America Embraces Jayms Blonde

MIAMI HERALD: A hairdresser by trade and a secret agent by choice, Jayms Blonde and his faithful pedicurist Precious Needmoore, lead the ﬁght to save the planet from bad hair and bad air. Armed with bulletproof-mousse, Uzi blow-dry- ers, and hair-curler-hand-grenades, they rescue the dude-in-distress, and make saving the earth look fabulous.

CONETICUTT POST: The combination of wild, globetrotting adventure and stylish graphic novel illustrations every few pages gives the book a wonderful over-the-top feel. Blonde’s foes are evil capitalists whose industries spike global warming and other eco-disasters. The hero and his cohorts work for STOP (Stop Terrorizing Our Planet) which is covertly funded by media celebrities. James Bond fought an organization known as SPECTRE (Special Executive for Counter-Intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion) led by the supremely evil Ernst Blofeld. Blonde and STOP’s primary foe is ZENRON (Zillionaire Environmental Nihilist Reinstating Oligarchy Nobility). The group is repre- sented in the ﬁrst adventure by “the richest, most beautiful and most heartless woman in the universe: Zaroya Sylva Kenmore Cohen Abud Grimaldi Chang.” Cabell clearly had a ball transforming literature and ﬁlm’s most promiscuous heterosexual spy into his very active gay hero.

KIRKUS DISCOVERIES: Cabell makes the over-the-top zaniness and mock action-hero antics fun, and everything congeals into a wildly enjoyable ride for readers who enjoy the adventures of a muscle-bound, crime-ﬁghting queen in tights. A super-silly, whirling ﬁrst episode that will leave gay superhero fans scratching their heads-and eager for the next installment.

LAMBDA BOOK REPORT WINTER 2008: If a reader relishes campy writing employing loads of outrageous puns, double entendres, innuendos, inside jokes, and the like, then he will enjoy this ﬁrst outing in what proposes to be a series. Typical of the novel’s humor is the villainess’s quip as she feeds gay Hugh Humpit to her tigers: “If you don’t eat pussy, pussy will eat you.” (Other characters’ names include Connie Ling Qua, Harri Kummalot, and Dr. Randy Dick.) The story is erotic to its core without ever being sexually explicit. Forty-six highly appropriate illustrations by Cabell, Anthony Maligno, and Pevo scattered throughout the book give it the ﬂavor of a graphic novel.

LOS ANGELES INDEPENDENT WEEKLY: (Cover Story) author Robert W. Cabell uses his ﬂirtatious narrative to pack a serious pro-environmental message. “I wanted Jayms Blonde to be an icon for the world, a cheerleader for the environment, not [solely] a gay icon,” Cabell said. Blonde’s mission: to save the world from bad hair and bad air. Riddled with playful double innuendoes, Cabell teases with snappy one-liners that make a statement about Hollywood just as much they do about sex In the end, Cabell describes Blonde as the “updated- Tarzan with the world as his jungle and John instead of Jane by his side.”

WASHINGTON DC BLADE: Nothing about this book is subtle, but the over- the-top nature of the storytelling is the novel’s biggest advantage. The pun ratio is sky-high, as are the Octopussy-esque risqué character names. Jayms’ sidekick is named Precious Needmore, the equipment man is dubbed Harry Hardware, and in the book’s later chapters Jayms beds a young man name Kummalot. The only restraint used in “Jayms Blonde” is in regards to the sex. Amorous scenes are alluded to, not elucidated.

HX MAGAZINE: (New York) Hairdresser/secret agent Jayms Blonde is gay, and runs the Pink Berets, a group determined to halt the evil machinations of an anti- environment group. Breezy and funny, Jayms is a hero for every gay boy out there.

XTRA WEST (Vancouver BC): As an agent of STOP (Stop Terrorizing Our Planet), Jayms fights for the environment against the nefarious ZENRON Cor- poration (Zillionaire Environmental Nihilists Reinstating Oligarchy Nobility) with his arsenal of deadly cosmetic products, sassy comments and unquenchable libido. True to the Bond tradition, he has an impressive assortment of gadgets that includes a hair dryer that shoots Teflon bullets, explosive press-on nails and bulletproof hair mousse. The pièce de resistance is a backpack that sprouts wings so Jayms can fly around like a bumblebee-a very sexy bumblebee.

AMBUSHmag.com BOOK BEAT: The Hair-Raising Adventures of Jayms Blonde is hilarious, sexy, and deﬁnitely a joy to read, but I doubt if it will ever win any major awards. Jayms Blonde is a gorgeous gay guy who makes the bad guys pay. He is a hairdresser by trade and a secret agent by choice, a former U.S. Navy Seal who can use an Uzi as well as a teasing comb. With the aid of his faithful pedicurist Precious Needmoore, they lead an elite band of Pink Berets to save the world from bad hair and bad air. It just gets wilder as you read along.

DAVID of ATLANTA: (Cover Story) THE BASIC PLOT is of two warring organizations. STOP (Stop Terrorizing Our Planet) is the environmental espionage group, led by the RuPaul-like Mama, that employs Jayms. STOP’s arch nemesis is ZENRON (Zealot Environmental Nazis Ruthlessly Obliterating Nature), a sinister cabal of billionaires who refuse to use their money to help Mother Nature. The only restraint used in “Jayms Blonde” is in regards to the sex. Amorous scenes are alluded to, not elucidated, and the most salacious thing in an illustration is the occasional bare bottom. “The deﬁnition of the book is ‘the lights go off before the dicks come out,’” Cabell jokes. It’s salacious, but not X-rated.

IN MAGAZINE: New York-based writer Robert W. Cabell creates an over-the- top gay fantasy world in The Hair-Raising Adventures of Jayms Blonde, his illustrated novel that takes us from Hawaii to Hong Kong for Blonde’s increasingly outlandish battles with the forces of ZENRON (Zealous Environmental Nazis Ruthlessly Obliterating Nature). Like James Bond and M, Blonde gets his secret assignments from the RuPaulesque Mama. Also like Bond, Cabell employs deliciously shameless names for his characters, like Hung Lo and Harri Kummalot. This one feels like the ﬁrst in a delightfully silly series.

OUT IN NEW JERSEY: Everyone knows no one is more fierce than a gay hairdresser on a mission but you just aren’t ready for how fierce that can be when super-gay-hero Jayms Blonde fires up his Uzi hair dryer and starts lobbing a few hair curler grenades. A secret agent of STOP, (Stop Terrorizing Our Planet) Blonde is an eco-warrior battling the forces of planetary spoilation. The book is really a lot of fun and would be an enjoyable fantasy trip for everyone from gay teens through older people who haven’t forgotten the pleasure of imagination. With copious, sharply rendered illustrations, the book is almost a graphic novel and much more than a comic. It leaves the reader satisfied, laughing and ponder- ing “if only”.

ABSOLUTE PALM SPRINGS MAGAZINE: The Hair-Raising Adventures of Jayms Blonde is a naughty, sexy, comical book about a hairdresser/secret agent ﬁghting crime to save the environment without messing his hair! There is only one thing Jayms loves more than crime ﬁghting-that is sex and a lot of it. It’s a very entertaining book that will keep you laughing ’til the end.

247GAY.com: With a cast of over-the-top characters and a vein of irresistible sexiness, Robert W. Cabell’s Jayms Blonde is one book that delivers page after page of twists and turns. It is made all the more fun by the comic drawings that accompany the story and put faces to the wildly dangerous and irreverently sexual players that make it so much fun.

BAY AREA REPORTER: He’s got a great concept-The Hair-Raising Adven- tures of Jayms Blonde, a cute cartoon gay action-hero who doubles as a hairstylist to the stars. Blonde does battle with Zaroya and her evil henchmen and women, as she plots to assassinate Miss Galaxy, force Pakistan and India into war, and ruin the environment by destroying corn/ethanol products.

GAYWIRED.com: Grab Jayms Blonde, renowned stylist to the stars and secret agent, and hang on if you can. He is going to take you on an entertaining joyride through a deliriously hyper-active soap opera of a world where just about everyone is gay and espionage is the sexiest occupation around.

OUTLOOK WEEKLY: A former Navy Seal turned hairdresser, Jayms Blonde defends the planet from bad hair and bad air in this hilarious action-packed novel by Robert W. Cabell. When a hairdresser turns hero, “wash and blow” has a whole new meaning. OUTSMART MAGAZINE: (Houston TX) It’s high time the spy genre was goosed a little. And while Alan Cumming’s TV project failed to ever hit the air- waves, gay espionage aﬁcionados can now giddily claim one of their own (via novel form) in Robert W. Cabell’s The Hair-Raising Adventures of Jayms Blonde, a shamelessly ﬁzzy tale of a gay hairdresser turned international superspy. With glam locales, unashamedly juvenile dialogue, and a cast of characters with pun-heavy names, this martini may not be very stirring, but it has some fabu- lously drunken moments. -Review: Steven Foster

AMAZON.com Book Review: Is it waaaaaay “over the top”? Duh, yeah! It’s car- toonish on many levels, including literally (most chapters have a scene illustrated by a cartoon panel that would be right at home in a Batman comic), and the dialogue is a overﬂowing well of camp, bad puns and more double entendres per page than I can count. But it’s also a brilliant satire of the actual James Bond nov- els, complete with versions of the chief, the “gadget” guy, buffoonish villains and clueless CIA operatives. www.jaymsblonde.com What People Are Saying About Jayms

The Hair-Raising Adventures of Jayms Blonde is sexy, swashbuckling, and satu- rated with sweat. With a scorching kind of swagger, Jayms Blonde is the kind of 21st century hero that anyone should love to be saved by—or sandwiched next to. Blending action with just a hint of the satirical, Cabell’s “Project Popcorn” is a genuine press-on nail-biter. LEONARD JACOBS—National Theatre Editor of Back Stage

“He’s gorgeous, he’s gay, I like my men that way! Snaps for Jayms Blonde! Finally a sexy secret agent who saves the dude-in-distress! It doesn’t take a queer eye to see that this novel is destined for the sequin screen.” JAI RODRIGUEZ—star of “Queer Eye” and Broadway!

