Froggy Style (13 page)

“Don’t break up with Beauty.” The king grabbed my hand. “Please.” He paused, increasing his grip. “She didn’t mean anything by it. I promise. It was a test. Nothing more.”

“Whoa,” I said, peeling each of his fingers off of my sleeve. “A test, you say? Trying to kill me was a
test?
”

“What?!” He bolted upright, spilling his scotch all over the hundred-thousand-dollar rug beneath our feet. I winced. That would leave a stain. The king frowned and then broke into a fit of giggles. “Good one, son. You had me going for a minute there.”

“I’m not joking.”

“While I’ll admit Beauty is a wee bit annoying,” he said, “she would never hurt anyone, let alone attempt to murder the man she’s come to adore.”

“Who’s that?”

The king’s brow wrinkled. “Why, you, son.”

“Of course.” Because nothing says “I love you” like a speeding car. I started to say as much, but the king cut me off. “Please, son. You must believe me.” He leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Under the bitchiness, Beauty’s as sweet as they come.”

“Sweet” wasn’t the term I’d apply to my pajama-wearing princess, but then again, I wasn’t her stepfather, a man intent on selling his ward to the highest bidder. I scratched my chin, taking a moment to study the king. “If Beauty had nothing to do with the attempt on my life, what was all that about her testing me?”

His sigh filled the room. “The colors.”

“What colors?”

“The wedding colors.” The king swallowed. “Beauty changed the color scheme for the wedding. She wants everything to be green. Frog green.”

 

Ten minutes and a half a bottle of private-stock scotch later, I patted the king’s arm and assured him, for the tenth time, that Beauty and I would marry in less than seven days, her poor color choice, and possible homicidal tendencies, aside. What marriage didn’t have its ups and downs?

Speaking of ups, a flash of color in the window caught my eye. I squinted, making out the well-endowed breasts of Ms. Lollie Bliss squished against the glass. What the hell was she doing? I stood, excusing myself from the king’s company to investigate what now appeared to be Lollie’s ankle slithering upward.

I headed out the front door and around the side of the palace, nearly tripping over a worker who sat in a corner, eating a pie with his fingers. I nodded as I passed. He gave me a sticky purple thumbs-up. “What a good boy am I,” he said before again losing himself in his afternoon treat.

“Um, sure,” I said, quickening my pace. I rounded another corner, this one thankfully empty with the exception of an ink-sleeved woman tangled in a rose trellis about six feet off the ground. Leaves and rose petals mixed with long, jet-black strands of hair as Lollie Bliss fought to escape her flowery prison, unaware of my presence or the fact that her leather pants had slipped dangerously close to revealing her bliss.

My blood suddenly flowed south, and my body hardened. Turned on by a chick stuck in a tree, what a sick frog prince I was. Scratch that. Since the Frog King had disowned me, I was merely some pervy guy with a fly fetish.

“Achoo.” Lollie sneezed, sending a shower of rose petals raining down on me. I brushed off a few leaves, and stared up at the beautiful woman above me.

“Gesundheit,” I said.

“Ahhh,” she screamed, twisting on the trellis until her body faced mine. Her eyes shot daggers at me. “Well, don’t just stand there. Help me down.”

I scratched my chin. “How about we start with ‘Hi, Jean-Michel, good to see you again’?” My eyes roamed over her tangled limbs with both appreciation and concern. The damn trellis was covered in thorns. “And then maybe you could explain why you’re climbing my fianc ée’s rose trellis?”

“You bas . . . achoo . . . ta—”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” she spat. “Hi, Jean-Michel. Now help me down before I sneeze and impale myself on a thorn.” To emphasize her point, she let out a string of sneezes. I ducked a particularly wet one. A loud crack echoed from the trellis, followed by a waterfall of splintered wood. Frog! If I didn’t help Lollie down soon, she’d surely break a leg. How would I explain that to my future bride?

I reached for Lollie’s waist. The leather of her pants scorched my fingertips, but I held tight, hefting her body from the tangle of rose vines. Beads of sweat dribbled down my forehead and into my eyes. I blinked away the sting, completely focused on the task at hand, not to mention the feel of Lollie’s skin against my hands.

