Size Matters (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) (15 page)

“You mean to tell me I’ve come all the way out here to find Bigfoot for Jesus with boobs?” Edith shouted. “I’ve never even heard of that channel! I thought it was TNT and I had a chance to meet Ted Turner, goddamn it.”

I was having an out-of-body experience. This was wrong on every level. I was out in the middle of nowhere at a lodge where Paul Bunyan had only half a head, with psychotic people, possibly working for a network that had a name synonymous with breasts. I would have been better off wallowing with my broken heart in my bed at home.

“Okay,” I said sharply, cutting off Edith’s rant before the talk of boobs reminded her that she believed mine to be fake. “If TI . . . um, the network knows nothing about the show, then it doesn’t exist. We need to repack and get the hell out of here. Now.”

“What about Stuey and Stan?” Hugh asked, confused and songless.

“Those little shiny homos are up to no good,” Mrs. C bellowed.

“They’re not homos, you jackass,” Mariah yelled at Mrs. C. “The really short one hit on the weather girl earlier. Besides, you shouldn’t call them homos, even if they are.”

“What in the hell am I supposed to call them?” Mrs. C shot back.

“Homosexuals or gay men,” Boo answered for her sister, who was dangerously close to rearranging Mrs. C’s nose.

“Ohhhh, so it’s just fine and dandy for you to call me a rug muncher, but I can’t call the little shiny guys, fags? Bless their hearts.”

“Oh. My. God,” Mariah shrieked. “I’m not calling you that anymore. I’m only going to call you lesbo and queer.”

That shut Mrs. C up . . . for a second. “Well, in that case, I’ll use the term
homosexual
.”

“There has to be a reasonable explanation,” Rich said as Kim nodded like a bobblehead.

“There is,” came a voice from behind us.

“Shit,” Hugh squealed, startled. He jumped into his wife’s arms and buried his head.

“There’s a very good explanation.” Stan approached our group with Stuey close behind. I think that was the most words I’d heard Stan speak so far.

“It better be good,” Edith said, getting up in his face, “you little homo . . . uh, sexual.” She quickly glanced at Mariah for approval. Mariah gave her a curt nod. Pleased with herself, she continued. “I have never heard of your badoinkie network. So speak up or I’ll let the little green-haired menace have at your man-jewels.”

Stan pulled Stuey in front of him. Clearly, he didn’t want to risk his testicles. “Tell them, Stuey,” he hissed.

“Okay,” Stuey began, looking at the ground in embarrassment. “It’s not on the network website because they cancelled it.” There was a collective gasp from my group. “They took away most of our funding.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Boo said gently, sensing Stuey’s discomfort. “If they cancelled it, why didn’t they take
all
your funding?”

“We had already rented the cameras and the van and had the lodge reservations before they pulled the plug.” He was shaking and his voice was clogged with tears. I started to feel kind of bad for him. “Stan and I failed at our last two projects,” he whispered, “so we put up the money ourselves so we could shoot the pilot. We have to prove to TIT that we can do it.”

“When did they cancel the show?” Kim asked, putting Hugh down.

“The day before we came to your meeting,” he muttered morosely, “but when we saw how enthusiastic you were and how hot Kristy was, we knew we could have a hit on our hands.”

“Were you going to tell us this?” I asked, mortified that my hotness had anything to do with our being in this mess.

“We were kind of hoping it never came up.”

“So lay out your plan,” Rich said. “Tell us what we’re doing here and why we should stay.”

“Right. Of course,” Stuey said, all business. “We have one camera. We’ll go out to designated spots each morning and shoot as much footage as we can. We have been given secret locations by our Yeti scientists of potential dens and hangouts of Sasquatch.”

“There are Yeti scientists?” Hugh was amazed.

“Absolutely.” Stuey nodded solemnly. “Men and women, well, mostly men, who have dedicated their lives to scientific research of the habitat, rituals, and existence of Bigfoot.”

“I knew it,” Hugh shouted gleefully, giving Kim a high five.

“So you want us to spend two weeks here searching for Bigfoot to save your shiny little asses.” Mariah summed it up in the way only Mariah could.

“Basically, um, yes.” Stuey nodded.

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Hugh said.

“What about the fifty thousand dollars for the women’s shelter?” Rich questioned. “Is that gone too?”

“No,” Stuey interjected quickly. “Brooks Spewter, the CEO of TIT, was caught with hookers at a major Jesus conference a month ago. TIT took a big hit, being a religious network and all, so they’re looking for some good press. The publicity department jumped at the chance to give to a women’s shelter. They’re playing it like it was Spewter’s idea.”

