by Kassanna
Saratoga sighed. “You sound disappointed, like you’re going to campaign to get that number bumped up.”
“Maybe later. The gov’ment and I don’t actually see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.”
“Like the fact that there’s supposed to be an ‘e-r-n’ sound in the middle of the word,” Saratoga said. “By the way, that was my surprised face. Anyhoo, I think I could go for that steak. Almost becoming a killer works up the appetite.”
Simone’s rich laughter had both of them joining in. She might be a federal attorney, but Simone Pisgah was a woman who liked to have a good time. Their small party of three ended up being a party of seven by the time the steak house closed.
They were quite the motley crew. Simone, the attorney slash motorcycle racer; Bourbon, the cellist who specialized in delivering haymakers (knock-out punches); Amanda-Lynn Smith, the author of horror books; Rachel Vaskin, the pharmacist; Giovannia “Gio” Fordham, the enchantress; Ellie McCoy, the moonshiner moonlighting as a small business owner; and Dr. Lula “Saucy” Delphine Bazanac-Saucier, the associate professor.
Saratoga felt so normal being a simple furniture maker. But that didn’t last long.
Somewhere between sharing an entire cake and two bottles of wine, she and her fellow diners were the newest chapter of Rho Beta Omicron Tau.
Chapter Three
September
Lucky they had the truck version of the USS Defiant™, otherwise it might’ve made the task of pulling sorority sisters out of the clutches of angry mobs a tad more difficult.
Saratoga winced as Ellie emitted a “hootie-hoo” that pierced her eardrums, even over the phone. Obviously, the woman was having a good time. Knowing her sorors, she bet dollars to doughnuts they were riding dirty; that is, carrying a felony’s worth of illegal firearms.
Saratoga hadn’t realized she was smiling until Bourbon spoke.
“Okay, totally creeping me out with your smile.”
“Good. It’s the least you deserve. I’m starting to sound like y’all even in my thoughts. I actually used the phrase ‘riding dirty’ in the Kentucky manner.”
“Vindication,” Bourbon smiled as she pumped her fist. “Before you know it, you’ll lose the rest of your annoying New England habits. I remember when you thought it meant driving without insurance.”
“Just to reiterate…I hate you.”
Before she could once again remind their motley crew that they were trying to make a discreet escape, Saucy, who should’ve been holding on tight to the truck bed bars, started waving the RBOT flag.
Despite being angry, Saratoga had to smile. They probably looked like a chase scene from the Dukes of Hazzard®.
Saratoga waited until they had outrun those foolish enough to chase them, to address her sorors. “Do you just like to have enemies, or…” Saratoga began.
“Or. I pick or!” Bourbon shouted, as if she was going to win a prize for her answer.
“You’re such a whack job.”
“I’m a whack job who has a flamethrower. You will thank me when the zombie apocalypse happens.”
Saratoga was going to put her foot down, but then Gio’s voice came in over the phone. “We should sell flamethrowers along with vittles.”
“Yeah, because that wouldn’t have the ATF all up our asses,” Saratoga said. However, it was like she’d never spoken.
“We could totally run this town. Then, once weed is legalized, we’d already have flamethrowers, thanks to my forward thinking. Money will be made hand-over-fist. When rival cartels try to horn in on our territory, we’d go all fire-breathing dragon on them. And then we can be, like, ‘in your face, bitches,’” Bourbon said.
Rachel and Amanda-Lynn hadn’t added to the conversation, but their chuckles said it all.
Saratoga did not want to hear any more. “I have seen a lot of shit in my twenty-six years, but until this moment, I have never had experienced the phenomenon of having a headache in my actual asshole.”
Saratoga didn’t think she could get any madder, but then Bourbon spoke. “I bet an enema…or ten…would take care of that.”
The headache in her asshole started to throb. “I. Am. Not. Talking. To. You.”
“You do realize that by telling me that you aren’t talking to me, that you are in fact talking to me, right?