Once she’d cleared the thorniest of the branches, Lollie used my body like a slide and slithered down until her feet hit the ground. We stood inches apart. The warmth of her body enveloped me, warming parts of me left frozen in the wake of my soon-to-be-married state. My hands curled around her bottom, cupping the softness underneath, dragging her naughty parts closer to mine.

Lollie lowered her gaze to my sudden, semi-erect appendage pressing against her. “Please tell me that’s a gun in your pocket,” she said, her voice growing husky.

“Best I can do is a roll of Fairy Savers breath mints.” A grin broke across my face. “A really big roll.”

Taking a ragged breath, Lollie stepped back. “Well . . . I . . .”

“What was that about?” I motioned to the trellis, ignoring the ache in my groin. Sadly, within the last two hours, I’d gone from a frog prince without a care in the world (Beauty’s probable assassination aside) to little boy blue balls. Who knew what nightfall might bring? A case of the clap? I shook off that thought and instead tried to focus on Lollie’s explanation. It promised to be entertaining, if nothing else. “What are you even doing here? If Beauty catches you . . .” I swallowed hard, my mind racing with scenario after scenario. About half of them ended with me sporting a brand-new pair of frog legs. And those were the happy endings.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

My eyebrow rose.

“Fine. I’m here,” she sneered, “to stop you from doing something stupid.”

Stupid? Me? I snickered. “So what, you decided to break into my bride’s palace? How’s that for stupid?”

“Would you rather I rang the doorbell?” Her hands fisted on her hips. “Maybe invite your sweet fiancée out to lunch for a little chat?”

My eyes lowered, giving her body a slow, leering once-over. “You’re not her type.”

“Funny,” her smile sparkled with humor, “yet I’m sure we’d find plenty to talk about.”

“Are you threatening me?” I leaned in, her minty-fresh breath hot against my neck. “Because I don’t scare that easy. Not since my dear bride attempted to run me down this morning.”

Lollie took a step back, all the humor gone from her face. “You really think your fiancée tried to kill you? Are you insane?”

My eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who suggested it, remember? Today at your shop? I didn’t believe it when you first said it, but then I saw the car in the driveway. . . .”

“What car?”

“The black Unicorn Beauty used to try and run me down.” I gestured to the front of the palace and the long, yellow brick driveway. “How could you miss it? It’s the only vehicle in the driveway with a prince-shaped dent.”

Concern lined Lollie’s face as she waved two fingers in front of my face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Knock it off,” I said, pushing her hand down. “What’s gotten into you?”

“There’s no Unicorn in the driveway, Kermit.” She shot me a sad smile. “Are you sure you saw a black Ford Unicorn? Maybe it was a Chevy Mermaid. They can look a lot alike.”

“I know what I saw, damn it!” I started forward. I’d show her. But before I reached the driveway, Marvin stopped me, his pudgy face beet red in color.

“Beg your pardon, sir.” Marvin’s eyes darted between Lollie and me. I could only imagine how things looked, me with an unbelievable-sized bulge in my trousers, and Lollie, as hot as ever, leaves tangled in her hair.

“Did you wake my bride?” I growled, snapping Marvin’s attention from Lollie to me. The less attention Marvin paid Lollie, the better. I was already risking too much having her in the vicinity as my bride, let alone flaunting our . . . relationship to the help.

“That’s what I came to tell you, sir.” Marvin bowed low, beads of sweat dripping down his face. He mopped them away with the edge of his uniform. “Princess Beauty . . .” His eyes locked on Lollie.

I motioned for him to get on with it.

“Right,” he said. “Of course. It’s just . . . your bride . . .”

I closed my eyes. Would nothing ever be easy with Beauty? “What’s she done now? Added frog legs to the wedding feast? Ordered a hemlock cake? What?”

“Well, sir,” Marvin straightened to his full height, “Princess Beauty has disappeared.”

D
amn her! Less than seven days until our wedding, and Sleeping Beauty had pulled a runaway bride. I should’ve seen it coming. She showed all the signs of a flight risk, excessive sleepiness aside. Well, that and the fact she rarely left the palace.

