Layce Gardner - More Than a Kiss

Edison broke into loud guffaws. She slapped her leg and chortled, “Banana Amy? For real?”

It wasn’t the reaction Amy had expected at all. Appalled and disgusted, yes. Laughing and mirthful, no.

Edison dropped onto the couch beside her, wheezing from laughter. “A banana peel? That’s the best you could come up with?” She laughed herself out while Amy and Isabel only stared at her. Finally, Edison collected herself and wiped her eyes with the corner of her T-shirt. “Okay, well, so how did you end up being engaged to the guy?”

“Are you sure I can’t talk to Jordan? This is so embarrassing. I don’t want to do it twice,” Amy said.

“Really and truly, she’s not here. Irma whisked her off to some KGB safe house so she could get away from you and get her head screwed back on straight. Tell me the rest of the story.”

Amy told her about the romantic pizza lunch, the lobster, the stalking, everything.

“Really, he had his finger bit off by a lobster?” Edison said.

Amy and Isabel nodded their heads in unison.

“You expect Jordan to believe all that?” Edison said.

Isabel said, “It’s the truth!”

Amy buried her face in her hands, hiccupped three times then began to sob. Isabel pulled her into her arms, held her tightly and patted her back like she was burping a baby. “There, there,” she cooed. Isabel shot Edison a look that said, “Now look what you’ve done.”

Amy blubbered through her tears and Isabel’s bosom, “Chad’s a creep and I hate him. And now the love of my life thinks I’m a liar and a philanderer.”

“Philanderer wasn’t the exact word she used,” Edison said.

Amy sobbed louder.

“Do something,” Isabel mouthed silently to Edison.

“Okay, okay,” Edison said, rising to her feet and pacing. “We can fix this.”

“We can?” Amy whined, looking over Isabel’s shoulder. “How?”

Edison stopped pacing, ran her thumbnail along her lower lip and looked thoughtful. “We need to do some reconnaissance. Are you up for it?”

“Like in a spy movie?” Isabel asked excitedly.

“Exactly,” Edison said.

“Like in a James Bond spy movie?” Isabel asked with her eyes glowing brighter.

“Exactly like that,” Edison said. “I get to be James Bond, of course.”

“And I’ll be Pussy Galore,” Isabel said, jumping to her feet.

Amy dried her tears and looked from one woman to the other. There was something happening between Edison and Isabel that much was evident. It was like an electrical charge was shooting from their eyes and fingertips to the other’s eyes and fingertips. Well, okay, that sounded too science-fiction-y. It was more like an unseen magnetic force was pulling them toward each other.

Amy definitely felt like the third wheel in their James Bond movie. “Who do I get to be?” she said softly.

“Oh, you’re Mrs. Moneypenny,” Isabel said.

Amy frowned. She had hoped she would get to be Octopussy.

“What are we going to recon?” Isabel asked Edison.

“Our suspect. Chad, of course. If we can find proof of Amy’s story, we’ll present it to Jordan and she’ll have to believe her.” Edison rubbed her palms together. It was obvious she lived for moments such as these. “Come up to my lab. I need to gather up my gear and you all need some black clothes.”

“We’re going on a spy mission, we’re going on a spy mission,” Isabel chanted in a singsong voice, skipping out the door behind Edison.

“Some muscle you are,” Amy muttered under her breath. She slowly followed behind them, shaking her head. She’d never seen Isabel quite so animated. Is that what love looked like? If so, it was pretty ridiculous.

The Corndog

Edison led Amy and Isabel up to her lab on the third floor. As they entered the space, Amy knew why Jordan hadn’t wanted her to see it. It was a mélange of every science fiction movie she had ever seen – makeshift tables, tubes, wires, computer motherboards, tools, and diagrams taped to the walls. There was even a rolling chalkboard with algorithms scrawled all over it. It was, without a doubt, the lair of a mad scientist.

“Watch where you walk,” Edison advised, high-stepping over one of several electrical cords snaking across the floor.

“What is this place?” Isabel asked, obviously impressed.

“My lab. I’m an inventor, you know. That’s why they call me Edison.”

“What’s your real name?” Isabel asked.

Edison stopped rummaging through boxes and looked at her. “You’ll laugh.”

“No, I won’t.”

Edison said softly, “Alma.”

“Hmmm…” Isabel intoned. “Edison fits you better.”

“I know, right.” Edison turned and went back to rummaging.

Amy took that opportunity to swat Isabel in the arm. Isabel mouthed silently, “Why’d you do that?” Amy mouthed back, “Are you flirting with her?” Isabel shrugged and mouthed, “What’s it to you?” Amy rolled her eyes.

“Now where did I put those binoculars?” Edison asked herself.

Isabel picked her way around the room, staring at objects, tilting her head this way and that, oohing and ahhing. Suddenly, she stopped, her mouth dropped open and she pointed a finger at a set of cylindrical objects displayed on a shelf. “Is that a Corndog?” she gasped.

Edison turned. “Sure is,” she said proudly.

“Oh my God,” Isabel intoned. She took her time looking at the rest of the objects. “And that’s a Plunger! And a Muffin Mucker!”

“I invented those,” Edison said, puffing out her chest.

“You’re kidding me,” Isabel said. She was obviously in awe. Or maybe in lust. Either way, her face was red and her breath came in excited pants.

Amy interrupted, “Are those what I think they are?”

Isabel nodded. “They’re only the best dildos in the entire history of dildos.”

“Wow,” Amy said because she wasn’t sure how a person was supposed to respond to such news. “The only time I’ve ever seen a dildo up close and personal was when I interned in the emergency room and had to remove it from a man’s anal cavity when his sphincter muscles seized up.”

“How’d you get it out?” Edison asked, ever curious about such things.

“I tickled him,” Amy said. “He laughed and it shot out his butt.”

“Genius,” Edison said.

“Thank you.”

“Okay,” Edison said, clapping her hands in a “let’s get back to work” manner. She looked at Amy, “What kind of building does Chad live in? Is it a house, apartment, condo? Is it on the first floor or second floor and does it have an alley or parking lot or both?”

“He lives in second story apartment building and there’s a small parking lot and an alley. I think.”

“You think?”

“I was drunk and then unconscious, remember?”

“Okay,” Edison said. She pulled stuff out and tossed it on the bed, saying, “I’ll need this and this and this…”

“What can I do?” Isabel asked.

“Go look in those tubs over there and find some black clothes that fit the both of you. I have all sizes and there should be a spray bottle of Febreeze to freshen them up a bit,” Edison said, as she rooted around in one of the plastic bins located on a shelving unit filled with tons of other plastic bins.

Amy and Isabel dug through the tubs. Amy felt like her mother dumpster diving. Maybe this was how she got her start.

The tubs held not only black clothing but theatrical props as well. There were beards and hats and sunglasses and a Sarah Palin mask that scared her so bad when she pulled it out that she almost screamed.

They found a black cape for Amy and a black hoodie and commando pants for Isabel. Amy tried on the cape, spinning and whooshing it through the air. It made her feel like Lord Byron going on a romantic mission to clear her name and reclaim her lover. And when she held it over her head it made her feel invisible like Harry Potter when he was in sneaky-pants mode.