Crazy Little Thing

by Layce Gardner

  Ollie jumped. She didn’t know G-Ray had been standing in the doorway watching. And the red light on his helmet cam blinked away. Shit. She was on film. Caught red-handed. Red rose handed, to be exact.

  “I was just…” Ollie was stuck.

  G-Ray plucked the card out of the box and read it. “They’re for Claire,” he said simply.

  “Uh, yeah. Are you going to blackmail me with the film?” Ollie said.

  “Blackmail you with what?” Claire said, shouldering her way through the back door. Her arms were full of books. She deposited the books on the table. Ollie scanned the titles: The Real Elvis. Elvis Is Not Dead. I Saw a Ghost and his Name Was Elvis.

  Claire saw the box of roses. “Who got flowers?”

  Ollie and G-Ray didn’t say a word.

  “Is it a secret or something?” Claire asked.

  “They’re for you,” Ollie said. “From Scarlet. I opened the box, sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” Claire said, picking up the eleven roses. She hugged them to her chest, sniffed at them and said, “They’re so beautiful.”

  Ollie gulped. Claire looked so beautiful. So beautifully in love.

  Claire pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed. After a beat, she exclaimed, “Hi honey! I got your roses, they’re gorgeous!”

  Ollie pushed G-Ray out of the kitchen, leaving Claire to ooh and ahh over her flowers, and gush to Scarlet about how thoughtful and wonderful she was. Jealous much? Ollie thought.

  “I hope she can’t count,” G-Ray whispered.

  Claire Speaks

  Claire looked straight into the camera and said: “The marriage counselor is stupid. The homework assignment is stupid. If I could think of what I liked about Ollie we wouldn’t be getting a divorce. But since I have to do this and I’ve never made anything below an A in my entire life, I did jot down a few things I found not-wholly-detestable about Ollie.”

  She held up a piece of paper and waved it in front of the camera. Sighing, she looked down at the paper and read:

  “Number one: Forearms. I was driven to bouts of lust over her muscular forearms. I like the way the cords of muscles rippled under her skin and the way the little hairs turned blond in the sun.

  Number two: Calves. Just like the forearms, minus the hair.

  Number three: Funny. I do have to admit that Ollie has a great sense of humor. She makes me laugh. Even in bed. Nobody has ever made me laugh as much as Ollie.

  Number four: Her sense of the now. She’s always in the present moment. I spend most of my time in the future. Planning, making lists, trying to get enough money to someday do something. Ollie is happy wherever she happens to land and with whatever she happens to be doing. There’s a part of me that wishes I could be more like that.

  Number five: Generous spirit. Ollie is a giver. Scarlet is a taker. And sometimes I feel like Scarlet has sucked all the energy out of me and I’m like a limp balloon when she’s done. But Ollie energizes me. She’s like a gust of fresh air that fills me up until I can float.

  That’s all I wrote. I don’t know why I had to do this. It would make more sense to write what I hated about her. This is a divorce, not a marriage.”

  She blinked back tears.

  “If Scarlet ever sees this paper, she’ll kill me.”

  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose into a tissue.

  “Scarlet is a much better match for me in the long-term. We both have pensions. IRA’s. A stock portfolio. Ollie doesn’t even have a savings account. Yes, Scarlet is my ideal partner.”

  She looked down at the paper in her hands and wadded it into a ball. She stuffed it into her mouth and chewed. Three swallows later and the evidence was destroyed.

  “All gone. Like it never even existed.”

  Scarlet Arrives

  Claire paced big circles around the living room. She stopped every other lap and looked out the front window. Scarlet was due to show any minute. She was driving Claire’s car up and would fly back home to Houston after Thanksgiving weekend. It was snowing to beat the band and Claire was worried that Scarlet wouldn’t be able to make it to Des Moines. She hoped she didn’t get stranded alongside the road and freeze to death.

  Claire was also nervous about Scarlet and Ollie being in the same house. Ollie had been acting strange lately and Scarlet always acted a strange. Having them both in close proximity of each other was kind of like having two bombs sit side by side. It was only a matter of time before one of them exploded and set the other one off.

  Honk! Honk!