I ran into the palace and rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time in my haste to reach Sleeping Beauty’s bedroom. Lollie followed behind, her normally pale face as white as snow. Two guards stood at attention outside the bedroom door. The taller one nodded as I approached.

“No one saw her leave?” I asked.

“No, sir,” he said. “Me and Paul here,” he gestured to the other shorter and familiar-looking guard, “we’ve been here the whole time. Nobody came in, and nobody came out.”

My eyes narrowed on the second guard’s face. “Do I know you?”

“Um . . . no . . . sir . . . ,” he stuttered, and then suddenly cried out,
“Wolf!”

I jumped back, nearly flattening Lollie, who stood behind my back. The first guard blushed. “Beg your pardon, sir. Paul . . . he suffers from Tourette’s.”

“Oh,” I muttered. “Do you remember anything unusual that might’ve happened today?” Perhaps Sleeping Beauty slithering down the storm drain?

Both guards shook their heads. “No, sir.”

“Did either of you hear anything strange?”

Paul scratched the hair on his chin. “I . . . ah . . .
wolf
. . . didn’t hear her . . . snores . . . like I . . . normally do.”

“Since when?”

“Maybe . . .
wolf
. . . nine this morning.”

Plenty of time for her to sneak away, drive into Cin City, and try to run me down. After all, it was much cheaper for a princess on a budget to murder her fiancé than pay a killer to do it.

“Thanks,” I said to the guards. “I’m going to have a look around her bedroom.” An idea occurred to me and I grinned. “Why don’t you go grab a drink and relax? In fact, the king would love to share a bottle of his finest scotch with you. It’s in the library. Go help yourself.”

The guards beamed. “Thank you, sir.” They headed off, the occasional cry of “wolf” echoing down the hallway.

Once they were gone, I turned to Lollie. “Bitch!”

She smacked me in the face.

I rubbed my stinging cheek. “What the hell was that for?”

“You called me a bitch.”

“Not you. Sleeping Beauty.”

She smacked me again.

“What was that one for?”

“I felt like it.”

I took a calming breath. “Next time try really hard not to feel like it.”

“We’ll see, Kermit.” She winked. “We’ll see. So, what’s with calling your sweet bride names? It’s not her fault that she’s being forced to marry the likes of you. Given the circumstances, I’d run away too.”

“Good point.” I nodded, my fingers hovering above the door handle to Beauty’s lair. “However, my displeasure relates to her attempt on my life. Not her sudden vacation plans.”

Color boomed on Lollie’s cheek. “What if it wasn’t her driving the Unicorn? What if Princess Beauty is innocent as well as sleepy?”

I pointed to my skinned knee. “Someone tried to kill me this morning, remember? And I suspect that someone is a certain princess who’s currently on the run.”

“Aw, poor baby. But what if you’re wrong too? What if it wasn’t her? What if it was someone else?”

A smile touched my lips. “Like who, your boyfriend, Spindle?”

Lollie’s hand fisted at her side. “I’m serious. I think you’re looking at this all wrong.”

“We’ll see, Lollipop,” I said, tossing her words back into her face.

“
Don’t. Ever
. Call—”

I laughed and pushed Sleeping Beauty’s door open, bending low at the waist. “After you.” I waved Lollie inside the room and then followed quickly behind, my eyes glued to the gentle sway of Lollie’s hips.

“Holy crap,” Lollie said, her mouth dropping open as she gazed around Beauty’s bedroom.

Glancing up from Lollie’s derriere, I stepped back. In a matter of a day since I’d last entered Beauty’s bedroom, someone had wrecked the place. Books, magazines, and clothes lay scattered throughout the room as if a stampede of forest creatures had invaded.

But the destruction of Beauty’s bedroom wasn’t what shocked me the most. What rocked me to my very perfect toes was the single stem rose, the same blood-red color as the one drying in my pocket, placed gently across Sleeping Beauty’s pillow.