“He’s hot, he’s sexy, he’s my personals ad come to life. Now once he answers the ad, we can ﬁnally head out, so to speak, on that ﬁrst date! I’m expecting something big from Jayms Blonde. He’s not to be missed!” ROBERT GANT—Actor “Queer as Folk”, Actor Producer “Save Me”

I LOVE JAYMS BLONDE!!! He’s my personal hero. You REALLY have to check this out. CHAD ALLEN—Actor, Producer, Star of the feature ﬁlm, “Save Me”, “End of the Spear”, and “The Donald Stratchey Mystery Series.”

“Jayms Blonde, is so hot and fabulous—he even made my Mohawk hard! Finally, a Macho Man who can save the planet and go native with me at the same time!” FELIPE ROSE—Native American Indian of “The Village People” “Jayms Blonde is a laugh out loud page turner. I found myself actually laughing out loud on the subway. I can’t wait for more and more adventures from Mr. Blonde. I loved it! MAURICE HINES—Tony nominated Actor, Singer, Dancer, and Choreogra- pher

Jayms Blonde is the next big superhero! I admire his adventurous spirit, symmet- rically ﬂawless physique and great hair. A shining example of health, courage and good humor. GENNARO FERRA—Mr. Australia & Certiﬁed Fitness and Nutrition Coach.

“Jayms Blonde is an original, over-the-top hero in a story that’s shear madness!” JANE BERGERE—TONY Awarding winning producer of Curtains, Glenn Gary Glenn Ross, Caroline or Change, Metamorphoses

“Jayms Blonde is a hilarious send-up of the Austin Powers and 007 genre. It may very well be the next great animated franchise.” ELYN BRAUN—Emmy Award winning animation producer, The Rosie O’Donnell Show

“Robert Cabell deserves a big fat wet one for Jayms Blonde. I’m not sure where to plant it, but Jayms would, as fast as you can drop your pants. “A good fairy makes a bad enemy”—and he’s about the enemies of life, hair, and the environment—and its friends, too. Blonde enjoys every second of life. You will, too, reading these adventures.” PERRY BRASS—author of How to Survive Your Own Gay Life, Warlock, and Carnal Sacraments.

“A fantastic mix of espionage, sensuality and satire, JAYMS BLONDE zips along with wit, whimsy and lots of ﬁrm bodies! A must for those who want more male on male action with their super spies.” WILL CLARK—Author of Porn Star Conﬁdential & Radio Talk Show host. “From Hawaii to Hong Kong, Jayms Blonde brings new meaning to the term ‘hard-ass!’ His appetite for action makes him as likely to land a blow as give one. This hilarious, in-your-face, adventure tale, cuts new crossroads with a rainbow of macho.” ELAINE KWON—Five time US national Tae Kwon Do champion & action- adventure TV-show host

“Jayms Blonde serves up a winning combination of action and camp-venture. Smashing Jayms—simply smashing!” TURHAN WILBON—US Davis Cup Tennis Player

Jayms Blonde is a steamy, beefcake, fantasy romp that Robert Cabell has brought to life. I’m not sure if I want to get my haircut or sleep with Jayms? … How about both!!! MARK NELSON—Special events and entertainment promoter

“Jayms Blonde—smart, witty and ﬁerce! I love it! a super-hero that kicks ass,—then does your hair.” SUPANOVA—International Recording Artist

Robert Cabell’s Jayms Blonde is an exciting and bold adventure into the glamor- ous world of wash and spy. Robert and Jayms are one dynamic duo you can deﬁ- nitely count upon!!! PETER MCLEAN—Executive Producer D1Music Records

“Jayms Blonde gives new meaning to the term “Undercover Agent”. A great sum- mer read between the sheets.” VICTORIA SCHWINNING—President of Book Country, International

“The Hair-Raising Adventures of Jayms Blonde is a fun read. Irreverent, imagi- native, and understated hilarity bounce off of page after page. Its gay, sexy underbelly intrigues and delights the reader. Hard to put down, as Mr. Blonde might say.” JOE URBINATO—Grammy Award winning recording artist & playwright “With a snip here and a cut there Jayms Blonde shapes his adventure like a true hairdresser, and gives it a hot, sexy new look. His racy antics puts blush on your cheeks faster than any brush as he turns the tools of our trade into a deadly arsenal; in a way you could ‘dye’ laughing from.” KRISTEN DEPLOY—Celebrity hairdresser & Co-owner of Insitu Salon at Gramercy Park, NY, NY. THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

PROJECT POPCORN

A Naughty New Novel

Robert W. Cabell

iUniverse, Inc. New York Bloomington Shanghai THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE PROJECT POPCORN

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse 1663 Liberty Drive Bloomington, IN 47403 www.iuniverse.com 1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-0-595-42474-0 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-595-87511-5 (cloth) ISBN: 978-0-595-86808-7 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America Dedicated in loving memory of

Marvin E. Gardens

The ﬂoral king of Atlanta, and party maker to the stars, whom we lost to A.L.S. February 23, 2000. He was a life-long example of beauty and grace.

Acknowledgments

If we are the sum total of our parts then:

My heart belongs to my family Rudy, Jackie, Dick, Shelley, Roy, Janet, and all my lovely nieces

My head belongs to my associates Pevo, Anthony Maligno, Michael Civitello, Janice McDonald, Elyn Braun, Rickie Ellis, Mat Tombers, Del Long, Michael Blake,

My soul belongs to my friends Marvin Elmore, Barry Duckett, PennyJo Atwood, Evette Stark, Giraldo Silva, Mikal Anderson, Cecilia Funderburk, Bronwen Dukate, Victoria Schwinning, Bob Lent, Carol Hastings, Joe Zingo, Jim Roberts, Jane Bergere, Kepa Kauwe, Jayms Duchesne, Samantha La Vialle, Lisa Siemer, Tommy DeMaio, Joey Adams, Elaine Hughes

My eternal gratitude belongs to Robert and Susan Gleason, Joey Adams, Perry Brass, Kei Okoronkwo, Leon Paredes, H. Kevin Mobley, Peter McLean, Pi Douglass, and Mark Christian

I am forever humbled by their love and attention.

xix

Foreword by Jayms Blonde

Global warming is upon us. Saving the planet is a dirty job, and this good fairy is just the man to do it. So whoever messes with Mother Nature be forewarned: there’s a new Oberon in town. And a good fairy makes a bad enemy! Now clap your hands if you believe in fairies, and read on McBuff! So spread the word. “Green is the new pink.”

xxi

PROLOGUE

The name’s Blonde, Jayms Blonde—hairdresser by trade, and secret agent by choice. It was just another morning in Tint Town as I drifted in and out of con- sciousness. Sprawled face up in the center of a king-sized bed, I glimpsed the sun slicing through the venetian blinds in horizontal ribbons of light. I had done a hair-styling gig for a popular boy-band last night at the Maui arts and cultural center and wound up being very popular with them myself. Like an updated version of doing The Village People at the YMCA. I could hear a chorus of heavenly voices calling my name over the sounds of splashing water, towel snaps, grunts, and gurgles. Stretching out my arms, I knocked a few things off the bed. As they clanged to the ﬂoor, I smiled and remembered that nothing says “I love you” like handcuffs. I was just about ready to gear up for another booty call, when something besides me started to vibrate. It was the phone.

xxiii xxiv THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

Not a phone but the phone—Mama’s phone. Not the tuck-you-in kind of Mama—this one runs a secret environmental protection agency. It’s a hard life for a white woman, especially when she’s a black man, but when you can sing like Gloria Gaynor, kick ass like Jet Li, and give face like RuPaul, you will survive. I am a bit of a hybrid myself. I talk like Oscar Wilde and kick ass like James Bond. And while James Bond has his M, Jayms Blonde has his Mama. Like Bat- man, I have my own Boy Wonder, too: Precious Needmoore—my faithful pedicurist and sidekick. What he does to a foot feels like it should be illegal. Can you say foot fetish? He’s a twenty-year-old, bite-sized, all-American, techno-slut whose sexual orientation is, “Yes.” Never heard of a techno-slut? That’s a cute computer geek, and this one looks just like a twenty-year-old Greg Louganis, which makes me want to purr. “Jayms, I have an assignment for you,” Mama said as her face popped up on my cell screen. “What’s up Mama?” I asked as the band gathered around to play me one more time. PROLOGUE xxv

“I’ve had three agents killed in the past twelve hours and I am pissed,” she said angrily. “I’m coming, Mama,” I said reassuringly. “What was that Jayms?” Mama asked as Jayms watched the playtime in the shower hit a crescendo. “Just getting ready, Mama, I’ll be right there.” “Now, don’t dick around, Jayms,” she threatened. “A few quick swallows and I’m out the door,” I promised. Then I clicked off the phone and exploded into action. I’m six-four, 235 pounds dripping wet, and I have two percent body fat. I play any game I want. For nine years, I was a highly-decorated Navy Seal—decorated for doing the kind of jobs that would curl your hair in unofficial places. That was, until I was caught spreading a Rear Admiral on his Pentagon desk. The Admiral was severely reprimanded for being “gender-specific challenged” while I was tossed out for being “gay.” In a couple of years, I went from blowing up bad guys to blow drying their hair. Then one day I was on a movie set in Asia—I won’t say where—and saw the filth, disease, and poverty the international corporations of the world were spreading just to make a buck. The star of the film knew about my past. She paid me $50,000 to rig the explosions for the final scene. She needed a fabulous chain reaction that would take out a certain river-polluting factory concealed by the jungle behind the set. I did it, and gave the money to the local orphanage. We both felt like we had won the Oscar. That was only the beginning. These days, beneath my Jayms Blonde Interna- tional Salon in Honolulu lies the secret subterranean headquarters of S.T.O.P. (Stop Terrorizing Our Planet), a covert environmental protection agency funded by the celebrities and stars of every nation. Our goal—to save the planet from bad hair and bad air. You think Sting is just a singer? You think Rosie O’Donnell retired from her own talk show to grow roses? You think Oprah spends all of her dough on antiques and curtains? Cher and Elton? Forget about it! We’re all dedicated to saving the ozone layer and the rainforests and halting the pollution of our oceans and lakes. We’re anti drugs and pro solar energy. Our biggest nemesis is the organization known as ZENRON—Zillionaire Environmental Nihilist Reinstating Oligarchy Nobility. Or, as we at S.T.O.P. refer to them, Zealous Environmental Nazis, Ruthlessly Obliterating Nature. An international cartel of oil and energy CEOs, ZENRON is responsible for 90 per- xxvi THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE cent of the damage done to our planet. And, it is dedicated to the foundation of a lunar utopia for the filthy rich and politically deposed. So … the fairies of the earth—the hair, fashion, and makeup leaders of the world—created our own little group of Pink Berets to show ZENRON that a good fairy makes a bad enemy. It’s Harry Hardware, the “Q” of our organization, who gives this good fairy his sting. James Bond has a classy aristocratic gadget guru. I have to deal with a follicly-challenged little trailer-park-troll who makes Danny DeVito look like a calendar boy! Yet, when it comes to turning instruments of beauty and hair care into weapons of deadly destruction, Harry is a total genius. 1 PROJECT POPCORN

