1 Hot Scheming Mess (4 page)

Dewey Decimator chose that moment to burst onto the stage, screaming that his action figures were missing and he demanded… (*gurgle*). Atomic Waist had stood up during Dewey’s brief rant, dragging Sparkle Pecs across the stage with one hand on the back of his neck, and grabbed Dewey by the throat with his other hand. He then swung them roundhouse style into each other, their faces seeming to collide, their heads bobbing all around like Hawaiian hula dolls on a car dashboard. Madison climbed up even higher as Sparky and Dewey did a slow collapse to the floor, the audience yelling and booing but also pointing up at Madison overhead. Atomic Waist’s head followed the pointing fingers upward and his eyes flew wide as he spotted her. Just then Madison yelled, “Potatoes!” and dove out of the overhead piping.

Chapter Four

Atomic Waist lunged and managed to catch her, the crowd screaming their excitement. As the force of her fall hit his arms, Madison felt his muscles brace, using the pull of her fall to swing them both around in order to break some of the momentum, running halfway across the stage to keep his balance. She saw him break character for a second as fear hit his eyes. Her dark hair fell into her face at that moment. She pushed it away as he came to a halt, studying her face. Her lids felt heavy and she saw him sniffing. His eyes squinted at her as he whispered, “Holy shit, you’re stinking drunk.”

“That was the bet,” she slurred.

“What bet?” he whispered, “We’re supposed to follow your lead.”

“Keep moving,” she urged and began to climb out of his arms, her feet back on the ground as she slapped at the hands that had just let go. He slapped her hands back, she slapped again, till their slaps resembled a windmill out of control.

She broke the slap routine and pretended she was trying to pick him up. With her arms wrapped around his six-pack waist, she gritted her teeth in an animated grimace and pushed upward as if she’d be able to get him off the ground, appearing to strain herself in the upward effort. After trying that two times, he took a turn and picked her up easily, holding her away from him by her waist and letting her dangle. She proceeded to act as if she were running away as fast as she could while suspended in the air, her teeth gritted, feet running hard, her elbows and fists pumping. The crowd laughed and cheered.

Madison grabbed both of his ears and pulled his head towards her, as if she were trying to pop his head off. But she leaned in and whispered, “Get mad and spank me.”

“What?”
he whispered.

“You heard me,” she whispered. “Do it.”

“That’s enough!” He roared, and got down on one knee, bent Madison over it and proceeded to spank her, the crowd whooping and screaming with approval. But without skipping a beat, Madison, “OW—” grabbed the microphone cable on the ground, “OW—” and pulled the mic over to her.

“Take it easy—OW!” She reached around to his backside as his big hands spanked her bottom. She pulled his tight little sparkly spangly bathing-suitie kind of thing open and shoved the mic down in there, far enough that it came out the leg opening. A girly squawk came out of him as he shot up onto his feet, Madison simultaneously falling between his legs, as she grabbed the mic that was hanging out of his tight little sparkly spangly bathing-suitie kind of thing.

Then she pulled.

With desperate speed he grabbed onto his front waistband with both hands as the cable pulled through and through so fast that he felt it burn where it pulled across the skin of his butt. He instinctively did a little dance trying to get away, but that only made it worse, pulling his tight little sparkly spangly bathing-suitie kind of thing open in the back, exposing a bit of his high and mighty rear end. Madison now had a long enough length, so she stood up and began to jump rope with it. The audience was in hysterics as the MC came over and jumped in with her, both of them keeping the rhythm of the skipping rope. As the cable made each circle, the stretchy waistband on his backside would dip down and spring back up. The DJ quickly added classic strip music, and Atomic Waist was looking around in a panic, not daring to let go, not able to walk away, not sure what to do. On the sides of the stage, other wrestlers were out, bent over with the kind of high pitched laughter that men only produce when they are helpless with mirth. As the crowd cheered, Atomic Waist finally shrugged and took a grand bow. Madison, exhausted, had stopped jumping and stood there swaying, thinking about vomiting, mic and long cable now hanging loose in her fingertips.

