, giggled. “It’s a giant inflatable penis. It was in my goody bag. I blew it up. Get it?”

  Holy party favor!

  I tossed it over my shoulder and grabbed my water goblet instead. I dumped the contents of it on the blouse but the alcohol had made it too hot. I needed something bigger and heavier to smother it. I ran for the coat area, hoping Slash would forgive me. I yanked my new coat off the hanger and ran back to the table.

  Uncle Shine already stood there. Apparently trying to be helpful, he had dumped an entire bottle of tequila on the fire. The fire surged again causing renewed shrieking.

  I turned to the partygoers and shouted, “If one more person throws alcohol on the fire, I’ll torch you myself.”

  Everyone backed off, possibly more afraid of me than the fire. I beat at the fire with my coat until it went out. There was no damage to the stone floor other than some blackening, but Jolka’s blouse was a complete loss. I surveyed my coat and added that to the loss column, as well.

  Sighing, I shrugged out of my sweater and handed it to Jolka.

  “Sorry about the blouse,” I said.

  “My fault,” she said, taking the sweater and slipping it on while Victoria found a safety pin to hold it together in the front.

  Disaster averted. Sort of.

  Where the heck was Faylene?

  After a minute everyone started giggling about the incident. I was more than a bit surprised that no one seemed overly upset or worried. Instead, they just sat down and started eating again, chatting cheerfully like nothing at all had happened.

  Ooookay. While I was glad everyone was taking it so well, something didn’t seem right. Worried, I went to return to my seat when I noticed Basia’s chair was empty.

  “Basia?” I said, looking around. Where had she gone?

  Basia came out of the kitchen pushing the giant plastic wedding cake on a moveable trolley in front of her. Billie Sue sat artfully on top of the cake. Thank God she still had clothes on.

  “Lexi, who is this?” Basia asked me, a hand on her hip. “She just scared the crap out of me jumping out of this cake.”

  I sighed. “Oh, great.”

  “Just tell me you didn’t get a female stripper for this party.”

  “I...ah...” I stuttered.

  “Of course, she didn’t get me for this party,” Billie Sue said. “I’m practicing for a party down the street.”

  “A party down the street?” Basia blinked in surprise. “The Zimmerman party?”

  Billie Sue examined her fingernails. “I can’t answer that. It’s confidential information.”

  Basia narrowed her eyes at me. “Elvis ordered a stripper for Xavier’s party?”

  “Well, ah, I don’t think he exactly ordered—”

  Before I could say anything more, the front door burst open and three firemen in full gear with duffel bags rushed in.

  “Where’s the fire?” the one in the front shouted.

  “No, no!” I shouted, running forward and waving my arms. “Everything is fine. It was just a little accident. No one and nothing got hurt or damaged except for a blouse and my new coat.”

  The fireman in front nodded at me. “Oh, good. Glad you’ve got it under control. I was afraid we’d got here way too early. Are you girls ready to hang out?”

  To my astonishment, the three firemen whipped off their coats. They were naked underneath except for teeny-weeny G-strings, fireman hats and boots.

  One of the firemen pressed a button on his phone and music blared from a set of wireless speakers in his bag, complete with a siren accompaniment in the background.

  “Let’s get this party started,” one of them yelled. “It’s going to get hot in here!”

  The girls, including Basia, apparently forgot all about the fire, the burned blouse, Billie Sue and the plastic wedding cake. Instead, they started laughing, screaming and circling around the firemen strippers.

  I watched with my mouth hanging open. What in God’s name was going on? Faylene had ordered fireman strippers? Really?

  Worse, what had happened to the girls? They were all acting strange. It was like everyone had completely lost their minds. Or maybe this was a normal occurrence at a bachelorette party. It wasn’t like I had any parameters by which to base a theory.

  I glanced around the room. The life-size poster of the guy who looked like Slash stared back at me, amused. That reminded me that we hadn’t even had a chance to play Pin the Junk on the Hunk yet.

  If Faylene didn’t get here soon, I was going to lose it.

  A fireman danced over to me, presumably because I was the only one not screaming like a lunatic. He circled his hips at me. “Hey, baby, you are smoking hot. Want to check my hose?”

  I winced. “Ugh. Really? That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

  He grinned at me. “I’m burning up, babe. Be the fuel to my fire.”

  I was spared another ugh because the phone vibrated in my pocket. “Excuse me,” I said, turning away from him and punching the answer button.

  “Hello?” I pressed a finger to my other ear so I could hear.

  “Cara, I’ve been calling you.”

  “Slash? I’m sorry I missed your call. There’s been, ah...an incident. I’m sorry to report it involved the new coat you gave me.”

  “Forget the coat and listen carefully. Do not eat the lasagna.”

  “What? Why? The food is the one thing that’s gone right tonight. What’s wrong with it?”

  “Let’s just say it’s not oregano in the secret sauce.”

  “What?”

