1 Hot Scheming Mess (3 page)

The waitress stepped up again, but this time she lowered a tray down onto the table. It had four shots of whiskey sitting there and a note. Madison picked up the note.

The note said: “You said you could do it drunk and still do a better job. So put your money where your mouth is and we’ll follow your lead. Double or nothing.”

Madison’s eyes got a bit wider and her heart rate sped up a fraction. Rent and groceries. No,
more
than that. The portrait! She looked up and saw Dewey off to the side of the stage watching her. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. She looked over to the center of the empty stage, calculating the merits of this bad idea.

She wadded up the note, slammed it down onto the table, and picked up one of the shot glasses. Looking over at Dewey she raised the shot glass to her lips making sure he saw it, and when he smiled, she threw it back, swallowing fast.

The flood of fire on her throat bent her over, one hand flying up to cover her mouth as she coughed, gasping for a breath, while the other hand flapped in the air as if she were trying to wave a manicure dry. It made perfect sense that a dive like this place would only carry the cheap stuff, strong enough to melt plastic and bring a corpse back to life. She caught a glimpse of Dewey laughing at her.

“What are you doing?” Spenser asked her. Madison didn’t want to give her a chance to talk her out of it so she grabbed the next shot and threw that back, too. More burning and coughing as her eyes watered, her shoulders scrunched up, and her face contorted in sympathy with her stomach. Her pores began to open.

“Madison, what the hell?” Spenser grew alarmed, rising from her chair.

Madison couldn’t talk, the last few coughs escaping her, so she frantically dug around inside her purse as Spenser grabbed the wadded up note, trying to open it. Madison whipped her car keys out of her purse, thumped them down on the table next to the camera in front of Spenser and grabbed the third shot, throwing it back. The burning eased up quite a bit on her throat and her eyes took it a little better this time, but now her nose was running and her stomach lurched for a second. She felt shaky. She sniffed hard, trying to clear some of the runniness in her nose and saw Spenser’s lips form a hard line of annoyance as she read the note. She threw it down and reached for Madison’s last shot.

“Nnno!” Madison’s raspy voice finally showed up as she dove for the last shot glass.

“Don’t be an idiot—” Spenser said, grabbing the shot glass at the same moment, launching the girls into a tug of war.

Chapter Three

Madison knew Spenser’s instinct would be to try to be neat and not spill anything, so Madison bent over the table and wrapped her lips over the shot glass as Spenser was pulling it out from under her. Madison managed to get about half of the whiskey in her mouth before Spenser won ownership of the glass.

“Spenser,” Madison dropped back into her chair, “they said they’ll follow my lead. If they do, everything will be fine. Please understand,” she begged, “I can’t face my mother with my rent overdue. She has a way of finding these things out!”

“God damn it, Madison! It’ll serve you right if you break your neck!”

“I know, but… will you send flowers?”

Spenser covered her face in her hands, expelling her breath. Her voice came out muffled from talking into her palms. “Yes, but only the kind of flowers you hate. Which ones do you hate?” She looked up at Madison, her cheeks pink, and Madison knew her dear friend was having a hard time remaining humorous with this one.

“Uh, Venus flytraps?”

“Fine! When you break your neck I’m bringing a bouquet of Venus flytraps.”

They were silent for a moment.

Spenser said, “I’m sending a note to Daniel to tell the guys he’ll kill them if they don’t follow your lead as promised.”

In a small voice Madison said, “Thank you.”

As her pores opened and added to the heat already in the room, she picked up her original rum and Coke pulling out an ice cube. She crunched on the ice and looked around the room. It was very carefully painted and arranged to appear dilapidated. Even the low hanging pipes over the stage, instead of being painted to blend in or disappear, were made into a feature looking like battered industrial chic.
Wouldn’t want anyone to think they gave a shit.
There were tattered posters on the wall with loose staples sticking out of shows that were already over or bands that had long ago broken up or joined society in a nine to five job somewhere. Pock marks on the walls were big enough to conjure up questions of how they got there, some with old gum shoved inside.

Spenser started messing with her camera gear again, giving Madison the impression that she was just trying to look busy. Madison tried to think of something to talk about to ease the situation, at least till the show started. The booze hadn’t fully hit her system yet.

“You know you’ve barely come up for air since you met Daniel,” Madison said. “You two are pretty mushy.”