One last empty beer can came flying and hit her on her temple. “Oh!” She looked out in the audience, flipping the bird saying, “Show yourself, you mother fuc…”

That was the moment Madison saw her mother standing in the back of the room. Ann was quite still, looking down at the floor. Then she turned and walked out.

The audience whistled and pounded on their tabletops, as empty beer cans rolled, rattling a hollow sound across the floor.

*****

Madison sat on the carpet, leaning against the wall of her living room. A couple of tears from earlier had already dried at the corners of her eyes. A wet sniff lingered.

Spenser had driven Madison home in Madison’s car and was now rummaging around in the refrigerator, packing away leftover tacos that they had picked up in a drive-thru on the way home. “Are you sure it was her? The room was dark, and you were pretty hammered.”

“Yeah. It was her.” With a heavy sigh, Madison rubbed her eyes hard, probably making those black smears under her eyes but she didn’t care at the moment. “I think she was trying to call and tell me she was in the audience. But I never answered.” She looked at her bare feet stretched out in front of her and thought how nice it would be to have pretty toes right now. When you can’t get yourself a new life, you may as well settle for a pedicure.

Spenser shut the refrigerator door and came over to sit down but had to look around for a spot. The couch had little room since it was covered in boxes from Madison’s recent move, their lids unfolded and hanging open to reveal an assortment of items that were unrelated to each other. Empty flower vases, books, candle holders, and lots of picture frames shared boxes with sandals, computer cables, and a tire pressure gauge. Madison jumped up, held the wall a moment to steady herself, and took a few boxes off of the couch, leaving a clear spot for Spenser to sit.

“Sorry,” she said, “Told you I was still living out of boxes.”

Spenser sat down and said, “Would it do any good if I asked you never to be that stupid again?”

“Spenser…” She closed her eyes for a moment. She could feel a mild headache already starting to come on. “I was sure I’d be all right if they followed my lead,” Madison insisted.

“You’re going to feel like an idiot tomorrow when you’ve finished sobering up.”

Madison already felt stupid but didn’t want to admit it. “There was one thing I didn’t expect,” she grumbled. “The paycheck was double the amount as promised, but they said not to cash it yet. It won’t be good for another week.”

In the silence that followed they heard a tweeting sound from Madison’s cell phone. She had voicemail from Phil, her agent. As she listened, her face became elated.

“Yes! Emergency gig tomorrow. Phil wants my fairy godmother character for a children’s birthday party. The usual. Painting faces, balloon animals. He sounds desperate. He already emailed the gig sheet to me in case I say yes. I usually get $200 for birthday parties, plus tips from the parents. I need to call him back right away and say I’ll do it.”

Madison punched up Phil’s number on her cell phone, but a knock on the door made her stop and hang up before it went through.

“There’s Daniel,” Madison said, standing up. “Thanks for driving me home, Spenser.” She went to the door to look out the peephole, hoping to gauge Dan’s mood before opening the door. But the person she saw standing there was her grandfather.

What the…?
She was still a little drunk and didn’t want him to see her like this. She quickly wiped under her eyes in case her makeup had smeared, one more wet sniff, and rushed her hands down her hair to smooth what she could. She opened the door and put on a cheery voice, “Hi, Grandpa.” Spenser, right behind her but more surprised, said, “Hi, Mr. Cruz.”

He walked in, mild surprise on his face. “Well, hey there, you two.” He gave Madison a little hug. “I see Spenser is still putting up with you.”

“Always,” Spenser smiled.

“Well, if anyone can, it’d be you. I’d trust you with anything. You’re like family.” He looked around asking, “Everything okay here?”

Madison shrugged. “Sure. But did something happen? It’s so late.”

“Oh.” He seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I wasn’t paying attention to the time. I, uh… came to get my drill.”

“Why didn’t you just call me? I could have brought it by in the morning and saved you the trip.”

“Well, I wasn’t home by the phone and—”

“Use your cell phone.”

“I can never get those things to work. I think mine is broken.” He took it out of his pocket.

“You have to turn it on,” she said, reaching over and turning it on for him. He looked at it as if the phone had somehow betrayed him. “Oh. I see.” Though his head was inclined toward the small phone in his hands, Madison could see his eyes had already wandered away, lost in thought.

“Grandpa, are you all right?”