Hong Kong island is an international cultural center of ﬁnance, entertainment, and fashion, covered with gigantic skyscrapers that dazzle the night as far as the

1 2 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE eye can see. On this particular night, the city was spewing over with luxury cars, exotic women, jewels, furs, and the wealthy, powerful men who come with them. Tonight, Hong Kong was the location of the Miss Galaxy Beauty Pageant, an event hosted and sponsored by the richest, most beautiful, and most heartless woman in the universe: Zaroya Sylva Kenmore Cohen Abud Grimaldi Chang. Her exquisite features looked like an elﬁn mask, with full lips, turquoise green eyes, and a perfectly sculpted nose—a nose that had been internationally trade- marked to keep every plastic surgeon on the planet from copying it. In fact, Zaroya looked more like an angel than the devil she is. The pageant was in full swing at the Hong Kong Convention Pavilion, which was packed to capacity. Towering monitors outside the pavilion lit up the city with vivid images as thousands thronged the street. Gigantic searchlights penetrated the night and ﬁreworks spread across the sky above the harbor in orgasmic explosions. PROJECT POPCORN 3

The translators’ booth was communications central for both satellite feed and direct feed from all the international translators present. One translator was assigned to each judge and was responsible for translating the host’s narration and category information to the headsets of each international judge in their respec- tive languages. A dark, handsome, athletic looking judge sitting next to Zaroya smiled while he listened to his headset as the international parade of boobs and nose jobs passed him by. He hummed along to the music in a rich baritone voice. He winked at Zaroya and did a little boogie sway to the beat. “Music sooths the savage beast, they say.” Zaroya winked back at the judge. “But this kind of music,” she whispered to herself, “just makes me savage.” Then with a glance up at the translator’s booth, she gave a subtle nod. The swaying judge had a mind-blowing experience. “Ahhhhrg!” he gasped, as his body arched and his head shot back like a man exploding in all the right places. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and everything went limp as he collapsed forward with a thud. His headset popped off and clattered to the floor. Wisps of steam drifted out of his ears as the boiled contents of his skull—for- merly his brain seeped through the ruptured tissues of his ears. The vapor drifted up into a tiny cloud above his head, like a soul departing, underscored by a soft hyena-like laugh. Across the world in New York’s Bryant Park, a second scenario was playing out with sadistic synchronicity. Another S.T.O.P. agent, one of Blonde Interna- tional Salon’s top hairdressers, was in full swing as the hairstylist for Elton and Sting’s annual Save the Rainforest Fashion Show in Manhattan. While the band played on with Elton and Sting singing “The Girl from Ipanema,” the dressing room lit up like a lightning storm. Flash after flash cap- tured photos of model after model as they spun in and out of the chair. It was a whirling dervish of madness, with the camera flashes providing a strobe-light disco effect to the whole scene. Each flash was matched with a blazing smile from the hunky hairdresser, who looked like a muscle-bound Tab Hunter as he flexed and posed in a rhythm that strippers strive for. Tease this. Mousse that. A curling iron in one hand and hairspray in the other. As the last model shot out of the chair and onto the runway, he turned back to give the photographer another great big smile. His smile quickly turned into a look of stunned amazement as the last few clicks of the camera were accompanied by bullets that hissed through his chest and exploded with fire and pain. He glanced down at his zebra-patterned silk 4 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE shirt and saw it accessorized with splotches of red, like a cluster of blood-red roses in a prom corsage. Sadly, red was not his color.

New Orleans may no longer be the international magnet Hong Kong and Manhattan are, but tonight it was the third player in the trio of murders system- atically choreographed by ZENRON. The long crawl back from Katrina was still moving at a snail’s pace, but this weekend the French Quarter seemed back to its old glory days of decadence. Revelers danced through the streets of the French Quarters to jazz, rock, and jungle rhythms in outfits that were both festive and tacky. The smells of booze, sex, and vomit assuaged by the pungent smells of cinnamon, cardamom, and gar- lic, filled the air. It was the celebration of Southern Decadence—the “Naugh- tygraw” of New Orleans, a weekend each year that packs fifty-thousand horny gay men into six square blocks for three days of “whoopee” that would make Miss Goldberg paler than Michael Jackson. After Katrina, the fairies were doing their best to put the magic back into N’awlins. PROJECT POPCORN 5

A tall, muscled Swede, decked out in tight jeans and a tighter T-shirt, with the words “I’m here about the Blow Job” scrawled across his chest, salsa-ed and slith- ered his way through the crowd. Winking, patting, and jostling in rhythm to the beat, he laughed as two gold-painted body builders in pink thongs detached themselves from the vanguard of a ﬂoat and grabbed him.

“A sacrifice to the goddess!” they shouted while the crowd cheered in approval of their selection. Solicitously patting his crotch and grabbing a healthy handful of his ass, they swung him out into the street and escorted him towards the approaching float of the parades’ “Drag Empress.” He blinked at the Titanic- sized neon nymph reclining across a one-story-high pair of Rolling Stones red 6 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE lips. She was sprawled in a red sequined gunnysack beneath the phrase “Man Eat- ing Bitch” spelled out in three-foot-high 3-D letters. Gazing down at him from her gaudy perch, the larger-than-life, big-haired, three-shades-of-eye-shadow she-devil pointed at his crotch. “I want him!” she cooed in a shrill falsetto. “It pays to advertise,” he laughed good-heartedly, as they dragged him towards the float and the crowd burst into cheers. Then whoosh! Thud! They dropped him down through the lips into the belly of the float as naked fairies and steel- studded leather queens who were watching from the balconies above on either side of Bourbon Street broke into thunderous applause. The Drag Empress roared like a lioness and shook her scepter in the air, charging it with sexual energy as the crowd roared their approval of the proverbial sacrifice. The deafening applause drowned a short series of screams as the man inside the float’s gaping lips was greeted by three rows of jagged, six-inch metal spikes that gouged and ripped the flesh off his bones. A set of metal rollers lurking beneath the steel fangs then crushed his bones into powder. He left the float through a small drainpipe as a stream of liquid goo, cuing the beefcake brigade accompanying the float to burst into a rousing chorus of “Bloody Mary” from South Pacific. As they danced on down the street, they left a trickle of red that was quickly covered by the clueless crowd of revelers following behind them. A few hours later, Mama’s red phone at S.T.O.P. began to ring. 2 LADY KILLER

It was duty time, not booty time, but Jayms let his smile linger a few seconds longer, stroking the clutch on his red Ferrari convertible. Hot sex and hot cars always leave a little rubber behind and Jayms did just that as he peeled out of the garage. Racing up the coastal highway, Jayms realized that he was being followed. A black Porsche had appeared behind him shortly after he’d pulled out of the hotel and was now rapidly closing the gap between them. Jayms popped the dash, ﬂipped on the 3-D holograph computer, and up- linked to Precious. A second later the hot, young, fresh-scrubbed, all-American boy face beamed at him from the screen. “Good morning, Precious.” “Good morning, Jayms. Mama wants your ETA.” “Mama wants my T&A too, but she’s gonna have to wait for both,” he said, as he indicated the car behind him, which was rapidly approaching. “I think someone’s tailing me, Precious. Grab an aerial scan of the car coming up behind me please.” “If you promise to talk dirty to me tonight.” “Don’t be a pain in the ass, Precious, that’s my job. Scan! Now!” Jayms had been followed by a few women, even stalked by a couple who wanted to convert him, but he had a strong feeling that the gal behind him was far from friendly. “Got it, Jayms,” Precious said, snapping him out of his reverie “This year’s Porsche with bulletproof glass, hidden Uzi headlight guns, and registered to the ZENRON Corporation.”

