Gasp!

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Nigel twisted his arm out of Jeff’s grip. “Nothing’s bothering me. You simply don’t know how it is with me; you’ll get used to things soon enough.”

  “I know what I saw,” Jeff said with certainty. “I will be watching you.”

  “You must do as you see fit.”

  “I promised Deidre I’d keep you safe, and I take the promises I make very seriously.”

  “Let’s dispense with the bodyguard clichés. You aren’t going to dive in front of me to catch a bullet.”

  “No, I won’t.” Jeff shook his head. “Do you know how hard it is for the average person to hit what they’re aiming at? Just my luck I’d get killed jumping out of the way.”

  “You dived into the lake after me.”

  “That was a freebie because I put you there.”

  “Exactly why did you do that again?”

  God, Nigel had a brow that went up when he was amused. It arched perfectly over those mocking eyes. Jeff had never been turned on by mockery before, but Gasp had a sly sort of magnetism that crept up on him.

  “Because you didn’t come back up.”

  “No, I mean why did you throw me in.”

  Jeff chose his words carefully. “I don’t know really. I’d had enough.”

  “So I guess next time I sense you’ve had enough, I should probably cool it.”

  “Yeah.” Jeff nodded. “You probably should.”

  Nigel’s grin was positively feral. “Fat chance of that, Mr. Paxton.”

  “That lake is still out there, Mr. Gasp.”

  Nigel snorted. “If you want to teach me a lesson, you might want to make sure I’ll live through the class.”

  Jeff shivered. He really had nearly killed Nigel Gasp. The chills that sped down his back were like a preview of his sister’s fingers getting ready to tear his spine right out of his body.

  “I am sorry about that. I could have handled that differently. Should have…”

  “You may have gotten your wish, though. I discovered I didn’t want to die just then. Not like that.”

  “That’s good to know. Too quiet, huh? Not enough fanfare?”

  Nigel’s lips twitched, and Jeff figured he’d guessed right. “Take your victories where you find them.”

  “I will. And I’ll spot you one. What can I do to make things easier for you?” Jeff hated how eager to please that made him sound, but he leaned forward. “I want to help you, Nigel. What do you want?”

  “I can’t have what I want”—Nigel gestured around him—“because I’m stuck here in this damned resort with you. I want to ride a motorbike at the speed of light or fly a jet pack. I want to go to space. I need stimulation. This is prison, even if it’s a nice prison. I want to get out. I want to go where the people are. Couldn’t we just go out for a pint and a round of darts or something?”

  Jeff wasn’t eager to go back to his tiny room either, but he had to take Nigel’s safety and privacy into consideration every time the man had a whim. If Nigel wanted to go anywhere, it was a great big fucking deal, and Jeff was exhausted.

  “I’m not up for partying. Your driver has the day off, and we haven’t made plans for you to go anywhere. Deidre has to call ahead—”

  “There’s a pub in town with a back entrance, and it’s not what you’d call a celebrity hangout. I’ll wear something dreadful. Clothes that in a million years Nigel Gasp wouldn’t be caught dead in. Clothes like yours.”

  Jeff winced at that. Fair enough.

  Nigel pressed his advantage. “Just for a beer and some air?”

  “You’ll be mobbed.”

  “Only if I’m recognized.”

  “Who wouldn’t recognize you? I’d know you anywhere.”

  “Really?”

  Jeff glanced away under Nigel’s scrutiny. He would know Nigel anywhere. Nigel’s light eyes, his skin color, the way he moved… Jeff would even recognize him by his scent, now that he’d been close enough a couple of times to really breathe it in. Under the alcohol, under the cologne and sweat and even the murky lake water, Nigel always smelled faintly like juniper berries.

  “I’d know you.”

  “I can be very inventive. I might surprise you.”

  Everything Jeff knew about Nigel told him not to do it. “But what if you are recognized, and it becomes a problem. It’s not just about you. Other people could get—”

  “We’ll leave if there’s a problem, and I’ll come back here meekly, ready to do your bidding for the rest of our stay here. How’s that for a bargain.”