He looked up. “Hm? Fine. Why do you ask?”

“You seem unhappy. Did Mom call you about me or something?”

His look of distraction melted away as a laser focus replaced it, zeroing in on her.

I had to open my mouth.

“What happened?” he asked. He seemed to be holding his breath. She thought of a few ways to dodge and dazzle and get out from having to admit to the bet she’d won tonight, but he would probably find out tomorrow anyway.

She braced herself and said, “Mom showed up.”

“And?”

“I was performing.”

“And?”

“I was…” she stopped herself, then said, “Inebriated.”

He stared at her. “You were drunk?”

“I said inebriated. You said drunk.”

“Just how
inebriated
were you?” He sounded incredulous.

“Honestly?”

“Yeah. Try that.”

“Shit-faced.”

A freeze frame of confusion, the sorting and filing of information that Madison could see going on behind his eyes had not registered yet on his face. One more second.

His voice getting louder with each word, he asked, “What were you thinking?”

“Grandpa, it was a bet, I swear! The money—”

“And in front of your mother!”

“I didn’t know she would be—”

“How often do you drink like that?”

“I don’t! Remember when I got mad and told them I could do it drunk and still do a better job?”

He closed his eyes and expelled his breath, shaking his head, saying, “Madison.” Resigned, he kissed her forehead but his voice was still stern saying, “We’ll talk tomorrow,” then turned and walked out into the enclosed apartment hallway outside her door. Looking up and down the hallway he said, “Lock your door, sweetheart. Don’t open it for any strangers no matter what they say.”

She felt a tug at her heart and couldn’t bring herself to close the door as she stood in the doorway, watching him walk past other apartment doors. Something about his demeanor felt familiar. She wanted to run after him and give him a big hug. But instead she called to him as he reached the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

“Goodnight, Grandpa,” she said.

He turned around and said, “If Jerry hadn’t made her work late—”

Interrupting him, she said, “It was my own fault, Grandpa. You can’t blame everything on Jerry.”

His grip on the edge of the stairwell railing tightened and his jaw grew hard, saying, “Yes I can,” before heading down the stairwell.

She closed the door and heard Spenser asking, “Who’s Jerry?”

“You may have seen him a few times at my house when we were kids,” Madison said, walking towards the living room window that overlooked the parking lot down below. “He was kind of a mentor to my mother when she was in high school. She met him at a job fair where he represented the FBI and spoke about careers in law enforcement.” She nudged a few boxes aside with her foot so she could stand closer to the window, mumbling, “Leave it to my mom to find that sort of thing interesting.” She stood at the window waiting for her grandfather to leave the building and head for his car. “She was so inspired she decided to aim all her college efforts towards applying to work at the FBI. I never did understand why Grandma and Grandpa didn’t like him. I thought he was great.”

She saw her grandfather emerge from the apartment building, heading across the parking lot toward his car. Some inner alarm had been triggered within her and she didn’t believe his story about coming to get his drill, which he had left without. Grandpa was the one person in the world that she knew loved her beyond a shadow of a doubt. She watched him get into his car and drive away into the dark.

She could see black silhouettes of trees waving in the breeze outside. She pulled open her living room window hoping it would help cool off the room and maybe help her to sober up a little faster. Down below in the parking lot, she spotted Daniel getting out of his car. Madison called down to him. “Hey you! You’re not allowed to kill me, you know. Spenser wouldn’t like it.”

“I’ll make it look like an accident,” he called back.

“Story of my life,” she called. “I’m just an accident.”

From out of nowhere a voice yelled into the night, “Shut up out there!” It sounded uncomfortably near.

Chapter Five

Madison slapped her hand over her mouth and stuck her head out the window to look around. She couldn’t help herself. She started to giggle. She couldn’t tell where the woman’s voice had come from and her giggles got louder. She knew that was an inappropriate reaction, but the very fact that it was inappropriate made it feel delicious.

Sure enough, someone stuck a head out of the window, white puffy hair moving around in the breeze.
She’s right next door!
Madison’s giggles increased and she started to snort, so she slapped her second hand on top of the first. Inwardly she was mortified at her own behavior. Behind her Spenser said, “Madison, seriously?”