The Renegades

by P. R. Paige

  "Who wants a sexy ass anyway," Rome asks. "What's it going do for you?"

  "Well, I wouldn't mind an ass like Jennifer Lopez myself," India says.

  "Me either," Storm agrees.

  "You know what ladies," Rome says. "Listening to all of you talk about breasts, asses' and millions of dollars has me thinking also, and you want to know what I'm thinking?... I'm the luckiest man alive, and do you want to know why I'm the luckiest man alive?... Because I have it all."

  "I won't argue with you there," Storm says, stretching out her arms over her head with a warm glow splashed across her face. "Let's celebrate and take a trip somewhere."

  "You have my vote," I say, my eyes twinkling.

  "Where should we go?" India asks.

  "How about the Virgin Islands or Honolulu?" Rome suggests.

  Rome erects himself from his chair. "Life is too sweet. To sweet! Too sweet!"

  I have never witnessed this kind of exuberance before in Rome. I'm seeing him in a new light and it's quite notable.

  He stoops down in front of us, showering us with his beautiful eyes and warm smile. "Do you want to know why I'm so lucky?"

  "I do," I say.

  "I have the privilege of sharing my life with three remarkable women who I cherish."

  I listen to Rome share with us how lucky he is and India confess her love for us and suddenly I have a notion of my own. "You know what this ice cream makes me want to do? Sing?" I break into a song The Best by Tina Turner, a song I choose when things are looking oh so peachy in my life.

  "As I sit here in this luxuriously comfortable chair, listening to Thursday sing and feeling like I can do anything," Storm says to all of us, "I have decided to forgive my mother for cutting me out of her will."

  "I'm glad to hear it," Rome says to Storm.

  This ice cream is having the most amazing and positive effects on all of us.

  "As a matter of fact," Storm continues. "I think it would be a good idea if we all forgave someone."

  "I'm game," I say to Storm.

  Storm looks to Rome. "Rome, what about you, are you game?"

  "Let me think about it," Rome says.

  "India?" Storm says. "Is there anyone you need to forgive?"

  "Well, there is this one person," India says, staring straight ahead, "but I'm going to have to think about it. Maybe you could follow up with me in a month or two."

  "And that's exactly what I'll do." Storm washes down three more scoops of ice cream, licking her lips and the spoon. "What is in this ice cream? Why does it taste so good?"

  "Why does it make you feel so good?" I say.

  Storm throws herself into a standing position, stretches out her arms and lunges forward. "I'm feeling like some salsa right about now."

  Loud enough to wake the dead, Storm yells across the room. "Is there any salsa music in the house?"

  Mysteriously, a half minute passes and salsa music blasts from the wall speakers, which shakes me as I was clearly not expecting to hear salsa music.

  Now, I'm thinking to myself: Is this some version of Fantasy Island where anything is manifested upon request?

  While I enjoy the energetic sounds of the bongos and congas, bopping my head and snapping my fingers, Storm performs her sexy salsa moves. Soon, she is joined by several other enthusiastic dancers, eager to exorcise their bliss like the rest of us.

  As I watch Storm and the other joy-filled customers exchange oh so sexy provocative dance moves, I remember that we are to call Monti and wake her from her nap, and we do just that.

  India is all sprawled out on the chair, legs and arms open and head hanging off to the side. "I'm not sure I can take it anymore."

  "Take what anymore?" Rome asks her.

  "Feeling this good," India says, wiping the sweat from her face. "I think I'm overheating and I need a cigarette."

  "But you don't smoke," Rome says to her.

  "I think I might have to start," India says, struggling to hold her head up.

  India's condition is beginning to startle me. "Are you okay?" I ask India.

  "I'm okay," India says, fanning herself.

  Monti approaches our table, looking as lively as ever. "Thanks for the call," she says to us.

  "Of course," Rome says.

  India struggles to hold her head up, raises her hand as if she's in school. "Monti, can you help me?"

  "Sure, baby girl, what is it?"

