CHAPTER NINETEEN
Margarita didn’t say much as they drove toward Beverly Hills to the Randy Unicorn. But every chance Acan had to look at her, he did. She had a hint of a smile on her beautiful pink lips and a sparkle of joy in her almond-shaped green eyes. He could only guess what she might be feeling, but for him it was contentment. A strange, completely foreign contentment. He truly liked his sweet but ballsy, fuzzy cu—
No! You cannot call her that. It is wrong on too many levels. Perhaps it would help if I found another nickname.
He glanced over at her and took the off-ramp. “What do you think about pet names?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never found a use for them.”
“So you’ve never had a pet name?”
“Nope,” she replied.
“How do you like fuzzy cup?”
She frowned. “Why would you call me that?”
“Never mind.”
“How about you? Any pet names?” she asked.
“Men do not have pet names—just nicknames.”
“Like Belch,” she offered.
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that name bother you? Sounds kinda slobbish.”
“Actually, the nickname evolved over time, beginning with the Mayans, who created a drink called ‘balche,’ a fermented beverage derived from the balche tree, also known as the drink of the gods. Obviously, they dedicated the drink to me and made many offerings. Which is why they called me the balche god. My brethren later turned it into Belch simply to tease me. I was too drunk to care, so I embraced it.”
Margarita’s face contorted a bit.
“This deity thing is difficult for you, isn’t it?” He stepped on the brakes to wait out the red light.
“Uh, yep.”
He placed his hand on her thigh. Simply touching her gave him a rush—sexual and mental. My perfect cocktail of delights: Margarita.
“Give it time. You’ll get used to all this,” he said.
“Will I?”
Ah. He’d almost forgotten. His way of life wasn’t something she approved of. Not that he could blame her if her frame of reference was a man who used to get drunk and hit her.
Note to godly self: smite evil ex-spouse of Margarita. There was no excuse to hit a woman.
He felt his insides coil. He’d done far worse a few days ago. He’d decapitated his sister plus nine others.
All right, man. Cut yourself some slack. It wasn’t exactly the same. He’d never hurt anyone while drunk, not even when he’d accidentally burned down a few hundred hotels and nightclubs with his infamous flaming drinks. And the other night, when he’d murdered his brethren in cold blood, well, he wasn’t to blame. That was all the Universe’s doing.
Wasn’t it?
Oh hell. Maybe it wasn’t. Moving on…
Tonight was his chance to show Margarita the truth. He was a caring deity. A true giver. Of drinks. And fun. And occasional orgies. He provided a necessary service to humanity, and if his awesome manly waistline and pant-wearing abilities were sacrificed in the process, so be it! Margarita would hopefully see the importance in his work.
Still, in these few short hours with Margarita, he’d come to feel something between them almost as equally gratifying as his quest to intoxicate the masses. Friendship. It was something he never sought or needed in his life. He had his sister. He had his thirsty flock. He had drink recipes and matches. But now he had her. Someone to listen and talk with. He felt at ease in her presence. Except when he thought about fucking her tight but luscious woman grotto—okay, okay, and maybe poking her in the ass a few times with his finger to see if it might make her giggle. Dirty fantasies aside, there was a certain ease about being with her. An ease laced with unabashed lust. And thoughts of ass tickling. Just for fun.
“Oh, look. We’re here.” He pulled up to the valet, alongside a line of a few hundred people wrapping around the block. They were all dressed in a plethora of unicorn garb—hats, headbands, full-body suits, and papier-mâché unicorn heads—eagerly awaiting the world-famous Randy Unicorn experience.
The irony is if they ever met Minky, they’d never want to look at anything unicorn again. She only showed herself every few decades, but it was said that one look into her blood red eyes could eviscerate a man and liquefy his brains. Others said that her unihorn was a straw she used like a mosquito’s beak to suck the blood from her victims. Personally, he’d never seen Minky—that he remembered—but he knew she did one hell of a Bee Gees impression on unicorn karaoke night every Thursday. Free Forgetty treatment at the door on the way out!
“Are you ready for some real fun?” He glanced at Margarita as she took in a woman strutting by in nothing but a rainbow thong and two miniature unicorn heads taped to her nipples.
“Uhh…well, this is interesting.” Her voice was tinged with disdain.
He sighed with contentment. “It is, isn’t it? Shall we?” The valet opened his door, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his favorite cocktail—Margarita. Not until he knew she was coming inside. The shock on her face told him otherwise.
“I realize you do not approve of drinking, but may I ask why you are so nervous?”
“Umm…I’ve never actually been in a nightclub.”
How shocking! “Why not?”
She shrugged but did not offer more.
It struck him as odd that she’d never gone to a nightclub, and whatever her reason for such an oversight, she did not seem prepared to tell him.
The loud bass from inside the building vibrated the windows of the car. He already felt the people inside subconsciously calling Belch, Belch, Belch!
Ah, yes! The masses were looking for their king to guide them through a night of excess, letting loose, and decompression. Well, not tonight. He would keep his oath not to partake in any libations, but he would serve a few rounds.
He slid his hand over Margarita’s and let the beat of the awaiting party pulse through him into her. She remained frozen, staring at the windshield.
“Breathe, Margarita. It is merely a building filled with souls in need of happiness.”
“Says you,” she snapped.
She was behaving as if she were a nun and he the devil taking her to a demonic orgy. Oh! Great idea for next year’s Halloween party. They threw one every year. He usually just went as the pantsless horseman.
“I just don’t feel like this is the place for me. They’re all so young and…drunk.” Margarita frowned in her seat.
He suddenly remembered a woman who’d come into the club last year. She’d been sitting at the bar with a sour face, unenticed by his standard drinks—blue balls, a horny bandit, a chocolate T-bag. Turned out that she was an aspiring singer who’d been burned every way possible by her famous ex-husband. The man had taken her car, her home, and her three small children, all because she refused to be cheated on and he could afford a better lawyer. Acan recalled the moment clearly: The song “So What” by Pink filled the club, and that was when it hit him: The perfect drink. Acan had reached across the bar, laid his hand over hers, and said, “You’re still a rock star. You got your rock moves. And you don’t need him.” He then handed her a fuck you hurricane, better known as the fuckuicane:
In a plastic yard glass, fill:
- ½ with ice
- ¼ with pink lemonade
- ¼ tequila
- Add a splash of grenadine for color and garnish with a slice of orange and a maraschino cherry on a toothpick.
The woman had smiled, thanked him, and hit the floor. By the end of the night, she had a record deal and would soon have enough money to get her kids back.
God times, god times. Sometimes, people simply needed to be reminded of who they were.
He mentally patted himself on the back and then looked at Margarita. “You are Wonder Woman. Nothing frightens you, least of all a club full of people dressed as unicorns, dancing their worries away.”
“Okay.” She bobbed her head. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Ha. I really am good with people, aren’t I?
They exited the car, and the moment the line of patrons spotted him, they cheered.
Acan waved at the crowd as he walked around the vehicle and took Margarita’s hand. “Ready for the night of your life?”
She drew a breath. “Ready.”
The bouncer unlatched the rope and high-fived Acan on their way inside.
“VIP treatment. This is nice,” she said.
“Just wait. It gets better.”
The moment they got inside, they were swallowed by the cheering crowd.
Daddy’s home!