Page 30 of Cream and Punishment
He held his hands up in surrender, a smile lighting his face. “You’re right. Twenty-sevensteepstairs. We’re practically on Everest now.”
I smiled sunnily and ignored his sarcasm. “That’s more like it.”
The door creaked open, and in its place stood a six and a half-foot tall monster. Gray fur, lifeless cartoon-eyes. Fluffy hair on its forehead, gloves for hands, and wearing a T-shirt and skirt, all separated from us only by a clear plastic bag.
Donkey-like. But humanoid. And definitely female, if the subtle rise and dip on its chest was any indication. It might have been cute once upon a time, too. But now it was faded and dirty, like the better days it had seen hadn’t been for a few years.
I froze, the blood draining from my flushed face. No. There was no waythiswas what Hattie wanted me to pick up for her. She wouldn’t, right?
Who was I kidding? She totally would.
I met Max’s gaze, his own face alight with wicked glee even as dread turned my bones to stone. He surreptitiously shielded his mouth from the donkey’s view with his hand and mouthed the very question cycling through my head.
“A fur suit?”
eleven
BeforeIcouldrespond,a human appeared from behind the donkey suit. He seemed normal enough. Compared to the furry he held in the see-through garment bag, anyway. Did fur suit bags have special names?
Note to self: donotgoogle the answer to that later. That was one rabbit hole I wasn’t sure the targeted ads on my browser would ever recover from.
The man, a blond with dark circles under his eyes and a faint aroma of baked beans, stared at us with as much emotion as a whisk. When he spoke, his voice croaked like he hadn’t used it in ages. “This is what you’re here for, right? The suit?”
“Yes?” I squeaked out, more question than answer.
“Okay, good,” the guy replied, not at all deterred by my lack of enthusiasm. “Because I’ve got, like, three other people already asking for it.”
“Good gravy,” I murmured.
“It’s my ex’s.” He sniffled so loud it echoed through the complex. “Apparently her lover isn’t the only secret she’s been keeping from me. Ha!”
Max and I exchanged a look, his discomfort mirroring mine.
Mr. Baked Beans’ manic expression crumpled, and his croak turned into a whimper. “Why wouldn’t she tell me?”
In the blink of an eye, he dissolved into a blubbering puddle on the floor. The donkey came with him, folding at an awkward angle until the left ear smashed into his nose. When he pulled back, it came away with a ghastly smear of snot on the plastic.
I barely had time to turn away before I started gagging. Loudly.
“Sorry, let me clean this,” Mr. Baked Beans mumbled, and crawled into the depths of his apartment with the suit.
Hattie better bring mefivelasagnas for this. Five lasagnas and a shoulder massage. Staying up past my bedtime was one thing but doing it to bring home a snot-covered fur suit whose lifeless eyes would haunt my nightmares for weeks was another.
Mr. Baked Beans had only been gone for a second or two before Max leaned toward me, his voice low and laced with amusement. “I guess you could say his ex was a real jacka—”
“Maxwell Fuentes, don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I chided, even as I struggled to contain my smile.
He chuckled, not at all penitent. “That’s not my name.”
“Max… imus?” I guessed, thinking of the horse from my favorite Disney movie.
“Still no.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Then what is it?”
His smile softened. Whether from pride or fondness, I couldn’t tell, but it made my heart stutter all the same. “Maximiliano. After my grandfather.”
“Oh.”Sweet figs and cherry pie, if he said anything else in Spanish like he just said his name, I think I’d blackout. “That’s really pretty, actually. In a manly way.”
