And he had only one wife.
Dust Bunny, with his Stanford degree, would have been a logical choice. He was probably the only other Assassin who had a clean sheet. But he wasn’t as good-looking as Maximus, and he held a lot of conspiracy theories about aliens and governments reading our emails. So he’d be Maximus’ campaign manager. Already he was standing up next to Sledgehammer yelling, “Maximus for mayor!” He’d attracted quite a crowd of people wanting to know what the fuck was up. I heard a couple of people saying “About time someone ran against Pratt.”
But I knew what the fuck was up, and I wanted to spend more time with Oaklyn. When I sat next to her, she stopped talking to Mahalia and put her hand on my thigh under the table.
“Shall we go see Nana again tomorrow?”
Nana’s surgery had taken place earlier that day in St. George. We’d spent about four hours there, but she’d been so doped we weren’t sure she knew we were there. She was stable, so we’d planned to return tomorrow. “Definitely. This time, I want you riding one up behind me. On my pussy pad.”
Being basically from a Mormon background, Oaklyn automatically looked around to see who’d heard me say “pussy.” Then she seemed to remember that she was in a crowd of bikers, and she smiled. “Okay. But only if you buy me a leather jacket down in St. George when we’re done seeing Nana.”
I got a big thrill out of picturing that. I was so inspired, I put my hand on her thigh under the table. From here I could see Pratt’s insipid face as he cast me a pantload of dirty, smarmy looks. I hadn’t seen Shumway go to the bar yet, but when I raised my cup to Pratt, he seemed to get all befuddled. Now he went to the bar.
“Makes me sick just seeing that guy,” said Oaklyn. “And is that guy you fought with the building inspector who won’t give you a license?”
“Never interrupt your enemy while he’s making a mistake,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her that shortly, Shumway would be puking his guts out. That was my favorite Napoleon quote.
Oaklyn squeezed my thigh higher up this time. Her fingertips feathered a fraction of an inch from my ballsac. Not to sound like an asshat, but after the clit torture event of yesterday, I’d made sure there was a rubber in my wallet. It was a habit I’d only recently gotten out of after years working in the sex trade. I didn’t figure I’d need one for a long, long-ass time. I was shocked down to the ground to find myself so attracted to that self-absorbed, priggish, boho chic nurse. Now I just saw her fine ass, cappuccino skin, her delicacy and elegance. She’d proven to me she had a heart with her caring for my Nana, for Lazarus. For the unwanted widows of Cornucopia.
“Did you see anything in the silent auction you’d like?”
She rolled her eyes and said in a mocking tone, “Oh, sure. The cruise to Puerto Vallarta. And I’ve always wanted to cruise to Alaska.”
“Which one do you prefer?”
“Levon! I don’t know how much money you think a nurse makes—oh, an unemployed nurse—but I’m not about to go on a cruise to Salt Lake, much less Puerto Vallarta.”
I was implying that I would bid on anything she wanted, but now I felt foolish. Expecting her to go with me on a week-long cruise was absurd, especially with us both starting new jobs. Determined to get her one of those spa treatments, I stood and started squeezing my way to the stairs that would lead to the bidding room. I tried to avoid that fucking roly-poly clown in the bowtie with his red plastic cup of booze, but Pratt squished his way toward me.
By then the shouting in the room had reached a fever pitch. People were banging on the long tables, shouting “Crab! Crab! Crab!” You had to yell to the person you were squashed up against, and that person was the fucking creeper mayor.
He even shouted in my ear, as though having his belly pressed into my groin wasn’t bad enough. I mean, his stomach was literally rubbing against my dick. I tried turning so at least my penis was up against some eighty-year-old Elk, but the mayor turned with me, like we were on a carnival ride together.
Pratt bellowed, “Given any thought to my proposal? Come to my office tomorrow morning and I won’t post the video of your protégé to YouTube.”
“Not a chance in hell, you creeper pedo.”
“I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll get your business reclassified as a gym.”