Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie (18 page)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Characters Tim Hanson, Susie, and Sunset, as well as mentioned characters Ashley and Jeanette, are borrowed from my novel
Names Have Power
.

****

I loaded my Captain America shield into the front seat of my clunker. Before I started my car, I pulled my cel phone out of the hidden compartment in the back of the shield, in order to speed-dial Natasha.

But when Natasha’s cel phone got answered, instead of hearing her voice and accent, I heard, “Natasha Ludmenkov’s phone, this is Helen.”

I didn’t know anyone named ‘Helen.’ Well, nobody younger than my mom.

I said, “Hello. This is Marvin Harper. May I speak to Natasha or to Harold Miller, please?”

The girl answered, “Natasha is driving right now, so she told me to answer her phone.” There was a long pause. “This is Harold. But, uh, Natasha wants me to be ‘Helen’ for Sunset’s party.”

“Um...”

“Yeah. Listen, Natasha says that if you get there first, to not go inside till we get there. If we get there first, we’ll be waiting outside for you.”

“Got it. See you at the party, Har—Helen.”

I stuck my cel phone back in its hidden compartment in the shield, and started my car. As I started driving, I thought,
Two weeks ago, my bully was ‘Hank.’ This morning, he was ‘Harold.’ Now he’s ‘Helen’? Fatima plays for keeps.

****

The party turned out to be in an older neighborhood, 1940s-ish houses that were a few blocks from the Army base (that had been closed down long ago). I didn’t need to look at mailbox numbers to find Rhonda’s house—nope, just roll down my windows and home-in on the loud music.

All I knew about the party hostess was that she worked at the strip club that Natasha’s father owned, her stage name was Sunset, her new real name was Rhonda, and she was throwing this party to celebrate getting her name changed in court.

Which I didn’t understand. I’d been teased a lot as a kid for being called ‘Marvin’, but I couldn’t see myself becoming ‘Mark’ or ‘John.’ And if I
did
go to name-change court, would I throw a party and let all the friends of ‘Marvin’ know that I was now ‘John’, and let all the friends of ‘John’ know that I used to be ‘Marvin’? No way.

Anyway, once I’d parked my car, I grabbed my Captain America shield, locked up my clunker, and walked around outside. I was looking for Natasha and Harold/Helen. I didn’t find them.

While I waited for Natasha and Harold to arrive, I saw young people, all in costume, get out of cars and walk toward the party. Seeing me, two people gave me a thumb-up for my costume. And about ten women (and one man?) gave me looks of sexual desire. Which gave me mixed feelings.

I’d been pacing the sidewalk for about ten minutes when six young women got out of a car. They were in costume, of course. Leading the pack were twin blue-eyed breasty brunettes, each dressed like a vampire.

A brunette (who was dressed like Paula Sarin) asked, “Almira? Elvira? You sure this’ll work? What if we get caught?”

The vampire twin in black shook her hair. “Anybody gives us any shit, let Elvira and me handle it.”

The vampire twin in red added, “Look, the girl running this party is a stripper, so you think she’s gonna call the cops on party crashers? Anybody asks, just say you’re good friends with ‘Sunset.’ That’s her stage name.”

The black-dressed twin turned around to eye her minions. “The secret of party-crashing is
never act nervous
. Smile, ladies—booze and boys await.” The twins herded their minions toward the party.

Right then, I got the idea that maybe Natasha and Harold had already arrived, and had gone inside. I didn’t think so, but better to check and get rid of that possibility, rather than waste time outside when my friend Natasha was inside.

I walked up the walkway to the front door of the two-story brick house, to discover the brunette vampire twins arguing with a buxom young red-haired woman. The redhead was dressed like Jessica Rabbit.

The redhead was saying, “I don’t know any of you. So you need to turn around and leave.”

The red-dressed twin said, “But we’re not here because we’re friends of
yours
. We’re here ... uh, we’re here...”

The black-dressed twin pointed at me. “We’re here with
him
.” She turned her head to gaze into my eyes, giving me a sultry look that said
Go along with this, and I promise you delights.

I said, “Rhonda, the vampires’ names are Almira and Elvira. They’re party-crashers. I heard them talking.”

The black-dressed twin glared at me, then said, “I had no idea they let
faggots
come to this party.”

For some reason, this made Rhonda (the redhead) throw back her head and laugh.

