Layce Gardner - More Than a Kiss

Five minutes later:

“Did you learn nothing from the story of Victor Morrow and the helicopter during the filming of Twilight Zone: The Movie ?” Petronella said. She was sitting on the bed, holding Jordan in her lap while Irma pressed an expensive hotel bath sheet to Jordan’s head in an effort to staunch the bleeding.

“Victor who?” Jordan asked.

“It was a cautionary tale of the eighties,” Petronella said.

“Is my head still attached?” Jordan asked.

“Mostly,” Petronalla said.

“Will I live? Be truthful.”

“Probably,” Petronella said. “Do you mind telling us why you were jumping up and down on your bed?”

“I got a letter from Edison. She sent it FedEx,” Jordan said, pointing to a bloody, crumpled piece of paper lying on the floor. Irma retrieved the paper and examined it.

“Edison says Amy loves me. And the whole Chad thing was a mistake. He’s stalking her. She says there is definitive proof of both things.” Jordan sat up, but the movement made her so dizzy that she plopped back down. “We need to go back. I need to go back to Amy,” Jordan said in a tangled rush of words. Then she fainted.

Irma pushed Petronella aside. She grabbed Jordan by the neck of her shirt, pulled her into an upright position then slapped her on both cheeks.

Jordan’s eyes fluttered open. “Ouch. Why’d you slap me?”

“Do not sleep,” Irma said. “Or Irma will slap you again.”

Jordan rubbed first one cheek, then the other. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”

“Yes, Irma did it for your own good,” Irma said. She turned to Petronella, saying, “Call the room service. Ask them to bring up something that is good for stopping the flow of blood. We must wrap her head and get her to hospital.”

“My head hurts,” Jordan said. She was seeing two of everything and her speech was slurred. “Did I drink? Am I drunk? Do I have a hangover?”

Petronella picked up the phone and dialed one.

Irma said, “Jordan, you sit here. Irma has to make arrangements. Irma will be right back.” She ran into her room.

Unseen by Petronella, Jordan slipped off the bed and to the floor. She crawled over to the mini-fridge. She opened the door and took out all the bottles of booze. “Such bittle lottles,” she said. “I need a little dair of the hog,” she slurred to herself. She opened one bottle and downed its contents. When she realized she still had a headache, she downed another. And another.

Meanwhile, Petronella spoke into the phone, “Room service? This is room 629. We need something to staunch blood flow.” There was a long pause. “Um… do you have a box of sanitary napkins? You do?! That would be great. Um… Do you have the nighttime ones? Okay, make sure they have wings. And hurry, okay? Goodbye.” She hung up and turned around.

Jordan was sitting before the fridge with a dozen empty little liquor bottles in her lap.

“What are you doing?” Petronella screamed.

Jordan looked at her, tried to focus her eyes and grinned. “My hangover is going away.” She squinted at Petronella. “Cheers to the both of you!” She held the last bottle before her eyes and said, “Upsy daisy.” She downed it.

“Irma!” Petronella yelled. “We have problem in here!”

The Garbage Man

Amy yelped into her cell phone, “You did?! She did? You did? She did?” She was so excited she hopped up and down. “Oh, Edison, I love you! I mean, you know, not that way. But I do love you, I do, I do, I do!”

Amy hung up. She was elated that Edison had found Jordan. She didn’t care if she was in a hotel in Las Vegas. All that mattered was that Jordan said she was coming home to be with her. She was on her way back.

By the time Amy got to her office, she found Veronica, Valerie, Jeremy and a big, muscled-up man standing around Chad’s limp body. Amy studied the muscle man. He had a flat nose that looked like it had been flattened by a snow shovel. He had big ears, shiny black hair and was missing some important teeth. “Who are you?” she asked.

“The less you know, the better,” he said in a voice reminiscent of Marlon Brando.

Amy looked alarmed.

“He’s the garbage man,” Valerie said.

Veronica laughed. “He’s here to pick up the garbage.”

With that, the muscle man bent, picked up Chad and flipped him over his shoulder like he was nothing more than a bag of flour. He walked off down the hallway whistling the tune to The Godfather.

“I thought you were just sending Chad in for a psych evaluation,” Amy said.

Veronica and Valerie shrugged simultaneously.

Veronica said, “All I do is fill out the forms. They go out the door…”

“And never come back,” Valerie said.

Going Home

“I think you need several stitches,” Petronella said, pulling the sanitary napkin away from Jordan’s head. Blood leaked out. She quickly replaced the old napkin with a fresh one. “Yes, definitely stitches.”

“I have to see Amy. She can fix me up,” Jordan slurred.

Irma said, “I have a plane waiting for us. It will take us back to Portland. From there I have a limo waiting. It will get us to the hospital where Amy works.”

“Yippee!” Jordan yelled, jumping to her feet. The sudden movement made her woozy. “Oh my,” she said. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she flopped onto the bed, unconscious.

Irma grabbed Jordan and threw her over her shoulder. She turned to Petronella. “You will be okay? You will follow us in car?”

Petronella nodded. “I will be back in your arms in no time.”

Irma grinned slyly. “Irma loves Petronella.”

“And Petronella loves Irma,” Petronella said. She grabbed Irma and kissed her passionately.

Jordan’s eyes opened. From over Irma’s shoulder she said, “Do you two mind? I’m bleeding up here.”

Edison and Isabel

“Oh my God,” Isabel moaned. She was sprawled under the covers of Edison’s bed with the Corndog in her hands and between her thighs. It had taken them approximately twenty-three hours to go from meeting each other to rolling around in bed. This was not a lesbian record.

“Right there?” Edison asked.

“A little to the left.”

Edison was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to Isabel. She was wearing her camera sunglasses. She held a remote control in her hands. She moved the thumb toggle to the left.

“Oh my God!” Isabel shrieked in ecstasy.

“How’s that? Good?” Edison asked.

“Better than good,” Isabel panted. “Better than…Oh my God. You’re a genius.”

Edison beamed.

Leaving On a Jet Plane

Ten minutes later, Irma and Jordan were sitting in a private jet, flying over the skies of Nevada. Jordan was slumped in her seat with her chin on her chest. Irma slapped her.

“Ow!”

“No sleeping.”

“You Russians are mean,” Jordan said.

“It is our way,” Irma said. “We protect our soft hearts with armor.”

“Whatever,” Jordan said. “How much longer until I get to see Amy?”

“Not long.”

“How did you get this jet on such short notice? Who’s is it?”

Irma smiled and shook her head. “The less you know, the better.”

Jordan felt the top of her head. It was sticky and oozy. “I think I need to change my sanitary napkin.”

Just as Irma predicted, not much later the jet was landing at a private airport on the outskirts of Portland.

Jordan sat up straight in her seat. “How do I look?”

Irma’s eyes roamed over Jordan. From the bloody sanitary napkin on her head to the blood spattered shorts she wore. “You look like you need medical attention.”