“W
here is she?” I grabbed Lollie’s shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “Where is Sleeping Beauty?!” Blood pounded in my head, muffling the words pouring from Lollie’s plump, lying lips. Sleeping Beauty hadn’t run away. That damn Spindle had kidnapped her.

Or worse.

I didn’t want to even think about the worst-case scenario. It involved flies and trying to fit a flat-screen TV into a one-bedroom lily pad. I tightened my grip on Lollie’s arm.

She punched me in the jaw until I let her go. “What’s wrong with you?” She screamed. “I have no idea where your precious bride went.”

Picking up the rose petal from the pillow, I shoved it under Lollie’s nose. She sneezed in response. “Sorry, allergies,” she said, wiping her eyes.

I stared at the wilted rose in my hand. “You’re allergic to roses?”

“So?” Her arms crossed over her chest. “It’s not like I’m diseased or something. It’s an allergy. I take a pill each morning and I don’t even notice.”

“But Spindle . . .”

“This again?” She rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t know anyone named Spindle.”

“But the roses.” I held the rose up again. Lollie backed away. I dropped the offending flower. “Spindle leaves a rose at his crime scenes.”

“So?”

“He leaves them for you.”

Lollie gave a high-pitched laugh. “No, he doesn’t. Why would this Spindle guy, even if I did know him, leave me flowers? I hate flowers, especially roses.”

“Yeah, right.” I gestured to the bright blue peonies inked on the inside of her arms. “Tattoos aside, you named your shop the Rose. And you expect me to believe that’s just a coincidence? Do I look stupid?” Probably not the best question to ask considering I was standing in my missing fiancée’s bedroom, a rose in my hand and a blank look on my face, since I had no idea what to do next.

Lollie grunted, spun around, and headed for the door. Her heels clicked on the hardwood. “Believe what you want, Kermit. I couldn’t care less.”

I reached for her arm, dragging her back. “Liar.” Oh, she cared all right. Why else would she be here? For all Lollie’s grumblings, she had fallen for me. Hard. The poor chick was just one more notch on my belt of love.

“For your information, Kermit,” she yanked her arm from my grip and glared at me, “I didn’t name the shop.”

“Then who did?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” She exhaled loudly. “A friend.”

“Spindle?”

“No, you jerk. Red.” At my blank look, she added, “My receptionist. Red hair. About,” she held her hand to her waist, “this high.”

“I don’t understand.”

Lollie exhaled, speaking slowly as if I was the village idiot. Which, given the past few days, I very well might’ve been. “Red, she’s a midget. It’s a genetic condition often referred to as dwarfism.”

My face burned. “I know what a midget is. I’m talking about the fact Red named your shop.” Lollie wasn’t the type of woman to leave something as important as the naming of her shop to just anyone.

“Well,” Lollie said, her eyes darting away. “It’s not exactly my shop. Not totally.”

“What?”

She scowled. “Maybe you should get your hearing checked. Perhaps all those years of debauchery, not to mention a strict fly-eating diet, have finally taken a toll.”

I took a deep breath. “Mademoiselle, I assure you my hearing is as perfect as the rest of me. And I don’t eat flies!”
Not anymore,
I added silently. “Now tell me, what the hell’s going on?”

Lollie sat down on Sleeping Beauty’s bed, her bottom molding to the mattress as if she belonged there. I felt the slightest twinge of guilt. Yeah, Beauty had likely tried to kill me, not to mention her being really annoying, but she was still my future bride, unless Spindle had already disposed of her.

Then she was probably worm food.

Having Lollie here, on Beauty’s bed . . .

“Are you listening to me at all?” Lollie snapped her fingers. “I’m trying to explain how I met Red, and there you are fantasizing about a threesome.”

Not quite, but now that she mentioned it . . .

“Damn it, Kermit.” She leapt off the bed and stabbed her finger into my chest. “This is important. Red named the shop. I never asked why, but maybe she knows this invisible assassin, Spindle.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside Beauty’s doorway. Lollie grimaced, her voice turning urgent. “I have an idea how to find your wayward bride.” She grabbed my hand, and pulled me to the door. “But you have to come with me to the Rose. Right now.”