  Sweat pours from India's forehead. She unbuttons her sweater, exposing her black bra. She is wasted beyond all comprehension. "I need a cigarette."

  Monti steps to India and helps her out of the chair. "We're not supposed to smoke in here, but because I like you, I'll see what I can do."

  Monti wraps her arm around India's back. "Come with me."

  Monti escorts her across the room, and they disappear into a sea of delighted customers.

  "I really don't want India smoking cigarettes," Rome says.

  I have never seen India in such an inebriated state before and it concerns me. We all love the ice cream and all are having a good time, but the ice cream may be having a negative effect on India.

  While India is off smoking a cigarette even though she doesn't smoke and Storm is engaged in salsa dance moves, Rome and I are submerged in the semi-reclining chairs, spread out like lions with a full belly. My chest and stomach are extended to its full capacity. This orgasmic banana ice cream has trumped every negative emotion, thought or memory.

  I lean my head over the edge of the chair, soaking up the mood and the intensity of it all, and I savor the moments.

  Fifteen minutes later, India returns bubbly and full of life. She is accompanied by a woman, more than six feet tall, wearing thick black framed glasses. She and India are huddled together like teenagers.

  "Meet my new best friend," India says to Rome and me. "Don't we look great together?" India and the woman are cheek to cheek, gushing with smiling faces. "Dorie, this is Rome and Thursday."

  "Hello, Dorie," Rome says.

  "Hi," I say.

  "Hello," Dorie says, directing her attention to Rome. "India has told me all about the living arrangement you have with the ladies, and I have to tell you. I want in."

  My mouth falls to the floor. I bend over, pick it up and place it back onto my face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I ask this woman.

  "What I'm saying is, where can I get an application?" Dorie asks Rome.

  Storm ricochets back to the table and resumes a seated position on the reclining chairs. "What's going on here?"

  "Storm, this is Dorie, India's new best friend," I say, "Dorie, this is Storm."

  "Hello, Dorie," Storm says.

  Before Dorie has a chance to speak, I say to Storm, "Dorie is interested in joining our family."

  "Or really," Storm says, studying Dorie from top to bottom.

  After an awkward and drawn out silence, Dorie directs her attention to Rome, "So, where can I get an application?"

  Rome clears his throat, looks to all of us and smiles. "Dorie is your name, is it?"

  "That's right."

  "Well, Dorie," Rome says. "I'm not exactly sure what India has told you, but--"

  Storm completely cuts Rome off. "What Rome is trying to tell you is that our family is full."

  "Oh, that's too bad. I heard about all the fun you guys have together."

  "It's okay," India assures Dorie. "I'll take your number and let you know if anything opens up."

  "You promise?" Dorie asks India.

  "I promise."

  As soon as Dorie returns to her table in the back, Storm's eyes dart at India. "What is the matter with you? Asking strangers to join our family? Is that what you want?"

  "Calm down. I was just having some fun," India says. "I wasn't really going to let her join our family."

  "Good because you had me worried," Storm says.

  "I take it you are feeling better now," I say to India.

  "Much," India says. "Life is grand. Wouldn't y
ou agree?"

  "I would agree," I say.

  When I see Monti at the next table, I raise my hand, summoning her to our table.

  "Are we having a fabulous time," Monti asks us.

  "The best," India says.

  "Monti, is there any way we could stay here for the rest of our lives?" I ask her.

  "You know how much I like all of you, but unfortunately, there is a two-hour maximum," Monti says. "There's hundreds of people outside waiting to get in. I'm sorry."

  "Do you think I could get some more ice cream?" India asks Monti.

  Before Monti can answer, Rome interjects. "That's not necessary, Monti. She's had enough."

  "No, I haven't," India whines.

  "Yes, you have," he insists."

  India squints her eyes at Rome and twists her mouth. She then heads towards Dorie's table before moving from table to table, speaking to the customers as if she's on the welcoming committee for Paradise Ice Cream.

