More Than a Kiss (16 page)

The Interrogation

All
hell was breaking loose.  Jordan had always thought that expression was nothing
more than a silly cliché.  Now she was changing her mind.  As soon as she
walked in the front door and heard the commotion (banging, muffled yelling,
strange machine-like whirring noises) from upstairs in Edison’s laboratory,
Jordan knew all hell was indeed breaking loose.

Her
brain shifted into rescue mode while her body went into survival mode. She
didn’t know whether to run to the noises or run away from the noises.  In the
end, brain and body compromised and she slowly crept upstairs to Edison’s lab. 
She felt like the virgin in a horror movie.  The virgin was always the last to
die.  If she heard any creepy music she was running back down the stairs.

Jordan
put a hand on the lab door like she was testing the temperature within the
room.  She had seen that in a safety video once.  If the door felt hot that
meant there was a hellish backdraft waiting to jump out and crispy-fry her.

The
door felt lukewarm.  Jordan thought that meant she could open the door; that
nothing hellacious was contained within the confines of the four walls on the
other side of that wooden two-inch slab.

She
was wrong.

What
she saw took a bloated moment to register:  Petronella, dressed all in white,
was sitting in a straight-backed chair in the middle of the room.  Her hands were
tied behind her back.  Her feet were tied at the ankles.  And the scariest
part?  The entire room was covered in plastic wrap.

Every. 
Single.  Thing.  Covered.  In.  Plastic.

Jordan’s
brain balked, refusing to admit what her eyes were seeing.  Then once it did
register, she very nearly upchucked.  She had unwittingly entered a murder
den.  Petronella was going to be slaughtered and the murderer didn’t want blood
to get all over everything.

Edison
jumped out from behind the door with a big smile plastered on her face.  “Good!
You’re here!”

Jordan
opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again and stuttered, “What the fuckity
fuck?”

Edison
said, “You got here just in time for the interrogation.”

Interrogation? 
Something clicked into place and Jordan’s mind flashbacked to yesterday. 
Edison had led her to the garage, saying, “I have to show you something. 
Petronella has been up to her old tricks.”

“You’re
talking about the slashed tires and the whore on the porch thing?” Jordan
asked.

“Yes,
among other things.”

“Other
things?” Jordan said.

Edison
pointed to the corner of the garage.  A stack of political signs, the kind
politicians stick in front yards during elections, leaned against the wall. 
Jordan went over to look closer.  They weren’t political signs; they were
Biblical signs.

“What
the hell?” she said and began reading them.  They were Bible verses,
indictments against homosexuality of the “man shall not lie with man” variety.

“I
came home the other night and the lawn was plastered with them.  And, boy,
GLAAD is mad.  Their spokeswoman called and warned me that such bigotry will
not be tolerated,” Edison said.

“Wait
a minute. They actually thought we were putting these in our yard on purpose?”
Jordan asked.

“Yep.”

“Did
you explain that we’re gay?” Jordan asked.

“I
tried but the woman was ranting so much I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.  I
took the signs down and stacked them in here.”

“This
is pretty low, even for Petronella.”

“Duh,
think about it.  It’s a perfect premise.  She’s trying to make us look bad in
front of the whole neighborhood.  Mrs. Wickersham from across the street
flipped me the bird this morning.  Even the cute letter-carrier snubbed me.”

Jordan
shook her head in disbelief.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I
made an executive decision not to tell you because you were so happy with Amy
and I didn’t want to ruin it.  But that’s not all.”

“There’s
more?”

Edison
pointed at a cardboard box.  Jordan reached down to open it, but Edison stopped
her, saying, “I wouldn’t open that if I were you.”

“Why,
what is it?”

“Evidence.”

Jordan
wrinkled her nose.  “It smells poop-ish.”

“That’s
because it is poop-ish.  Burned and charred dog poop to be precise.  Someone
set it on the porch, lit it on fire and rang the doorbell.  Irma was not happy
when she stomped it out.”

Jordan’s
face darkened.  “Petronella tried to light my house on fire.”

“I
think she just wanted you to get shit on your shoes.”

“But
she could’ve burned down the house.”

“Yes,
she could have.  That’s why I mean to put a stop to her evil and vandalistic
trickery.”

“If
Petronella was doing all this why did she ask me to get you to invent the
remote control paint car?” Jordan asked.

“Duh,”
Edison said.  “To throw you off her scent.”

That
was yesterday.  Today, Jordan was standing at the murder scene and what Edison
said made sense.  She had had no idea that Edison was meaning to kill
Petronella.  She had thought Edison meant to give her the remote car and send
her away on tour.

