Giving you a taste of Pinked

Posted: June 20, 2011 in Uncategorized

Here’s a bit of chapter one and the start of why wacky worlds of association living. Hope you enjoy – keep in mind it hasn’t been finally edited yet but I think you’ll get an idea of the campy fun. Oh and the art is from the man cave nestled in the Flamingo Rustler!

“Nicky! Your God damned beefcake hotshot developer has managed to get his fat ass impaled on the pool gates. Now I’ve got blood everywhere and people screaming. What are you going to do about it?” The gravelly chastising voice bellowed like a bull in a china shop, insistent and imploring. The man was cranky as hell.

And it pissed the bejesus out of her. “Who the hell are you?” Nicky French fumbled in the dark trying to make sense of why in God’s name she had answered the phone at all in the middle of the night. She sat up. The blood bammed against her forehead so hard it was like tiny and very noisy munchkin men were inside her brain beating to the tune of Michael Jackson’s Beat It.

She thrashed in the direction of the phone and her hand slamming into something. The crash was loud enough to wake the dead. “Holy fuck!”

“What do you mean who is this? Get a grip girl! Do your job! This is Ray!”

Nicky struggled with the covers that had captured her like a prisoner of war, tumbled out of bed and fell directly onto her face. “Ray who?”

Huffing and puffing rumbled through the phone. “Your God damned Board President.
That’s who! You know, the one your lousy firm works for?”

Nicky fought her way to the bathroom, cordless phone still in her hand. Ray Switzer. Oh yeah. Famous in his mind anyway. The cranky old guy ran — and she merely thought the words with a chagrin on her face — ran the Board at Leopard’s Pointe, the Premiere Community Association in Chesterfield. Yeah right. She growled. “Ah…Ray. Why exactly are you calling me again in the middle of the night?”

“Are you deaf, girl? The damn developer’s down here on the top of the pool gates. Fucker’s dead as a damn doornail. Causing quite a stir too I might add. Shit woman, I think a party’s ready to break out. Hold on! Marge – stop that. You can’t take pictures with a dead man for Christ’s sake!”

Nicky heard muffled excited voices that had to be hovering directly behind Ray. God, the man drove her absolutely nuts. No, the freaking community drove her nuts. That’s because only nut cases lived there. Yep, her favorite saying remained in the forefront of her mind. You move into a community association, check your brains at the door. Hush girl! Association Management is your chosen profession. Remember?

“No! It won’t make good newsletter material! Sorry Nicky. Damn these women drive me crazy!” Ray huffed.

Who the hell was he talking to? “So are you serious, Ray? Is there really a dead man’s body somewhere in the community?” Groaning, Nicky stabbed at the light. The florescent beams hit her squarely in the eyes. She winced and her head bounced to the moon. Damn! She shouldn’t have had that last fuzzy nipple or pink navel or whatever the hell Ruby forced her to have. Her best friend could make a party out of anything.

“Dead as a damn heart attack, girl. And you wouldn’t believe the rest of it. Get the hell down here now! Oh holy hell! I gotta go, Fred’s bringing out the cheese whiz. Jesus H. Christ! Fred…Fred!

“Ray. Ray!” Snarling, Nicky realized Ray hung up. She dropped the phone with a thud and held onto the bathroom counter. The entire world swooned by her like a bad case of the heebie jeebies. What the hell is the crazed old fool talking about? Somehow she doubted William Barrington the third – and she was required to address the retired ex-New York judge that way — was somehow nestled into the closed pool in the middle of the night. But then again, she found two kids in the back of the bathroom doing the nasty just last week.

And the damned pool had been open what, a week?

Inhaling deeply, Nicky balled her fists and glared at herself in the mirror. She was thirty-one going on a hundred, easily. The damn community had aged her just in the last year alone. There was nothing like two separate cases of raw sewage spewing into several condominium units around a given holiday to boil your blood. She turned on the cool water and splashed a handful in her face remembering she wasn’t on call, not this month. Yet Ray baby knew all of her phone numbers and called her outside of business hours on a regular basis.

Nicky, why haven’t the pool chairs come in?

     Nicky, why aren’t we on budget for grounds care?

     Nicky, I can’t stand the damn painter. Can’t you fire him and hire another?

     Nicky… 

     Nicky!

The majority of the time Nicky felt like a battering ram for the entire community. Still, something was up. Ray wouldn’t call her unless something was going on in the melting pot of humans. The question was, was she sober enough to drive? She fumbled back into the bedroom and stared at the crimson bold-faced digital clock. Three am? How long have I been asleep, like an hour?

Why no officer. I haven’t had a thing to drink. Just going to visit the community I manage in the middle of the freaking night!

You betcha that excuse would fly. All the way to jail.

Growling, Nicky fumbled to find the clothes she slid out of barely an hour before. The lovely single nightcap turned into a round of heavy dirty dancing with some guy name Raul. Who the hell named their kid Raul and lived to talk about it? She was going to curse her Ruby Dettrix in the morning. She could still see the buxom woman batting her emerald green eyes and slicing her rich auburn hair over her shoulders as she pursed her lips, daring Nicky to join her. Just one drink girlfriend. It’ll be fun.

Four drinks later and a handful of phones numbers and Nicky was hot, horny and alone.

Realizing time was of the essence, she threw on the same attire, a tight black leather skirt and scarlet polyester shirt that clung to every curve like a glove and shook her head. Boy, wasn’t she the picture of association management? Sadly, with three night meetings that week, she hadn’t managed to do laundry in a good ten days. Aarrgh! Huffing, Nicky brushed the golden strands back into a ponytail and rushed to put on a little make up, gazing at her reflection with disdain. “You look like hell in a hand basket.”

Giggling, Nicky imagined it was perfect for a murder scene. Jerking to a halt, she threw her hand over her mouth, frozen like a popsicle in Alaska. Murder? Was he serious? Not that she hadn’t thought about it before, given her profession, who wouldn’t? Still, murder in the community was unheard of. Had Ray said anything about calling the police? Shit, she could barely remember. She grabbed a bottle of water, her purse, keys and prayed to some God she’d make it from the West End to Chesterfield County in one piece.

Hope you enjoyed!

Chow baby   xxx

Dakotah

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