  Claire ran to the window and looked out. Scarlet was here! The car was completely covered in snow. Scarlet was dressed head-to-toe in fur. She closed the car door and waded through a big snowdrift. She high-stepped across the yard then fell over onto her back and began to flap her arms and legs.

  Claire laughed joyously. Scarlet was making snow angels! How silly and child-like and lovely! Claire ran to the front door and opened it. “Silly Scarlet! Stop making snow angels and get in here and warm up!”

  “I’m not making fucking snow angels! I fell and can’t get up!” Scarlet yelled back. She continued moving her arms and legs.

  Claire had mistaken Scarlet’s flopping for flapping. She ran into the yard and extended a hand. “Need help?”

  “How in the fuckity fuck do people live with all this shit on the ground?” Scarlet growled.

  “Some people think this so-called shit is pretty,” Claire said. She didn’t know why she was being so defensive. She didn’t live here. She didn’t even have any particular fondness for snow.

  She pulled Scarlet to her feet and whacked at her fur, dusting the snow off.

  Scarlet continued flapping but this time she flapped at Claire. “Stop hitting me. Just get me inside to whatever is deemed civilization in these backwoods.”

  Claire sighed and trudged toward the house. Things certainly were off to a great start.

  *

  Ollie laughed her ass off. She’d been watching from her second story bedroom window. By the time she got her laughter under control and joined them downstairs, Scarlet was sitting in a chair before the roaring fireplace, drinking a goblet of spiced wine. G-Ray stood in the corner of the living room with his helmet cam on. He stood so still he could easily be mistaken for a standing lamp. Claire could be heard in the kitchen banging pots and pans.

  Scarlet acknowledged Ollie with a forced smile. “Hello, Ollie.”

  “Hello, Scarlet Dear,” Ollie said, not even bothering to hide the facetiousness in her voice. “I saw you fall in the yard. I do hope you’re okay?”

  Scarlet pointed her perfect nose to the ceiling and said, “I was making snow angels.”

  “How lovely,” Ollie said.

  Scarlet turned away from Ollie’s gaze and looked at EZ who was slumped on the couch, wearing dark sunglasses.

  “I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” Scarlet said to EZ. “I’m Scarlet, Claire’s fiancé.”

  EZ, being fast asleep, didn’t respond.

  Scarlet continued, “It is very nice to meet you.” She scooted to the end of her chair and extended her hand to shake.

  EZ slept on, making no move.

  Scarlet withdrew her hand, saying, “Well, how rude. Where I’m from we have better manners.”

  Ollie chuckled. “She’s asleep.”

  “Oh,” Scarlet asked. “The narcoleptic, that’s right. I forgot.”

  “I propped her up on the couch so she wouldn’t miss the holiday. I put the sunglasses on her because sometimes her eyes pop open and it’s real creepy looking.”

  “You do realize that is rather unorthodox, don’t you?” Scarlet said.

  Ollie sat in the chair across from Scarlet. “I don’t know if she’s orthodox or not. I don’t even know if she’s Jewish.”

  At that moment, Oscar padded into the living room.

  Scarlet gasped when she saw Oscar. “You let a dog in the house?”

  Ollie only smiled.

  Oscar walked up to Sc
arlet’s luggage, which was sitting by the staircase and sniffed at it.

  “He has germs. You are aware of that? Dogs are flea factories. You’re aware of that?”

  Without hesitating, Oscar lifted his leg and pissed on Scarlet’s bag. Scarlet shrieked. “Stop him!”

  Ollie shook her head. “Won’t work. Once the stream has started there’s no stopping it.”

  Scarlet stood and flapped her arms. She looked like she was making snow angels in the air. “Do you realize that’s a Ghurka bag? I paid over fifteen hundred dollars for that bag!”

  “Oscar always had good taste,” Ollie said.

  Scarlet yelled, “Claire! Omigod, Claire!” She danced around Oscar, waving her hands at him. Oscar lifted his nose and ignored her, his pee stream rattling against her leather bag like rain on a tin roof.

  Claire ran into the room, saying, “Whatwhatwhat?”

  Scarlet pointed at Oscar and yelled, “That mutt is peeing on my Ghurka! Stop him!”

  Claire morphed into superhero mode and ran for Oscar.