Ignoring the six trespassers, Rhonda turned to smile at me. “Thanks for the help, but I don’t know
you
either.”

I said, “I’m Marvin. I’m here with Natasha Ludmenkov and her friend, um, Helen. I’m wondering if they’re inside.”

The red-dressed brunette twin muttered, “Great. She’s throwing a party for Russian spies.”

Rhonda said, “They haven’t walked through this door in the last twenty minutes, this I’m sure of.”

Just then, an old man came hurrying across the lawn from the two-story house next door. He looked angry. He walked past Almira and Elvira and their crew, directly to Rhonda. He said, “I need to talk to you. Right now.”

As I turned around to walk toward the curb, I heard Rhonda say, “You got me, Mr. Carver. I’m listening.”

As I walked down the walkway, I heard the old man say, “Not out here, girl. I can’t hear myself think in this racket! Come talk to me in my yard, where at least I can put distance between me and the noise.”

When I got back to curbside, Natasha and Harold were just getting out of a late-model car. I took one look at Harold—excuse me,
Helen
—and one thought ran through my mind:

Holy shit.

****

Natasha was dressed in a tight-fitting black jumpsuit, and wore a red-haired long wig; in her hand was a black-plastic gun. Given this little bit of costume and her Russian accent, Natasha made a very believable Black Widow.

But Natasha earned only a glance from me. I was staring at Harold. Or to be more accurate, staring at Harold’s long blond hair. “Is—is that a wig?”

Harold’s face had an expression I couldn’t read. “Are you losing your memory? I’ve had this hair for as long as you’ve been the biggest guy in the school.”

“Oh, of course. Right,” I said. Now I looked at every part of Harold, not just his girlish hair. I thought,
I can’t believe I’m looking at a boy, much less a boy who terrorized me twelve days ago.

Harold noticed me looking him over. “I’m supposed to be Something-Girl. But I’m not into comic books.”

“You’re Ultragirl. The slutty, evil-universe counterpart to Supergirl.”

“Helen” gestured to below “her” waist. “This explains the garters and stockings.”

I said, “And the red platform high-heel boots. And the eye shadow. And the, um, lipstick.” I turned my eyes to Natasha. “Jeez, why didn’t you also put cantaloupes in his bra?”

Natasha ignored my jab. “Does you likink Helenka’s finkernails, Marvin? I do find finkernail woman who is doink good to sculptink in the long finkernails.”

My voice was loaded with irony: “Sure, Harold’s fingernails look great.”

Natasha slapped my arm. “
Nyet!
No is ‘Harold.’ Tonight, is
Helen!
”

“Helen” looked at me and sighed again. “And everyone will think that’s who I am. Because the hair’s real. And because
you-know-what
turns out to be easy to hide.”

“Sucks to be you, buddy,” I said.

Harold/Helen asked me, “So what do you think, about how I look?” Harold was looking at me intently; I knew what he was
really
asking.

I looked him over, then said, “Well, if you went over to Ewert Grant, you couldn’t win Prom Queen there. Your hands and feet are a little too big for a girl your height; your wrists and ankles are a little too thick. Compared to normal girls, your head and ears are a little too big, and there’s something ‘off’ about your knees and elbows. You have something at your throat that maybe might be a small Adam’s apple. And of course, your tits are small. On the other hand, with that hair and that
face
, you could model magazine covers. And I can’t see one hair on your face, chest, arms, or legs.”

“Helen” said, “You’re driving me nuts with all this ‘on the one hand, on the other hand’ crap. What’s your bottom line?”

“Bottom line? Even with your clothes on, someone can tell you’re a guy,
if
he-she looks really hard. Still, if you ever do go to Ewert Grant sometime, expect the girls to all be jealous of you, and the guys to all hit on you.”

Harold looked away. “Yeah, that’s what I think too. But fuck,
magazine covers?
”

Natasha grabbed both of our arms. “Party is in house, not is here. We must there is need goink. Now darlink, by party, you is the boy or the girl? And what is the name of you by party?”

Harold said, “At the party, I’m a girl. If there’s a girl’s bathroom, that’s what I use. And at the party, my name is Helen.” I couldn’t read Harold’s expression.

Natasha pressed, “And if is someone sayink, ‘Hey, Harold’? Or if is someone sayink, ‘Was the name of you Harold’?”