  Jeff had to admit he liked the sound of a beer. He liked the sound of out, when he had been cooped up for several days.

  “Let me call Deidre and”—Jeff took out his phone and speed-dialed her number—“see if she says it’s okay. I don’t trust you not to get me in some situation where… Pick up, Dee, for the love of… Pick up.” This was not a decision he could make without her, not yet. Not when he was screwing up on the job already. Her voice mail picked up, and he cursed under his breath.

  Nigel handed him a phone. “Use mine. She won’t blow me off.”

  “She’s not blowing me off.”

  Nigel’s eyebrow lifted again.

  “My sister would not blow me off.”

  “If you say so.” Jeff hit her number on speed dial, and she picked up immediately.

  “Nigel, darling.”

  “It’s Jeff,” he ground out. Nigel smirked at him.

  “What do you want?”

  “Nigel wants to go out.”

  “Then Nigel goes out.”

  “Are you certain? He wants to go to some pub.” Jeff turned his back on Nigel and whispered. “You know he’s going to make a scene.”

  “You’re there to see to it that he doesn’t. Don’t let him get hurt or do something shameful, but he calls the shots. Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

  “What if he wants to—I don’t know—throw himself into an active volcano?”

  “Then you put on your asbestos shoes and you catch him. You have two objectives. One, keep Nigel Gasp safe. Two, keep Nigel Gasp from embarrassing incidents. Period. Other people handle everything else.” Deidre hung up.

  Jeff wasn’t so sure they could handle what Nigel had been doing lately. He ended the call but didn’t hand Nigel his phone back. “You’ll be on your best behavior?”

  “Of course.”

  Jeff glared at him. It probably took all the strength of will Nigel had to say that with a straight face. There was no doubt Jeff could handle the patrons of a small-town bar. If they could sneak out incognito and if Gasp didn’t take some notion to give everyone a lap dance, they’d be fine. He relinquished the phone.

  “Okay. But it’s on you if this goes tits up.”

  Nigel held his hand up. “If anything goes wrong, on my honor, I’ll tell Deidre you did everything humanly possible.”

  Jeff jerked his chin toward the bedroom door just as two revolted-looking maids rushed out of it. “All right. But put on a shirt. You look like an albino sock monkey.”

  While Nigel changed, Jeff took in the spectacular view. Jeff’s room, which was in the back of the resort and on a lower floor, had a small, sealed window overlooking the parking lot. Right below it, one of the security lights went on and off all night like a bug zapper.

  Nigel’s patio looked out over the lake, the mountains, and the endless, cloudless sky. It was so serene, so tranquil that it seemed to transport Jeff past the noise, past the bustling army of hotel employees, back to his run that morning, where he’d soaked in the deep green beauty of the forest and jogged on its rich, loamy soil.

  How could Nigel want anything more? It was hard to fathom taking something that intrinsically beautiful and then requiring a dollop of chaos, like some perfect ice cream sundae with a heaping scoop of toxic waste on top.

  One by one the maids completed their work and left. Gasp was still in the bedroom. Jeff checked his watch and realized they’d frittered most of the day away arguing. He hated sp
ending an entire day in meaningless skirmishes with Nigel, especially when he was painfully aware there were still plenty of other things he could be doing, like getting a real job, going back to school, or breathing air that didn’t smell like disinfectant, semen, and Gasp! cologne for men.

  Why would anyone wear a cologne called “Gasp!”?

  Jeff told himself this gig for his sister wasn’t forever. But then forever seemed to come and go while he waited for Nigel to change…

  Nigel was probably taking a shower or having a hard time finding dreadful enough clothing.

  Jeff didn’t hear Aaron Tully, Bluebird Mountain Resort’s general manager, come up from behind until it was too late. Goddamn it. His instincts must be shot if a fat fucker like that could get the drop on him, despite the thickness of the area rugs and the way the luxurious room baffled sound.

  “Under the circumstances may I suggest that Mr. Gasp might better enjoy the hospitality of a different resort…starting tomorrow?”

  Jeff searched his face. Tully had nondescript features behind hipster glasses that he pushed up on his nose. “Is that really a suggestion?”