  Ollie said, “I wouldn’t pick him up if I were you.”

  Claire picked him up. Oscar, however, did not stop peeing. His pee stream arced high in the air and splashed down wherever Claire happened to aim him. Claire squealed as soon as she realized she was holding a real live seltzer bottle and was spraying the couch, EZ, the coffee table, the rug, and the ceiling. “Help, help, help!” she shouted, twirling around like a lawn sprinkler.

  Ollie dove behind the relative safety of the couch and enjoyed the show too much to intercede.

  “Put the dog down! Put the dog down!” Scarlet shouted.

  Claire turned to Scarlet’s voice. Which meant she also turned Oscar toward Scarlet. Which meant his pee-stream hit Scarlet square in the face.

  Scarlet spit, sputtered and sneezed. Claire froze, horror-stricken.

  Oscar’s pee became a dribble then stopped.

  Claire put Oscar down and he happily padded out of the room. Ollie bit her bottom lip and her shoulders shook from silent laughter.

  Scarlet sputtered some more.

  Claire burst into tears.

  G-Ray moved for the first time, telescoping the camera in for a close-up of Scarlet. “Awesome,” he said, “This film needed some comic relief.”

  Murphy’s Law Of Bed

  An hour later, Claire had deposited Scarlet into her room, wiped off the Ghurka bag as best as she could and unpacked Scarlet’s clothes. Scarlet lay on the bed doing her deep breathing exercises. She wore a red sleep mask. Claire knew that meant Scarlet had a migraine coming on. She also knew that the only way to rid Scarlet of an impending migraine was to have sex with her.

  That was okay with Claire. Quite frankly, it had been too long since she’d had sex. She was used to having sex on a regular basis and you don’t know how much you miss something until it’s gone.

  And she did find Scarlet attractive. She had a perfect body. A perfect nose. Perfect hair. And her lips were to die for. As she stared at Scarlet’s lips she felt a familiar stirring in her nether regions.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, leaned down and lightly kissed Scarlet on those luscious lips. Scarlet pulled Claire closer, grabbing her ass and kneading.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” Scarlet breathed. She kissed Claire’s neck and bit her ear lobe. Claire melted. She was the proverbial putty in Scarlet’s hand. Claire ran her hands inside Scarlet’s blouse cupping her breasts. Claire unfastened Scarlet’s red lacy bra and marveled at the beauty of her breasts. They were worth every penny.

  Claire licked and sucked Scarlet’s nipples. Scarlet moaned and arched her back.

  Squeak!

  Claire froze.

  “What was that?” Scarlet asked.

  “The bed. It’s old and it squeaks,” Claire answered. “Do you want to take your mask off?”

  “No,” Scarlet said throatily. “Not being able to see heightens my other senses. And I want to feel you, every inch of you.” She pulled Claire down on top of her and said, “I need you. Now.”

  Squeak! Squeak!

  Claire sat up. “I can’t deal with that squeaking. It interrupts my concentration.” That was a lie. Claire actually didn’t like that the loud squeaking was broadcasting to everyone in the house that they were having sex.

  That was a lie, too.

  What she really didn’t like was that Ollie could hear the squeaks. She felt guilty.

  While she was thinking these thoughts, Scarlet was lying spread eagle on the bed in nothing but her sleep mask and matching panties.

  They were nice panties, Claire thought. She was momentarily distracted by them. She ran her index finger around the waistband. “These are very sexy.”

  “Why don’t you take them off me?” Scarlet said, inching closer to Claire.

  Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

  “The bed, we can’t do it on the bed,” Claire said, coming out of her red panties stupor. “Everyone will hear and know what we’re doing.”

  “They already know what we’re doing. The moment I said I wanted to take a nap they knew what that meant. Nap is like a universal code word for sexing.”

  Sexing? Claire hated that word. It sounded so impersonal. “I can’t relax with all the squeaking.” And by relax Claire meant she wouldn’t be able to come. Not even get close.

  Scarlet knew from past experience that if she didn’t change the dynamics she wouldn’t get laid. “Okay, let’s see.” She tapped her finger on her chin, thinking hard. “Maybe we could wedge a blanket or something under the springs to make them stop squeaking. Or we could dab some olive oil on the springs. Do you have a mister?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, well, I brought some warming lube. But I’d hate to waste that on the bed.”

