Free Reckless by Devon Hartford Page A

people, free from consequence. Maybe I’d been cutting her too much slack all along, and she needed a wake-up call.
    “It captures her inner spirit, don’t you think?” Romeo asked joyfully.
    I had to agree. Twirly-mustached Tiffany was definitely an improvement. “But it needs one more thing,” I said. I stepped onto the bed, took the marker from Romeo, and drew Where’s Waldo glasses on Tiffany. Wow, that felt really, really good. I smiled at my handiwork.
    “That’s more like it!” Romeo cheered.
    Madison and Kamiko chuckled.
    I handed Romeo his pen and he capped it before shoving it in his pocket. He pulled his smart phone out of his other pocket and snapped a picture. “For posterity,” he smiled at me, “And my blog.”
    He stepped carefully off the bed and helped me down. “I still can’t get over how fancy this yacht is,” he said. “It’s some kind of James Bond boat. I keep expecting Tiffany to strut in wearing a bikini, carrying a loaded harpoon gun like that Octopussy chick.”
    “What’s an octopussy?” Madison giggled.
    “Haven’t you seen that James Bond movie?” Romeo asked.
    “No,” Madison answered.
    “You mean Octiffany,” Kamiko suggested. “She totally has eight arms she uses to snare her unsuspecting prey and eat them alive with her toothy maw.”
    I think watching Adventure Time all the time had finally gone to Kamiko’s brain in all the wrong ways.
    Madison laughed. “Which maw?”
    “Ewwww,” Romeo grimaced. “You girls are gah-ROSS! But, what I want to know is,” Romeo giggled in anticipation of his own joke, “does she squirt black ink from her pooter or her pooper?” In one motion, he whipped open the cabin door and turned to face us.  
    Kamiko’s mouth dropped open with a clank, totally unhinged.
    Madison appeared to suddenly throw up in her mouth, but held it in because she had too good a manners to barf on someone else’s boat.
    I goggled, fearing imminent execution. I think Madison, Kamiko, and myself were in too much shock to speak.
    Tiffany stood in the hallway, a few paces behind Romeo, holding a drink in her hand.
    How long had she been outside the door?
    Romeo blundered blissfully forward, completely unaware of Tiffany’s presence. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, having missed our collective horror. “I’m going with an ink-shooting pooter, because you know that girl has a hollowed out vaj. Plenty of room for extra ink. And mice. Her stench trench has seen so much action, it must be like a wind tunnel in that thing. What do they call that subway tunnel from England to France?”
    “The Chunnel,” Tiffany said stiffly from behind Romeo.
    “That’s right, the Chunnel,” Romeo chuckled, completely lost in his own mirth. “Tiffany’s fun tunnel could accommodate a high-speed train. What the—!”
    Tiffany’s drink dribbled over Romeo’s head.
    “You’re ruining my hairdo!” Romeo squealed, flicking fingers across his coiffed faux-hawk. “What is wrong with you?”
    “What is wrong with you , you nasty little man?!” Tiffany seethed victoriously. “You’re all wet now, Mr. Funnyman.”
    Romeo narrowed his eyes at Tiffany. “I would never hit a lady,” he said threateningly. “Luckily, you aren’t a lady!” Tiffany flinched when he raised his open hand in a quick jerky motion, but he merely smoothed his wet hair against his scalp.
    I repressed a disappointed sigh. I hoped sooner or later somebody would give Tiffany a good bitch slapping. It would have to wait.
    With confident panache, Romeo sucked the dribbles of Tiffany’s drink from his fingertips. “Is that a mojito?” he asked thoughtfully. “It could use more mint. This simply won’t do.” He carefully removed the highball glass from Tiffany’s fingers. “Let me get you another.”
    She was too stunned to object.
    Romeo arched his eyebrow suavely. “I’ll speak with the bartender and have him mix a proper one for you. Shaken, not stirred.” He motioned toward