“Oookay,” I said. “That’s a lovely story.” At least the shelter would still get the money. How did I forget to ask that? I reached over to Rich and squeezed his hand gratefully. He winked his green eye at me.

“So are you guys in?” Stuey asked timidly while Stan stood mutely behind him.

“What if we can’t find Bigfoot?” Boo asked. “Will the show be a failure?”

“No,” Stan finally spoke. “We just need to get close. He’s been spotted here repeatedly.”

“As long as we can find some evidence or a print or some hair, we could make it work,” Stuey added.

We all looked at each other. I was good to stay. We were already here and I felt sorry for Stuey. Not Stan so much, he seemed kind of like a dick, but Stuey was sweet . . . in an oily, smarmy way.

It alarmed me that I was understanding the silent group telepathy. Boo, Kim, and Hugh were all for staying. Mariah would do whatever made her sister happy. The old ladies were a bit torn, but leaning toward a yes. Rich was the only one I couldn’t read. He watched Stuey and Stan with an odd expression on his face. I’m not sure he bought the whole story. I’m not sure I did either, but I didn’t think they were out to get us. They’d probably been fired from TIT for incompetence or sexual harassment. Rich glanced over at me and I raised an eyebrow in question; he just smiled and gave a thumbs-up. God, I wish he’d get his teeth fixed.

Kim made eye contact with each of us and received a brief nod in return. “We’ll stay,” she told the little shiny guys.

Stan and Stuey blew out huge sighs of relief and my group went wild. I even got into it a little too . . . I was becoming as crazy as they were. Shit.

R
ose and Popo’s was an all-you-can-eat buffet and karaoke bar. Hugh was so excited I thought he was going to spontaneously combust. Kim lovingly had to yank him back down in his seat repeatedly during dinner. At one point I thought she was going to spank him. As much as I feared his post-dinner performance, I couldn’t help but be tickled. His song list was huge and I had a bad feeling this would be a long evening.

We were crammed into an oblong table for eight right next to the buffet line. Mrs. C referred to our area of the restaurant as the clusterfuck section. I marveled at her use of the English language. Apparently all-you-can-eats were popular in Duluth. The place was packed and the atmosphere was happy. I found myself relaxing and having fun. My heart was still hurting, but I was moving forward with my crew of crazies.

“Did you try the chipped beef Stroganoff?” Edith inquired with a mouthful of what looked like something a cat would cough up.

“Um, no.” I quickly turned away from her open-mouthed query before my gag reflex kicked in.

“I think it’s Spam Stroganoff, not chipped beef,” Kim said, examining her huge mound of food.

“No, it’s fish,” Mrs. C corrected, taking a swig of her beer. “Tastes like ass.”

“How do you know what ass tastes like?” Mariah asked, biting back her smirk. Boo giggled and everyone else waited, scared to death of Mrs. C’s reply.

“Smell it,” she said logically and shrugged. “If it smells like ass . . . probably tastes like ass.”

“Good point.” Hugh leaned in and sniffed his food. “What if it smells like feet?”

“Tastes like feet,” Mrs. C replied.

Now everyone was smelling their food . . . including me. WTF? Everything smelled kind of like butt-feet. Crapmonkeys, my appetite was gone.

“Would you guys like to hear another chapter or verse?” Boo asked, pulling out her bible.

“You betcha.” Kim beamed. “I have a good feeling about this trip. I know it’s a little screwy with the show being cancelled and all, but if we find him . . .”

“Or her,” Boo cut in.

“Or her.” She nodded at Boo. “We can help the guys with the show and fulfill our destinies.”

“I don’t really want to be on a station called TIT,” Edith grumbled. “But, bless your heart, Kristy, that seems like a good channel for you.”

“I’d love it.” I grinned. “And I heard they’re creating a show specifically for you and Mrs. C. It’s called
Badoinkie Envy
.”

The old bags flipped me the bird, which I happily returned, much to the shock of the family at the next table.

Boo leaned in and began to read. The restaurant was so loud and her voice was so soft, it was difficult to hear her.

I could not have possibly heard that correctly. Everyone at the table looked kind of dazed and freaked out. Thank Jesus. No one could be dumb enough to buy that crap.

“How exactly would you interpret that?” Kim asked carefully.

“Well—” Boo pondered the question. “I believe that means he is overendowed and hasn’t been able to mate. I believe he has a healthy sexual appetite and no partner, human or animal. It’s really tragic if you think about it. This must be why there are so few Bigfoots.”