“Just the way I like it. How’s the new apartment?” Spenser said with a smirk. “All settled in?”

“No. Still living out of boxes. And stop mocking me.”

“I didn’t say a word,” said Spenser.

“That wasn’t your voice in my head just now?”

“No. You have me mistaken for some other voice.”

“Oh. Sorry. I thought that was your voice telling me that I’m a sorry-ass procrastinator.”

“How did you find such a nice place for rent that cheap?” Spenser asked.

“ExBoy found it for me. I owe him for that.”

The Break Beat music made a noticeable shift in style and volume, meaning the show would be starting soon. The anticipation in the room ratcheted up as conversations and laughter picked up the pace. The increased thumping rhythms added to a growing unease within Madison. She rubbed her head and exhaled. “When are they going to start this stupid show anyway? The sooner the better before all the whiskey really does hit me.”

Spenser said, “I’d better be ready to jump when they do.” Madison knew that once the show got started, Spenser would be dashing around the venue with her camera, trying to get some action shots. She assumed most of the shots would be of Atomic Waist. He’d been wearing normal clothes when Spenser had introduced him a few months ago. But tonight, Spenser said he would be wearing… um… a tight little sparkly, spangly, bathing-suitie kind of thing, denoting his evil character’s vanity. It was just so wrong, because it was so right. Oh, and wrestling shoes. But she doubted anyone would notice the shoes.

Thinking of how to tell her mother about the portrait idea Madison leaned back, mumbling, “She could’ve at least shown up.” She rubbed her eyes, looking up at the low hanging pipes over the stage. Unblinking, Spenser said, “You must have known that someday you were going to have to deal with this.”

“With what?”

“Getting to know your own mother. Seeing her through your adult eyes.”

Madison blinked, thinking about that idea. “That
would
be different,” she said, as a nice little drowsiness came on.

Right then, as if on cue, her cell phone began to play the theme music to the movie
Jaws
, which meant her mother was calling…

…and the fight show started.

Whistles and clapping exploded as the MC strutted out onto the stage holding a microphone with a long cable. Madison looked from the stage to her cell phone.
Ah, hell no. If I answer that she might figure out I’m drunk.
She tossed the phone unanswered into her purse under the table and let the excitement of the show sweep her away.

The gravel-voiced MC yelled, “Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! You hot writhing hunk of underbelly wetness!” The crowd cat-called back and drummed their hands on the tabletops. The MC began to pace back and forth on the stage like an animal searching for a way out of his cage, the microphone cable snaking along with him. “But it’s not the rain that’s made you wet!” His voice dropped to a low urgent purr as he pressed the mic to his lips. “It’s that fevered anticipation. Your hot breath on our windows.” His voice turned to a gravelly whisper. “That bad dream moment when you’re scared and tangled in your sweaty sheets.” He returned to yelling. “Scared that you might miss out on FIGHT CABARET!

The crowd hollered out their enthusiasm, banging on the tables and floor. Madison was cheering and clapping when someone threw an empty beer can up on the stage.
Hey!
She looked around, spotting a guy at a table nearby chucking another beer can.
That’s my job, God damn it! I’d better get the cans ready.
She looked around her table in a haze.
Where’d I put the cans?
The DJ’s head kept bobbing as the throbbing beat of the music picked up a notch.

The MC continued, “I am Dizorder Lee, your host for this evening! We’re so glad you untangled yourselves and got here! All the suits have gone night-night,” he made a loud kissy sound into the mic as Madison crawled under the table to find the cans, “and the real fun can begin! Our first bout has some interesting guys you’re going to love, and one conceited asshole you’ll love to hate. First up we have Dewwwey Decimator!” Dewey strode out, waving to the audience. He brandished his fists at every table near him. “Dewey was fired from the library when he went postal with his fists, punching everyone in sight when all the late book returns hit in one day!” The crowd waved their own fists in the air in salute to Dewey. “He’s our kind of guy!” Dizorder Lee said. Dewey ran over to stand at the side of the MC, nodding and pointing at random people in the audience.

“Next! We have none other than… Sparkle Pecs!” Sparky danced out in a boxer kind of style, stopping to make muscle poses and show off his strong chest that had glitter rubbed all over it. Dizorder Lee continued. “Sparkle Pecs spent many bored years as a vampire until he dedicated his undead life to fitness! The result being that he has almost cured himself! That’s right! But be careful. If he starts to lose a fight he’s tempted to resort to what he knows best.” The MC turned to Sparky and said, “Don’t make us muzzle you, Sparky. Fight fair.” Sparky acted as if he were thinking about it and reluctantly agreed, nodding his head, and bouncing over to stand next to Dewey Decimator.

