Kiss & Tell Page 6

  Willy squinted one eye at Hill and asked, “Do we get paid for doing this Witness Protection thingamajig?”

  “No. But you do get to keep your life,” Hill said, scratching his armpit. “And you do want to continue living?” he asked, looking directly at Allistair.

  Allistair sighed. Of course she wanted to live, what kind of question was that? She spied a dead spider plant all brown and crinkly sitting atop a file cabinet in the corner. Killing a spider plant was an achievement. She probably didn’t want Seattle’s finest taking care of her plants anyway.

  “Yes, I want to live,” Allistair intoned.

  Hill looked at Willy.

  “Yes, I want to live, too,” Willy said.

  A police officer entered the room with a file folder. He had dark, swarthy good looks and his black hair was combed and greased straight back. He handed the file to Maxey and said, “Good news. There’re two spots open. She says they’ll meet us at the usual place.”

  Geez, Allistair thought, could the guy be any more vague?

  “What the fuck is he talking about?” Willy said. “What place? And who’s ‘she’?”

  Maxey put her finger to her lips. “Hush-hush stuff.”

  “You’re letting that guy know,” Willy said, pointing at the police officer. “Are you sure he won’t tell anybody? Have you never watched a cop movie? There’re bad cops everywhere!”

  “Hey, Ms. Tooth Fairy, you ever heard of keeping your trap shut?” Hill said.

  “You talking to me?” Willy asked.

  “Yeah, you,” Hill said. “You make teeth, right? You’re the Tooth Fairy.” He held his belly with both hands and laughed like he’d said the funniest thing in the world.

  “Oh yeah? By that line of reasoning, you’d be Santa Claus,” Willy retorted.

  Hill stopped laughing. “I don’t get it.”

  “I think she means your belly jiggles like a bowl full of jelly,” the police officer said.

  “Bingo!” Willy said. “Give him a cookie!”

  Maxey snapped her fingers. “Everybody calm down.” She turned to the police officer, saying, “Go set up the meet and greet. We’ll leave immediately.”

  The police officer hurried out of the room.

  Maxey looked at Willy. “And as for you… You’re on a need to know basis. Right now, you don’t need to know shit.”

  “Or by this time tomorrow, you could be buying the chicken ranch,” Hill said.

  “The proper expression is ‘buy the farm,’” Allistair interjected. “Its origin comes from when a soldier died in battle and his death benefits were enough to pay off the mortgage on the family farm. So people began saying they had bought the farm as a polite way of …”

  “I get it, I get it,” Willy said.

  “So there you go,” Hill said. “Now you get the picture.”

  Allistair didn’t much care for the picture. And judging by the look on her face neither did Willy.

  Maxey opened the file and handed them each a new driver’s license. “Here are your new ID’s, ladies.”

  Allistair and Willy stared at the laminated cards.

  “What in the fuck is this?” Willy asked, holding up her new driver’s license.

  “Yeah,” Allistair chimed in, “Who’s Alice?”

  “You each have new names to go with your new identities,” Maxey said.

  “Wanda?” Willy said. “I’m not a Wanda!”

  “And I don’t weigh this much!” Allistair said.

  “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit,” Maxey said like she was speaking to a four-year-old.

  “Wanda? Is that even a name anymore?” Willy asked.

  “Like Wilhelmina was so much better,” Allistair said.

  “At least I could shorten it to something more acceptable. What am I going to do with this, call myself Wandie?”

  “Well, it does go with your Tooth Fairy image,” Hill said with a chuckle.

  Allistair giggled.

  Willy gave them both the evil eye.

  “Come on, let’s get your Shakespeare on,” he said, scratching his other armpit. “We’d like to get you there before sunrise.”

  “Why, are you turning us into vampires?” Willy muttered as they followed Hill and Maxey out of the office and down the hallway.

  Once the marshals were out of earshot, Allistair leaned in to Willy and whispered, “What did he mean by that Shakespeare remark?”

  “How the fuck would I know?” Willy said.

  “I think it’s a clue about where we’re going,” Allistair said.

  “You’re probably right, Alice.”

