Seven Deadly Queens (The FuBar Book 3)

by Jess Whitecroft

  “Fuck. Don’t move. They probably already know your alarm’s gone off.” Helena hurried up the stairs, just as Hu was coming down.

  “Hey,” he said. “Is it safe to…oh. What’s up?”

  “It’s Rose. She needs recharging.”

  “I’ll get it. I know exactly where it is.”

  Hu came to the rescue with the charger for the ankle monitor. As soon as it was plugged in and Rose was reattached, the light changed from red to green and the beeping stopped.

  “Oh my God,” said Helena, hand on her pounding heart. “Do you think they’ll notice?”

  “Probably,” said Hu. “They’re pretty sophisticated monitoring systems. At the very least someone will come round to check that nobody tried to tamper with it.”

  “Rose, I cannot believe you did that. Didn’t you know your charge was gonna run out?”

  “I was gonna go back upstairs in a minute,” said Rose.

  “No, you weren’t. I saw you. You were having a great time, eating cupcakes and taking selfies with Justin. Your ankle monitor was the last thing on your mind.”

  Rose pouted. “Well, excuse me if I want to feel like a human being for five minutes,” she said, glaring down at the monitor. “Instead of a walking alarm system.”

  Helena sighed. “Baby, I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. Do you want me to get you another drink?”

  “Yeah. Can you get my phone? I’m gonna be here for a while.”

  “No problem.”

  Helena went back to the bar. Thank God. Justin had already poured the tequila. She pounded back the shot and went to refill the glass. Just out of sight, behind the corner of the bar, Venus was still talking, droning on like a bee in a bonnet.

  “…like, seriously. You are always gonna be walking on tiptoes around these FuBar bitches. They are so sensitive. Bunny blows up at the smallest thing, and now it’s all ‘Oh my God, don’t mention the size of Helena’s ass.’”

  Helena stiffened, empty glass squeezed tight in her hand.

  “Talk about the elephant in the room. What has that bitch been eating lately? I know Chinese is fattening, but that’s ridiculous. Is he high in MSG or something? Extra yummy…”

  The glass rolled off the edge of the bar. Helena didn’t even hear it break.

  “…maybe she eats him once and then she’s hungry again thirty minutes later.”

  Time moved slowly. It was as though Helena’s mind was sizing up Venus’s face as a target. Venus turned, phone in hand, and Helena saw her lips open in slow motion, a pink glossed O of dismay and shock at being caught. Then it was as though someone hit ‘play’, and it all happened so fast that the next thing Helena felt was the pain of the punch connecting. Venus’s head flew back, and a spray of blood burst from her lips. She went down like a sack of potatoes. If there was one thing you learned, growing up gay in a deep red state like Montana, it was how to throw a punch.

  Venus raised her hand to her mouth, saw the blood and stared up in horror. “You fat bitch! What the fuck is your problem?”

  “You really want to know the answer to that?” said Helena, fists clenched, ready for another swing. She heard Rose in the background, demanding to know what was going on, but then hands grabbed her from behind. It was Hu, and Justin.

  “Come on,” said Justin. “Let’s go cool off, huh?”

  “Did you hear what she fucking said?”

  “Steve…” said Hu, and it was like hearing the name of a total stranger. It disorientated Helena long enough for Hu to hustle her into the back room. “Give us a minute, Justin. Get some ice…”

  Helena roared into the back room. Kicked over the plastic chair beside the desk. Hu approached carefully, seemingly unaware that he needed protecting. When his hands touched Helena’s upper arms it sent panic bursting upwards like an emergency flare. All those men who had wanted to make a doll of her. A toy. But this was different. She was in charge this time. Her throbbing knuckles said so. And Hu would never treat her like a toy.

  “Why did you do that?” he said, his fingers digging into her biceps. “Why would you do that?”

  “She was talking shit about you,” said Helena, and grabbed a handful of Hu’s beautiful thick black hair. Some caveman instinct had taken over. “And nobody does that.” She pulled him in, breathing hard. Kissed him rough enough to bruise. “Because you’re mine. You’re mine.”

