Monday, November 29, 2010

Strange Bedfellows


“And this is where the magic happens,” Mooney announced as he guided his date into his wolf den, aka the bedroom. “Howzabout I make us some coffee and we can – ”

“I’m quite coffeed out, thank you very much,” Maggie snarled. Streamers of chocolate still matted her hair. She must have noticed Mooney’s frown because she switched gears in a hurry. That snarky smile of hers appeared. “However, some iced tea would be lovely.”

“Coming up.” Mooney headed for the kitchen. He was pretty jazzed on caffeine right now himself. Not to mention from the rampaging girlfight Maggie and Marissa had staged in his honor and practically in his lap. Who needed mud wrestling when two hot shes went at it fang and claw for your benefit? The spectacle had left him horny as hell.

Gentleman that he was, he’d taken it upon himself to console the loser. Maggie wasn’t close to coming in first in Mooney’s personal hump race, but he still wasn’t sure where he stood with Marissa in particular, let alone monkeys in general. At least Maggie was fairly close to being a wolf. And the things he’d heard about coyotes – he couldn’t wait to give her a go. A ruff in the hand beat a monkey’s bush, or something along those lines.

“You want lemon?” he hollered at the bedroom. Shes liked it when you did little courteous things like that. Maggie, though, didn’t answer. Probably rooting around in his underwear drawer, he figured. Wait’ll she discovered he didn’t wear underwear. That should get her panting.

Maggie sashayed out of his bedroom and accepted the glass of iced tea with a gracious smile. “You’re such a sweetie,” she told him, batting her lashes. Mooney covered his snort quite expertly, if he did say so himself. Just how old was the ratty bitch, anyway? Odds were good she’d never see 30 again. “They’re all young enough in the dark” was another favorite saying around the McMahon den.

Might as well go right for the throat of matter. “So how much is my douche of a brother paying you to drag me out to this shindig?”

“Not a penny, darling. This is all my pleasure.” Glass in hand, she prowled the room, admiring his many high-school trophies and awards for sports writing, as well as his collection of football memorabilia. Mooney swelled in spite of himself.

“You won’t find gold like that on Nick’s mantel,” he said when Maggie oooh’d over his track trophy. “Little rat-tail sucked at sports. Debate team, for dog’s sake. Who even gives a rip? You letter in sports, they remember you forever.”

“They certainly remember you at the school,” Maggie said. And not in a good way, she thought. “Most fleas” had been the legend under his yearbook picture. She hoped that didn’t still hold true. The apartment stank of cat piss, and she was certain Mooney didn’t own a cat. Perhaps he’d eaten one in the recent past. “You were quite the star.”

“Damn straight. So what’s the deal? You want to do an expose of the fired sports hero or what?”

“Not at all, sweetie. I thought you’d welcome a chance to get revenge on your less-than-caring brother. Fired by text. How gauche.”

“Yeah.” Whatever the hell “gauche” meant. “What’d you have in mind?”

“The party, darling. Nick’s gotten me in, and I can get you in. You’ll have access to Damien Hancock and can tell him whatever you like regarding Nick. Nick wants Hancock’s backing. You can ruin that. You can ruin your brother.” She bared her teeth. “And let’s not forget all the lovely, rich women who’ll be there. It will be like a smorgasbord for you.”

Okay, he knew what a smorgasbord was. Hot damn! Wreck Nick’s chances for social advancement and rub that mutt White Fang’s face in his prowess with the ladies. If he could just ditch this scroungy bitch and hook up with Marissa, life would be perfect. “What’s in it for you?”

“A story, of course. There’s bound to be something on tap at a party of that magnitude. In addition … ” She trailed her fingers up Mooney’s arm. “I get to attend in the company of a handsome, strapping young male. That will definitely turn heads.”

Mooney’s downstairs head took a turn on its own. Hell. She wasn’t Marissa, but she was here. He could turn out the light and pretend. He jutted his chin at the bedroom. “You wanna?”

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

Twenty minutes later, Mooney lay back and gasped for breath. The tales about coyotes were true. Even the older bitches were bendy as all get out. “Dog, woman, you don’t quit.”

“The benefits of experience,” Maggie purred against his throat. “Consider this part of your community service. You certainly served this bit of the community.”

“Bastards. They got me picking up trash on the highway. You wouldn’t believe the scat people throw out of their cars.”

“What about the fine? Now that you’re out work – ”

“Oh, I’m working. I’ve got a contact and a deal going.” His teeth flashed in the dark. Brother Nick was in for one helluva surprise. “Don’t you worry about me, honey. I got it under control.”

“Really.” Maggie toyed with the matted hair on his chest and listened intently.


Savanna Kougar said...

hehe... Maggie DOES know how to get a story... and, one must wonder what she's about to get from randy-for-a-ruff Mooney

"A ruff in the hand beat a monkey’s bush, or something along those lines."

Serena Shay said...

Oooh, heck yeah the benefits of experience are exquisite! hehe

Boy Maggie sure seems to have a bone to pick with Nick, ~sigh~ pushing the moon-ster into starting something against his brother...naughty coyote. ;)

"A ruff in the hand beat a monkey’s bush." Great line!!

Savanna Kougar said...

Hmmm... Maggie, the gossip Trickster is likely to be playing both ends against the middle... in the ole sack and out of it.

Pat C. said...

Yep ... classic coyote behavior. She's a daughter of Chaos, after all.