  Ten minutes pass and just as Rome is placing a $50 tip on the table, India returns to the table and drops down in the chair.

  "I'd glad you're back," I say to India, "because I have an announcement to make." I ease forward and uncross my legs. "Ladies, gentleman." I am bursting with a hint of enthusiasm and seriousness all rolled up into one. I continue. "Let's make a pact today. Let's agree to"...I'm thinking, trying to come up with something clever, then it hits me.

  "Let's agree to eat this ice cream every day until we blow up like New Jersey Governor Chris Christie."

  "I'll agree to that," Rome says.

  "Me, too," India says.

  I look to Storm, waiting for her response.

  "Storm, are you with us on this?" I ask her.

  "Okay, Okay, yeah, let's do it." Storm says, surprisingly.

  If I could bottle up the positive energy exploding between us right now, there wouldn't be a bottle large enough to contain it.

  "So, let me ask all of you something?" Rome says. "Are you guys feeling good?"

  "Is orgasmic banana ice cream good?" I say.

  "Does Donald Trump wear hair plugs?" Storm says.

  "Is Bill Gates rich?" India says.

  We all burst into laughter as it is obvious that we are all stoned out of our minds.

  I am caught off guard when Rome switches places with Storm, landing him right next to me. Up until this moment, I have been the odd-girl-out. It's the first time Rome and I have shared space all morning.

  "Hey, you," he says to me, taking my hand into his and kissing it. "Are you all right over here by yourself?"

  "I haven't been alone," I remind him. "I have Storm by my side."

  "True, but… having Storm is not the same as having me by your side. Is it?"

  I do not speak. I allow my smiling eyes to answer for me.

  A slow sexy smile spreads across his face, and my insides melt. His suggestive smile activates my sexual inclinations, and I turn away. I'm just too turned on by him right now.

  Monti delivers our check, and I utter a sigh of relief. The sexual tension surges through me. Rome presents her with his credit card, and she disappears into the crowd.

  My eyes stretch over to Rome, who can't help but look edible every waking hour of the day. It should be illegal to look that appetizing, especially in public when there is not much I can do to help myself to an extra-large order of Rome Nicki.

  But wait.

  Why can't I help myself to him?

  What's stopping me?

  Might he reject me again?

  Perhaps.

  Perhaps not.

  What the hell?

  I can't help myself. I'm doing it. Besides, he started it by switching places with Storm and igniting my sexual itch with his attentive ways.

  I don't think about it anymore.

  I hurl myself out of my chair and throw myself onto Rome, drape my arms around him and suffocate him with kisses.

  "Something on your mind?" he asks me.

  "You bet it is," I say to him. "Let me show you." I continue to saturate his face with my mouth and tongue.

  Moments later, Storm joins in and climbs upon my back. Now it's three of us in one chair, me on top of Rome and Storm on top of me. Ten seconds after that, India joins the party, pouncing on Storm like we are a pack of wolves.

  I glow because I am a part of that pack.

  I gleam with childish delight.

  I continue to infuse Rome with my sweet kisses, and it's perfectly apparent to me that I am not ready to depart from the House of Rome, and not sure if I ever will be.

  This is my life, my family, and there is no other place I'd rather be.

  Episode Twenty

  A night like no other has come to a close, and there is much to write about in my journal. Not only is this day edged in my memory banks for all time to come, but to make certain of this fact, we have in our possession tangerine orange bowls and matching spoons as complimentary gifts from Paradise Ice Cream.

  The time is five o'clock in the morning when we return home, and though exhausted, I'm not ready to turn in just yet. I am still drenched in feel-great feelings. Somehow, sleeping right now just isn't all that important. I am compelled to grab a pad and pen and plot out my future for the next five years. There is so much I want to accomplish, including finishing the book I started and perhaps penning a sequel.

  There is something magical about blissful emotions that make me want to conquer the world. I consider myself a happy person, what I experienced at Paradise Ice Cream is beyond my wildest adventure.