Jordan
grabbed Edison by the shoulders and shook her none too gently.  “You can’t do
this.  You can’t kill her.  I don’t want her blood on your hands.”

“Kill?”
Petronella gasped.  She strained against the ropes tying her to the chair. 
“Kill!” she yelled.  She bounced up and down, managing to make the chair hop. 
She hopped toward Jordan, begging, “Please, Jordan, do not kill me.  I was not
perfect.  I know that now.  But to kill me?”

“Nobody’s
killing anybody,” Jordan said.

“You’re
going to wish you were dead, though,” Edison snarled.  With that, Edison put on
her sunglasses and whipped a remote control out of her pocket.  She aimed it
Petronella.

Petronella
blanched.  “What are you doing?  Is that a taser gun?”

“I
vill ask you again,” Edison said, using a fake German accent that sounded like
it came straight out of
Hogan’s Heroes.
  “Did you or did you not put zee
signs in zee yard?”

“Not!”
Petronella said.  “I have no idea what you are talking about!”

Edison
pushed a button.  From the corner of the room an engine buzzed.  A remote
control tanker rolled on four wheels up to Petronella.  It was a duplicate of
the one that caused the brouhaha at the poetry reading.  A nozzle telescoped
out and up.  It rose, lowered, moved from right to left until it was in perfect
alignment with Petronella.

Edison
laughed and punched another button.  Red paint shot out of the nozzle and
splattered Petronella in the chest.

Petronella
looked down at the red spot on her white shirt and yelped, “This is Armani, you
idiot!”

Jordan
was relieved that Edison was only euphemistically killing Petronella.  And the
sight of the Ice Queen red-faced and blubbering sent Jordan into hysterics.

“This
is not funny!” Petronella barked.

“Gimme
that,” Jordan said, taking the remote out of Edison’s hands.  “Don’t hog all
the fun.”

“NO! 
Do not shoot!” Petronella pleaded.

Edison
clasped her hands behind her back, paced back and forth and interrogated, “Then
tell the truth, Petronella.  Did you put the flaming dog poop on the porch?”

“I
have no idea what you are talking about,” Petronella said.

Jordan
pushed a button.

Petronella
gasped as a jet-stream of blue paint hit her full in the face. “Damn you!”

Jordan
high-fived Edison.  “She looks good in blue don’t you think?”

“You’re
right.  Her white hair really makes her blue teeth pop.”

“Next
question,” Jordan said, poising her thumb over the yellow button.  “Did you
paint the word ‘WHORE’ on my porch?”

“You
are demented and crazy,” Petronella spit.  This time the yellow paint
splattered her crotch.

Edison
giggled.  “It looks like she tinkled her panties.”

Petronella
bounced in her chair toward Jordan.  She was so mad she was frothing at the
mouth.  Or maybe that was just the blue paint bubbling out.

Jordan
backed away from Petronella’s hopping chair, using the remote to keep the
tanker car between herself and Petronella.  She fired another question, “Did
you slash my bike tires?”

“No.
No. No. No. No. No,” Petronella enunciated with each bounce of her chair.

Jordan
splattered her with green paint.  Then topped it off with a small splash of
red.  Petronella kept bouncing, kept advancing.

Jordan
walked backwards.  She aimed the remote and said, “Tell the truth Petronella. 
The paint will not stop until you admit to your crimes.”

“I.
Did. Not. Do. It.”  Bouncity bounce bounce.

Jordan
hit the button labeled “rapid fire.”  Four streams of pulsating colors hit
Petronella.  It was like she was standing under a colorful waterfall. 
Petronella stopped bouncing.  Soon, she was a rainbow collage of colors.  She
began to sob.

Jordan
stopped firing.

Petronella
hung her head, gasping for breath. “I give up,” she said weakly between sobs. 
“I can take no more.  I surrender.”

Jordan
handed the remote to Edison and said, “Admit it, Petronella.  You are jealous
of Amy.”

“Yes,”
Petronella said.  “Yes, I am jealous. Is that what you wanted to hear?”  She
looked up, her eyes meeting Jordan’s.  “Can you blame me?  She has captured
your attention.  You are in love with her.  I loved you once.  But you never
loved me back.”

