Cop a Feel (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters)

by Robyn Peterman

  “Wait. What?” He was totally confused. It did sound strange . . .

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Too hard to explain.”

  “All right, everyone strip and get on the stage. We have two days till the pageant and it’s a fucking mess,” Medusa Schmadden yelled.

  Luke heaved a hellacious put-upon sigh and walked to the stage.

  “Goddamn,” Shoshanna whispered, and shuddered. “This death threat stuff isn’t as fun as it was last week.”

  “You’re going to stay in the room tomorrow. I have reservations about you being here right now, but the doors are locked and Luke and I are both here.”

  “Well, hell,” she muttered. “I have a panel on fuzzy handcuffs versus metal tomorrow. I hate to disappoint my Street Walkers. Could I Skype in?”

  I thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m okay with that.” It was a good compromise. She’d be safe and her fans would be happy. “We’ll just tell everyone you’re sick and need to stay in your room. I’ll speak with the coordinators and get monitors set up. Luke and I can set up the feed in the room.”

  “Can Jim come up tomorrow? I want to work on his book with him.”

  “I say yes, but I want to run it by Luke. His background check came up clean.”

  “You guys checked him out?”

  “Yep. I turned in a list of everyone we’ve been in contact with. Haven’t gotten all the information back yet, but Jim is good.”

  “Teddy, if you don’t can the hip thrusts, I’m going to castrate you,” Medusa screamed.

  Teddy threw his hair back and stomped off the stage. He stood in a corner and pouted.

  “Son of a bitch,” she groused, and pulled on her hair, which was looking a bit thinner. “Everyone take five.” She made her way over to the devastated Teddy with Rocky close on her heels.

  “Mom, you do realize I will make you pay for this for the rest of your natural life,” Luke said as he flipped the chair next to me around and straddled it. Shoshanna grinned and blew him a kiss. He was in his freakin’ underpants and still managed to have the upper hand. Jim and the twins, Cheech and Cesar, joined us. I was in the middle of a men’s underwear ad come to life.

  “Cheech and Cesar,” Shoshanna said, pinching their cheeks. “How are you enjoying your first American Romance convention?”

  “Isss okay,” Cheech muttered sullenly. “That faggot Teddy is pussy. I will beat him and then I will beat him.”

  We all sat in shocked silence for a moment and wondered if he was joking.

  “I am making the kidding!” he shouted, laughing and offering his hand up for a high five to Jim. Jim gave him a half-assed slap, and we all chuckled uncomfortably.

  “My brother’s understanding of the English language needs some work along with his sense of humor,” Cesar said sheepishly in perfect English. “We are used to being the stars. We always win everything we do. We are . . . how do you say it? Um, unused to being challenged.”

  “This be no challenge,” Cheech boasted. “No offense to you”—he nodded to Luke and Jim—“but we are the best and we will have the win of what we came here to do and make our families and country proud.”

  “You’re gonna do just great.” Shoshanna patted him on the head. “This is all good fun and the exposure you’ll get will help you launch a career right here in the good ole U.S. of A.”

  “Actually,” Cheech said, leaning in and coming dangerously close to my boobs, “ my dream is to be the next Pat Sajack. I love the Wheel of the Fortune and I will have relations with the Vanna White.”

  Again with the shocked silence . . . However, there was no uproarious laughter this time. He was serious. Cesar kept talking as if what his twin had just said made complete sense.

  “Yes, Cheech will be a TV star and I will be on Top Chef. I will win and open up a chain of restaurants and be very rich and famous.”

  “Oh my, what do you cook?” Shoshanna asked. Was she trying to be polite or was she really interested? I was beginning to doubt the sanity of the twins, and my estimation of their intelligence was taking a steep nosedive. Not to mention their time was limited if they didn’t stop ogling my rubber-encased boobs. Luke’s displeasure was quite obvious to everyone except the brothers.

  “I am taking lessons now. It is not hard and I have confidence I will succeed.”

  Jesus, they were idiots. Conceited dumbasses. Lovely.