Using an annoyed tone, the MC said, “I don’t know what to tell you about this next guy. He gives the fine sport of wrestling a bad name. He’s disgusting! Coming out here half-naked all the time! He makes me sick! And I think we should all—” Atomic Waist ran out on the stage in a fury, grabbed the announcer by the neck and punched him full in the face with his huge fist, then repeatedly pounded on the top of his head. If Madison hadn’t seen it in rehearsal she would have wondered if it were indeed real. The crowd as one gave a loud moan on first impact and began to shout and boo as the announcer collapsed on stage, appearing to be knocked out, his microphone and long cable draped over his belly. Dewey Decimator and Sparkle Pecs in the background acted like they were caught up in a fierce battle of rock, paper, scissors as they were walking off the stage and didn’t notice what Atomic Waist had just done to the poor MC, Dizorder Lee.

It was ridiculous fun and Spenser jumped up, booing and laughing with the crowd. She froze for a second as if she just had remembered why she was there, grabbed her camera off the table, and ran off to find better angles to shoot from.

Atomic Waist held his fists up high in the air as he flexed and roared his rage at the crowd. They roared back, begging for more.

Damn!
His real name was Daniel, but Madison had to admit the stage name Atomic Waist was a much better fit for him. Recalling when he and Spenser had first met, Madison had thought it odd that instead of carrying on about that manly body, Spenser had talked about him having an adorable face, with the way his eyebrows drooped at the outer corners like a hound dog puppy. He always looked like he was happy in an apologetic way. Studying him now, Madison decided his face was as exciting as wilted lettuce. But he was built like a thunder god and when he smiled, Spenser fell apart like she was twelve years old again.
Must be the goofy smile.

Tonight the storyline that the wrestlers had planned to play out involved Dewey Decimator discovering that his collectible action figure toys were found in Atomic Waist’s locker. And Atomic Waist would refuse to give them back—the bitch.

Madison marveled at how much the downtown crowd loved this stuff. Guys come out on stage in a dive bar and pretend to beat the shit out of each other over imagined offenses. It was Fight Cabaret and Madison had the best seat in the house, right next to the stage. And she’d be damned if she let someone else have all the fun.

They want to wing it? They want improv?
She started throwing the cans at Atomic Waist and yelling. “Panty Waist! Hey, Panty Waist!” She threw as hard as she could. The empty cans kept flying and bouncing off of him. “C’mon! Are you afraid of girls?” A look of surprise, then fiendish delight as if he’d just noticed a little bug that needed squashing. He turned his body and his roar of rage in her direction.

Her nerves went on full alert for a second, but all that did was adrenalize her, which she was about to need.

She tore off her shoes, her long lean figure climbing up onto her table, pulling her chair up with her. The crowd started hooting and clapping their approval as she stood on top of the table, waved the chair in the air, then threw it at him. He ducked it easily, crossing his arms as if to say “is that all you got?” Sparkle Pecs was sneaking back out from the side of the stage while Atomic Waist’s attention was on Madison, cheers growing for Sparkle Pecs. Meanwhile Madison had already pulled up another chair on top of her table and sat on it, chucking the last of the cans at Atomic Waist’s head. Several people in the audience shouted, “GO! GO! GO! GO!” He curled his finger at her like “come here.”

Her answer was to throw the second chair at him, but this time he caught it, held it with both hands, and ran across the stage toward the table she stood on. Then, as if Sparkle Pecs and Madison had the same thought, Sparkle Pecs lunged at Atomic Waist from behind, at the same instant that Madison leaped off the table onto the chair that Atomic Waist was holding. She used it as a stepping off platform to plant her foot up on his shoulder and spring up into the maze of low hanging pipes over the stage, hanging on, feet swinging, then used her stomach muscles to pull her strong legs up to wrap around the pipes. The momentum of her spring threw both Atomic Waist and Sparkle Pecs off balance and they crashed together onto the floor of the stage next to the MC, the chair bouncing and rattling off the edge of the stage. The MC was now acting as if he were coming back to consciousness, crawling away on hands and knees.