  He paused. “Do I hear a siren? Are people screaming? What’s going on over there?”

  I walked into the kitchen, which helped a little with the noise, but not much.

  “Never mind about the siren and the screaming. What exactly is in the food?”

  “Marijuana,” he said. “A potent strain.”

  Holy lasagna! No wonder everyone was feeling so happy.

  At that moment, Grayson ran into the kitchen, grabbing my arm. Her face was flushed and she was laughing. I tried to see if her pupils were dilated, but it was dark and she pulled me out of the kitchen where it was darker, so it was a lost cause. I tried to remember how much lasagna she’d eaten, but all I could remember was that it had been a lot.

  “Lexi, they’re setting up an oil pit,” she screamed so I could hear over the siren and shrieking. “You’ve got to come see this.”

  Oil pit?

  Oh. My. God.

  Slash said something else, but I couldn’t hear. “I’ve got to
go, Slash. It’s an emergency. I’ll call you back later.” I hung up and slipped the phone in my pocket.

  By the time we ran out to the room, the firemen had already set up a small kiddie pool. It looked like two of the guys were going to wrestle each other while covered in baby oil. The third fireman had brought a chair for Basia and set it up right in front of the oil pit.

  One look at Basia’s face and I noticed something wasn’t right. She looked...ill. Then I remembered the huge amount of lasagna she’d eaten and the fact she was so petite.

  I took one a step toward her when the fireman started to grind out a dance in front of her. He wiggled, sashayed and danced to “Light My Fire.” He had just started a lap dance when Basia threw up.

  For a small girl, she fire-hosed that guy, thoroughly drenching him. He screamed like a girl and ran toward the kiddie pool, where the two oiled-up guys were fake wrestling and flexing their biceps. He took one step into the pool, slipped and took both of them down with him.

  While I stared in horror, the three of them splashed and flailed around like fish out of water, trying to get away from each other. At that exact moment, the kitchen door swung open with a bang. I whirled around as Faylene and Junior stepped into the room.

  “Oh, Faylene! Thank God you are here,” I shouted, relief flooding through me. I took one step toward her, when a guy holding a gun to Junior’s back followed them into the room.

  I froze, my eyes widening in astonishment. “Who’s that?”

  Faylene didn’t answer me, but she looked completely terrified. Junior wasn’t looking so good himself.

  “Turn the music off,” the guy with the gun shouted at us. When no one heard him, he fired a shot in the air. The music abruptly stopped and the room fell silent.

  The three firemen finally managed to stand in the kiddie pool.

  The guy with the gun wrinkled his nose. “What the hell is going on here?”

  I lifted my shoulders. “Ah...a party?”

  He shook his head and then poked Junior in the back with his gun. “Okay, we’re all here. Where’s my stash?”

  Junior jerked his head at the kitchen. “It’s in my mom’s oregano jar in the kitchen. It’s in the large clear jar on the counter next to the stove.”

  The guy with the gun pointed at me. “You there. Go get it. No funny business or I start popping people. Keep your hands up where I can see them.

  Keeping my hands up, I went into the kitchen. He propped open the door with his foot so he could watch me. I found the jar on the counter right where Junior said it would be.

  It was a big jar—the size of a cookie jar. How much of the stash had been in the jar?

  I handed the jar over to guy. He peered into it and frowned. “Where is the rest of it?”

  Junior swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “I, ah, think my mom baked it into the lasagna.”

  The guy looked at Junior in shock. “You let your mom bake my stash into a lasagna?”

  “Yeah, well, she thought it was oregano.”

  “Are you a complete idiot?” he screamed. “Wait. Don’t answer that.” The guy waved the gun at me. “You, there. Go get me the lasagna.”

  I retrieved the lasagna tray and held it out for his inspection. He peered into the tray.

  “This is all the lasagna that’s left?” He glared at me.

  I lifted my shoulders. “We were hungry.”

  “Exactly what kind of stash are we talking about?” Basia stalked over. She looked a lot better now, presumably because a good bit of the lasagna was now out of her stomach. Somehow, she had miraculously escaped most of her own upchuck, but she was spitting mad.

  “Are you saying you cooked something illegal in my lasagna?” She glared at Junior. “At my bachelorette party?”

  “Marijuana,” I supplied. “A potent strain.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Junior looked at Basia pleadingly. “I panicked and dumped it in the jar. I didn’t know my mom was making lasagna for the party. I didn’t want to hand it over to Leo so he could sell it to the unsuspecting public, so I hid it.”

  “We are the unsuspecting public,” Basia shouted at him.

  “Oops.” Junior swallowed hard. “Guess I bungled that good.”

  “How dare you!” Basia jabbed a finger in his chest. “You think it’s okay to hide drugs in someone’s food? Do you?”

  Call it habit, instinct or just the result of a longtime friendship, but something in her voice didn’t match up with her actions. On the upside, the guy with the gun didn’t seem the least bit worried or intimidated by her.