  Hu’s dark eyes glittered as he pushed forward for another kiss. Hard. Hungry. Almost biting each other’s mouths in their urgency. Helena’s ruffled panties hit the floor. The duct tape stung as it tore, but it wasn’t enough to take the edge off her lust. She had a dick and she wanted to use it. Hu moaned around a mouthful of fake tit, his hand on her dick as she yanked his pants down. He cried out when they connected, their erections bumping and thrusting. He already had lipstick and glitter highlighter smeared all over his face, and Helena couldn’t even remember if they had locked the door, but it didn’t matter. She could already picture what she’d say – get out, we’re fucking – and how she wouldn’t stop, any more than a lion would stop when you walked in on it with half a gazelle in its mouth.

  “Fuck me,” said Hu, and then everything got completely out of control. Pants off, feet in the air. No condom – just a blob of petroleum jelly from the emergency drawer. Helena cried out at the sensation as she pushed inside. Tight. Velvet. Hot. Hu wrapped his legs around her and rode it for all he was worth, moaning like an animal. It was like those times when he’d get on top, slide down on Stephen’s dick and pound him into the mattress with his ass and thighs, but even better, because this was Helena, and Helena had never even been fucked before, never mind done this.

  I’m a goddamn sexual pressure cooker, she thought. And Hu had just thrown himself in front of the explosion. He had lipstick all over his face, and the next time they kissed – rough, hungry – one of Helena’s eyelashes stuck to his cheek just below his eye, a Clockwork Orange touch that put Helena even further in touch with her inner droog, a filthy, delinquent little animal who wanted only to fuck and fight. Her knuckles throbbed and her dick was in heaven, and Hu was going crazy.

  “Come in me,” he gasped, through clenched teeth. “Make me yours.”

  She could have sworn she felt the rungs knock against her knees as she slithered down the evolutionary ladder. It was the last straw. He was too hot, too tight, too raw, and she tossed aside the last shredded rags of her control as she felt him start to come, his muscles pulsing around her cock. She let out a low, keening wail as she poured into him, bathing his insides in heat, both of them exploding in a sweaty, sticky, glittery mess.

  Her knees shook. The adrenaline crash came too fast, and she flopped back on the couch, gasping. Hu whimpered as he straightened out his hips. His sweater was halfway up his chest and his belly was streaked with come. He caught Helena’s eye and his grin was the most sinful thing she’d ever seen in her life.

  Somewhere in the bar, Bunny was yelling. “…I don’t know how they do things in Iowa, honey, but here in Pittsburgh those are not terms of endearment…”

  “Oh dear,” said Hu.

  They’d just fucked in the middle of a disaster area. And it was going to be a while before the dust settled, too. You didn’t punch out the reigning drama queen of Pittsburgh without consequences, but right now Helena couldn’t care less. She was dazed, ringed from top to bottom with the sinful touch of Hu’s raw flesh. Helena rolled over onto her side to kiss him. He had the same searching, intense expression he’d worn after the first time they’d made love, as though he was analyzing his new feelings before embracing them. The urge to cuddle was like a warm blanket now, and Helena could already see how sweet this was going to be later, when they were in bed and both boys again, and he had the time to fuck Hu slowly, savoring every stroke and pushing deep inside after he’d come.

  “Your hair,” Hu said, running his hand over the sweaty curls. “Your make-up…”

  “Ruined,” said Stephen. “I know. But it was a
lways gonna get wild, let’s face it. Helena’s been waiting for a very long time to lose her virginity.”

  Hu smiled and sighed contentedly. “Hmm. She’s…um…she’s feisty, isn’t she?”

  “Definitely.” Stephen giggled. “You might want to prepare yourself for me getting a whole lot more sexually aggressive from now on.”

  Hu’s grin was that same sinful one from before. It was new. And exciting. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I can handle that.”

  *

  There was a whole lot of yelling going on out there, but Bunny – in the throes of an intestinal emergency – was in no shape to cope with it. Then, when he’d finally finished his business, he left the stall to find Ryan waiting for him by the sink.

  “Are you kidding me? Now?”

