Chapter 19
“A
nd in conclusion,” I stuttered, feeling a sweat droplet roll from my eyebrow down the bridge of my nose, “Bigfoot is a tragic and misunderstood creature . . . looking for love and friends.”
“And sex,” hissed Mrs. C from off-camera.
“And sex,” I repeated before I really heard what she had said. “Shit, I mean . . . oh sorry, I didn’t mean to say shit. God, I did it again.” My entire body heated in embarrassed panic. I scanned my surroundings and wondered if it would be odd if I took off running into the woods. I decided that might be more humiliating than having said
shit
on national television. Somehow, despite the fact that I pride myself on my common sense, I had agreed to this. Because I’m a gal of my word, I would see it through . . . Assbuckets. I took a huge breath and tried to smile at the camera. I’m fairly sure it came out as a pained grimace. “Pardon my French. Bigfoot may or may not be real, but if this many people dedicate their lives to finding him, there must be something to the story. That’s why we’re here . . . We’re
Searching for Sasquatch
.”
“And cut,” Stuey said, lowering the camera.
“Was that okay?” I asked, biting my lower lip with worry. “Sorry about the shit thing.”
“Oh yeah, no problemo. We can cut that stuff in editing. The most important thing is that your tits look great. You are one hot broad,” he said, leering. “All that sexy hair, the long legs, the tight ass, the . . .”
Edith grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “Scrotum,” she spat into his ear, spraying old-lady spit all over his face. “If you’d like to keep your scrotum, you need to shut your shiny cake-hole. Now.”
“Got it,” he muttered, moving away from Edith.
Stan was still in the sedan talking on his cell phone. He’d been there the entire hour we’d spent on my disastrous intro. That guy had some serious lack of social graces. He barely spoke and when he did, it was clipped and short. Stuey said he was the silent brains of the operation. Help us, Jesus. I guess the brains decided a small deserted hunting cabin in the middle of nowhere was a good spot to hunt Sasquatch. Maybe it was, but this place was gross and clearly a hangout for someone. Cigarette butts and beer cans littered the area. The cabin itself was large for a hunting shack. It didn’t look lived-in, but it seemed well visited. If I believed in Bigfoot, which I didn’t, I’d have a difficult time seeing him hanging out here.
Stuey backed up and stood about ten feet away from all of us. He kept the camera lowered in front of his privates. He seemed unsure whether Edith had been serious about removing his scrotum. He was taking no chances. “Allrightyroo,” he shouted. “Let’s go into the woods and find that big hairy bastard!”
We stood frozen in a clump, unsure what to do.
“Do we just take off into the woods?” Mariah asked. “Do we stay together or split up or what?”
Stuey ran his hand through his hair in confusion, pinched the bridge of his nose, and started a staring contest with a nearby tree. Clearly he hadn’t thought out his shot list very well . . . aside from my boobs. Stan, sensing a problem, got out of the sedan and approached his doofus partner. “What’s the problem?” he asked Stuey.
“No problemo, my friend,” he said. “I just need to figure out the . . . you know, um . . .”
“We don’t understand what exactly you want us to do,” Rich told Stan.
Stan gave Rich a measured look. “Find Bigfoot.”
“Yes, we know that. But do we search together, since there’s only one camera? Do we split up?” Rich was trying to be polite, but his undertone of frustration was obvious.
Stan and Stuey eyed each other silently. Holy hell, this was ridiculous. My guess was when TIT cancelled the show, they cancelled the crew and the director and God knows what else. I wondered if Stan and Stuey had any idea what they were doing. From the silent conversation going on, my deduction was: no.
Their wordless conversation lasted three minutes too long. “You will stay in a group. Walk north for about twenty minutes before you start your search. Stuey will film all of you. You can take turns, or whatever. I don’t care, just find some proof,” Stan said as he walked back to the sedan.
“Oookay then,” Kim bellowed joyously, completely oblivious to Stan’s rude behavior. “You heard the man. Let’s go!”