7 8 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“It’s being driven by the personal chef to Zaroya, CEO of ZENRON, none other than your favorite deadly dyke, Vichyssoise.” “Oh, it’s Miss Congealed Banality,” Jayms said. “I thought she looked familiar. She got rid of the long hair and started using some newer products, as I suggested. No wonder I didn’t recognize her.” LADY KILLER 9

“What’s the Ice Dyke doing on Maui?” Precious asked, as Jayms heard the engine behind him race to catch up. “I don’t know, but if she gets any closer, I’m gonna need lubricant,” he muttered. Right on cue a spray of bullets erupted from the gun barrels that protruded from the Porsche’s headlights. One of them ricocheted off the Ferrari’s roll bar and shattered the side mirror. “How rude, dude!” Jayms grunted as he swerved to avoid the second round of bullets that slammed into the Ferrari. The “swerve” proved to be counter produc- tive as two bullets ricocheted off Jayms’ head, thanks to his bulletproof mousse. “Damn, that stings,” he grunted, as he reached up to fluff the dent the bullet made in his hair. Boom! A micro-missile overshot his car and put a small crater in the road ahead of the Ferrari . Jayms barely had time to steer the Porsche into a straddle. It was time to put China Dyke on the rocks. Jayms didn’t want the reputation as a lady killer for more than one reason, so he decided to rise above it all as he pushed a button on his dashboard. With a couple of cute shudders and whirls, the little red Ferrari converted itself into a helicopter and lifted off into the air just as the second missile passed a few inches beneath the tires. “Thank God they weren’t heat seekers or I would have taken it up the tailpipe!” Jayms sighed. Jayms chanced a glance in the mirror and caught a glimpse of Vichyssoise as she blinked in “shock and awe.” He chuckled at the stream of curses in Korean, English and French he could hear above the racing motor. He glanced back once again to gloat as she pounded the steering wheel in fury then gesticulated in a very un-lady like way and failed to see the turn up ahead.” “Meeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrdddddd!” They must have heard her scream all the way to Waikiki, as she missed the curve. Her car went rocketing through the road bar- rier at full speed and flew off the cliff. It hovered for a moment like the Coyote in the Roadrunner cartoons, then—whoosh—it dropped like an anvil, with a loud crash on the rocks below. “Women drivers!” Jayms hollered down at her, as soon as he saw that she was alive and ambulatory. She responded spryly and hopped out of the restraining strap onto the top of her crumpled hood to flip him a flock of birds. “Defending the planet from bad hair and bad air doesn’t always make you a lot of friends,” Jayms smirked and returned the salute. “Okay, play time is over!” Mama said, as Jayms turned to see that her face now filled the com screen. “We’ve got work to do, honey, so get your butt back here now.” 10 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Yes, Mama,” Jayms replied, sitting up straight. “What’s your ETA, Jayms?” she barked. “Fifteen minutes tops, Mama” he shot back. “Good,” was all she said and the screen went black. It seemed to Jayms this was how all of his adventures began. He’d come to work and have a conversation with Mama, then get ready to hit the ground running. But he also had a salon to run and a light bill and salaries to pay, which meant he did have to attend to some clients before he ran off to save the world again. The past year or two as S.T.O.P. had become more and more active, Jayms, Precious, and Mama had switched the main offices of Jayms Blonde Inter- national Salons from the Hollywood to Honolulu. Hawaii was a collection of geographical jewels smack dab in the middle of the Pacific. Rising up out of the deep ocean floor, the islands were lush refuges in a remote corner of the ocean. It was the perfect central location to spread out and save the oceans and the planet from the deadly effects of chemical waste—not to mention the diabolical devastations of greedy men, and women. All of the Hawaiian Islands are incredibly beautiful. The Honolulu Salon was on Oahu with a glorious view of Diamond Head, one of the most beautiful and most photographed places on all the islands. Whenever he came in for a landing on the rooftop helicopter pad, the sight of that mountain never failed to make Jayms say a prayer of hope that he could help protect such natural wonders. The Divine Bette Midler grew up in Hawaii and now protected the parks of New York. You can take a girl out of the islands, but you can’t take the islands out of the girl. As soon as he landed, Precious was standing there waiting. “Hello, Precious.” “Hi, stranger,” Precious beamed up at him. “Mama wants you in the armory right now to pick up Harry’s newest goodies, but I have some ideas of my own.” He winked, as they stepped into Jayms private elevator. With a “whoosh” they headed downward toward the secret lower levels of S.T.O.P. until somehow, the elevator stalled. And then it stalled again. They had no seat belts so it was a deliciously bumpy ride, with a classic George Michaels tune “I Want Your Sex” purring over the elevator speakers. The elevator doors finally opened, and suddenly, Mama stood there tapping her feet and twisting her pearls—a warning sign they both knew to heed. Standing small next to her was Harry. Together they made strangest team since Joan Rivers and Boy George hosted the Grammies. LADY KILLER 11

“It’s duty time, not booty time, boys!” Mama snapped. “Yes, Mama,” they managed to reply. “Jayms, I need you to put some Sodium Pentathol into Senator Gloria Stin- gie’s coloring gel,” Mama said. “She’s the newly appointed head of the Environ- mental Protection Committee, and I have a list of questions I need you to ask her before you do her comb-out.” “The former Flexon Oil CEO is the head of the Environmental Protection Committee?” Jayms gasped. “That’s her, and she’s got her eye on Alaska. She is also a Republican, so use a healthy dose. Republican’s have trouble telling the truth at the best of times. And, Jayms, I want you to put a micro cam on the mole on her left cheek.” “Good idea,” Precious commented in approval. “A beauty mark is a great place to hide a camera. You should see what Madonna’s picked up last week.” “Trust me, I never miss a download,” Mama laughed. “Now your last appointment is at 4:00 PM, so let’s get you equipped. Harry has a new product in our truth-serum line that needs a field test.” Mama smirked. “Okay, but if you’re smiling like that, I know there has to be a catch.” Jayms glared at Mama. “Well, since the Kiss ‘n Tell Lip Balm and the Tinting Gel have worked so well,” Mama said, “we invented Cocktell, a Sodium Pentathol condom.” The giggle was out of the gate before the period hit the sentence. “Yah, you just need to grab some ZENRON thug, slap one on and go to work,” said Harry. “How rude!” Jayms growled as they both started laughing. “Baby, this time, if the motion don’t do it, the potion will!” Mama howled. “Oh, so you guys think this is funny?” Jayms glowered. “Must have been a joke-fest when you came up with it. Well, don’t try to give one to Precious, because he’ll be on the wrong end of the joke!” he snapped. “I can play I’ve Got a Secret with the best of them,” Precious cooed. “Want to take me on a test drive?” “Okay the joke’s over. Let’s move on, gang,” Jayms said, in a huff. “Well then,” said Mama, as Harry went howling off into his cave. “Let’s get down to business. Last night, three of our top agents were assassinated: Barry, Bo, and Roberto. All killed at public events.” “Someone’s gonna pay dearly for this, Mama. I promise you that!” Jayms promised. “First we have to figure out the “who done it,” Jayms. Bo was the only agent off duty. He was scheduled to fly to Hong Kong tonight and join Roberto on an 12 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE assignment as his personal trainer, and Barry was slated to go the day after as the sales rep for the launching of Brittany & Madonna’s Goldilocks Hair Care Prod- ucts—they’re the co-sponsors of the Miss Galaxy tour. “All the deaths seem to tie into the pageant somehow,” Mama concluded. “So you are joining the tour in place of Barry as the new Goldie Locks Hair Care representative. You’ve got a full day of customers and a 6:30 flight out to Hong Kong tonight, so get to work. And make sure the Cocktell gets a thorough field test,” Mama said, as she spun on her six-inch heels and left Jayms glaring and speechless behind her. “I do my best to save the environment, save an occasional dude in distress,” Jayms grumbled to Precious, “but when they start treating me like a hired hooker, the only “dude-in-distress” is me! 3 THE FACES OF EVIL

Most good fairytales have an evil queen who lives high above the common people, cruel and aloof to the cares of the average man. Well, in the land of ZEN- RON abides the beauteous Zaroya, a living tribute to silicone and Botox. Her body was equally endowed with full, rounded breasts, a tiny Victorian waist, and slim hips that put movie stars and strippers to shame. Perfect, pearly white teeth and long, wavy hair of rich strawberry blonde that shimmered in the sunlight completed the crime. All this by the grace of God, and meticulously maintained with all the latest techniques that money could buy. Men melted and women cursed whenever she entered a room. The only thing that marred her beauty was a high, nasal voice and a hyena-like laugh that could give Fran Dresher a run for her money. The laugh, however, did not stop Zaroya from winning the title of Miss Gal- axy herself at the tender age of seventeen. With the crown came her first husband, Brazilian billionaire Eduardo Sylva, founder of the pageant. He was, at the time, a sixty-year-old playboy who drove hot cars and hot women—until the day his brakes failed on the way to see his new bride at the hospital after she had given birth to his fourth child from three marriages. This child ended up being his only surviving child after three other family tragedies that same year. His fiery departure left poor, grieving Zaroya and her infant son Bruno in sole control of the family billions and a holding company called ZENRON. A couple of decades later, after five more dead billionaire husbands, and over a dozen dearly departed stepchildren, Zaroya was the richest and most influential woman in the world.

13 14 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

Every evil queen has her evil vassal, and Vichyssoise was a poster child for evil. She was born the daughter of a Bangkok whore and a French soldier who had paid the rent for her mother during his tour of duty—but then had left them both behind. Twenty years later, while working as a sous-chef in a Benihana of Tokyo, Vichyssoise found out her father was in town and added him to the menu one night, serving him up as beef tempura. Zaroya read about the crime and Vichy’s culinary skills and decided to extract her from the hands of justice—not as an act of kindness or sympathy, but to acquire her services as her personal chef and private assassin. They had become Tweedle-demon and Tweedle-devil, a real nasty pair. So while Precious, Mama, and Jayms were turning their attention to Harry just a few international time zones away, a bevy of matching platinum-blonde, scantily clad body builders were all performing a mass massage on a naked Zaroya, who was lying face down on a red silk divan. Once you pried your eyes away from the beehive of ﬂesh, you might notice that the surroundings were as opulent as any fantasy ﬁlm set. It looked like a Caliph’s palace in an old Douglas Fairbanks movie—or a Walt Disney theme park. But all that paled in comparison to the breathtaking panoramic view from the top of Victoria’s Peak. One glance out the window and all of Hong Kong lay at your feet.