  Ryan stepped aside from the sink. “I was trying to find the right time to tell you…”

  Bunny paused. “The right time? Ryan, I just tore several stray pubes out at the root while removing the duct tape from my ass crack in a hurry, and my anus is still reeling from passing what felt like a small Hoosier cabinet on the way out. In what fucking imaginable universe is this the right time?”

  “You pooped?” said Ryan.

  “Yes, I pooped. And don’t change the subject. Would you like to tell me what the fuck you’ve been up to with Venus?”

  Ryan sighed and leaned on the wall next to the hand-dryer. “Training her,” he said.

  “Training her to do what? Piss on a newspaper in the corner of the room?”

  “No. Cardio, mostly.”

  Bunny, scrubbing his hands, raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?”

  “Some resistance work,” said Ryan. “Few weights, but not much. She’s got arms like a couple of al dente noodles, and I know what you drag queens are like about keeping your biceps small.”

  He really had no idea. It was incredible. “And you thought I’d be okay with this?” said Bunny. “You thought I would be cool with you hanging out with the bitch who taught her dog to shit on my doorstep?”

  “I’m not hanging out, Adam. I’m training her. Professional. I’m getting paid.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” said Bunny, turning up the volume. “It’s Venus. You know how I feel about that cunt.”

  “Actually I don’t,” said Ryan. “It’s kind of hard to tell with you, since you call your best friend a cunt about five times a day.”

  “Only when she’s being a cunt. And she can be. You’ve seen her in action.”

  “Don’t be obtuse. It doesn’t suit you. You know exactly what I mean.”

  “Do I?” said Bunny. “Do you? Jesus, Ryan – how do you not grasp the difference? I love Helena. I hate Venus.”

  “And you call both of them cunts.”

  Bunny snorted. “Now who’s being obtuse? You don’t seriously think I was calling Venus a cunt in an affectionate way, do you? Did you somehow miss all the times a called her the dollar store Draco Malfoy, but with twice the racism? What was the other one? A herpes sore on the taint of Instagram? A pumpkin spice dingleberry dangling from the perpetual asshairs of everything that is basic? I don’t know how they do things in Iowa, honey, but in Pittsburgh these are not terms of endearment.”

  Ryan wasn’t budging. “And yet you were prepared to work with her.”

  “Yes. Because she has a motherfucking huge Instagram following. I was using her.”

  “Right. And so am I,” said Ryan. “Jesus Christ, Addy – I don’t get that sweet fucking Catholic school paycheck anymore. I’m on a public school salary, and do you know how much this country seems to think teachers are worth? Fuck all. It’s hardly a living wage. And you don’t get danger money, even though any day you might get mown down in a school shooting because some little bastard wasn’t getting his dick wet and decided to throw a tantrum about it. I still need a second job to keep my ass afloat. Meanwhile Venus gets a fucking kickback from somewhere every time she farts or sneezes and posts about it on social media, so forgive me for shaking her down a little. As far as I’m concerned she’s a parasite, and you know how the rhyme goes – big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ‘em—”

  “—and little fleas have lesser fleas, and so, ad infinitum,” said Adam, unable to resist a quotation. He felt suddenly exhausted, as though the stress of the past week had hit him all in one go, and all he wanted to do was take off his wig and make-up and soak in a long, hot bath. No noise, no interruptions, no panic if his manicure fell apart before the big day. And he couldn’t fault Ryan’s logic. He had no stomach for this fight. Or any fight.

  “Look,” said Ryan. “I just figured that if I could persuade you to put on a pair of running shoes and do a sit up, I could do the same for other drag queens. But for a price.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ryan sighed and stepped closer. “Because it’s our first Christmas together,” he said, taking Adam’s hand. “I didn’t want to ruin it by telling you I’m broke.”

  He looked down and rubbed his thumb over Adam’s nails – black with tiny red lightning flashes, to match the gown. At once Adam felt ridiculous, the way he had the time when he’d had a panic attack and fallen off the stage. The first time Ryan had come to his rescue.

  “Ryan,” he said. “Do you remember what you did for me when I was broke? When I begged you and Justin to play up your love story after you outed yourself in front of all those repulsive soccer dads?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you did it to help me save my business, even though you knew it would probably mean you’d lose your job, and your family would finally find out you were gay?”

