at her.
“You keep your mouth shut, you understand? Only Madame Kiska can speak!” Her accent is strong as her whip cracks along the floor.
“Hey, Rocky, how about a selfie for Nikki?”
“Yeah, yeah! C’mon, Rocky!” Elijah slurs his words. His Elvis suit is still on, but for some reason, he’s wearing aviator shades even though it’s almost midnight. Fuck, Adriana is gonna kill me. He’s beyond wasted.
“Nah, fuck, guys, don’t! She’ll fucking have my balls.”
“Thought she already did.” I chuckle.
Elijah grabs the keys that hang on the back of Madame Kiska’s belt, much to her disapproval. He dangles them in front of her, Rocky begging someone to un-cuff him. I hold my phone up ready to take a picture.
“C’mon, Elijah,” I roar. “This pussy needs a selfie.”
“I’m serious, you guys. Don’t you fucking dare. She’ll have your balls, too.”
Elijah continues to dangle the keys, but Rocky being double his size, attempts to reach out for them, knocking them out of Elijah’s hands. I scramble for them as they fall to the floor. Now, this is fucking fun. I throw them to Elijah as he catches them with two hands. Rocky continues to beg, but this is way more entertaining. Elijah tells me to go long, and before I know it, I’m standing near the doorway.
“Leexxx, this one is to win the Super Bowl.” He throws the keys with force. In my intoxicated state, I pretend to leap like a football player but miss as we watch the keys fall into the pool.
“What the fuck!” Rocky’s girly scream echoes in the room.
Elijah and I run over to the pool, scratching our heads in unison.
Elijah stares blankly into the pool. “I guess they’re gone.”
“You guess they are gone?” Rocky repeats.
“Dude… you’re screwed.” I break out into hysterics, Elijah following me.
“Get the fucking keys!”
“All right, keep your panties on.”
It’s a warm night, and without even realizing I’m fully dressed, I dive into the pool. I search the bottom as much as I can, given my state of intoxication I am barely able to see straight.
I come up for air. “Sorry, it’s gone. I’m sure she has another set.”
We run inside to find Madame Kiska. She’s rubbing her tits in that geek’s face. We interrupt the floor show to ask about the keys. She cracks her whip at the interruption until she realizes what we said. “No, I don’t have another set. Why the hell did you guys do that?” Her accent disappears and is more notably replaced with a southern twang.
We explain the story again hoping it makes sense, forcing her to pull out the spares.
“These are real cops’ handcuffs,” she panics, shuffling off the geek.
Lifting Rocky’s wrist, she points to the handcuffs where LAPD is engraved on the side.
“Shit, dude.” I whistle at the predicament. “I heard only cops have the master key.”
“We can’t go to the cops,” she almost cries. “They’ll ask me where I got them from.”
“Where did you get them from?” the three of us ask.
“Long story. My ex, pimp, or whatever you want to call him, was in the LAPD.”
“So, you stole them?” Elijah confirms, keeping a straight face.
“Stole, borrowed, same difference.”
“I don’t give a goddamn fuck about you, woman. I need these cuffs off, and you’re coming with us to the police station.”
An hour later, the four of us enter the police station—the handcuffee, the Madame, Elvis, and me dressed in normal attire but still soaking wet from my dive in the pool.
“So, how can I help you gentlemen and madame tonight?” the cop behind the desk asks.
Elijah clears his throat. “We kinda handcuffed my friend.”
“Uh-huh, so why not get a pair of bolt cutters?” the cop questions.
We look at each other, neither one of us wanting to talk.
Rocky breaks the silence. “Um… they kinda belong to the LAPD…”
The cop walks around the desk and lifts Rocky’s wrist. “Do you realize it’s a federal offense to steal property from the police?”
“Yes, sir,” we answer with our heads bowed.
“Who do they belong to?”
The three of us swing our heads to face whatever her name is. She remains silent until she caves under our glare.
“Mine, but I can explain,” she wails.
“Go ahead.”
She explains the story, the cop barely buying it. The longer she drags the story, the deeper in shit we all become.
“You know that you should be all doing a night behind bars for this offense?” His tone is deadly serious.
Oh fuck. The slammer? Fucking Rocky and Elijah. This isn’t on my bucket list. I can see the sweat