Saratoga shot her the middle finger.
“On the glass-half-full side, we got four new pledges.”
“On the glass-half-empty side, I had to wade through an angry mob in order to pull off a hot extraction.”
“A) that means you earned your RBOT ‘hot extraction’ badge, and B) that wasn’t a true mob because they didn’t have torches.”
“They didn’t have torches, but I believe they were in the process of rounding up some lions…to throw you to.”
Ellie made a pooh-poohing sound. “If they had rounded up some lions—which by the way, aren’t native to Kentucky—we would’ve had some lion on the menu next week.”
Bourbon took up the thread of crazy. “And I could grill wearing the lion skin in the same manner that Hercules wore the skin of the Nemean lion he slayed as part of his labors.”
“Not helping your I-don’t-need-to-be-somewhere-wearing-a-straightjacket case. You were on the campus of a seminary.”
“They have women there with boobs,” Bourbon said by way of explanation.
“They’re also women who are the wives of pastors and deacons. And women who are studying to be chaplains, missionaries and such…at one of the most conservative seminaries in the country.”
“So you think offering them a RBOT stole was too much?”
“Not at all. Maybe we can get a RBOT communion set and bible covers right before we slide head first into hell with gasoline drawers on!”
“So that’s a no. Or is it a maybe? Because you going to one of those arts schools, you probably know people who could make that happen.”
Saratoga thought about putting Bourbon out of the truck. Three things stopped her.
First, it was Bourbon’s truck. Second, they had a fish fry coming up, and nobody threw down on the grill like Bourbon. Third, she really couldn’t be bothered slamming on brakes.
Chapter Four
April
“I’m starting to think the other sororities don’t like us,” Gio said from the starch station. She was officially in charge of all the food that, when eaten in large amounts, could give you a heart attack.
“Who gives a shit if they don’t?” Amanda-Lynn asked as she battered another row of catfish. “Everybody else on campus sure does. I believe that’s the chancellor’s wife in line, right behind the dean of engineering.”
“People know good food when they wrap their maws around it,” Ellie said as she poured a little moonshine into a batch of caramel sauce.
“Since our initial fish fry, everyone wants a piece of this.”
Bourbon chuckled. “You’re talking about the food, right?”
Saucy winked. “Am I? Anyway, case in point: the line. Do you see it?”
“Right now, there are astronauts on the international space station who see two things from their position high above the earth: the Great Wall of China and this line.” Ellie paused and emitted a “hootie-hoo.”
Bourbon was pumped. “These cats aren’t even all from our university. People are literally coming from the surrounding counties.”
“And—funny thing—they’re not here to try and kill you,” Saratoga threw in.
“Of course not. I have charcoal and meat. And I also have a crossbow if someone wants to act froggy.”
So caught up in their conversation, Bourbon had forgot that Pluck and Simone were on video chat, until Pluck shouted—as was her normal volume.
“Hey, pan the camera so I can see the eye candy standing in your line.”
Along with Simone, Pluck Brevard was a soror from the Original Chapter. Whereas Simone had a semblance of sophistication, Pluck was all crazy. Her skill set was setting people straight
in a whole bunch of languages. Bourbon wasn’t going to even try and pretend not to be jealous that Pluck had created a paying gig out of basically cussing people out. Apparently, there was an abundance of people who needed someone to tell them in non-English to eat a dick.
“Pluck, you’ve got plenty of eye candy in your own damn house,” Saratoga said. “I should call your man and let him know you’re on video chat perving on lesser specimens of manhood.”
Simone didn’t waste any time jumping on the crazy train. “Yeah, and then when he arrives wearing a whole lot of rage and a pair of loose fit jeans that showcase that vee-shape, y’all could have a fish fry and a cage match.”
Pluck liked this idea. “We can call the special a ‘rock your world.’”
“How much can we charge for that?” Saratoga asked.