  “I usually am, Wanda.”

  “I cannot believe I have to put up with you for God knows how long,” Willy said.

  “You think you got it bad. I have to put up with you.”

  Ask Allie

  The following is an excerpt from the nationally syndicated column Ask Allie:

  Dear Allie,

  I have fallen in love with a lesbian separatist. She refuses to acknowledge anybody with a penis. I’m just a normal woman who loves other women, but this isn’t good enough for my new lover. She uses words like Sisterspace, womyn, herstory, dykology, and Oh Goddess! Her group of friends even have names like Lickalottapussy, Regina Vagina, and Phred. I don’t know if I can live this way or not. What do I do?

  Sincerely,

  Normal Norma

  Dear Norma,

  Your relationship is no different than a million others before you. Think of all the stories that have glorified the love of people who at first seemed like opposites: Romeo & Juliet, Dirty Dancing, and West Side Story, to name a few. Of course, two of those stories ended in death, so be careful.

  My advice to you is to ignore your differences and find a common ground. What do you both like to do? Concentrate on that and if it’s meant to be your love will bloom.

  Speaking of blooming… would you like your fresh cut flowers to last longer? Add a crushed aspirin to the water in the vase.

  Sincerely,

  Allie

  Get Thee To A Nunnery (that answers the Shakespeare remark)

  The marshals herded Allistair and Willy through the dark cloak of night. Willy had dozed on and off, awaking only when the mode of transportation changed. They had been driven by car, boat, helicopter, four-wheeler, and lastly they had hiked at least two miles. As far as Willy knew they could be in the land that time forgot.

  Willy, Allistair, and the marshals stood at the entrance to a big stone building. It looked like a medieval fortress minus the drawbridge and moat. There were two big wooden doors. They were each about ten feet tall. In the middle of each door was a huge cast iron knocker shaped like a cat’s head.

  “Nice knockers,” Willy said.

  Nobody laughed. Willy swore she could even hear Allistair’s eyes rolling.

  Marshal Hill grabbed one cat’s head knocker and banged it against the wooden door. As they stood shuffling their feet and waiting for somebody to let them inside, Willy noticed an inscription carved in the limestone above the doors. It read, “Amare est vivere cum felis.”

  “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” Willy said. “What the fuck kind of saying is that?”

  “You can read Latin?” Allistair asked.

  “Yeah,” Willy responded. “A little. Enough to read that.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It says ‘I love pussy.’” Willy answered.

  Allistair gasped. “Are you sure?”

  Hill and Maxey exchanged a look and chuckled.

  “What?” Willy asked. “Why are you laughing?”

  A voice boomed out of the darkness, “Close, but no cigar.”

  Willy and Allistair jumped. They spun around. Willy had her hands fisted and held high in a boxer’s pose. She had never been in a fistfight in her life, but she sure as shit wasn’t going down without a fight. Allistair cowered behind Willy, peeking over her shoulder.

  “Who’s there?” Willy
called out in a shaky voice.

  “It’s okay,” Maxey said. “It’s only Mother Superior.”

  Willy dropped her hands. “Mother Superior? As in Catholic? As in nun?”

  “You have to be fuckin’ kidding me,” Allistair said.

  All three looked at Allistair wide-eyed. “What?” Allistair said. “I’m not a mouth virgin, you know.”

  “Mouth virgin? What the fuck is that?” Willy asked.

  “I can cuss, too, but I choose not to,” Allistair explained.

  There was a rustling in the nearby trees. Willy jumped, resumed her boxer pose, and damn near wet her pants when she saw a tall shadow looming over her. A second later, the cause of the shadow appeared. It was a nun, all right. A normal-sized nun dressed up in her penguin suit. She was short, stout, and solid. She had a round face peeking out of her black habit and her smooth cheeks were rosy. She wore little round spectacles over startlingly blue eyes and she looked to be about sixty. But it was hard to tell with nuns, Willy thought. She could have been ninety and just lived a good life that prevented normal aging.

  “Either we’re in a nunnery or it’s Halloween already,” Willy said, putting her hands down.