  “Hey you,” Cheech said to me, clearly oblivious to the steaming Luke. “Why don’t you and me go at the bar and get the drinks together?” He waggled his eyebrows and pointed at his crotch. They had gone from being hot and sexy to being stupid and pervy.

  “Thanks, but no.”

  “Why not?” he demanded. “I will show you the good time better than the boring American mans.”

  “She’s married.” Luke cut him off in a clipped tone. “Back off or her husband will kick your ass.”

  “I don’t see no husband,” Cheech said, confused and surprised.

  “I’m her fucking husband,” Luke snapped. “So stop looking at her and talking to her. And if you so much as lay a hand on her, I will remove it.”

  “Okay, gringo.” Cheech laughed and backed away. “No problemo.”

  “Come on,” Cesar said, slapping his brother in the back of the head. “Sorry about that. You might find it hard to believe, but he has a hard time making friends . . .” He grinned and walked away with his utterly confused brother.

  “I have the friends,” Cheech hissed at his brother as they crossed back to the stage.

  “Right, my brother. Sure you do.”

  “What the fuck?” I whispered to my little group. “That Cheech is as dumb as a box of hair. Cesar seems kind of okay, but oh my God.”

  “I’m gonna have to shoot him,” Luke said.

  “Is that your solution to everything?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

  “Do you have a better one?”

  “Well yeah, I . . . um . . . No. I don’t, but you can’t go around shooting people for looking at me. It’s immature and just doesn’t bode well for the future.”

  “So . . .” Luke grinned and crossed his gorgeous arms over his stupidly perfect chest. “You’re admitting we have a future.”

  “I’m admitting nothing,” I huffed. I hated being backed into a corner. “I’m just saying you can’t shoot anyone unless they’re breaking the law or trying to kill you.”

  “Wait. I’m confused. Are you guys married or not?” Jim asked.

  “Not,” we said in unison and then Luke added, “yet.”

  “Okay,” Jim said, and laughed. “And your hobby is shooting people?”

  I realized that Jim had no clue who we really were or what we really did. I was halfway tempted to tell him, but Luke shot me a quick look. Luke was right. Shoshanna was safer if we kept our cover. There would be time to tell Jim who and what we were later. I hoped.

  “Duke’s just screwing around,” Shoshanna chimed in, saving us from having to make up a joint lie that matched. Luke rolled his eyes and mouthed, No, I’m not, when Jim was turned away.

  “All right, people,” Medusa shouted. “Teddy is feeling better and we need to get something done before the girls show up.”

  “What girls?” I asked Shoshanna. “Nobody said anything about girls.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot that part. They bring in some female cover models and they dance with the guys during the show.” She leaned in and chuckled. “Last year that got a little out of hand. I thought the convention organizers banned it. Those gals were fucking wild.”

  I did not like the way I was feeling. I hated it. Some super sexy slut bag was going to come in here and rub all over my guy while he was in his underpants? Wait. He wasn’t my guy . . . well, he could be, but was I really ready to commit to him after a week? I suppose if I counted all the times we’d had sex, I could add two more weeks to it, but that was technically cheating. I didn’t even know his freakin’ name until last week. Although, he knew my name all
along and had stalked me for the better part of a year . . . I could count the two weeks of sex as one since it was somewhat anonymous . . . Fine. We’d been together two weeks. That did not merit losing my mind and shooting unsuspecting women no matter how slutty they were. I definitely wouldn’t shoot them. I felt better.

  A loud banging on the door ended my ridiculous inner monologue. Medusa sprinted across the room and opened it. Palming my gun, I got in front of Shoshanna.

  “Sweet baby Jesus on a unicycle, here they come,” Shoshanna groaned.

  Through the door came a bevy of large-breasted, overly made up, scantily clad gorgeous women. I had a decision to make . . . to shoot or not to shoot. Not. I would not shoot innocent hooker women even though they made a beeline to Luke and began pawing him.

  “Ladies,” Medusa shrieked, pulling another clump of hair from her head. “There were supposed to be six of you. I only count five.”

  “Elle ate dinner so she couldn’t come,” squeaked a brunette with a voice that could attract dogs from five miles away.

  “What in the hell does that mean?” I muttered.