Curled up on a larger couch, elegantly gorging herself on gourmet chocolates, was Zaroya’s mother, Sylvia, a voluptuous woman of indeterminable age. She had that burgeoning beauty of a Delta Burke with a ripe hourglass figure that had THE FACES OF EVIL 15 four or five extra hours around the bottom. Her hair was a deep, excessively red- dish auburn. “Excessive” was the perfect word for Sylvia. Sylvia’s munching and Zaroya’s moaning were suddenly interrupted by a tele- phone ringing. Zaroya rolled over and snatched her Judith Lieber cell phone to her ear as she shoved her masseurs away and sat up with an angry snarl. “Don’t tell me you didn’t kill him this time, Vichy! I don’t want to hear it!” “His Ferrari converted into a helicopter and flew off when I started shooting at him. I was not prepared for that!” Vichyssoise shouted over the cell phone. “Damn that Neiman Marcus Christmas catalogue!” she cursed as she turned to all the men waiting to resume her massage. “Get out, you idiots! Can’t you see I’m on the phone? GET OUT!” The herd of servants stampeded out the door as Zaroya returned her attention to the phone. “You always underestimate him, Vichy!” Zaroya snapped. “I will kill him next time, I swear it!” she snarled up from the cell phone screen. “Blonde will have to wait. I have a dinner party tomorrow night for the new Miss Galaxy and you simply must be here to make your fresh ginger scallop souf- flé!” Zaroya purred. “Did we succeed?” Vichy queried. “Of course, you idiot! Once Miss India announced she was going for her doc- torate in Kama Sutra, the crown was in the bag. Now take the 6:30 PM flight back tonight and we will deal with Blonde later—once and for all.” Zaroya severed the connection and tossed her jewel-encrusted cell on the throw pillow by the divan, nearly striking her mother’s pet Yorkie, Cognac, on the head. “Yipe! Yip-yip-yip-yipe!” the little pooch responded, as it ran around in circles for a second and then leaped up into Sylvia’s lap. “ZaZa, be careful! You almost killed Cognac!” Sylvia cried. “If I did, I’d buy you another long-haired rat, Mother, and you could call it Snifter!” “Don’t get snippy with me, young lady! I warned you not to mess with that Blonde fellow,” Sylvia said, as she stuffed another Godiva chocolate into her mouth. “Fellow? Are we turning British again, Mother? Or is ‘fellow’ your new term for faggot?” “They call themselves ‘gay,’ Zaroya! Like your son.” “Bruno is not gay! I’ve paid millions of dollars to make sure.” 16 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Yes, he’s had at least twelve therapists, six of whom he had sex with. And that doesn’t count half the male nursing staff he slept with in every sanitarium you’ve ever checked him into.” “Don’t start with me, Mother!” “You need to rent the movie Sordid Lives and get a grip on the situation before he wastes his life away.” “Why are we talking about Bruno? It’s Mr. Blonde I need to deal with.” “Why don’t we invite him to dinner to meet Bruno? They might make a lovely couple!” “MOTHER! I want to see the man dead, not schtooping my son!” “But he’s such a good-looking man for a fagella, and very athletic!” “Get a grip on your hormones, granny! He’s cost me millions!” “Temper, temper, ZaZa. All that scowling will give you wrinkles.” “Oh, shut up, Mother. That’s what Botox is for! Blonde ruined my operation in Arizona over a few lousy tons of radioactive toxins!” Zaroya stamped her foot in rage as she recalled her earlier encounter with Blonde, and her high nasal voice strained up to a new octave. “Stop shrieking, ZaZa!” Sylvia snapped, covering her ears. “Does it really matter if the sand glows at night?” Zaroya continued to rage. “Hell, in LA they would just make it another tourist attraction at Disneyland. What do you want me to do? Let him ruin everything so Bruno can get laid?” Zaroya picked up an exquisite crystal bowl—fresh fruit and all—and hurled it down at the marble ﬂoor with a piercing shriek. “Aaaaaaaarghh! That’s what I want to do to Blonde’s face!” She spat the words, as strawberries smashed, pomegranates bounced and grapes rolled in every direction.. Sylvia snatched the shivering little Cognac to her ample breasts to shield him from Zaroya’s rage. “My lunar spa is almost 60 percent completed. I’m ﬂying up there in ten days and I want Blonde to leave this earth before I do!” Zaroya shouted as she collapsed back down on her divan in exhausted frustration. “I hate that group of deadbeat billionaires you hang around with, ZaZa!” Sylvia said, as she stood up and walked towards the bar with Cognac under her arm. “They’re all spoiled rich brats, and so are you!” “I can’t help it if I’m spoiled, self-centered, and demanding,” Zaroya huffed. “I don’t have time for anything else.” “Whatever happened to ‘noblesse oblige’?” “Give me a break, Mother. You’d never even heard of that expression until Fanny Cohen used it last week in Scrabble.” THE FACES OF EVIL 17

“Yah, and she got a triple-word score on it, too, the bitch!” Decadence and hedonism are like mother and daughter. One creates the other. Zaroya’s mother Sylvia was what you might call a self-made woman—in more ways than one. She made her own fortune creating one of the world’s top- selling bridal party favors, a gift that keeps on giving … a designer line of talking vibrators. There’s the Double Sided Dutch Dildo that simulates the sound of a Harley and shouts, “You’re my bitch!” (The number-one lesbian Christmas gift five years in a row.) The Italian Gigolo gets bigger every time you put a coin in its slot, and talks dirty in five languages. The Boyfriend stops in the middle and asks to borrow money. But her number-one top seller was the Dr. Fill, which screwed with your mind and your body. All of the little talking ticklers added up to filthy rich. 4 TOTOVILLE

Back in Honolulu, our little threesome—Jayms, Precious, and Mama—were in an elevator on their way to see the wizard of toyland in the subterranean cavern hewn out of volcanic rock deep beneath the Blonde International Salon in Hono- lulu—the central armory of S.T.O.P. When you exit the elevator into HQ, the place looks hot, and so does the staff. Even the janitors are buff and run around in hot pants and T-shirts that say “Cleaning Fairies.” There is a real yellow brick road, paved in yellow ceramic bricks, that leads from the elevator entrance all the way through the complex. They restrained themselves from calling HQ “Oz” because of the HBO TV show. So, Mama decided to dub it “Totoville” and everyone agreed. Totoville is a large, circular four-story cavern that is the hub of S.T.O.P. Actually, it’s a natural cavern with huge stalactites coming down from the ceiling—very unusual for a volcanic cavern, because they occur only in limestone caves, but the special- effects guy that did all the final touches couldn’t resist. “Harry’s got a slew of new toys for you, and then we’ll finish with the rest of the debriefing,” said Mama as they entered the central communications hall. At the sound of his name, Harry appeared from across the room. He stood there, not much taller than the long stainless steel table along one side of the hall, loaded with stuff. Jayms bit back a caustic remark as he walked down the steps. Mama instinctively felt it coming and dug her nails into his arm. “Behave,” she murmured to him. “Hey, Harry, what yah got for me? Dwarf me with your genius.” Jayms blurted out.

18 TOTOVILLE 19

“Hi, Blondie, still dying your hair for artiﬁcial intelligence?” Harry retorted. “I leave the acts of desperation to you, old boy.” Jayms sighed “Knock it off, boys. We’ve got business to attend to.” Mama cut them short with a ﬂex of her long pink, dagger-sharp nails. “Q never had to put up with this shit!” Harry grumbled. “Harry! Just show us what you got,” Mama snapped. “That should be frightening.” Jayms smirked. “Listen, Prince Pervert!” Harry sneered. Precious ducked as Mama’s two hands snaked out as fast as cobras and pinched Jayms’ right ear and Harry’s left. “Yeow!” Jayms yelped. “Ouch!” squealed Harry. Mama’s sleek arms suddenly bulged with masculine muscles, her elegant chin jutted out hard as granite while tawny colored eyes sparked danger as if the man inside was springing out of her body like a tiger to bite their heads off. “Can the bitchy bons mots you two! Or I’m gonna get really angry,” Mama hissed, twisting their ears halfway off their faces.

“All right!” “Okay!” “Let’s stick to business now,” Mama snapped, directing them with hand signals like trained dogs. Her coffee colored hair with copper highlights a moment before had writhed with life, now seemed to soften and float back down to her shoulders. The girl knew how to work a room! She made Harry go to one side of 20 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE the table and stand, and made Jayms go to the other side and sit, which still left him taller than Harry. Precious pulled out a chair for Mama and then stood between her and Jayms. “Let’s get the show on the road, Harry,” Mama said. “Okay, first we have your standards.” Harry cleared his throat and slipped into his officious tone as he reached for a package of hot curlers on the table and held them up in the air. “Hot curler hand grenades,” he said as he tossed the pack to Precious. “Cool!” cooed Precious. “Laser beam teasing comb,” he held up an ordinary looking comb and then tossed it to Precious as well. “Has this been field tested?” Precious asked. “Yes,” Mama replied. “Remember the Guatemalan Embassy party? I wore that strapless deep purple silk Versace dress, and carried the Chanel clutch with the amethyst clasp?” “Yes! And the Blahnik sling-backs?” Precious gushed. “Yes, honey. I was looking fierce, armed and dangerous with my clutch-size killer comb. It has a range of about twenty feet, so I was at the buffet when the chandelier ‘just happened’ to come crashing down on top of that group of off- shore drilling CEOs.” “That was you?” Precious and Jayms both chimed in, obviously impressed. Mama Smiled, “If your gonna get whacked darling, get whacked with something pretty. Besides, when I dress to kill, I mean it.” Mama and Jayms locked eyes and smiled. It was an ideology they both shared. By now Harry was beaming. Bloated with confidence, he tossed a couple more items in quick succession to Precious. “Eyelash transmitters, both male and female—daytime or evening wear for the female—with a transmitting range of fifty miles,” he said, then flipped them across the table like a short order cook. “Our new subzero liquid nitrogen hairspray. And … my newest innovation,” he said, as he tossed the hairspray to Precious and snatched up a medium-sized blow-dryer. “A mini Uzi blow-dryer. It passes though metal detectors because it’s made completely of synthetic materials. The bullets are Teflon and come in regular, heat seeking, and armor-piercing configurations.” “No way!” gasped Precious. “Now that, I like,” Jayms admitted. TOTOVILLE 21