  “Welcome,” the nun said. “I am the Mother Superior. And you must be the new nuns.”

  Willy lost it. “NEW NUNS? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN NEW NUNS?” She turned to the marshals, but they weren’t there. “Where the fuck did you go? Get back here!”

  “Goodbye!” Maxey called out.

  Willy whipped around the other way just in time to see Maxey and Hill striding off into the dark woods. “You can’t drop us off at a nun farm! I’ll go bat shit crazy here! These people don’t have sex! They wear penguin suits! They wear weird things on their heads! They don’t have sex! They fly through the air! They don’t have sex!”

  “It’s okay, Willy, calm down,” Allistair said. “I don’t think they really fly. That was just a TV show.”

  “YOU CALM DOWN,” Willy said. “I can’t live like this. I’d rather be killed by a mobster. At least that would be a quick death.”

  “This won’t be so bad. It’ll give us time to commune with our inner natures,” Allistair said.

  “Well, you can commune with your insides all you want. My inner Willy wants to get the fuck out of here.”

  Mother Superior smiled benevolently, brushed past them, and pushed open the door. “Please come inside,” she said. “I think you’ll find our cat sanctuary to be quite charming and restful. I’m sure you must be tired.”

  Willy was tired. And hungry, too. She could use something to eat. A bath would be nice. Maybe she could shower and have a nap before leaving. One day with nuns wouldn’t hurt anything. This lady didn’t look so bad. Maybe she could hang out for a few hours…

  “Did you say cat sanctuary?” Allistair asked.

  “Yes,” Mother Superior said, beaming. “We take in all kinds of strays. Your friend wasn’t too far off in her translation of the Latin inscription. It says, ‘Love is to live with cats.’ Would you care for some tea?”

  “I could do with a beer,” Willy said.

  Allistair poked her in the ribs.

  “Well, as long as I’m here, I’ll have some tea,” Willy muttered.

  “Excellent,” Mother Superior said. “Follow me. And mind the cats. They have a habit of getting underfoot.”

  The big door squeaked closed behind Willy and Allistair. Two seconds later, a cat screeched.

  “Sorry,” Willy said. “I didn’t see your tail.”

  Catty Wampus

  Mother Superior led Willy and Allistair down a hallway and out another door. By the light of the moon, Willy could make out the shape of the stone building surrounding a large courtyard. Stone walls lined the perimeter, making escape difficult if not impossible. It reminded Willy of a prison yard. Not that she had ever been in prison but she had watched her fair share of women-in-prison movies. In fact, she had an on-going fantasy about being put in a women’s prison. It was always the same plot—she was the virginal fresh meat and the other inmates all wanted her as their sexual play-toy. The other inmates were all sexy and buxom, of course. Not like most of the cast on Orange is the New Black. No, in Willy’s fantasy, all the prisoners looked like Alex Vause.

  Willy glanced over at Allistair. She looked like she was having fun. Willy shook her head. Allistair probably had a fantasy of being in a convent. That would be just like her, Willy thought. She probably fantasized about kneeling on rice and saying Hail Marys until she orgasmed.

  Willy looked around the courtyard. There were a lot of cats. And by a lot, she meant a horde. A teeming mass. An ocean. More cats than she had ever seen in her whole life, let alone in one place. She could feel her sinuses clogging just looking at them.

  “Isn’t there a law against hoarding cats?” Willy said.

  “Not if you are a cat sanctuary,” Mother Superior said. “We are the Order of the Immaculate and Blessed Feline. We have been blessed by the Pope.”

  “There’s an order in the church for cat rescue?” Allistair asked. She almost tripped over a black cat but saved herself. Willy stepped on a stray tail and was rewarded with a howl and a swipe of claws at her ankle.

  “Ow, shit!” Willy said, grabbing her ankle and hopping.

  Mother Superior laughed. “They are very playful this time of morning.”

  “Playful, my ass,” Willy said. “That fuckin’ feline was trying to kill me.”

  Allistair elbowed Willy in the ribs.

  “And stop pokin’ me,” Willy said. “I don’t like being poked.”