Taking a look at the hotties in line, Pluck did some quick calculations. “Thirty. Thirty-five if they want front row seats to go with their grub.”
“If we’re going to add hot half-naked men to the menu, then we should sell bottles of baby oil,” Amanda-Lynn piped in.
Bourbon looked out over the line and spotted Cumberland Lexington. Speaking of hot men…
Cumberland made it a point to be wherever they were. And since he was so good to look at, she made sure he knew.
“I’m so glad we invested in this food truck.”
“Same,” Saratoga said as she smacked her lips. “Where else can you get moonshine caramel apples, elk ribs, and bison bites without having to risk walking onto the set of a documentary about mountain people?”
Saucy protested on general principle. “Hey, I am mountain people.”
Whatever comeback that would’ve been uttered was overshadowed by Bourbon’s own announcement.
“Ribs up!”
And that effectively shut down all conversation and got the crowd cheering.
***
In the real world, a balanced meal consisted of vegetables, fruit, lean proteins, and grains. In the RBOT world, a balanced meal consisted of salt, liquor, bread, and fat. As a physician, he should’ve been more concerned about the meal he was about to order. As a country boy, he could give two fucks. Kind of like the women that made up the sorority.
Rho Beta Omicron Tau took crazy to unprecedented levels. They could be classified as carnival people, which would make Bourbon Berea their ringmaster. He’d let that thought pass his lips once, which had led to Bourbon trying to maim him. Of course, his gift of bruised ribs wasn’t enough to stop him from coming back for their food.
Despite Bourbon’s numerous attempts to accidentally-on-purpose maim him, she liked him, which is why he always received a little something extra. Of course, she made him work for it…every time. Last time, he’d had to twerk before she’d handed over his food. It was worth it, though.
As they said back home, those women put their foot in it when they cooked. They had no menu. Customers just forked over money, and in return got a box of food that took two hands to hold. His mouth watered, thinking of that food…and it watered more, thinking of the woman who made it her business to yank his chain.
When it was his turn, he handed over two twenties. “Hello, Bourbon, Saratoga.”
Saratoga smiled at him. Bourbon voiced a complaint.
“I believe you were instructed that you needed to be half naked the next time you came.”
“The next time I come, I intend to be completely naked as I empty myself into you.”
Every one of the sorors gasped, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Bourbon.
“One day, your mouth is going to get you in trouble, Cumberland.”
“If ‘trouble’ is a metaphor for you, then I certainly hope so.”
“Ain’t nothing between us but air and opportunity,” Bourbon said.
“Do we need to hose y’all down?” Saratoga asked.
“Probably,” Saucy interrupted. “But first we need to address Cumberland’s failure to be half naked. I want half-nakedness now!”
Ever the peacemaker, Saratoga tossed out a suggestion. “We’ll toss in an extra rack of ribs if you rip off your shirt.”
“Real slow,” Bourbon said. “While you’re rubbing baby oil on yourself to a song that screams sex.”
“I had a late night. How about I return tomorrow wearing something tight?”
“How tight?” Bourbon asked.
“Looks-painted-on tight.”
“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Cumberland.”
“I’m going to the store right after this to get a compression T-shirt that’s two sizes too small.”
A woman in line behind him interrupted with a question. “What time is this display of hotness going down? If you’re going to be here tomorrow wearing that, I’m definitely going to be here.”
“Same time,” he said.
“We’ll see you tomorrow, Cumberland,” Saratoga said.
“’Bye, asshole,” Bourbon threw out.
Cumberland stared directly at her, as if he knew that steely-eyed challenge made her wet. “See you tomorrow, ringmaster.”
***
“And that makes six grand,” Saucy said, as she fanned herself with a stack of twenties.
“If Cumberland shows up tomorrow, we’ll probably add another five hundred to the till,” Saratoga said.
“There’s no ‘if’ about it. He’s a Kentucky boy. He’ll show up, if for no other reason than to be contrary.”