  I do not make it to work the next morning. It was never my intention to do so anyway. As this is happening more and more, I wonder if I might take Rome up on his offer, resign from my position with Perrin and devote my life to writing full time.

  Around noon, we all congregate at the breakfast nook, filling our bellies with waffles and orange juice.

  Unanimously, we all agree that the ice cream was definitely spiked with something. What was the something? It's anyone's guess, but for certain, it was more than just bananas.

  "No cream and sugar ever made me feel this good before," Storm says.

  When the doorbell rings, I say to Rome. "I bet it's your mother, coming to taunt us again."

  Rome rises from the table and heads towards the front door. He then stops in his tracks and turns to us. "She's not coming anywhere near this place as long as she thinks that it could be haunted."

  Several moments later, Rome returns to the dining area. He is joined by a tiny uniform police officer, and when I say tiny, I mean tiny. He's a, what is the politically correct term, little person. I want to say midget, but I understand that to be offensive to some.

  I drink in his miniature frame, and do a double take again, again and again.

  Am I seeing this right?

  It's apparent from the frozen stares on India and Storm's faces that they are just as startled by his itsy-bitsy anatomy as I am.

  "Good afternoon," the police officer says. "My name is Officer Starter Kit."

  When he announces his name, I so much want to laugh and I almost do, but I stop myself.

  "My apologies for interrupting your lunch," Officer Kit says to us. He's balding and wears sunglasses.

  Rome directs his attention to India. "Officer Kit has some information for you about Doggie."

  India wipes the remnants of strawberry waffles from her mouth, rises and steps to Officer Kit. She rubs the palm of her hands together, seemingly keen on hearing what he has to say. "You have information for me?"

  "I just wanted to follow up with you regarding your missing dog."

  "Did you find her?" India asks.

  "Well, one of our investigators has been looking into the matter, and we believe, based on your description, that she was spotted in Puppy Lane about two days ago."

  "I figured as much," Rome says. "She's always been fond of that place."

  "What was she doing?" India asks Officer Kit. "Did she look happy?"

  Officer
Kit skims through his notes. "May I sit down?" he asks Rome.

  "I'm sorry," Rome says and pulls out a chair for Officer Kit. "Of course."

  Officer Kit benches down in the kitchen chair and it is a sight to see as his feet do not reach the floor. I lower my head in an attempt to keep from howling like a cow, but it's too late. A small chuckle sneaks through.

  I cover my mouth, hoping that no one heard me, but it's evident that they did when Rome delivers me one of those please-stop-embarrassing-me looks.

  Officer Kit continues on, thumbing through his notes. "From what my detective documented in this report, Doggie seemed quite content. Let me ask you something," Officer Kit says, looking at us. "Was Doggie in a relationship at all?

  "No, she's single," India confirms right away.

  Now, I'm scratching my head. Again. Did India just say that her dog was single?

  India continues. "Doggie did fool around here and there, but there was no one special."

  "Are you sure about that?" Officer Kit asks, continuingly studying his notes.

  "Do you know something that I don't?" India asks him.

  Officer Kit closes his notebook. "I'll say this. From my detective's notes, Doggie was neck and neck with another Beagle, who goes by the name Handler."

  "I know Handler," Storm says. "He stays down the street, a very affluent background."

  "Well, I don't think Handler is staying down the street anymore as Handler and Doggie have supposedly made a life together on the run," Officer Kit says.

  "Really?" India says. Her voice is soft and innocent.

  "It pains me to say this or ask this for that matter," Officer Kit says, "but did someone here have a falling out with Doggie?"

  I rest my head inside my hands. My eyes are closed as I smirk. The way that they speak of Doggie, including the police officer, as if she's human is more than I can stomach, however, at the same time, I find it insanely entertaining.

  India's eyes pivot to Rome, and then to Storm as if awaiting some kind of confession.

  "I'm the guilty party," Storm says, holding her head in shame. "I did switch her dog food."

  India's eyes turn towards Storm. "You didn't tell me that."