  “No. It’s more in the way of a necessity.”

  “I see.”

  “Please tell Mr. Gasp the front desk will be happy to find him accommodations anywhere he chooses.”

  “Anywhere?”

  “Anywhere else.” Mr. Tully colored. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Paxton.”

  “It’s fine. Not unexpected. Thank you for telling me. I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you.” Jeff held out his hand, and Tully gave it a perfunctory shake. It wasn’t Tully’s fault Gasp could act like a toe rag.

  “Thank you.” Tully took a last look around the suite and left as quietly as he’d entered. Jeff cracked open an energy drink, thinking maybe he needed the boost. The dry air, the altitude, and Deidre’s Dennis the Menace client could drain him of energy faster than the Death Star.

  Nigel still hadn’t returned.

  Concerned, Jeff tapped on the bedroom door. Long seconds passed, and Nigel didn’t answer. Apprehension made Jeff’s arm hairs stand up.

  “Gasp, come on.” Jeff entered the bedroom quietly. He didn’t want to intrude, but he needed to know what was going on. He heard the shower running in the suite’s spacious master bathroom, and sighed. Still showering. Figures. Gasp was probably amusing himself with some of his obscenely expensive hair products.

  Then he saw the girl lying on the bed. Fuck. Underage, again, damn it. How the hell had she snuck in there? Unlike last night’s girl, this one was wearing a fucking school uniform. Saddle shoes and knee socks. Slim navy sweater and minuscule pleated skirt. Hair braided in pigtails.

  Christ. Deidre could not possibly know about shit like this. She’d never, ever countenance it.

  Maybe Bed Girl was a pro, dressed like that?

  He stepped forward, embarrassed to be looking at her, embarrassed to even be seeing the skin of her thighs, feeling himself go hot and cold and a little sick inside, just in case this really was some young girl, somebody’s daughter, splayed out like a sacrifice on some has-been rock star’s bed, waiting for a chance at what? A celebrity screw?

  Let her be a pro, please. Let her be a grown woman, at least, so I don’t have to kill Nigel and then gouge out my eyes.

  Jeff closed his eyes but realized that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He had to face this situation head-on, deal with the girl, even if he had to tear the hotel apart to find out where she belonged or call the cops and let them make the situation go away—even if it meant jail time for Gasp. If this was really an underage girl, he damned well deserved it whether his sister liked it or not.

  But first Jeff just had to get her out of Nigel’s bedroom. “Miss?” He opened his eyes again and started forward, keeping his gaze firmly on the wall above the headboard of the bed. “Miss, please. This is no place for you. I know someone like Nigel seems exciting, but—”

  Just then, the girl on the bed moved, causing Jeff’s heart to lurch. She crawled up, arching her supple spine until her ass was in the air, and when she was finished, he could see the ass in question was naked.

  The way she moved, the way her legs parted, he could see nearly everything.

  Jeff’s temples throbbed with a sudden vicious headache. “Please, miss, please. Just get off the bed. Get up now. You can’t be here. There has to be someone I can call for you. Where are your parents, for Christ’s sake?”

  Up and up went the girl’s knee, revealing more and more of the flesh beneath that skirt.

  Bile rose in Jeff’s throat…

  And then he saw testicles.

  Pink. Hairless. Testicles, accompanied by a vast expanse of milky-white perineum. A swollen, uncut cock, thick and veiny, bent awkwardly to lie between creamy white thighs.

  What is wrong with this picture?

  The “girl’s” head turned, and the first thing Jeff saw was Nigel’s playful, lopsided grin. Without thinking about it, Jeff marched forward and brought his hand down on Nigel’s ass with a smack so hard it echoed off the window glass.

  “Ouch! That hurt, you bastard.” Nigel rubbed his ass where a fiery red handprint bloomed.

  “Serves you right.”

  “But I got you, sunshine.” Nigel rolled over and beat his feet against the mattress, laughing like a loon. “You should have seen your face. ‘Please, miss, please…’”

  “You utter shit.”

  “Admit it, though, I got you good.”

