Page 75 of Ship Happens
“Sorry, pal. Couldn’t find any cards,” Maverick says with a show of his empty hands. “Looks like we’ll just have to settle for good old conversation.”
“Maybe I could go find some.” Ice Pick rises to stand, but Maverick and I both jump up to stop him.
“No!” we say in unison, earning suspicious looks from both of our guests.
Maverick places a hand on Ice Pick’s shoulder, forcing him to sit again. “We just want to hang out and catch up. We can find some cards in a bit. The night is young, right?” He clears his throat. “Tell us more about your dogs, Amber.”
“Nothing much to tell. To be honest, I don’t know much about them. I pay my staff to handle them.” She finishes the second glass in one swallow, come globs and all. “I only go around them for filming. I used to film the births, but I had to stop.” With a roll of her eyes, she holds her glass towardme again, and I take it for a refill. “I mean, excuse the flippity fuck out of me for wanting to pull the puppies out as quickly as possible. I just want to see how much money I’ll be able to make before crawling back into bed. The bitches eventually wised up and started whelping when I’m away from home. Grand Duchess Tool Biscuit is probably popping out dollar signs as we speak.”
I pass the filled glass back to her—after adding another dash of scopolamine. She’ll be fine. I think. “Can’t pulling the puppies like that...hurt them?”
“Who cares? Half my breeding stock has genetic issues, anyway. Pulling the puppies gives me a fallback position. I just pretend I made a mistake and that the hip dysplasia was my fault. Works every”—she hiccups—“time.”
I study her pupils as she talks. They haven’t quite blown as wide as I’d expect from the dose of meds, but they’re close. I can’t stomach any more talk about the animal abuse, though, so I change topics.
“Tell us what you like about our Chad,” I say as I scrunch my nose at Amber and try to look cutesy.
“Bless you,” Ice Pick says.
I cock my head at him.
“Oh, sorry,” he says. “Thought you had to sneeze.”
Note to self: don’t try to look cutesy ever again.
“Well, I needed someone who would talk,” she says, and my ears swivel toward her. “He seemed like a talker, so I went with it. You practically put the perfect imbecile right into my hands.”
I spare a look at Maverick, and he nods.
“Wait, are you saying Ice Pick—Chad—is an idiot?” I ask.
“Yeah, is that what you’re saying?” Ice Pick adds.
As Amber downs the third full glass, I regret putting that extra dose inside. She clearly didn’t need it.
“Did you actually think I liked fucking you? Ugh, it was terrible. Like masturbating with a cocktail sausage.” In a fit ofgiggles, she turns to me and sobers just as quickly. “Want to know the worst part? I still can’t get him to give up his serial killer friends. I’ve faked orgasm after orgasm for nothing.” Her grin reappears, widening until I fear her face will crack. “But that’s okay, because now I’m here. Now I know what those pretty purple wristbands mean.”
Tears fill Ice Pick’s eyes as he sits on the edge of the bed. His hands form fists in his lap, and the champagne flute shatters in his grip.
“Permission granted,” Maverick says.
Ice looks at his hands. “It ain’t an ice pick, but I guess it’ll do.”
“We thought of that,” Frankie says as she slides an ice pick into his hand.
Amber places her palm to her chest and giggles through a hiccup. “What do you?—”
Ice Pick plunges the stiff metal shaft into her chest, right through her hand. With the way the rod sinks into her body without resistance, he must have missed every bone and driven that pointed end right past her finger bones and rib cage. Amber’s mouth opens in a scream, but Ice silences her by plunging the handle a little deeper. Her cry chokes off as she weakly grips his wrist with her free hand.
“Why?” she whimpers.
“That was for Sans Marko Bootcut Presentation. And this is for me.” He pushes one more time, and we hear an audible pop as the ice pick sinks to the handle.
Amber’s head lolls to the side, and her eyes cease to see what’s in front of her. Which is a real shame, because I’m giving her the fucking finger as she makes her exit from this world.
Good fucking riddance.
Ice Pick uses his feet to kick her body off the bed, and Maverick and I step over her to sit beside him, one of us on eachside. We wrap our arms around him and embrace him so that he doesn’t have to feel so alone.