  Claire got to her feet. She squatted down and looked under the bed. Maybe if the mattress wasn’t on the box springs the noise would stop. “What if we put the mattress on the floor? It’s the box springs making that noise.”

  “Brilliant idea,” Scarlet said, taking off her sleep mask.

  “It’s a Murphy bed. The kind that folds up into the wall. If we pull the mattress off we can fold the bed away and have the mattress on the floor. Then we’ll be squeak free.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Okay, you stand over there and pull and I’ll push on this side. Easy peasey. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Scarlet said.

  Claire pushed. Scarlet pulled. The mattress barely budged. It weighed a lot more than Claire would’ve thought. “Pull harder,” Claire groaned.

  “What do you think I’m doing,” Scarlet muttered between clenched teeth.

  Scarlet braced one foot on the bed frame and put her whole body into pulling. The mattress began to edge off the bed frame. Then she leaned across the top of the bed, arms extended, pulling with all her might – if Scarlet was anything she was an over-achiever.

  The bed quivered.

  Claire stopped pushing.

  The bed quaked.

  Scarlet stopped pulling. “What the hell is happening? Is that an earthquake?”

  Squeeeeee aaaaaaa kkkkkk!

  The end of the bed lifted off the floor, and slammed back into the wall like the jaws of a giant mechanical robot snapping shut.

  Claire stumbled backwards. Where there once had been a bed, there was nothing. Where there once had been Scarlet there was nothing. “Scarlet?”

  “Whathathfuckth?”

  Claire looked at the bed. It was upright and snuggled into place in the wall. “Omigod, Scarlet. The bed ate you!” Not only had it eaten Scarlet, it had wedged itself firmly closed.

  “Whath theth fuckithy fuckth?” came Scarlet’s voice again.

  Claire saw Scarlet’s ankle and foot stuck out from the bottom corner of the bed. She grabbed hold of the foot and pulled.

  Scarlet screamed. “Thaturtsthoppulling!

  Claire stopped pulling on Scarlet’s foot. She grabbed the bed and tried to pull it out of the wall. It
was stuck. Even when Claire jumped up and grabbed the top of the bed, it didn’t budge. She hung against the bed, her feet six inches off the floor and dangled. “It won’t move Scarlet! The bed is stuck!”

  Scarlet said something that sounded like, “No thit.”

  Claire dropped to the floor. She grabbed Scarlet’s ankle this time, swung one leg over it like she was riding a stick pony and pulled for all she was worth.

  Scarlet screamed bloody murder. “Thoppullingyoufuckingidiot.”

  Exhausted, Claire stopped and crumpled to the floor. She held her head in her hands and cried.

  “Whareudoinurnotcryinaru?” asked Scarlet.

  “I’m not crying!” Claire yelled then immediately regretted it. After all, she wasn’t the one who was almost naked and suffocating to death in a Murphy bed’s giant jaws. Oh God, what was she going to tell everybody? How would she ever live this down? This was the type of gossip that spread like wild fire. She was going to be the laughingstock of Houston. She would have to stay in Des Moines, housesit and feed non-existent cats. She would become the crazy cat lady of Iowa.

  Claire wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders. Oh well, she consoled herself, it couldn’t get any worse than this.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Who’s there?” Claire answered.

  “Um, it’s me. Ollie. I don’t want to interrupt or anything, but you’re making a lot of noise. In fact, you’re shaking the whole downstairs. The light fixture is coming out of the ceiling and…”

  Claire threw the door open. “Oh, thank God, it’s you!” She pulled Ollie into a hug, saying, “I need your help.”

  Ollie gulped. “Um… No, thanks. She’s your girlfriend. I mean, I’m not into the three-way stuff.”

  Claire turned and pointed at the wall where Scarlet’s foot was sticking out of the folded-up bed.

  “Getmethehellouttahere!” Scarlet yelled. The foot shook and the bed vibrated.

  Ollie crossed her arms over her chest and grinned from ear to ear. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

  “Whathsgoinon? IzatOllie? Donthtellanybody!” Scarlet’s muffled voice yelled from deep inside the wall.