Harold replied, “If someone says, ‘Hey, Harold,’ I don’t react. If they ask me if I used to be called Harold, I say no.” I couldn’t read Harold’s expression.

Natasha threw her arms around Ultragirl, kissed her blond lover, and said, “
Lyubimyi
, you is to me so good! I ask, ‘You is do dressink like girl and actink like girl,’ then you do it! I is lucky, you to findink!
Spasibo, spasibo balshoye!
”

That hug and kiss put a smile on Harold’s face. Then “Helen” looked at Natasha and me, saying, “If I fool everyone, it could be kind of fun.” Then Natasha took the hand of “Helen,” and they headed toward the party.

****

Just as Natasha and “Helen” reached the front door, Rhonda the party hostess was walking across her front lawn. Rhonda was saying, “I promise, Mr. Carver, I won’t let my friends get too noisy. But sheesh, Mr. Carver, you
do
know it’s Saturday night,
right?
”

Rhonda then noticed us and turned around. Smiling, she said, “Natasha, I’ve been waiting for you. And who are your friends?”

Natasha pulled “Ultragirl” forward. “This is Helen. I and she is lovink.”

I expected Rhonda to freak out at this, or at least paste on a plastic smile. Instead she screamed, “How
wonderful!
” Then Rhonda gave Natasha and “Helen” each big hugs.

Rhonda then said to Natasha, “Lesbian, you? I never suspected for a second.”

“This is ‘comink out’ to both Helen and me. This is to us new both.”

Rhonda turned her attention to Harold-as-Helen. “You must be
so
nervous, if this is your first time out as a lesbian.”

“Yeah, a little. Okay, I’m jumpy as a cat.”

The big-breasted redhead smiled with reassurance. “You’ll find plenty of company here. Gay men, other lesbians and, after two in the morning, you’ll meet performers from LAS BOYS. Plus I’ve got amateur cross-dressers inside right now. And rumor says”—Rhonda lowered her voice—“there’s even a
transsexual
around somewhere.”

For some reason, that speech made Natasha snort.

Rhonda continued, “Natasha will be good for you, Helen.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Harold asked.

“Listen, Natasha’s father owns Nimfo Club, and after I came out of name-change court, I called him and said I wanted to throw a party on Saturday night. But strippers
never
get Saturday night off! But Natasha talked to Yuri, and five minutes later, I got Saturday night off!”

“But not was Saturday you did wantink,” Natasha replied. She shrugged. “
Papa
did sayink, ‘Not this Saturday! Schedule was postink.’ But he did sayink yes to Saturday after. If I have sugar tongue as Rhonda say, then this party was last Saturday, not tonight.”

Rhonda smiled at Natasha. “You’re still my hero.” Then Rhonda turned to look at me. “Your friend ‘Captain America,’ I’ve already sort-of met him.”

I said, “Those party crashers, I guess they left.”

“Hope so,” Rhonda said. “Two of them were Grade-A wicked bitches.” Then Rhonda looked at Natasha. “Does Captain America have a name?”

“Oh, sorry. Rober—Rhonda, this is Marvin Harper. He with us, Plato Smith is attendink.”

I added, “But all three of us graduate in less than two weeks.”

“Pleased to meet you, Marvin,” Rhonda said. Then she reached out her hand to shake mine.

As I shook her hand, I took a breath. I got ready to say
Let’s just be friends.
But when I shook her hand—

—nothing happened. Her eyes didn’t change expression, and she didn’t pledge her eternal service. Instead, she gave me a practiced smile, and soon pulled her hand back. I wondered,
Why isn’t she a touch-slave now?

She asked me, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I certainly wasn’t about to share my real thoughts. Instead, I said, “I was wondering, What’s such a big deal about name-change court? That’s the whole reason for the party, right? What was your name before? Bertha? Zelda? Henrietta?”

She gave me a cold look. “ ‘Sunset’ suits me better than the name I was born with. And ‘Rhonda’ suits me best of all, because I chose it.”

I threw up my hands. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.”

Why
wasn’t
Rhonda my touch-slave? This was bugging me. Fatima had told me that only certain people wouldn’t be affected by my magic pheromones and magic touch, and this redhead wasn’t on the list—yet she was no more fawning over me than Natasha or Harold were.

Behind me, I heard a couple’s steps coming up the walkway. Behind me, a man’s voice said, “Good evening, Rob—whoops, Rhonda. Jessica Rabbit is a good costume for you.”