Hugh did a cartwheel and an impressive toe touch. Boo, with her bible in hand, skipped ahead of the group. Her excitement, Hugh’s toe touch, and Kim’s glee made the awkwardness of the situation disappear. Their delight was contagious. Mariah followed after her sister, grinning like an idiot. I prayed to Lutheran Jesus that Boo wouldn’t read from the bible on camera. That could be bad, way worse than my intro gaffe. Rich ambled along with Kim, Hugh, and Stuey, and the old lesbos and I brought up the rear.
“Um, thanks for sticking up for me with Stuey,” I mumbled to Edith. Saying thank you to one of the women who had made my life a living hell was akin to chewing glass and swallowing it, but it was the right thing to do. Surprisingly, it felt pretty good.
“Well, it’s your own fault,” Edith sniffed. “Bless your heart, if you hadn’t had those disgusting dingleboobers put in, I never would have had to threaten his ball sac.”
Maybe it didn’t feel
that
good. I rolled my eyes and tried to think of a comeback, but decided against it. Mrs. C and Edith’s boobie envy knew no bounds. There was no winning this fight.
“So are we walking for twenty minutes because there’s been a sighting out this way?” Kim asked Stuey.
“Yeah, yeah,” Stuey replied, distracted and sweating like a pig.
“Where’s Stan?” Hugh asked. Unfortunately his voice was coming back. I suspected we’d be hit with some background music soon.
“He’s staying close to the cabin. Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s got a tiny bladder and has to stay near a toilet.”
That didn’t make a whole lot of sense. As far as I knew, a guy could whip it out and pee anywhere . . . but then again, these little shiny dudes were weird.
“I thought Stan would run a second camera,” Rich said.
“No,” Stuey laughed. “We’ve only got one.”
“Then what in the hell is in the locked trailer?” Mrs. C stopped walking and confronted sweaty Stuey.
“What are you talking about?” Stuey was confused. Again.
“The goddamn trailer that I couldn’t put my luggage in because it was full of lights and camera equipment,” Mrs. C snapped.
“Oh that,” Stuey backpedaled. “Well, um . . .” He stared uncomfortably at the ground. “I gotta come clean with you guys. You’re such good people.” I noticed his hands were shaking. Even though he was foul, I felt sorry for him. “The trailer is full of lights and cameras, but when they cancelled the show, they cancelled the insurance bond. There’s about eight hundred thousand dollars’ worth of equipment in there, but we’re too nervous to use it,” he ended quietly.
“Do you even know how to use it?” Mariah asked.
“Well, um . . . no,” Stuey whispered, shaking like a leaf. “The crew, they knew how to use it, but . . .”
“It’s okay, sweetie pie.” Kim grabbed Stuey and pulled him to her ample bosom. “Everything will be fine. It will be a great show, I just know it.” She patted his sweaty little back while he sobbed into her camoed chest. “Shh, shh, don’t cry,” she cooed.
“Enough with the waterworks, shiny boy.” Edith yanked him off Kim. I think she believed he was enjoying Kim’s bosom a little too much. She was probably correct. “I get the money and equipment thing, but do you know how to work the goddamn camera you’re holding?”
“Oh yes,” he blubbered, wiping his eyes with his loud Hawaiian shirt. “I’m really good on this camera.”
“Fine,” Rich said in a clipped British tone, giving Stuey a pointed look. “Let’s get to it then.”
It was the first time I’d heard Rich angry. It was kind of intimidating unless you were looking at him. It was hard to remove the horrible teeth and pear butt from the voice.
“According to my stopwatch, we need to walk north for eight more minutes and then we can go to work,” Mariah said.
So we did.
The next three hours consisted of most of us examining tree trunks for pubic hair. I couldn’t bring myself to do that, so I searched the ground for footprints that I knew I would never find. Four times Hugh had been sure he’d found some of Bigfoot’s crotch tresses, only to have Mrs. C shoot him down and confirm it to be squirrel hair. Apparently, she and Edith had done a tremendous amount of varmint hunting in their youth. I was tempted to ask if they had ever eaten a groundhog, but I was trying to train myself not to ask questions I didn’t want the answers to.
Stuey filmed with a vengeance. He talked the entire time he shot. I thought that was odd, but I supposed his voice could be removed in editing . . . just like my inappropriate use of the word
shit
in the intro. After hours of finding nothing but squirrel hair, deer prints, and what Mrs. C declared to be opossum poop, everyone was exhausted.