Jordan
opened her mouth to disagree, but Petronella interrupted.  “Oh, do not tell me you
loved me, Jordan.  I am a lot of things, but I am no fool.  I would have given
anything to have you look at me the way you look at her.  All I ever wanted was
your love.”  She looked away and sniffled.  “To be loved,” she said softly. 
“Alas, it is not to be.  I shall perish, old and alone, wrinkled and
shriveled.  The Ice Queen will never be warmed by another’s heart.”  She
snuffled.

“Irma
loves you,” a voice said.

Jordan
looked toward the door.  It was Irma.  Jordan had been so engrossed in
Petronella’s sob story, she hadn’t noticed Irma come in.

“What
do you know about love?” Petronella sniffled.

“Irma
knows a beautiful, talented woman when Irma sees one,” Irma said as she slowly
approached Petronella.

Petronella
met Irma’s gaze.  If she wasn’t mistaken, Jordan saw something in Petronella’s
eyes, something that burned from deep within, a desire that hadn’t been there
before, if ever.  Irma, the woman in black, gazed longingly at Petronella, the
woman in white.  Well, she was usually all in white.  Right now, she was
covered in colors.

Petronella
said, “You are a strong, sexy Russian woman.  Why would you want me?”

Irma
knelt before Petronella’s chair and placed her hands on Petronella’s knees. 
“Irma wants to make love to you.  Irma wants to take care of you.  Irma wants
to love and protect you for all time.  If you will have Irma?”

“Untie
me,” Petronella whispered hoarsely with desire coloring her cheeks.  “Untie me
and show me what it is to be loved so completely.”

Jordan
whispered to Edison, “I think that’s our cue to leave.”

Edison
nodded and whispered back.  “I just puked a little in my mouth.”

Jordan
and Edison quietly left the room and shut the door on the new lovers.  “I think
Petronella was telling the truth.”

“Me,
too,” Edison said.

Jordan
pulled the rubber ball out of her pocket and squeezed it.  “So if Petronella
didn’t do all that stuff, who did?”

Lezebel

Amy
was on her way to Chad’s room at the hospital.  She knew he would be held
hostage by pain medication, so what better time to confront him about his
unwanted advances?  “Unwanted advances” was the phrase Amy had substituted for
what was really beginning to look like a severe case of stalking.  She was
starting to think that Chad wasn’t only missing a finger, but was also missing
a few of his
marbles.

As
Amy neared his room, she saw the twins, Veronica and Valerie, peering through
the rectangular window of his door.  They were snickering and talking in hushed
tones.  Unbeknownst to them, Amy peered over their shoulders and through the
window.  Chad’s room was decorated entirely in lobster motif.

 Jeremy
had been good on his word.  There were lobster lamps, nightlights, curtains,
towels, blankets, throw rugs, and plastic/rubber lobsters everywhere.  Chad was
lying in bed, tossing and turning, intermittently moaning and whining as he
slept.  He was probably having a dream about giant lobsters chasing him.  At
least Amy hoped he was.

“I’ve
never seen anyone with so little pain tolerance,” Veronica whispered.  “He acts
like he’s had major surgery.”

“It’s
a finger not a pancreas,” Valerie said.

“I
never figured him for such a pansy,” Amy said.  Her already low opinion of Chad
was dropping as rapidly as a runaway elevator.

The
twins parted, allowing Amy into Chad’s room.  She walked up next to his bed. 
“Chad?”

He
stopped whimpering and opened his eyes.  They were red and swollen. “Amy,” he
breathed.  “I knew you’d come.”

“I
love what you’ve done with the room,” she said.

“God,
how I’ve missed your sense of humor.  I love the room.  I know you did it to
make me feel better –
like making lemons out of
lemonade.”  He smiled and patted the bed beside him with his good hand.

Ignoring
the gesture, Amy picked up his other hand and checked the bandage.

Chad
said, “Will you still love me now that I have a freakish hand?”

“It’s
a Mickey Mouse hand now,” Amy said.  “Cartoon characters only ever have three
fingers.  You ever notice that?”

Chad
tried to smile, then gave up.  “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

Amy
slid into doctor mode.  “The surgeon did a great job.  He says you should
regain most of your mobility.  Do you have any feeling?”

“I
feel your love for me.”  He gazed at her with unfocused eyes.  Amy realized he
was completely and utterly looped.

“I
meant do you have any tactile sensations in your finger,” she said.

He
made a clumsy grab for her.  “Come here, I want to kiss you.  I want to marry
you.  Amy, oh my beautiful Amy.”  He rolled toward her with outstretched arms. 
Amy took a step back and Chad wobbled on the edge of the bed.  He teetered and
then he tottered, caught in limbo between the safety of the bed and the danger
of the hard floor.  Instinctively, Amy reached out to save him from falling. 
But she was too late.  Chad tottered too far, and fell, taking her down with
him.  She hit the floor first, cushioning his fall.