  His mistake.

  “Well, I...I didn’t think about that...I’m sorry,” Junior babbled. He looked ready to cry.

  “Don’t give excuses,” Basia said. “It isn’t manly.”

  Her plan went down faster than I expected. Basia shoved Junior hard. He stumbled into the man with the gun who lost his hold on the oregano jar. As the jar flew through the air, I leaped forward, shoving the lasagna tray into the guy’s face and twisting his arm, causing the gun to fall to the floor. Gray, giggling, kicked it across the room. I wrapped my arms around the guy trying to bring him down. But given that he and I were now covered in tomato sauce and cheese, he was slippery and hard to hold.

  “A little help here,” I shouted at no one in particular.

  Two of the fireman leaped into action, jumping onto us, but it only caused us to crash to the ground and slide around the floor like greased pigs. No one was able to hold on to anything. As we slid across the floor, I shouted at Basia, motioning with my head toward Uncle Shine.

  The bad guy managed to get to his feet and started running toward his gun. Basia, seeing where I was going with this, snatched the full bottle of whiskey Uncle Shine held in his hand. As the guy passed by, Basia clocked him in the head with it. He stumbled a couple of steps before I leaped to my feet and gave him a hard shove toward the open compartment of the plastic wedding cake. He fell inside and Basia slammed the top of the cake shut after stuffing his legs in.

  “That’s for crashing my party,” she said.

  At that moment, the front door flew open. To my astonishment, Xavier’s entire bachelor party raced in, led by Slash.

  “Cara?” he said, skidding to a halt and looking at me in horror.

  I glanced down at myself. I was smeared with lasagna, baby oil and other stuff better not mentioned.

  I spread my arms. “Regardless of how this looks, I’m fine, Slash.”

  The guys took in the scene with wide eyes—the kiddie pool, the naked and oiled firemen, Billie Sue and a giant plastic wedding cake upon which Basia now sat.

  I just stood there covered in...stuff.

  Junior retrieved the gun and gingerly held it out to Slash, assuming he was the police. “It’s all a big mistake, Officer. I’m on probation. Leo gave me the stash to sell. I didn’t want to do it, so I panicked and dumped it into my mom’s oregano jar. I was just trying to hide it until I could figure out how to turn it in.”

  Slash took the gun from Junior and turned his gaze to mine. “Who is Leo?” he asked.

  “The drug dealer in the wedding cake.” I jerked my head toward the cake. “You don’t happen to have cuffs on you, do you?”

  Slash looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next when he saw the giant-sized poster of the naked guy that looked remarkably like him. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t ask,” I said, holding up a hand. “Please. Just don’t. I’m not sure the night could get any weirder. I need a napkin stat.”

  I headed toward the kitchen and froze when I heard the shouting.

  “Police! Everyone get your hands up and get facedown on the floor. Now!”

  I turned around, meeting the determined gaze of two policemen who stood in the doorway
aiming their service weapons at us. I glanced at Slash as he rolled his eyes and dropped the gun he was holding. He raised his hands above his head and knelt down.

  Gray, however, swayed on her feet, giggling and waving at the policemen. “Oh, hey, Officers, come on in and join the party. Are you going to strip, too? You guys are soooo cute. You can arrest me anytime. God, I’m hungry.” She winked at them and then promptly toppled over.

  Hands caught her before she hit the ground.

  I knelt to the floor with my hands up. “I didn’t think it could happen, but things just got a lot weirder.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  We took up the entire waiting room at the police station. A couple of officers had to go get more chairs so we could all fit. An hour and a half later we’d all been interviewed, except for Basia, who was in the room now. They were supposedly wrapping up our paperwork so we could go home.

  I sat smelling like garlic, lasagna and baby oil, drinking a horrible cup of coffee while sitting on a bench between Elvis and Slash. I’d cleaned up the best I could in the bathroom, but it didn’t take the place of a full-fledged shower and a washing machine. Bonnie sat next to Elvis. It made me smile when I saw them holding hands. She shot me a grateful look and I smiled back. I saw that friendship going places and it made me happy. I leaned back against the faded blue wall of the station when Elvis got up to use the facilities.

  I turned my head toward Slash. “You didn’t tell me yet how you knew about the pot.”

  He had also leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. He cracked open one eye when I spoke. “When they were setting up I smelled it on Junior. I’m sure he sampled a bit before or during his baking duties, but I’m reluctant to admit it didn’t occur to me that he would have baked any into the food until I tasted it.”

  “Wait. How could you taste the pot in the lasagna?”

  “I’m Italian.” He spread his hands. “I know my lasagna.”

  He had a point.

  “When I called you, I heard the siren in the background and figured the police might be headed your way. I wanted to come alone, but these guys insisted they come with me. I had no idea there was a guy with a gun who had co-opted Junior and Faylene or that you and Basia would be so successful at handling him on your own.”