  “Yes, you got me,” Jeff agreed. He rolled his eyes. It was a pretty good gag, actually. None of his other friends could have pulled it off, big, hairy bastards that they were, but most would have approved of its subtlety.

  “Dee told me what a Boy Scout you are. You nearly choked on your tongue.”

  “The shower running was a masterful touch.” Jeff hated pranks. “But it was still sick.”

  “Whatever.” Gasp slithered to the edge of the bed, where he sat up, flashing those firm white thighs again. He’d shaved and put on makeup, and really, with his long hair…he made a credible girl. No, not merely credible. Nigel’s amazing bone structure and lined blue eyes made him a gorgeous girl.

  Sure, if Jeff looked closely, he could see the signs of aging on Nigel’s face. There were creases outside his eyes and the beginnings of parentheses around his mouth. His skin was less elastic than a younger man’s. His teeth looked capped. All these things revealed his age but in no way diminished his beauty. If Nigel had been wearing the big black shades he favored, Jeff would have believed Nigel was exactly what he appeared to be—some young female person.

  Nigel chuckled. “Like what you see?”

  Jeff ignored his question. “If you’re going to wear that out, put on panties.”

  “I’ll get carded.”

  “So take your ID.” Jeff turned away and started toward the bedroom door. “And turn off the shower. You’re wasting water.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” Nigel changed the pitch of his voice so he sounded like a woman too. Christ, will I be taking Nigel Gasp out in drag? “Let me just put on something a little less fetish.”

  “Don’t change on my account.”

  Nigel’s shrewd eyes narrowed. “I guess we know what flips your switch after all.”

  “Oh, man.” Jeff genuinely laughed on his way out of the bedroom. “Are you ever barking up the wrong tree.”

  Nigel reappeared only a few minutes later, wearing the same shirt and sweater over a full, calf-length skirt and shearling-lined boots. He’d put on a pair of odd, tortoise-shell glasses and a scarf. A slim cross-body purse and a knit hat completed his outfit.

  Jeff simply stared at him. Nigel looked like a librarian or something. If he’d been pushing a stroller, he could have passed as any thirtysomething suburban housewife.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I said I’d wear a disguise.”

  “Do you do this often?”

  “Sometimes.” Gasp s
hrugged. “When I don’t choose to be Nigel Gasp. Is it a problem for you if I go out en femme?”

  “Nope. It will actually be easier for me.”

  Blue eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Jeff gave Nigel’s costume the once-over. He had to give the man credit. Nigel’s voice, his walk, even his mannerisms had changed. He wasn’t exaggerating any one characteristic; he’d simply disappeared behind the clothes—melted into them like magic.

  In this role Nigel was pretty but not beautiful…female but not feminine…subtly attractive but not sexy.

  For the first time Jeff realized he’d been in the presence of a magnificent actor all along.

  “It’s for damn sure I won’t have to defend your virtue.”

  Jeff turned and let Nigel absorb the insult. He checked that he had his key card and went out the door before Nigel reacted.

  “Wait. What?” Nigel scrambled after Jeff and let the door slam behind them.

  Jeff was already halfway to the elevator when he heard Nigel use his very own, very Nigel voice to shriek, “Hey…oi! Wait. Just what in hell do you mean by that?”

  Chapter Three

  The resort had the slowest elevators ever commissioned. To make matters worse, it was dinnertime, and it seemed like they had to stop on every floor as people joined them. Nigel picked at the faux-wood paneling and scanned his fellow passengers. If anyone registered anything off about him, they gave no sign of it. He didn’t like to brag but…

  Oh hell. Who was he kidding? He loved to brag.

  He was really, really good at disguises. He could disappear into any crowd he chose. He held on to his little purse with both hands and let himself appear nervous, which wasn’t terribly difficult because Deidre’s massive, bad-tempered brother was actually a little intimidating, even for an unrepentant shit like him.

  When they finally made it to the first floor and the doors opened, Nigel went to step out, but Jeff’s big hand landed on his shoulder and prevented him from leaving until everyone else had exited. There it stayed until Jeff got out and scanned the lobby, holding the door open for him.