Lying
prone of top of her, he looked into her eyes and said, “You little vixen.  You
couldn’t even wait until I was released from the hospital.”

“I
think I’m getting sick,” Amy said.  This position and Chad’s breath in her face
brought back some very unpleasant memories.

“I
knew you wanted me,” Chad said, nuzzling her neck.

“Get
off of me.”  Amy struggled but she couldn’t budge him.

Amy
heard the door swing open.  “Help me,” she muttered.

Jeremy’s
face appeared over Chad’s shoulder.  “Whoa, get a room, you two.”

“Hey,
buddy,” Chad said.  “I told you I’d get the girl.”

“Jeremy,
please, get him off me,” Amy said, still struggling to free herself.

“What
happened?” Jeremy dead lifted Chad to his feet.  Chad staggered and then went
limp as a noodle.  A very big noodle.  Jeremy pushed him onto the bed.

Amy
said, “He fell out of the bed.  I tried to catch him.”

“Next
time just yell ‘timber’ and get out of the way,” Jeremy said.

Chad
grabbed Jeremy’s hand, saying, “I love her, man.  She’s my everything.  I love
her so friggin’ much.  I love her hair.  I love her eyes.  I love her breasts.”

“Whoaaaa
there, big boy,” Jeremy said, interrupting him before he could add any more
parts to the list.  “You’re talking about my roommate, Dude.”

“How
much morphine did they give him?” Amy inquired.

Chad’s
head bounced to Amy.  He smiled in surprise that she was still in the room.
“Marry me, Amy.  Marry me.”  He looked back to Jeremy, saying, “Be my best dude
at our wedding?”

“Sure
thing.  I’m so there for you.” Jeremy put the bed rails up.  “It’s beddie-bye
time, Dude.”

Amy
leaned over the rail and took Chad by the chin.  She waited until his eyes
focused, then said, “I can’t marry you.  I can’t be with you.  I can’t be your
girlfriend and I can’t date you.  I came in here to tell you that. 
Understand?”

“You’re
so funny,” Chad said.  “I love your sense of humor.”  Then he closed his eyes
with a big smile still on his face.

Amy
sighed and turned to Jeremy.  “What am I going to do?  Nothing works.”

“He
won’t remember any of this,” Jeremy said.  “You’ll have to try when he’s not so
medicated.”  He opened the door just as Jordan was opening the door.  They
collided, bouncing off each other.

“We
have to stop running into each other like this,” Jeremy said.

Jordan
laughed.  “Sorry.  I was looking for Amy.  A couple of twin nurses said she was
in here.”

“Ah,
she’s right here.”

Amy
stepped forward.  “Jordan!  Hi!”

“I
love you!  You’re my little love button,” the reawakened Chad yelled at her
back.

Amy
laughed nervously and pushed Jordan out of the room before she could get a good
look at Chad, saying, “Don’t pay any attention to that patient.  He’s so
drugged up he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

As
the three of them stepped into the hall, Chad yelled, “Don’t leave.  That woman
is a Jezebel.  She’s a lesbian.  She’s a Lezebel!”

Jeremy
quickly shut the door.  He laughed and flapped his hand in Chad’s direction. 
“Homeless dude.  Crazy.  Loco.”  He twirled his finger in little circles beside
his temple.  “Cuckoo.”

“I’ll
say,” Jordan said.  She smiled at Amy, “So, I just dropped by to see if you
want to do lunch?”

“Sure,”
Amy said.

Jordan
looked at Jeremy.  “You know, Jeremy, I’d like it if you’d come too.  I haven’t
really met any of Amy’s friends yet.”

Amy
and Jeremy exchanged a look.  Jeremy clasped his hands under his chin.  “I
promise to be good,” he said, making puppy dog eyes.

Amy
laughed.  “Okay, but you’re buying.”

Jeremy
rubbed his palms together.  “Deal.  But if I’m buying, we’re going to this new
place I’ve been scoping out.”

“What’s
it called?” Jordan asked.

“P.C.’s,”
Jeremy said.

“Never
heard of it,” Jordan said.

“It
stands for politically correct.  It claims to have the smallest carbon
footprint of any restaurant in the world.  It’s a gas.”  He paused then added,
“Not literally a gas, you understand.”

Amy
looked uncertain.  Jeremy and Jordan each took one of Amy’s hands, and in
unison said, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”