“This is ridiculous,” Edith huffed. “It doesn’t feel right and I’m hungry.”
“I have to agree,” Boo added pensively. “I don’t get a vibe in this area. He hasn’t been here.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?” Stuey asked. “I have intel from our scientists that this is a prime area.”
“Your scientists are brainless eunuchs, bless their hearts,” Mrs. C snapped. “Bigfoot would not like this particular area.”
“Why?” Stuey asked.
“Because there’s no water near here or plant food source,” Boo told him. “The trees are too tall, no good hiding places. The Yeti tends to like berries, roots, and human food, like pizza and chicken wings.”
“For real?” Stuey asked doubtfully.
“Absolutely.” Boo nodded.
“Let’s go back and eat lunch,” Rich suggested.
Rich looked bad. This kind of physical exertion had to be hard on someone of his girth. Kim was a little worse for the wear too. I was going to have a talk with both of them about healthier choices and exercise.
The cabin was clean and consisted of several rooms besides the bathroom. Stan had our lunch laid out on a long oak table for us when we arrived. His spirits were slightly better than they had been in the morning, but he was still mute. He and Stuey grabbed sandwiches and went into one of the bedrooms to look at footage. We all wanted to see it, but Stuey insisted we wait until it was edited. He gave us no choice. He locked the door behind him.
“I thought you were hungry,” I said to Edith, who wasn’t eating. I pushed a turkey bacon sub her way.
“I can’t eat this roadkill,” she muttered, getting up from the table. “I’ll be outside.” She got up from the table and left. Mrs. C followed, grumbling about dumb-ass shiny bastards getting food from godforsaken shitholes like Rose and Popo’s.
“So last night really affected the old gals,” I said, tearing open a bag of chips.
“Nah, they’re just pissed we didn’t get to finish off the owner and bouncer, plus they’ve been eating all day,” Mariah said.
“What do you mean?”
“They had beef jerky in their pockets. They’ve been snacking since we started. Although I think they left some of it buried in shallow holes to attract Bigfoot.”
“Oh my God.” I wrinkled my nose and giggled. “I thought they hadn’t showered.”
“Finish your lunch,” Stan said, rejoining us. “We’ll be leaving shortly.”
“Are we going to another location?” Kim asked hopefully.
“Nope, we’re done for today.”
We all looked at each other. Was this how it was done? At least they weren’t filming us 24/7. I had a sneaking suspicion that if we didn’t find Bigfoot, which we wouldn’t, they would secretly manufacture some kind of sighting and edit it in. If they could edit my foul language out, I’m sure they could edit a big fake Yeti in . . .
Filing out of the cabin and back out into the sticky July heat, I noticed the old ladies . . . disheveled and dripping with sweat. They held their suitcase between them like a baby. There was no way they could have held that monster piece of luggage that way unless it was empty. This morning it had weighed a ton. I knew because I’d helped them pull it out of the van. What in the hell was in there and what in God’s name had they done with it? Images of a dead body buried in a shallow grave surrounded by beef jerky flooded my brain. Surely it couldn’t have been a corpse . . . it would have smelled like hell—unless they had shrink-wrapped it.
Oh my God, my imagination had become warped. As awful as the old broads could be, they were not murderers. Both Kim and Rich eyed them for a long moment, but no one called them on anything. Did they have the same disturbing hunches I did?
“Allrightyroo, team, load your asses into the van and we’ll meet you back at the lodge,” Stuey yelled out the window of the sedan as they left us in the dust. Again.
“Something’s going on with those shiny little fuckers,” Edith said, not blessing their hearts.
“I agree,” Mariah said. “I think they know exactly where Bigfoot is and aren’t telling us.”
“That’s what I thought,” Boo gasped. “For some reason they don’t want us to find him.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Kim said carefully. “Maybe Stan, but not Stuey.”