  Shoshanna mimed sticking a finger down her throat and raised her eyebrows.

  “Gross.”

  “And sad,” she commented. “I hate that women buy into the whole media circus of how they should look. It’s a sorry place to be if you adhere to that bullshit.”

  I nodded my head and watched as the nightmare unfolded. Luke, to his benefit, was removing the women from his person. This did not seem to stop them. I found myself reaching for my gun and quickly pulled my hand back.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Medusa moaned. “Whatever. Ladies, pick a guy and let’s get started. Maybe Elle will show up.”

  “Not gonna happen,” quipped a blonde in a gold lamé string bikini. “She ate a burger, fries, and an extra-large chocolate milk shake. That will take at least two days.”

  The girls tittered and all headed for Luke and Jim. I felt itchy and pissed. This was not working for me—at all.

  “You okay?” Shoshanna asked with a knowing smile on her face.

  “No, but I’m about to do something really fucking stupid to make it better.”

  “You gonna shoot somebody?”

  “Nope, something even dumber than that.” I sucked in an enormous breath, pinched my cheeks, and adjusted my boobs. They might not be as big as the ones on the stage, but at least they were real. “I’ll do it,” I yelled, and immediately regretted my impulsiveness.

  Luke’s head jerked up and his grin made me want to slap him and then strip him. My insides were in hell. A full halftime marching band doing a heavy metal medley had taken up residence in my stomach and I thought I was going to hurl.

  “Great,” Medusa said, taking her hand from her hair for the first time since the rehearsal had started. “Get up here and pick a guy.”

  “I will be your partner of the guy,” Cheech said, proving his worth with a gyration that made me choke on my tongue.

  “Absolutely not,” Teddy cut in, and produced his own gag-inducing hip thrust. “She has a lovely bosom and a mouth like a vacuum. I shall partner her.”

  “What are we? Chopped liver?” the one with the squeaky voice whined as her hand moved dangerously close to Luke’s ass.

  “I’m flattered that you all would like me to partner with you, but I’ll stick with my husband.” I walked over to Luke and knocked Squeaky’s hand away. “If you put any part of your body on him again, I’ll shoot it off,” I told her under my breath. She blanched and moved quickly to the other side of the stage.

  “Nice move,” Luke said, and palmed my butt.

  “I am so mad at you right now,” I hissed.

  “What the hell did I do?” He laughed and tried to put his arms around me.

  “You,” I ground out, and slipped from under his arm, “were standing up here in your underpants with women pawing all over you. Because of you, I almost shot five women dead. That is unacceptable. You are such a dick.”

  “Oh my God, you’re blaming me because I was standing here doing nothing—actually I was trying to peel them off—and somehow it’s my fault that you wanted to shoot them?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Yep. That’s right.”

  He grinned and pulled me close. “Goddamn that’s hot. And I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but you called me your husband. That means we’re engaged.”

  “How in the hell did you come to that conclusion? I was just going along with the lie you already told. It means nothing, so don’t read into it, big guy.”

  Luke’s grin practically split his face. I could deny and deny until I was blue in the face. As far as he was concerned, we were now engaged . . . my brother was going to be thrilled. I tried to tamp down the smile that was pulling at my lips, but failed. He grabbed me in a bear hug and pressed his lips to my ear.

  “You are so into me,” he whispered.

  I rolled my eyes and let my body relax into his. Honestly, what was the point of even fighting him anymore? We both knew that eventually he would win . . . and that I wanted him to.

  “Let’s begin. Ladies, bend over and touch your toes. Men do a little sexy bump and grind,” Medusa bellowed, and turned the techno pop up to an ear-shattering decibel. From there on out it was a clusterfuck of epic proportions . . .

  Luke got an erection from bumping and grinding me, so he plastered his front to my back and refused to move. Teddy and Rocky decided to ignore the girls and twerked with each other. I tried to keep my eyes averted, but it was like a train wreck—I had to watch. Cheech and Cesar circled their partners, doing what appeared to be a tribal sex dance complete with grunting sound effects. They humped the air with such intensity they were dripping with sweat and sprayed the appalled women with their effort. I was sure they’d collapse from sheer exhaustion. Jim was in hell. His gal pal was trying to strip him and he was hanging on to his underpants for dear life. I realized I could never un-see any of this. It would be burned into my brain for eternity . . . Again, I wondered who I’d fucked over in a past life to deserve this torture.