“I got a shit ton of baby-making songs cued up and ready on my MP3 player.”
“Bourbon, you got your extra pair of panties cued up?”
“Who said I wore panties?”
“Be that as it may, make sure you wear long pants tomorrow. No one wants to see girl cum sliding down your legs when Cumberland shows up looking more fuck-tastic than usual.”
“Whatever. Who said I wanted him?”
A plethora of side eye was directed her way.
“Don’t worry. You can still pretend to hate him even while he puts it on you.”
“Maybe I’ll be the one putting it on him.”
Saratoga laughed right out loud. “Please. As you said, that boy’s from Kentucky. Kentucky boys know how to play ball, how to make bourbon, and how to bang like a shithouse door in the wind. Best be investing in some Epsom salts.”
“Hate every damn one of you right now.”
“Hate us later. Right now we need to dig through your closet and find something for you to wear that will help Cumberland lose the rest of his mind.”
Chapter Five
“I’m just wondering if you’re going to have broken ribs or a displaced spleen from squeezing yourself into that tight-ass shirt,” his best friend, Ashland asked.
“Maybe a bruised sternum, but seeing the look on Bourbon’s face will be worth any pain I’m currently in.”
“Let’s step it up. I’m guessing you have, at most, ten more minutes of oxygen in that shirt.”
Cumberland hoped they wouldn’t make him wait in line. Ashland guessed ten minutes, but he’d be lucky if he lasted another eight minutes. The only way he’d been able to squeeze into the shirt was with the help of copious amounts of coconut oil.
Cumberland smiled when he spotted the red carpet and velvet ropes. Smirking, he walked the red carpet all the way up to the front.
“Damn, Kentucky. You’re repping your state hard,” Saratoga said.
“Cosign. Now I believe you have some strutting to do,” Bourbon said.
“Strutting wasn’t part of the deal.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he said.
A moment later, the air was filled with the first notes of “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”. He made his way down the makeshift catwalk, putting every bit of corn-fed Kentucky boy in each stride.
With Bourbon’s fantasy stuck in his mind, he executed a slow turn. If he was going to rip off his shirt, Cumberland wanted to see her eyes while he did it
.
Knowing she watched his every move, he grasped the hem of his shirt and ripped it clean off. Despite the sizeable crowd, and the choruses of “oh damns”, he only cared about Bourbon’s reaction. He wanted her to crave him in the same way he craved her.
“I held up my end of the bargain. Now make it worth my while.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll join you on the red carpet.”
And with that, she pulled off her T-shirt, revealing a camouflage bustier. What little bit of air he was able to suck in left his body in a rush. That woman already knew how to make a pair of tight jeans and cowgirl boots look good. Add that bustier to the mix, and ‘good’ got blown out of the water. Every damn fantasy he’d had and all the ones he’d yet to have stood before him. He realized other men could see his woman dressed in a bustier, and he temporarily lost his mind.
Snagging her before she could take one step, Cumberland pulled Bourbon to him.
“I will kill every fucking man here.”
“That shouldn’t get me all hot and bothered, but I believe I just came a little bit.”
Before he could respond to that, she pulled him down. His sense of self-preservation should’ve made him at least attempt to protect his vital organs, but his cock was in charge at the moment. She could literally shank his ass right now, and as long as she pressed her lush curves against him while she did it, it’d be worth it.
Every last bit of his good sense was being used to remind him he should not throw Bourbon down and fuck her on the first flat surface he came across.
It took him a minute to realize that Bourbon was speaking. “You ain’t the only one who has Kentucky in your veins,” she taunted.
That was all the warning he got, for a moment later she pressed her lips to his. It was the most sensual thing he’d ever experienced, and Bourbon wasn’t even using tongue. All he could do was stand there and take it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Damn. Shit. He was going to combust. Dredging up superhuman strength, he stepped back.
“One day, we won’t be standing in the middle of campus. We’ll be standing in my bedroom.”