  “Come with me,” Mother Superior said, leading Allistair and Willy across the courtyard. The cats parted like the red sea, allowing them to pass unmolested to the other side. “The church has a long history of animal rescue. Saint Frances of Assisi was our first father of animal rescue. The animals are all spayed and neutered so the population is controlled or Lord knows we’d be overrun by the furry creatures.”

  “Yeah, don’t want to have too many cats,” Willy said.

  Mother Superior ignored Willy’s sarcasm and smiled at her. Maybe that was the superior part of being Mother Superior; the ability to smile in the face of sarcasm.

  She led them into the refectory and bade them sit at the long wooden table. The table and chairs were all hand-hewn wood. Willy thought it looked a lot like Bilbo Baggins’ hobbit hole. She sat down, offering up a silent prayer that she wouldn’t get a splinter in her ass.

  Mother Superior smiled. “I’ll get us a nice cup of tea and some scones. After your midnight snack you can catch a couple of hours sleep before you have to get up.”

  A couple hours?” Willy said. “What the hell time do you people get up around here?”

  “Oh, very early,” Mother Superior answered.

  “How early is very?” Willy asked.

  “Four-thirty,” Mother Superior said.

  “No fuckin’ way,” Willy said. “Count me out.”

  “You’ll get plenty of sleep. Bedtime is at seven o’clock. I’m afraid we don’t have much of a night life here,” Mother Superior said, putting a basket of blueberry scones on the table.

  “But aren’t the cats awake?” Allistair said.

  “Very awake. You’ll get used to it.”

  “Get used to what?” Allistair said.

  “Their nocturnal ramblings. You may even receive a visitation this evening.” She put a teapot and two cups on the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get Sister Francine. She’ll get you all settled. And I will see you at matins.” With that she left the room.

  “She’s fuckin’ creepy,” Willy hissed. “Even for a nun.” She took a big bite of scone.

  Allistair crossed herself. “You’re not supposed to use the f-word.”

  “For Christ’s sake, that’s the least of our worries.”

  Allistair poured tea for both of them. “I don’t think you’re supposed to say that either.”

  “Did you see how she fuc
kin’ smiled at us?” Willy whispered around a mouthful of scone.

  “What’s wrong with smiling?” Allistair said. “Some people, you excluded, think smiling is a sign of happiness.”

  “Her smile was fuckin’ creepy weird. Like she was a Stepford nun or something. She smiled like she was going to pull a knife or a chainsaw out of her habit. If they start feeding us fuckin’ sausage, don’t eat it. It’s probably made from cats.”

  A calico cat jumped up on the table and sat staring, unblinking, at Willy.

  “All these fuckin’ cats. Look at this one’s eyes. I think he’s an alien. An alien in a cat suit,” Willy said.

  “Don’t you like cats?” Allistair asked, biting into a scone.

  “Sure I like cats. But I can’t eat a whole one by myself,” Willy said.

  Allistair choked, spraying crumbs. She looked at Willy in horror.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, it was a joke,” Willy said.

  “Meow,” the calico cat snarled. He jumped off the table and stalked away with his tail rigid and twitching and his butt-hole aimed right at them.

  “He didn’t think it was very funny either,” Allistair said.

  Sister Peaches

  Sister Francine came into the refectory just as Willy and Allistair were polishing off the scones and tea. There were two types of nuns in the world. The nuns who made it their mission to denigrate and humiliate people—they mostly taught in Catholic schools—and the nuns who were sweet, naïve, and a little simple-minded. Sister Francine belonged to the latter category. She had hazel eyes, a turned up nose and a heart-shaped face. She was so wholesome and fresh she could do an ad for milk. Her walk was more of a skip, which only made her appear even more simple-minded.

  Sister Francine took one look at Willy and Allistair and sneezed. Achoo!

  “Bless you,” Allistair said then giggled. “I bet you hear that a lot around here.”

  “You must be the new nuns on the block,” Sister Francine said, dabbing at her red nose with a handkerchief. “I’m Sister Francine but everybody calls me Sister Peaches.” She held a hand beside her mouth and said in a whisper, “I have a little facial hair problem. Peach fuzz, get it?”