  “Enough!” Medusa shrieked, practically in tears. She turned off the music and pulled on her hair. “That was hideous. If I had eaten dinner, I would have thrown it up from watching that horrifying display.”

  I actually had to agree with her.

  “What is the matter of the problem?” Cheech demanded, truly confused. “I was in the zone and the womens were digging the sexiness of my crotch moves.”

  “Is he for fucking real?” Squeaky asked. “That was disgusting,” she hissed, grabbing her friends and making a beeline for the exit. I quickly followed and locked the door after them. Luke dropped to a squat on the stage to mask Mr. Happy in his pants.

  “Let’s just call it a night,” Medusa said wearily.

  “I have an idea,” Shoshanna, never one to let well enough alone, volunteered. She ran up on stage, dragging me with her. “Mandy, you stand in the middle and freeze like you’re a mannequin. Boys, pretend you got locked in a department store overnight and you find the most beautiful woman in the world, but she’s frozen—a block of perfect ice. The only thing that will unfreeze her is a display of your love for her. One at a time, you will fucking go for it . . . But, you can’t touch her.” She winked at her son, who gave her a thumbs-up. “Duke will go last and he will wake her from her slumber and they will live happily ever after.”

  “What?” Teddy gasped. “I will be the one to wake her. I have the longest hair.”

  “No,” Cheech insisted. “I will do the wake of her. I have the package that is huge.”

  All the other men laughed derisively.

  “I do,” he shouted. “I will show to you the package of the winner.”

  “No,” Shoshanna yelled, startling him enough to halt the display of his weenie. Thank God. “You know the rules. You can’t expose your penis. Ever. You will be disqualified and shame your country. You don’t want to embarrass Mexico, do you?�
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  “No.” Cheech hung his head and let go of the waistband of his underpants.

  “I get to wake her because I’m her husband,” Luke informed the models. “And if anyone has a problem with that, we can go out back and take care of it.”

  “I actually love that idea,” Medusa said, getting excited. “It’s brilliant and we’ve never done such high concept before. This could be award winning,” she muttered, pulling me to the middle of the stage.

  This was going to be frightening, but infinitely better than twerking with my fake husband. I simply had to stand there and do nothing—I could do that. The guys all seemed to be fine with the change, especially Jim, who would not have to fight to stay clothed. As long as no one touched me, Luke wouldn’t have to shoot anyone and now that the gals were gone, my trigger finger was less itchy. Win-win.

  “Great,” Shoshanna said. “Let’s work!”

  “All right, everyone,” Medusa sang, giving Shoshanna a quick and heartfelt hug. “You heard the lady. Let’s work!”

  Chapter 24

  I woke up the next morning sore. Not from anything fun like sex. Nope, I was sore from having held my mannequin pose for two hours while Medusa and Shoshanna created a masterpiece. I had to admit it was far more interesting than the twerk-fest that had been emerging as the show’s centerpiece. In the new and improved version, the guys got to strut their stuff and Luke just had to walk up at the end and kiss me silly. Worked for me.

  I’d slept alone. Luke slept, or rather kept guard, across the hall. Secretly I’d hoped he would push the issue and screw me blind, but he didn’t. He was right—we were working. It did occur to me that he might be waiting for me to make the next move. He’d have to wait. We had a potential killer to catch, and completing our mission sooner rather than later was imperative.

  Mrs. C and Edith were expected around lunchtime. Shoshanna would Skype from the room and Luke approved Jim working with Shoshanna later in the day. She was safe for the moment.

  “Are you going to case the new protesters?” Luke asked, delivering coffee and doughnuts to the suite. I glanced at the offering, sad that he had forgotten my Coke. “Why the long face?” he asked, grinning as he pulled an icy bottle of Coke from the bag I’d missed. “Did you think I forgot?”