“When it’s unplugged or powered off,” Harry continued, smarmy with glory, “Simply aim and twist the handle to the left, push the red button and …” He pointed the blow-dryer at one of the targets against the rock wall. They all watched in admiration as the target erupted in perforations, underscored by a series of staccato hisses. “It’s quieter than the best silencer. The bullets are actually spun out at hyper- speed so there is no explosion—except upon contact for the armor piercing bullets. It ﬁres only when it is unplugged.” he smirked as he tossed it to Jayms. “It’s just a regular blow-dryer when it’s plugged in. You can power off, shoot, and then power back on without anyone having a clue about where the bullets came from,” Harry concluded. 22 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“A mini Uzi blow-dryer, with a silencer that really blows them away. That’s definitely gonna be a party favorite,” Jayms said. “Thanks, Blondie.” “No problem, Cue Ball.” Jayms and Harry smiled affectionately at each other as only a cobra and a mongoose can. They were like siblings—you love to hate ’em. Jayms would risk his life to save Harry, just so he could torture him with the fact that he had saved his life. “Next, we have the companion piece to the Uzi,” Harry began, as he snatched up a circular brush. “We have here what appears to be your standard salon-style venting brush. But—push the center in at the top, twist it once to the right, and toss.” Harry demonstrated by tossing it. It landed into a pit made up of sand bags, fifteen feet away in front of the target he had perforated with the Uzi. “DUCK!” Harry threw himself on the ground as Mama, Precious, and Jayms followed suit only a second before an explosion rocked the central cavern. “Okay,” Harry grunted as he struggled up from the floor, dusting himself off. The other three, in a slightly dazed state, followed him. “It could use a little less nitro—but it’s a concussion bomb,” Harry announced, undaunted. “And each barb turns into a knock-out dart.” “Knock out is what I’ll do to you, Harry, if you pull a stunt like that again. I scratched my shoes!” shouted Mama. “And let me tell you something, honey! Shoe shopping for someone my size …” “Is a real drag?” Harry smirked. “Let me do the punch lines, Harry,” Jayms said. “You’re the straight man around here.” “Duh!” Harry retorted. “I hope you finished my request, Harry,” Mama glowered. “’Cause since you’ve already mussed up my shoes, I’ll have no problem kicking your bald bony ass if you haven’t.” “Okay, okay. Sorry Mama.” Harry reached for a small square box and flipped the lid open as he spun it around to display the contents. “Presto! We call them ‘Bang Fingers’—plastique explosive press-on-nails. Crack one in half and toss it—or stick it onto something—and five seconds later … BOOM!” “I love it!” Mama clapped her hands and giggled like a little girl. “Break one of those nails now, sugar, and you’re gonna be real sorry.” “How rude.” Jayms winked. “Could you add a micro detonator between the layers like the toenail transmitters so we could use the same device as a detonator?” Precious asked. TOTOVILLE 23

“Yep! I can rig a set up for you before your ﬂight. Everything else, you can restock as you need from Planet Hollywood in Hong Kong. I’ll also have a few new things for you there.” “Good. I could use a few more lessons from Jackie Chan,” Jayms said. “Jackie Chan!?” Harry and Mama murmured in awe. “Yah, he taught me everything his wife would let me learn,” Jayms retorted. “You lucky bastard!” said Harry. “That’s just a vicious rumor. My mother never had that much fun.” Jayms smirked down at him. “Time spent with you, Jayms, is always nauseating,” Harry grunted. “Here is the last item—a new and improved liquid Kevlar bulletproof mousse. It has built-in elasticity for more natural-looking hair and longer-lasting hairstyles.” “For hair that turns heads and bullets too,” Jayms quipped. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Jayms.” Harry smiled. “Suddenly, I feel dirty.” Jayms shuddered. 5 ZENRON AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA

There are two things in life that prove God is a sadist: Men who diet, because when men gain weight, everything gets bigger except what counts; and ZEN- RON, a bunch of billionaires who have all the money in the world to make a dif- ference—and won’t.

24 ZENRON AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA 25

The headquarters of ZENRON was concealed within a deep-sea kelp forest. Five-hundred foot long tendrils of kelp curved over to form a dense camouflage dome that hid its location. The amount of wealth it had taken to create the sprawling deep-sea headquarters was staggering. The scientific ingenuity required to build it was mind-bog- gling. The political power necessary to keep it secret was deadly. Hidden inside, away from prying eyes, was the most advance arsenal of submarines, diving equipment, weaponry, and aquatic equipment known to man. In the center of the complex, which was entirely constructed of cubic zirconium material, was a transparent dome, ninety feet across and forty feet high. Four ten- foot-wide, twenty-foot-long circular tunnels connected this central structure to four thirty-foot-wide octagonal domes. A gigantic cubic zirconium jewel sat on top of each of the five domes, giving the complex the appearance of a sparkling, colossus-size diamond pendant. The ZENRON board meeting took place inside the massive central dome of man-made diamond with a panoramic view of cobalt blue water and translucent jade green kelp fronds that soared hundreds of feet high. The light generated from the transparent domes had attracted the most exotic and awesome denizens of the deep, which created a rich bubble of teaming sea life within the heart of the kelp forest. The attraction of the glorious natural sea life was a cruel dichotomy for an organization dedicated to subjugate and destroy all things beautiful and natural. The board of directors sat oblivious to these wonders as they plotted global domination and biological disaster. Officiating at the head of the boardroom table, surrounded by men and women of incredible wealth and power, sat Zaroya Chang, CEO of ZENRON. Ever aware of her surroundings and the affect of her beauty within it, she was draped in silver-green silk, like a Greek goddess or the fabled Helen of Troy. Her high nasal voice—the Achilles heel of her beauty—seemed to echo back twice as abrasively in the cavernous dome. “The first step of our plan is completed. Miss India has won our Miss Galaxy pageant, and those pesky S.T.O.P agents who were snooping around our little project have all been eliminated.” There was a general rumble of approval, which brought an almost child-like blush and smile to Zaroya’s face. “The next step is her death: a tragic, senseless murder in the middle of our gala that will create a diplomatic crisis between Pakistan and India. “Are you certain her death will cause a large enough crisis?” the Chinese general grunted. 26 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zaroya snapped. “We will launch our biological warfare bombs in ‘retaliation’ and blame it on Pakistan. The virus contained in them will cause only nonfatal flu-like symptoms to the populace.” “Then what is the point of the operation?” an Arab prince asked, sounding irritated. “Oil! What else?” Zaroya glared at him. “The chemicals in the bombs will destroy all the crops of corn and all hybrids of the grain throughout the world.” “How will that benefit us?” countered a Russian woman dripping in sable. “Ethanol is an alternative fuel source that can be made from corn.” Zaroya sniffed. Brazil is already using 40 percent ethanol fuel and more and more coun- tries are following suit. Senator Gonzales of New Mexico has introduced a new ZENRON AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA 27 bill to the U.S. Senate that would force all gas stations to distribute ethanol throughout the United States.” “I thought we were kidnapping his son and forcing him to abandon the bill,” a notorious South American dictator commented. “At the same time we assassinate Miss Galaxy,” Zaroya cooed, “we’ll kidnap Gonzales, Jr., and blame it all on Pakistan. U.S. sympathy will bolster support for the Chinese to send General Chang and his troops across the boarders and seize their oil fields.” Then Zaroya laughed with hyena carnal glee—a laugh that was echoed with approval around the table as dictator and despot pounded the table and chuckled deep down in their sadistic souls. The laughter rang through the dome and fil- tered out through the walls, sending sea creatures scurrying away in all directions. 6 WINGED AVENGERS

Meanwhile, back in Totoville, Mama handed a backpack to Jayms and one to Precious saying, “Take care of these boys, they’re the only two that exist in the entire world and there may never be any others.” Jayms checked out the leathery looking bag of striped fabric—sunflower yellow and black—with matching black arm straps. “Mama, give me one hour in Hong Kong and I’ll have a factory knocking off five-hundred of these a day.” “Not one of these, Jayms.” she smiled. “Okay, boys, it’s time to let you in on S.T.O.P.’s top secret!” Harry said. “A force field?” Jayms suggested. “An invisible cloak?” Precious asked. “I’m Harry Hardware, Mr. Needmoore, not Harry Potter!” he growled. “Besides, this is one thing I didn’t invent.” “Really?” Jayms said in surprise. Harry was very territorial about inventing S.T.O.P. weaponry. He may be short, but his ego was pornographically large in size. “Yes, really!” he snapped. “It was invented by the noted lesbian physicist and entomologist, Dr. Bonita Bush.” Harry aimed a remote to make the projection screen slide down from a recessed pocket in the ceiling. “Okay, Jayms and Precious,” Mama said. “Do you know about the aerody- namics of a bumble bee?” “They don’t have any,” Precious responded. “According to modern science, there is no way they can fly—but they do.”

28 WINGED AVENGERS 29

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “But, Dr. Bush dedicated her life to discover how and why bumble bees ﬂy. Sadly, she was killed last week during a Save The Rain- forest rally for the Ommbootu Tiki Tiki Mintala Leeki Indian Tribe. She was crushed by a run-away bulldozer that uprooted the tribes’ sacred banyan tree. It was the same tree that she had chained herself to with several of her Sisters of Sappho. Two days before her death, Dr. Bush completed three working proto- types of the Frutex ampullaceus apicius odorus—or, in English, the Bonita Bush Bumble Bee Pack!” “Fortunately for us, she shipped them all off to S.T.O.P just before she joined her little chain gang,” Mama said sadly. “All of the research and diagrams that went with them were destroyed in the devastation of the rainforest,” Harry added. “The two packs you see are the only remaining ones. We tried to analyze the third pack to see how it worked.” 30 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“It seems the internal parts are composed of an organic substance that dis- solves when it comes into contact with light, and ultrasonic sound sends it into a state of shock.” “So these,” Mama said, as Harry helped Precious slip his pack on and Mama helped Jayms with his, “are the only two Bumble Packs left in the world. They are solar powered and each comes with a cerebral cortex generator and a remote control pinky ring.” Mama and Harry simultaneously pulled large gold circlets out of pockets in the upper backs of the packs. The circlets were anchored to the packs by supple black wires. They pulled the circlets over Jayms and Precious’ heads and slipped corresponding pinky rings onto their ﬁngers. “With this ring, I thee wing,” they both giggled. When they twisted the jewels on the rings to the right, the packs suddenly sprouted vibrating, opalescent wings out of the lateral side slits of the packs. Both Precious and Jayms lifted off the ﬂoor and shot upwards about twelve feet towards the ceiling. “Well, Puck me Shakespeare!” Jayms shouted in amazement. “Now I really am light on my feet! And if you call me Tinkerbell,” he turned to look at Precious, who was hovering beside him giggling with glee, “I’ll smack you.” “What do I have to call you to get spanked?” Precious cooed as he zipped play- fully behind one of the cosmetic stalactites. “Sir Spankalot worked for me!” Mama called up to Precious as Jayms looked down. Harry waved to him. “That’s the one big drawback about working in Totoville,” Jayms muttered. “Too much kiss and tell,” and he sped after Precious. WINGED AVENGERS 31 7 CHOCOLATE ORGASMS