“She’s right,” Hugh agreed. He sniffed Kim’s food and must have decided it didn’t reek of butt-feet because he started to eat. How the hell anyone could eat after that story was beyond me.

“She has a good point,” Kim said thoughtfully. “The actual text is disturbing, but when correctly interpreted, it’s undeniable.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” Mrs. C griped. “We’re trying to find Bigfoot, not fuck him.”

“Knowing the size of his tallywhacker is not going to help us find the hairy bastard,” Edith huffed.

“Actually, it might,” Mariah said, earning a grateful glance from her sister. “If he’s been humping trees, that would be a good place to find hair. I would assume his weenie is as hairy as the rest of him?” She looked to Boo for confirmation.

“Yes, of course.” Boo nodded. “It might have slightly less hair from the friction of the constant masturbation, but it would still be quite furry.”

Kill me now.

“So, when we go out tomorrow, we should examine the trees carefully,” Mariah concluded.

“And any large furniture we find in the woods,” Hugh reminded us.

“Riiiight,” Mariah said. I knew she wanted to bust him for being an idiot, but she held back. It was impossible to be mean to Hugh. He was just too damn sweet . . . bizarre, but sweet.

“All they need to make the show successful is some kind of proof,” Kim added.

“I want to find the hairy bastard,” Edith said. “I want to have my picture made with him and I want to go on Jay Leno and Dr. Phil and become a star.”

“I get the Leno thing,” I said to Edith. “But why Dr. Phil?”

“He’s hot.”

“What do you think, Rich?” Kim asked.

“About Dr. Phil being hot?” he asked, confused.

“No, no, dear,” Kim laughed. “We all know that Dr. Phil is hot. What do you think about our ideas to find Yeti?”

He smiled and gave everyone the thumbs-up. “I think it’s a plan.”

Oookay then, I was the only sane person here. I was appalled and somewhat nauseous about going out and searching for Bigfoot’s pubic hair. I peered around the table. The old ladies were excited and ready for their close-ups with Jay and Dr. Phil. I hadn’t noticed till this moment that they were wearing gold lamé tops.
How in the hell had I missed that?
Boo was calm and focused in regard to her quest and Mariah seemed happy when Boo was happy. Kim and Hugh were in heaven, this was their raison d’être, plus Hugh planned on singing himself mute tonight. Rich looked a bit dumbstruck even though he was on board with the strategy. I think his idea of Bigfoot was more in line with what the general public knew. I think all the talk of Sasquatch’s genitalia had thrown him. It had certainly thrown me. Rena would have laughed herself silly and Jack would have stared at the ceiling and run when he had the chance. Mitch . . . What would Mitch have done if he was sitting here right now? I knew exactly what he would have done. He would have been kind to everyone and made them feel good about their whack-job ideas. I mean, he ate the freakin’ cheesy mushroom sweet and sour pork at Chinese Farts so he wouldn’t hurt Mrs. Wang’s feelings.

My eyes filled with tears as I thought about him. Asshats, I have to let it go. Now.

“Are you guys ready for some Bon Jovi?” Hugh yelled to everyone in the restaurant within hearing distance. Well, that certainly yanked me out of my pity party and made me wince.

“I want some Justin Bieber!” Kim insisted.

“Eminem,” Boo and Kim said at the same time.

“David Hasselhoff,” Mrs. C shouted. Edith pulled out a lighter, fired it up, and held it over her head. I was in hell.

“Kristy and Rich, what do you guys want?” Hugh asked, ready to charge the makeshift stage on the other side of the room.

“I’m good with anything, buddy,” Rich said in that peculiar and unidentifiable accent.

“Me too,” I added quickly. I didn’t want to be personally responsible for Hugh butchering any artist I really liked.

“All right then,” Hugh squealed. “I’m gonna do it!”

He screamed as he ran across the restaurant, scaring every man, woman, and child in his wake. The stage cleared immediately when they saw the insane little guy in shiny red bike shorts barreling toward them. I wondered for a moment if he knew what he was doing. He had put the fear of God, Jesus, Moses, and Beelzebub into everyone. No one would go near the stage now . . .

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Rich whispered.

I noticed he was sweating. He was so overweight, I wondered if he was having a heart attack. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?” I asked, feeling his damp forehead.

“No, no, nothing like that. There are so many people in here and I’ve been listening to Hugh sing for eight hours straight. It’s just . . .”

“Too much?” I grinned. I realized Rich probably hadn’t been around this many people in a long time, if ever. He was striking out into the world with the wrong group . . . or possibly not. How many people would accept him and not make fun of him? My team might be nuts, but they were kind. Well, not the old lesbos, but even they had thawed a bit.