Hugh, back in full form, began grunting out the
Mission: Impossible
theme. I didn’t know much, but I agreed that something weird was going on with the shiny guys and I saw with my own eyes that something was up with Mrs. C and Edith. A large part of me was curious, but a larger part whispered “beware of what you wish for.” I decided to listen to the whisper. Sometimes the less you knew, the better off you were.
Chapter 20
T
he ride back was fast. Way too fast, but thankfully uneventful. If we’d been pulled over, it would’ve been awfully hard to explain why we were carrying eight hundred thousand dollars’ worth of camera equipment that didn’t belong to us in a trailer we couldn’t open. Whatever. I just wanted to be alone. As much as everyone was growing on me, kind of like a nonpoisonous, friendly fungus, I wanted some time away. Hugh had gotten his voice back enough to do a Bee Gees concert that would stay trapped in my eardrums for years.
Edith and Mrs. C had fallen asleep in the back row and snored like truckers. They had clearly worn themselves out doing whatever the hell they were doing in the woods. I lacked the courage to ask what was in the suitcase and what they’d done with it, but I really did want to know. I considered bringing it up to the rest of the team, but the Bee Gees concert combined with the snoring made speaking impossible.
The dust cloud we knocked up in the parking lot was impressive. Kim could stop on a dime. She either had her foot slammed down on the gas pedal or slammed down on the brake. We all flew forward and the old ladies hit the floor with a thud.
“Goddamn it,” Edith shouted. “Are we dead?”
“Nope,” Kim yelled back, over our moaning. “We’re home.”
I wanted to slip into my room before anyone asked me to do anything, but the showdown in the parking lot was too good to miss. Heidi Kugelschmooson was throwing a fit on Stuey that was riveting.
“You told me I could come,” she was whining to a freaked-out Stuey and a very bored Stan. Her blond helmet head was rock solid and her outfit defied explanation. Suffice it to say she looked like a weather girl who hooked on the side.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Stuey stammered.
“I went out with you and you said I could come along,” she hissed, closing in on him. Was she going to punch the little guy? This was good. “Are you seeing someone else?” she shrieked. “Are you cheating on me?”
“I just met you yesterday, baby,” Stuey stammered in bewilderment. “I haven’t had any time to cheat.”
“You told me to be here at four o’clock.”
“I didn’t say nothing about four o’clock,” he said, backing away from her wrath. “Did we have plans to do anything at four o’clock, guys?” he asked us, trying to get her attention off himself. We shook our heads no as she whipped around and took in our motley crew.
Her gaze narrowed and lasered in on me, shooting me a look of death . . . or was her lethal stare aimed at Rich? He was standing so close, I couldn’t be sure who she was trying to kill with her eyes. It had to be me. Did she think I was getting it on with Stuey and that’s why he’d given her the wrong time?
“Maybe I’m mistaken,” she said sweetly, turning on a dime. Can you say
schizophrenic
? “I’m sorry, Stuey baby. Heidi’s so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, snookums.”
So much wrong here . . . her being attracted to Stuey, talking about herself in the third person, using the word
snookums
. In slow motion we all tried to back away and sneak into our rooms before Heidi started making it up to Snookums in the parking lot. I had my hand on my doorknob when she let out a shriek so loud I was sure I’d have hearing damage.
“Don’t move. I have some questions for you.” She stalked over to us as we huddled together like cows before a rainstorm. Wait a minute, this was ridiculous. Who the hell did this skank think she was?
“What do you want?” I stepped forward, blocking her from going at the rest of my group. “We are tired and have a very low threshold for anyone’s temper tantrums at the moment. Especially yours.”
For a brief second I could have sworn I saw admiration in her eyes, but as fast as it appeared . . . it was gone. I had to have imagined it.
“Did you find Bigfoot?” she asked me.
“No.”
“We thought we found some pubes, but they turned out to be squirrel,” Hugh volunteered.
“What?” Heidi asked, revolted.
“Nothing,” I said, giving Hugh the “shut up” look. “What else do you want to know?”
“Did Stuey hit on anyone?”
“Everyone,” I confirmed.
“Hey now,” Stuey shouted and moved around to the back of the sedan to avoid punishment.
“That’s what I thought.” She nodded in disgust. “What time do you go out tomorrow morning?”
