“I’ve just been going along with the flow,” I complained to the entire world, “it’s hardly my fault I’m surrounded by dumbasses.”
“She’s won’t start punching us next, will she?” T-Bone whispered to Pocket.
“If she does, we should just let her, that guard is fierce,” Pocket whispered back.
“Never your fault, is it?!?” JoJo yelled.
“Don’t go there, sis. I took a lot of fucking belt whippings for your ass over the years,” I reminded her.
She nodded in that angry way women do when they’re so pissed they almost can’t think. “What about the rock?”
“Wha . . . what rock?” I mumbled.
“The rock you punched to death, you moron!”
“Just . . . having some fun.”
“I’m sure no one could have possibly noticed that, could they?”
“Just . . . having some fun.”
“Three offers, King Henry,” she reminded me. “That I know about.”
“I get it . . . I do,” I told her. “You sure that ain’t coming from your hubby though to scare me?”
She put her hands on her hips, such as they were. “If he wanted you dead, you would know it. I was in the room when you called and told him about Hector, do you know what he did after he hung up the phone?”
“Laugh maniacally?”
“He kissed me and called you a useful idiot for ridding him of an even bigger useless idiot.”
“Look at me . . . so fucking relieved,” I deadpanned.
“Oh, I admit he used the killing to guilt you into all the concessions he has, but trust me, Little Bro, he’s ecstatic that he has you exactly where he has you and the only part of the situation that has him worried is that he might have to punish another Nation for trying to kill you—”
“Look at me . . . so fucking relieved,” I deadpanned again.
“—or he might have to stand aside if one of them claims some Were Nation honor bullshit—”
“Look at me . . . so fucking relieved,” I deadpanned thrice.
“—which is why he sent me to tell you to stop being a moron!” she finally finished.
JoJo turned to Welf. “My husband has a favor to ask of you, Mr. Welf.”
Welf perked up a bit. “Yes?”
“He will owe your father a favor if you allow King Henry to spend this event in your luxury box instead of out in the crowd where anyone might cause problems, including King Henry himself. Is this satisfactory?”
Welf squinted. “My father?”
“Just your father,” JoJo said. “Not your mother. He was very clear on that.”
“Not worth it,” Welf decided.
“Brother!” Vicky scolded from her little huddle of whisperers.
“I’ve been anticipating this event for months and now you propose I spend every day of it with the Foul Mouth? And I’m not allowed to experience the joy of telling him he can’t return tomorrow? I will not—”
Vicky practiced a completely different kind of sisterly training than JoJo did. She just ignored him. Instead she walked up to JoJo and gave her a surprise hug that put JoJo completely on tilt. “Of course we will protect King Henry and let him stay with us for as long as he requires. He’s our friend.”
JoJo studied Vicky. “You’re the artist?”
Vicky beamed. “I am! Can you believe it?”
“I’d love to have you do a spectro-portrait of Horatio and me,” JoJo admitted. “His birthday is in May . . .”
So Horatio didn’t want to kill me.
He said.
If I believed a word he said.
Didn’t want to kill me . . .
. . . just every Were Nation in the world wanted to kill me.
For honor.
What a shitty reason to die.
[CLICK]
Pocket decided he wanted to go backstage, so he could grab Jesus and bring him back here now that the obstacle race was over.
Jesus’ dog came in third.
There was cheering.
Even from Welf.
Did you really want me to spend ten minutes describing it to you in detail? About dogs and werewolves and werefoxes and werecoyotes running, jumping, and climbing through a plastic box?
Suppose it’s fucked up I just gloss over a friend’s big moment like that. Maybe if Jesus was the one talking to a tape recorder it would be more prominent, but to me? Can barely remember it. Sure as fuck can’t make it exciting. Sure as an even bigger fuck don’t want to spend ten minutes on it all.
All the shit that’s about to go down and you think I’m worrying about dogs running an obstacle course?
Bad enough I spent time on T-Bone’s video game bullshit.
Only did to make you realize my mindset.
Make you feel the same feeling of unease that dug into the back of my neck.
Make you wonder if this all has meaning, all has a point, when will it all go wrong?
Been feeling that for days. Ever since we arrived at the Ouroboros and figured out the Crazy was near but not yet unleashed. Supernatural casino. Got to be problems? Right? But where are they?
And the Bitch-Queen herself, Fate, just laughs at me the whole time.
Keeps fucking with me.
Keeps punking my ass like Welf with his Construct.
Supernatural casino run by Vega so I’m about to get my ass—but he gives you a free room and a shit ton of money!
Get called up to a luxury box, surely now something gonna—but it’s just Vicky Welf being nice to you.
Welf and Jason are there, surely they gonna—nope, Jason’s preoccupied with his own life and Welf’s just his usual douchebag self you’ve dealt with for years.
JoJo at the door, she’ll tell me I need to run for it or we both need to—nah, again you’re being too jumpy, you fucktard. She just wants to let you know to keep it all quiet on the western front and everything will be fine. Horatio Vega has your back.
Just relax.
Watch the show.
Been how long and still the worst thing that’s happened to you is your girlfriend breaking up with you?