Zaroya changed her wardrobe as often as she did her mood. For the ascent to the harbor, she slipped into a sleeveless pearl-pink, silk-knit, calf-length dress. It was form-ﬁtting and cut on the bias, so as not to look too tailored, and it had a draped cowl collar. In the front, the collar curved above the breast in a plunging décolle- tage. In the back it exposed the shoulders and plunged low, ending ﬂatteringly above the buttocks. Zaroya’s mother Sylvia was the only other person present. She was reclining on the couch in a poppy-red, Susan Hayward bustier-style, full-length dress. A fresh box of Godiva bonbons sat on her lap. “Mother, will you stop gorging yourself on those bonbons before you explode!” “I’m not interested in your anorexic paranoia. At my age I don’t have to worry about pleasing anyone but myself.” “I’ll testify to that one myself.” “Don’t take that tone of voice with me, ZaZa! You’ll learn soon enough, when you become an older single woman, that the choice to masticate or masturbate depends upon the chocolate. And these bonbons are oooooh-baby, talk-dirty-to- me, don’t-call-me-in-the-morning bon-bons!” “Yeeeeeeekkkkkkkkk!!@#! I think I’m going to be sick!” “The thought of your mother getting moist makes you want to throw up but the thought of causing wars, destroying the environment, and having someone killed, doesn’t even give you a headache,” Sylvia snapped at Zaroya as she tossed a

32 CHOCOLATE ORGASMS 33 bon-bon to Cognac, who continued to look up at her from his pillow, ears perked up and pleading. “We all have our needs, Mother. You crave chocolate and your little electronic stocking stuffers, and I crave world domination.” “Your son is not the one who needs therapy, dear.” 8 THE LAY OF THE LAND

As Precious stayed below to gather up the goodies, Mama and Jayms rode up in the elevator serenaded by a chorus of “We’re Off to See the Wizard,” but not the Judy Garland version. They favored Patti Labelle, ’cause she kicks ass with that song. The three hundred foot trip up from Totoville to Tint Town was a bit of a ride, so Mama started the debriefing as they climbed into the elevator. “Accord- ing to our mole, it’s also necessary to keep an eye on Chaz Gonzalez, Senator Gonzalez’s son.” “The kingpin of our environmental movement?” asked Jayms. “I’ve never met him, but I have a four o’clock with him today. Is he aware his son is in danger?” “No, and he won’t be if you do your job. We’ve been keeping our eye on him ever since Zaroya chose CG Gowns for her official Miss Galaxy apparel. That’s Chaz Gonzalez’ struggling new fashion line, and his designs are not as flawless as he is.” Mama handed over a picture. “Be still my heart!” Jayms gasped at the photo. “Never mind your heart—just keep your other organ to yourself. Remem- ber—duty time, not booty time.” “Hmmm, why do you think Chaz is in any immediate danger?” “The vote to enforce the distribution of ethanol in all gas stations in America goes before the Senate in three days,” Mama responded. “Without the senator there to represent the bill and push the vote, it won’t pass, and eight years of planning and environmental awareness programs will go right down the drain.”

34 THE LAY OF THE LAND 35

Then with a whoosh, and an electrical “ding!” they arrived at the salon’s main level. The internal elevator control box revolved with a hiss back to the standard access plate position and the elevator became, once again, Jayms’ private elevator. As Mama and Jayms stepped into the main lobby, Mimi Van Dyke, receptionist, waved and flashed her pearly whites. “Good morning, Mama. Jayms, Senator Gonzalez has had a schedule change and wanted to know if you could squeeze him in now. I have him waiting in your private salon.” “Thanks, Mimi,” Jayms said and stepped into his private elevator as the images of the agents who had just lost their lives flooded his mind. There would be time enough to mourn them later. He had a job to do. Behind every good cause, there is a good man, with a good heart and a good mind—aka Senator Gonzalez, defender of the environment and keeper of the Latino votes. Since it was his son’s ass he was being sent over to save, Jayms thought it would be a good idea to get to know him. As he rode up in the elevator, he pictured a short wiry- looking politician pacing back and forth, talking on a cell phone, pontificating political platitudes. Just the kind of guy Jayms would normally rather avoid. Jayms’ private elevator opened up in the middle of his personal cutting room, which faced a breathtaking view of Diamond Head. The only man in the room was gazing thoughtfully out the floor-to-ceiling windows, and was as breathtaking as the view. He was tall for a Latino—over six feet—with shiny, raven-black hair accented by silver streaks above each temple. He had the shoulders of a line- backer, the waist of a swimmer, and, by the curve of the bottom of his jacket, a bubble butt you could ride to heaven. “Be-still my beating heart,” Jayms whispered. That was just the rear view. The man turned around to reveal jet black eyes and the face of a mature Rickie Martin. This Latin Adonis made the blood surge through Jayms’ heart to all the right places. “Senator Gonzalez, what can I do for you?” Jayms composed himself. “Mr. Blonde, a pleasure to finally meet you,” his rich baritone voice rolled out. “I’ve had a last minute change in my schedule and I was hoping you could squeeze me in now for a quick wash and blow?” “Let’s just skip the wash part, shall we?” A half hour later, exhausted and laying naked on the floor, the Senator gasped, “Clinton, eat your heart out.” “Monica was an amateur!” Jayms smirked and proved his point one more time. 36 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE 9 MILE HIGH JAYMS CLUB

Sylvia was reclining in a Jacuzzi with her buoyant breasts up to her chin as she sipped champagne and watched Evita. It was the version starring Madonna and she was viewing it on a giant ﬂat-screen TV while Zaroya ran on a treadmill beside her, burning up some calories. “I love the music in this show, and Madonna looks hot, but the subject matter needs work,” Sylvia sighed. “Are you crazy, Mother? The life of Evita Perone was amazing. That was a girl who knew how to put the plea into ‘Plebian!’ She just needed better doctors.” “Honey, when the big doctor in the sky says your time is up, it’s up. Remem- ber that the next time you crush a third-world economy. He doesn’t take too kindly to that kind of crap.” “Nothing I do is good enough for you, Mother. So what if I bought out a few drug lords and took over a couple of emerald mines. Business is business, and I didn’t see you give back those emeralds I gave you for your birthday, did I?” “I have better manners than to return a gift, unless someone paid retail. And the likelihood of you paying retail is the same as Vanilla Ice having a comeback,” Sylvia quipped. Zaroya was winding up for a comeback herself when her red phone rang and she snatched up a remote in the tray of the treadmill. She answered the phone on her video screen. The balcony scene from Evita was immediately replaced by a picture of Vich- yssoise holding her video cell phone in front of her face and looking angry and anxious, as usual.

37 38 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“What is it now, Vichy? I don’t want to hear you missed the plane.” “No Mistress, I am about to board, but Blonde is already on the plane.” “What?” Zaroya stopped dead in her tracks, which was a bad idea because the treadmill didn’t, and she suddenly went sailing off. “SHIIIIIIIIIITTTTT!” she screeched as she flew ungainly through the air and landed with a painful thud sprawled across the floor. “Arrrrrgh! Damn!” “Mistress, are you alright?” Vichyssoise exclaimed from the screen trying to aim her cell phone around like an idiot as if she could change the angle of recep- tion back in Hong Kong. “I’m gonna make someone suffer for this.” “Your ego just did, dear,” Sylvia commented. “Oh, will you shut up, Mother!” Zaroya looked up at the screen that was dis- playing contorted versions of Vichyssoise at different angles as she kept swinging her cell phone around trying to catch a shot of Zaroya. “Stand still, you idiot slut! You’re making me nauseated.” “What should I do, Mistress?” “Throw a scarf over your head and put on a pair of dark sunglasses, then follow him on the plane, you muscle-bound moron. And keep your video phone on so I can see what’s happening.” “Can I kill him, Mistress?” “Not on the plane, Vichy. I’m warning you, if you get arrested and ruin my dinner party, I will let you rot in jail. I’ll have them pick you up at the airport and bring you straight here. If Blonde is in Hong Kong, you will have plenty of time to kill him later. Now get on the damn plane!” “Yes, Mistress!” The screen turned into a jumble of images of people’s coats, bags, and shoes as Vichyssoise casually held her video cell phone while she walked down the gang- way to enter the plane. “Oh, look!” Sylvia said. “There’s the new color Fendi bag. I like it much better than the old JLo Jellie bags, don’t you?” “I could care less about it now, Mother. I want to see what Blonde is doing.” Just as she spoke, she heard the sound of panting male voices as Vichyssoise crossed the threshold of the plane. “You mean who he’s doing, if that sounds like what I think it does,” Sylvia smiled. As she entered the plane, Vichyssoise stepped to the side and aimed her video cell phone towards a handsome steward and a stewardess pretending to ignore the MILE HIGH JAYMS CLUB 39 sounds of some VIP getting an early start on his mile high club membership. They were standing in the archway between business class and first class greeting each passenger as they entered, and gesturing them to move down the aisle to their seats. Right behind the steward was the door to the first class bathroom. The offending door was rhythmically banging in concert to the muffled voices coming from the other side of it. “Yes, Mr. Blonde! (Gasp.) Ooooh, yes, yes, yes! More, Mr. Blonde. All you want, Mr. Blonde. Ahhhhhhh! Super size my fries!” Suddenly the steward seemed to recognize the voice and an angry scowl crossed his face as he turned to knock on the door. Vichyssoise quickly reposi- tioned her cell phone to a better angle. “Johnny? Johnny! You get the hell out of there right now!” he yelled as Vich- yssoise zoomed in on the steward’s hand pounding on the bathroom door. Sylvia tore her eyes from the screen. “This is better than Sex In the City, ZaZa! Should I order us some popcorn?” She scooted around the other side of the Jacuzzi for a closer view. “Oh, go choke on a bon-bon, Mother,” Zaroya growled as the view of the camera pulled back to show the bathroom door as it swung partially open. A short, cute blonde steward stepped out, sheepishly shoving his shirt into his pants and zipping up his fly. “Sorry, Paul. I, uh, I was just showing Mr. Blonde how to use the equipment.” “Get your ass down to coach right now before I throw you off this plane!” the other steward snapped. Sylvia spoke up again. “I like the dark-haired one better than the cheap little blonde kid. He sorta looks like the guy who played Will on Will and Grace. And if you say ‘shut up’ to me one more time this morning, I’ll slip so much Imodium into your smoothie you’ll be constipated for a week!” Sylvia snapped. “Okay, fine!” both Zaroya and the little blonde steward retorted in unison. “I’m going!” continued the little blonde steward stomping his way out of camera range while the Will and Grace look-alike and Vichyssoise both whirled back to face the bathroom door. Off screen, a man’s voice spoke over Vichyssoise’s shoulder, “Hey, lady, move your ass!” The view from the camera jerked suddenly, accompanied by the sound of a hard thud. “Ughhh! Craaaap!” the same voice gasped and then a man’s body crumpled to the floor slightly in front of Vichyssoise’s feet. She stepped around him and the camera swerved back up to catch a view of the bathroom door. The other steward 40 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE had now disappeared, leaving just the stewardess directing traffic and shaking her head.