“Yeah.” He looked down. “I feel kind of bad, but I think I need some air.”

“Come on,” I said, taking his hand. “I do too.”

 

No one from our group even noticed our exit. They had all run to the edge of the stage like crazed groupies. Edith and Mrs. C held lighters over their heads and kept chanting “David Hasselhoff, David Hasselhoff.” Leaving was an excellent idea.

There was a lovely park next to Rose and Popo’s. Rich and I wandered over and sat on the swings. I unsuccessfully tried not to flinch when he shoved his ginormous derriere into an apparatus that was made for someone an eighth of his size. Thankfully he didn’t notice, or pretended not to.

“Do you feel better now?” I asked, wondering if the swing would hold him. Maybe I should suggest the bench . . .

“Much.” He smiled. In the dark his teeth weren’t as bad and I couldn’t see that his eyes were different colors, but his hair . . . it reminded me that we would be searching for Sasquatch’s pubes in the morning. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ve been better. It’s been a rough couple of days,” I said, pushing off and letting the swing glide.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” I looked up at the stars. They were huge. Aside from the lights illuminating Rose and Popo’s, it was very dark out. The sky was breathtaking in this part of the country. “Have you ever seen the northern lights?” I asked.

“Yes, a long time ago.”

“It’s so beautiful. It makes you know there’s a God.”

“And a Bigfoot?” he teased.

“And possibly a Bigfoot,” I giggled. We swung in companionable silence for a bit. I wondered if Rich might be gay or asexual . . . I really needed a friend to dump on. It would be so much easier if he liked guys too.

“Um, Rich, have you ever been in love?” I asked. As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. He was so unfortunate-looking, he probably hadn’t ever been in a relationship.

“Yes. Once,” he answered, quietly.

I felt shame and was so glad he couldn’t read my mind. There was someone out there for everyone. Rich might not be pretty on the outside, but he was lovely on the inside.

“Did this person love you back?”

“I believe she did.” He smiled. Was I getting used to his teeth or was it too dark to notice how British they were?

“What happened?” I asked.

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely. “This and that.”

I bet the bitch broke his heart. I felt sick. I needed to steer this conversation away from the horrible woman who’d broken his heart. I would tell him about the rat bastard who broke mine . . .

“I was in love once too,” I told him. “I mean, I think I was. It happened so fast. I mean, it was just last week and I only knew him for a couple of days . . . maybe I was just in lust. God, I don’t know, but I feel shredded inside and I think I might have made a mistake.”

“By falling in love?”

“Lust,” I corrected him. “No, I guess it was love . . . or is love. Hell, I don’t know, but I told him it wouldn’t work. I made him leave.”

“Why?” he asked. God, he was such a good listener.

“Because he lied, well, not exactly lied. He omitted some rather large things about his life.”

“Was he married?” Rich asked, trying to resituate his ass in the swing.

“Nope, not married.” I stood up and moved to the bench. Rich gratefully followed.

“Alcoholic? Drug addict?”

“No and no,” I told him. “He has a job where he travels a lot.”

“Is that all?” he asked, raising his eyebrows above his mismatched eyes.

“Yeah, I guess that makes me sound kind of stupid, but my dad . . . well he, um, you know . . . he wasn’t around much and . . .”

“Kristy, you don’t have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he said gently.

“I know,” I whispered. I looked at Rich. I wondered why someone so sweet had gotten smacked with such a huge ugly stick. I was going to help him. If we walked every day maybe he would lose a few pounds. I could get the Steves to do something with his crotch head when we got back, and Rena’s dad was a dentist . . . If Rich didn’t have insurance, maybe I could help pay for some braces. Rich would be my new project. I knew in my gut I could trust him. “Rich, my dad used to beat my mom and me. My mom stayed for a long time and then one day he threw me into a wall and knocked my two front teeth out and broke my collarbone. That was the last time I ever saw him.”

“Did this man you lust for hit you?” he asked, appalled.

“No, God no. He would never hurt me that way,” I said quickly. “I’m not being clear. In fact, I’m not even sure why I told you that.” I paused. “I suppose what I was trying unsuccessfully to say is I want to love someone who will be around.”

“And he can’t do that?”

“No, he can’t. His job dictates his life. He can’t tell me where he will be or when he’ll come back, if at all.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what in the hell does this guy do?”

“Some kind of supersecret agent thing.” I laughed at how silly that sounded. “Even after what my dad did to my mom and me, I used to dream of him coming back to us . . . and being sorry . . . and wanting to be a real family. I want a real family, I want to know that someone is coming home. This man can’t do that.”