Didn’t even break up with you over cheating on her.
She just had a job in a foreign country.
What’s with all the whining and drinking?
Ain’t been nothing but fun and games so far, has it?
Panem et circenses, lupae filius.
The Bitch-Queen gave me a sultry smile and flashed me her huge, milky, good fortune cookies.
I’m not really so bad, am I, big boy?
Nothing to worry about, King Henry.
Boobies . . .
“I’ll go with you,” I decided.
Welf turned in his seat to look at me like I was an even bigger moron than JoJo thought I was. “Didn’t your—”
“You my sister?” I shot back.
“I’m just pointing out the obvious contradiction.”
“You always do what your sister asks you?”
Across the room, Vicky laughed at the very thought.
“If you want to die, then fine, go die.” Welf waved at the door like he was done with me. “Why do I always try to save him from his own stupidity?”
Nazi asshole really thinks he’s the hero of his own tale, don’t he? I thought before turning to T-Bone. “You coming?”
He sat there guiltily, big screen TV giving a perfect picture of the Day of Speed in front of him, his phone, a tablet, and about twenty cords on the table. “Do I have to?” he asked. “I’m trying to get around the security software they have set up and record all this on my SD cards. Only 720P to save space, of course, but . . . might be a nice souvenir, right?”
“Now who’s white hat, you fucking pirate?” I accused, realizing how much bootleg copies of this event would go for if we could make a market for them.
He gave me his own version of the don’t-give-a-crap shrug.
“I’ll go,” Jason Jackson surprised me by saying.
Welf gave
him a frown. “Don’t save him and die heroically, please.”
Jason grunted. “Yeah, that one doesn’t have a high chance of happening.”
I nodded at Pocket to open the door and head out. “We’ll just be in an elevator to the basement and then back up, Welf.”
“Nothing bad ever happens in elevators,” Welf tried to make some kind of point.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your black friend safe and you keep my black friend safe,” I said. “Hey, maybe after this is all over we can set them up on a play date together, what you think about that?”
Jason grabbed my shoulder and pushed me out of the luxury box door before Welf and I could continue. Good thing he did or we’d have been at it for hours.
Once we were in the luxury-no-stanky-ass-plebeians elevator, Jason shook his head at me. “Sorry to hear about you and Boomworm, Price.”
Once again I regretted my no drinking pledge. “Yeah, well . . . ain’t we all?”
Pocket nodded vigorously.
I’d have punched him, but I was the smallest guy in the elevator by far. Bunch of giants in my life, I tell ya, each bigger than the next. Even Vicky was taller than me. I outweighed Veronica . . . but only due to her diet of cocaine and chai tea, judging by how skinny she was.
“Heinrich ain’t,” Jason pointed out as the elevator started moving downward.
“Too bad he’s with Veronica Fucking Lee. How the hell did that happen by the way?”
Jason chuckled. “Ran into her a couple months ago. Wasn’t even any dating to it really, just her suddenly spending all her time with him, following him around.”
“Spending his money too, I bet.”
“Little bit . . . he’s as happy as he’s been since you broke him and Hope up though,” Jason accused.
“What you saying, Jackson?” I asked threateningly.
Pocket translated, “He means: don’t mess with Veronica, or else.”
“Why I want to do anything to her? She’s too skinny to be my type.”
Jason and Pocket shared a laugh.
Joke being that King Henry Price’s type was any type.
[CLICK]
In my defense, I wasn’t so much the one who fucked Veronica as she’s the one to fuck me.
Which felt really weird.
Veronica Lee knew who I was.
Veronica Lee wanted me enough to give Welf a bullshit excuse, head down to the backstage area, come find me, and wave for me to get away from Pocket and Jesus. Jason had already run off to talk to Mr. Black about his fight tomorrow night. So . . . the only thing keeping me from doing exactly what I was told not to do . . . was two gay lovers who have to pretend they ain’t gay for each other when I’m around, even though it’s a really big moment for both of them and all they want to do is have a crazy gay makeout session with each other.
Do you think Pocket and Jesus gave much of a thought when I made a comment about taking a backstage tour by myself?
Nah.
You shouldn’t do this.
I frowned. Where did that come from? It was a very quiet, very far away voice.
It’s your conscience speaking!
No, no, in situations like this I’m supposed to be the voice of reason and it’s the other guy who is the one that’s pushing me into it. I don’t have a conscience, man, never heard of you before.
But you know this is wrong! Having your rebound be another man’s girlfriend? What would Valentine say?
Nope, not listening.
We weren’t alone. Busy down there as contestants filtered out and filtered in. All types moving about in the crowd. I’d figured it would be safe for me down here and out of the way, but it was anything but that. Maybe Welf was right for once.
Maybe Jason is right for once too! my conscience tried.
You really suck at this.
I never get any practice!
Veronica Lee in her red party dress wasn’t hard to make out, even if the crowd was thick. Wasn’t hard to follow her through it either. Were you listening to me, Neo? Or were you looking at the woman in the red dress? Nah, not hard to follower her at all, not with the way she kept stopping and smiling back over her shoulder to me.