“We left at seven this morning,” I told her. “I would assume we’ll leave at seven tomorrow morning.”
She turned to Stuey for confirmation and he nodded weakly. “I know we met yesterday, but I’m Heidi,” she said, extending her hand tome.
“Kristy.” I returned the handshake. She had a solid grip, not at all what I was expecting. Up close, I realized she was pretty underneath all the makeup and fake hair.
“I’ll be here tomorrow with my crew,” she said. “Sorry you had to see that little argument in the parking lot.” God, if that was a little argument, I would hate to see what she considered to be a big one. She turned on her high heels and marched back over to where Stuey was now hiding under the car.
I shook my head and laughed. “Good luck with that,” I muttered under my breath, turning to go back to my room.
“She’s got a set of knockers on her,” Edith said. “God bless her, she must have spent a year’s salary to afford those.”
Edith was half right. Heidi had a great pair, but I’d bet a lot of money they were real. Come to think of it, Heidi had a killer bod. It was just the hair, makeup, and clothes that made her look like a cartoon. I’d love to get ahold of her and fix her. Motherhumpin’ assclowns, I needed to stop trying to solve the world’s problems. Good old Heidi was probably quite happy with the way she looked. God knows it would take at least an hour or two every morning to accomplish a look like that. Plus, if I suggested she change anything, she’d more than likely deck my ass rather than thank me.
“When should we meet up for dinner?” Boo asked.
“How about forty-five minutes?” Kim suggested.
“You know, I think I’m going to stay in tonight,” I said casually. I didn’t want them to think I didn’t want to be seen in public with them.
“Kristy, you have to eat,” Rich said, taking my hand in his huge one. “It won’t be as much fun without you.”
A chorus of agreement came from my team, even the old bags. “Okay,” I caved. Rich was right. I had to eat and God knows, Paul Bunyan Lodge and Getaway Resort did not have room service. “Fine, I’ll meet you guys back here in forty-five.” Mariah gave me a high five and we all went our separate ways.
Getting kicked out of restaurants two nights in a row was an accomplishment I never thought I’d achieve, but I never thought I’d go searching for Sasquatch either. Since Rose and Popo’s wasn’t an option, we tried Tooties Homestyle Hotdish Eatery. Turned out they had karaoke too. And imagine our surprise when they got offended at Hugh’s rendition of a hard-core Snoop Dogg medley. At this rate we’d be eating peanut butter and jelly in our rooms soon.
The two good things were: we’d already finished our dinner and no fistfights ensued. We escaped with only verbal abuse and death threats. Thankfully we were gone before the cops showed up.
“Hugh,” I said gently, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “You might want to rethink your artistic choices when you sing in public places where children are present.”
“Ya think?” Mariah snorted. I gave her a stern look that wiped the smile right off her face.
“I think you’re right, Kristy,” Hugh said morosely. “I’m trying to be edgy and current, but I think I’m more of a disco–Top Forty kind of guy.”
“I love your Top Forty selections,” Boo said.
“I’m sort of fond of the movie and TV sound tracks,” Mariah conceded.
“And I love when you butcher my favorite disco tunes, bless your heart,” Edith informed Hugh from the back of the van.
“Thank you,” Hugh said gratefully. “That means a lot. Kim says I should try for a recording contract, but . . .”
“But you’re too much of a pussy, bless your heart, to try?” Mrs. C attempted to finish his sentence.
“Hugh is not a pussy,” Rich said sharply, putting Mrs. C in her place.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
The silence was long and awkward and Hugh looked like he might cry. I couldn’t stand it. “Hugh, I have an idea.” I mentally squashed down the part of my brain that was telling me that I would live to regret what I was about to say, and soldiered on. “Why don’t you do the sound track for
Searching for Sasquatch
?”
“Do you think they’d let me?” He bounced like a child in the front seat.
“We won’t even ask,” I said with absolute and unhinged confidence. “You just do it. They don’t have any money to pay someone, so you’d be doing them a favor.”
“Oh my God,” Hugh gasped, his eyes blazing with excitement. “What would I do?”