  When Ryan looked up, his eyelashes were wet. “You know what the hardest part of that was?”

  “What?”

  “Pretending I wasn’t still in love with you.”

  There were a handful of kisses in Adam’s life that he would always remember – the first, the worst, the first time Ryan had grabbed his hair and pulled him in and told him he wasn’t going out tonight. And as this one unfurled, soft and heartfelt and careless of lipstick, he knew there would always be a tinge of regret that it had taken place in a goddamn bathroom.

  “No more sneaking around, okay?” he said. “If you’d told me I would have understood.”

  Ryan had a right to look slightly skeptical at that.

  “Okay, I might have hit the roof,” said Adam. “A little. But you know me. I come back down quickly.” He reached out and tried to rub the red glitter off Ryan’s upper lip, but it was going nowhere. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a genius side hustle.”

  Ryan shrugged. “It was that or driving Uber, and Justin said not to do that.”

  “Wait? Justin drives Uber?”

  “No, but he knows some people who did and they all said the same thing. That you may as well get a windshield decal that says ‘Welcome to my car. Please barf in it.’”

  Adam laughed and made another abortive attempt at removing the red glitter. “I love you so much. I can’t believe we just had this conversation in a fucking toilet.”

  “Art imitates life, baby. And your art is…”

  “…mostly poop jokes. Yeah. I know.”

  “Is this it now?” said Adam. “Is this true love? Poop jokes and finding the person who will listen to you bitch about your bowels for days?”

  “Weeks, more like,” said Ryan, heading for the bathroom door.

  “It was not weeks.”

  “It was, Bunny. It was weeks.”

  “No, I didn’t shit properly for five days. It was definitely five days. I was keeping count.”

  “Well, it felt longer.”

  “To you it felt longer? It was my asshole. I think I know what…oh, what the Christ?”

  They stepped out into a scene of chaos. There was a bar stool on its side, a shot glass smashed on the floor and – holy fuck – was that blood?

  Helena stepped out of the back room, wielding a mop. Her hair was a mess, her make-up looked like she’d been ea
ting twenty pounds of sweaty ass all in one go, and she was obviously untucked. She’d abandoned her slippers, and without her foot prosthesis her missing toes added to the primeval impression that she’d just gone ten rounds with a sabretooth.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” said Bunny.

  “Oh,” said Helena. “That. Yeah. I swallowed two shots of tequila, punched Venus in the mouth and then raw dogged Hu Lin until my eyelashes fell off.”

  Bunny was speechless for a moment. “Sounds like a good time.”

  “Baby, you have no idea. I feel like a new woman.”

  12

  The drama bomb went off right on schedule. The next day Adam walked round to the bar and found the words FAT GELI BITCH spray painted in bright yellow across the front windows.

  “Great,” he said, standing on the sidewalk with Hu, who had come out to inspect the damage. “Not only do I get the illiterate vandals, but I also have no idea how to remove spray paint from glass.”

  “Acetone?” said Hu. “Do you have any nail varnish remover?”

  “Uh, yeah. I think I might have a vat or two lying around somewhere,” said Adam, spotting Rose lurking by the door. “Rose, don’t you come out here. I’ve had enough of your goddamn tag alarm already.”

  Adam and Hu went back inside, both of them sidestepping the patch of green disinfectant on the doorstep. Naturally, there had been another – more familiar – tribute outside the door this morning.

  “Was that dog shit on the step?” asked Rose.

  “Yup.”

  “Oh my God. It really does shit green.”

  Stephen, his knuckles bandaged and his hand wrapped in one of Hu’s carpal tunnel compression gloves, was cleaning the bar taps. “Guys, I am so sorry,” he said. “This is all my fault. I promise you I’m gonna take up the whole Hulk rage thing with my therapist, because I know I have a problem, okay? First I launch a candle holder into the bar mirror and then I…”

  “Launch your fist into a racist’s face?” said Adam. “Yeah, I think that falls under the umbrella of reasonable violence.”