She could be planning to assassinate you!
Yup, I think you’re too shit at this to continue, put the other guy back on, please.
Prince Henry gave a little cheer. We’re gonna get laid! Woohoo! Cuckold Welf Express, here we come!!!
[CLICK]
I followed her all the way back to the hotel.
Through the arena gate.
Through the labyrinth of the casino.
Through the less crowded than usual hotel lobby.
All the way into an elevator with her.
Nothing bad ever happens in elevators.
I clicked the button for my floor before turning to her.
“Why?”
“Why not?” she asked.
Red dress.
Long legs.
Gorgeous features.
Why not?
Lots of reasons, I suppose.
Piss off Welf. He might attack me with a Construct.
Piss off Jason. He’ll definitely punch me in the face.
Disappoint Vicky. Sure, I mess with her brother all the time, but I never crossed this particular line.
Jesus, Pocket, T-Bone? That’s a wash.
Val?
What will Val think if she hears about it? When she hears about it?
Why should I care what she thinks? She made her choice.
Haven’t even been able to touch a woman since then.
Made me feel sick.
So . . .
Why not?
Beautiful woman. In an elevator.
“Not here,” she said, smiling shyly. “Cameras.”
I studied her for a bit more. Way she looked at me with all that lust in her dark, slanted eyes. Way she tapped her feet and slid her bare knees back and forth against each other like she wanted them wrapped around my waist.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “My place. It’s a suite.”
“A bed . . . good. We won’t be interrupted?”
I pulled out my phone. Pressed some numbers.
“You okay?” T-Bone asked.
“Sock on the door.”
“Oh . . . no no no! You can’t do this to me! And, King Henry, please tell me—”
I clicked the phone off.
“Taken care of,” I told her.
“Good,” she said again, her smile turning from shy to impish.
She had me all alone.
Cut off from the pack.
Hers.
“You don’t care if it hurts him?” I asked out of curiosity.
Lots of curiosity about this whole situation. Asking questions though . . . had to be careful with those things.
“I care that he hasn’t made me feel more than a few moments in the whole time we’ve been together,” she whispered her excuses, “and I hear you’re good at making women feel . . . feel all sorts of things. I need to feel.”
“Three whole months, right?”
“Only two,” she corrected.
Huh.
I studied her again.
Veronica Lee.
Veronica Lee knew who I was.
Veronica Lee was in an elevator.
Veronica Lee wanted me to fuck her brains out.
“One sec,” I said, dialing the phone again.
“Oh good, you’ve had second thoughts!” T-Bone greeted.
“Hey, can you help keep them distracted about Veronica being missing?”
“I will not! I can’t believe you! Why would you—”
I clicked the phone off.
Veronica reached out and took it from my hands. “No more doubts, King Henry. I’m not letting you escape until you can’t move,” she said in a promise.
Can’t be sure, I thought, can’t be sure, but fuck me, is this really happening?
The elevator doors opened.
I need to
be sure.
I led her to my suite.
[CLICK]
I’ve had some fucked up sexual experiences in my life.
Safe to say that, right?
I mean . . . I fucked a vampire.
Humped more hillbillies and Asylum girls and college girls and bikini beach babes than any sane man ever would, not that any man is very sane when it comes to chasing women. Got to breed! Make them babies! Spread that seed! Outlast your death, it’s the only way! And damn does it feel good!
Kind of stupid really, how much effort we put into it all. How much being a man has to do with how many women you’ve been with and what kind of woman you got on your arm. Think how much we’d get done if we just put it aside for a bit. Think how much I’d get done. But nah . . .
Feels really fucking good, man!
Been around the block, yes I have. If some anima-mutated strain of an STD ever comes into being, it will be coming into being inside of my cock. I’ve been around the block, yes I have! I’ve pulled some hair. I’ve slapped some ass. I’ve had my chest clawed. I’ll even choke a little bit if that’s what she likes. Had the whole legendary thumb-up-my-asshole incident. Knew some things. Seen some shit.
Nothing prepared me for what happened with Veronica Lee.
We fucked like two forces of nature.
The longer we went at it the more bestial and sordid the sex got.
The only thing more foul than the bodily fluids flying around was the outright heinous shit that came out of Veronica Lee’s mouth.
Shit that appalled me.
King Henry Price.
The Foul Mouth.
Bruise me. Bruise my insides. Bruise them good!
Fuck me like you want to kill me. Fuck me like you want to grind the flesh from my bones!
What’s wrong with you? I can still walk, why can I still walk, you pussy?!?!
And my favorite: make me bleed like a virgin!
It wasn’t good.
But it was memorable sex.
Pretty sure it was bad.
Therapeutic though.
Halfway through . . . I knew.
I knew.
No doubts.
We actually finished in the bed somehow.
Collapsed and naked and smelling as human as anyone had ever smelled.
She tired me out.
I tired her out.
We didn’t so much stop as surrender.
All through it I told myself to wait. To watch. To be sure.
The Foul Mouth and the Mancy Martial Artist (The King Henry Tapes Book 5) Page 21