“Well . . .” I spoke slowly because I had no idea what was going to come out of my mouth next. “You, um, just stand next to Stuey the entire time and go for it. We have enough of us looking for, um . . .”
“Pubic hair.” Kim helped me out.
“Yes.” I cringed, but agreed. “I was going to say
proof
, but that’s definitely more specific. You just stand with Stuey so you’re close to the mic, and sing your ass off.”
“That’s a great idea!” Boo squealed. “Hugh, you might get a recording contract without even trying.”
Hugh was now openly sobbing. I was both proud of and mortified by what I’d just done. I had a “fixer” problem. I wanted to make everyone around me okay . . . and I was pretty good at it. I wish I was as successful with myself as I was with others.
Rich squeezed my hand and I caught Kim’s eye in the rearview mirror. She winked and blew me a kiss. At the end of a very long and bizarre day, I felt happier than I had in a long time.
“You’re joking,” I laughed into my phone. If I curled up into a tight ball on my lumpy hotel bed and shut my eyes, I could pretend Rena was in the same room with me instead of hours away in our cozy apartment.
“No,” she giggled. “Aunt Moon-Unit has her house under lockdown. She says she’s close to eradicating some kind of fucking chi. No one’s allowed in and she hasn’t come out.”
“Does she have food?”
“Yeah, I left a couple of bags of groceries on her front porch this morning and her neighbor ripped me a new one.”
God, I missed my best friend. “Why’d the neighbor go after you?”
“Because for some unknown reason, Aunt Moon-Unit spread saltpeter all over her yard.”
“Oh hell, that was Edith and Mrs. C’s idea, so the chi would stop having sex and multiplying.”
“Oookay, that somehow doesn’t surprise me,” she chuckled. “I have no idea if the chi have stopped playing hide the salami. I was unaware that chi could even get it on, but apparently the neighbor’s registered stud bulldog can’t get his pink lipstick up.”
“That’s both disgusting and hilarious,” I said, pointing my toes up at the mustard ceiling.
“The unhilarious part is that the beeotch neighbor, Mrs. Bloomhouse, is going to sue Moon-Unit for causing canine erectile dysfunction.”
“Get out of town.” I sat up, realizing the old lesbos could wreak havoc even from hundreds of miles away. “Is Moon-Unit upset?”
“Hell no,” Rena said. “She thinks it’s payback.”
“Payback?”
“Yep,” she snorted, trying not to laugh. “As the story goes, the late and great Uncle Fucker boinked Mrs. Bloomhouse on a semiregular basis, so Moon-Unit feels vindicated. Plus, that dog shits all over Moon-Unit’s hostas.”
“That’s wrong on all levels.” I readjusted myself on the bed so I couldn’t see myself in the cracked mirror over the vanity as I posed my next question. I knew my face was red. I felt the heat crawling up my neck. “Um, Rena, I was wondering if you had, um . . .”
“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “He left the same day you did.”
My stomach dropped and my throat went dry. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and tried to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe he was gone. “He left?” I whispered. “For good?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. If she were here I knew she’d hold me in a bear hug and play with my hair. “I told Jack I would withhold sex if he mentioned Mitch’s name, but I can find out if he knows anything—if you want me to.”
“Um, no . . . it’s better this way. I think.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind . . .” she said.
“I did,” I told her.
“You did what?” she asked, confused.
“I changed my mind. Ask Jack what he knows.”
“Do you want to see him again?”
“I have no idea,” I said honestly. “I just want to know if he’s coming back.”
“I’ll ask,” she said. “Jack might not know anything, but whatever I find out, I’ll tell you.”
“I love you, Rena.”
“I love you too, Kristy.”
I hung up and curled into a ball on the bed. I didn’t care that I was still fully dressed. I tried to sleep, but it eluded me . . . Images of Mitch’s beautiful face were burned into my mind . . . his laugh, how sweet and smart he was, his butt . . . Shitclowns, I needed to push him into a closet in my mind and lock it. He was gone and probably never coming back. No matter how much I wanted him to. I closed my eyes again and focused on my team, the sweet and semisweet bunch of misfits that we were. I wondered what tomorrow would bring. It simply couldn’t be any more weird and unsettling than today . . . I hoped.