“I can’t wait to see them throw Blonde out on his ass for being such a sleaze!” Vichyssoise muttered. But instead of opening up, the door started to bump and bang again as the voice of the other steward said between gasps, “Now, Mr. Blonde, this is ﬁrst class service!” “Grrrrrrrrgh!” Zaroya, and Vichyssoise seemed to growl and grind their teeth in synchronized frustration. “Well, at least someone’s hormones are healthy,” Sylvia said as she raised her glass in a salute to the screen. “Go for it, baby, ’cause tomorrow you die if my little girl has her way.” Zaroya hissed at her mother in fury as Vichyssoise glared at the stewardess who had stood there doing nothing the whole time. MILE HIGH JAYMS CLUB 41

“I don’t believe you just let things like this happen,” Vichyssoise snarled at the stewardess who just shrugged in exasperation. “Never mind,” Vichyssoise snapped, as she gritted her teeth and stalked back into coach. 10 LUCK RUNS OUT

Jayms arrived at Lantau, an island a hop-skip-and-a-jump away from Hong Kong, and exited the airport after a quick clear through customs. He found his company Rolls Royce waiting for him. Don’t be too impressed. Hong Kong has more Rolls Royce’s than any city in the world. It’s like having an SUV in Boise, Idaho, except instead of a gun rack there’s a built-in bar. Luckily, the side view mirror showed Jayms a very unfriendly reflection glaring at him from behind as she walked to the limo waiting behind his. “Well, I’ll be, the China Dyke is still in hot pursuit.” Jayms whistled softly as he realized the woman in the scarf and the sunglasses stepping into a Mercedes stretch, was none other than Vichyssoise. Just then, his driver climbed out to get his baggage. “Hello, Mr. Blonde,” he said. “I finally get to meet the big boss himself. Great joss for me! I’m Lucky Lai, your new driver. Shall I take you to the office?” “Yes, that would be fine, Lucky,” Jayms nodded as he glanced back to see what Vichyssoise was up to. And—surprise, surprise—her car was swinging out into traffic right behind him. Hong Kong is a town where land is expensive and life is cheap, and everyone is gambling with one to get the other. Poor Lucky had bad joss or fu, two Chinese words that mean the same as his name, not his life. His number was up, and he hadn’t even bought a ticket to the game. For a few minutes, everything seemed to be fine. Vichyssoise and her driver were behaving themselves and just tailing Jayms. Then, once they got out over the ocean on the island-spanning bridge, the ZENRON limo sped up and came

42 LUCK RUNS OUT 43 along side the Rolls. As Jayms looked over to check things out, a tinted passenger window rolled down revealing Vichyssoise holding a machine gun. Her driver pulled her up parallel to Lucky’s window. It was a beautiful day and Lucky had his window down so he could prop his elbow on the door and get some fresh air. The problem with bulletproof windows is that they don’t work well unless they are up. “Lucky, look out!” Jayms shouted, just as he saw the gun barrel in the car next to them, a second before it emptied a round into Lucky’s very unlucky face. Even over the exploding bullets and Lucky’s last gasp, Jayms could hear Vichyssoise laughing maniacally as the limo surged ahead of them to avoid whatever sporadic behavior Lucky’s slumping over the wheel dead at 70 miles an hour might cause. 44 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

His blood had sprayed all over the windshield, encasing him in a crimson cloud, as the car began to swerve out of control. The interior of the Rolls exploded into fragments of bone, brains, and blood, spewing backwards into Jayms’ face, as Lucky’s heart, still pumping, hadn’t caught up with the fact that he was dead. Jayms struggled forward to reach over the drivers’ seat, trying to shield his eyes from the red spray emitting from Lucky’s head. He yanked at what was left of the driver from the neck down, pulling the body away from the wheel. Lucky was literally dead weight. As his body moved, his foot “floored” the gas pedal, surging the engine with gas, and hurling the Rolls forward. As the speed- ometer swung up to the max, Jayms was flung backwards against the backseat. The sudden surge of speed sent the Rolls swinging across lanes, scattering cars in every direction. Wheels screeched, brakes slammed, horns blew, and curses in countless languages burst forth in a cacophony of anger, frustration, and fear as the Rolls swerved across four lanes of traffic to slam up sideways against the bridge railing. The Rolls just kept going and going—riding the railing like a stunt car, sideways on two wheels in the wrong direction, as car after car swerved out of the way into other cars. Jayms finally managed to shoved poor Lucky as hard as he could to the side to get his dead weight off the gas pedal. Unfortunately, the second Blonde shoved Lucky aside and reached for the wheel, the section of the railing the Rolls was sliding across gave way with a sick- ening thud, and the car exploded through the guardrail and hurtled over the edge of the bridge, plummeting towards the ocean below. “Holy Versace.” Jayms swore as he pushed back from the wheel and snapped his seat belt back in tight. “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!” LUCK RUNS OUT 45 11 A DECADENT SENSE OF HUMOR

The grand entranceway of Zaroya Chang’s Hong Kong mansion was simply that—very grand. It was a large oval entrance constructed out of alabaster and white Carrara marble. The contrasting black lacquer furniture and priceless Chi- nese antiques, gold cloisonné urns, and oriental screens inlaid with precious coral, green, pink and lavender jade—not to mention mother of pearl—made it very dramatic. Two thirds of the entrance was a two-story glass atrium with a panoramic view of Hong Kong Harbor below, looking across to Kowloon on the Chinese mainland. On either side of the entrance stood a sweeping white marble suspended stairway. The newels were in the shape of serpent-dragons, with fire-breathing jaws, fanged and ferocious. The serpentine bodies coiled up the balustrades, across and back to the bottom of the other side, framing the view in a gold arc. Hallways spread out on either side beneath the secondary arches leading to the rest of the mansion. From these hallways, the servants spewed forth, chattering in several Chinese dialects as they herded caterers, florists, and deliverymen from every direction to their destinations. Sylvia was dressed in a flowing Mandarin robe of gold, which she wore open over a red silk pants suit. She clutched a tall crystal flute of champagne, and dealt with several servants and deliveries at once. “No, honey, the food deliveries go around the back,” she said as she waved a couple of men carrying heavy boxes and diverted one of the servants dressed in a

46 A DECADENT SENSE OF HUMOR 47 black silk uniform to show them. “You show ’em where to go, Chop Sticks, or whatever your name is. None of that moo shoo stuff on the side, okay?” “Hey, Petal Pushers!” That was the name of the flower shop, according to the T-shirts worn by a flock of florists who were delivering armloads of cherry blos- soms, Casa Blanca lilies, white anthuriums, and stalks of red ginger flowers. The closest buff boy bearing boughs halted having heard her hail. “Ooooh Dim me sum of that!” Sylvia cooed at the muscular Eurasian with opal green eyes and auburn hair. “Love the way you fill out that shirt, honey. It makes Petal Pushers look like a porno movie. You stamen me pistil,” she oozed. “MOTHER!” Zaroya’s voice entered the room before she did. “I’m dealing with the florist, ZaZa,” Sylvia called out as Zaroya came swoosh- ing down the stairs in a yellow silk pantsuit that matched Sylvia’s in style, but her floor-length, sheer purple silk Mandarin robe was heavily embroidered and beaded. She carried a long lacquered cigarette holder in one hand and a cell phone in the other. “Stop flirting with the help, Mother, and help me pick out my outfit. How does this look?” “Well, first of all, ditch the cigarette holder. You look like Lucile Ball making a bad entrance in that disastrous remake of Mame. God, what a turkey!” Sylvia and the florist looked at each other and laughed knowingly. “Cut the Bosom Buddy routine, you little weed whacker, and go about your business,” Zaroya snarled at him, “before I arrange those flowers up your ass!” “Sorry, Mrs. Chang,” he mumbled as he rushed out of the room. “Well, that was another pretty picture for my scrapbook!” Sylvia sighed. “I guess charm school is out of the question at your age.” Just as Zaroya was about to retort, the cell phone in her hand rang and she flipped it open frantically and screamed, “Where the hell are you Vichy?! I told you I needed you here to cook for my party! What? I told you to leave Blonde alone until after my party! Dead? Are you sure? The driver still counts Vichy! Don’t you dare get stuck in traffic! Fifteen minutes tops or you’ll be this week’s special at a Bangkok whorehouse!” and Zaroya flipped the phone shut. “What happened to Vichyssoise?” Sylvia asked. “Nothing. She’ll be here any minute,” Zaroya smiled radiantly. “What was all that about then?” “Well, every once in a while Vichy has a good day, and today is a very good day, Mother. Today even you can’t piss me off.” “Why? What the hell happened, ZaZa?” “Blonde is dead,” Zaroya chuckled. 48 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“When? How? Are you sure?” Sylvia stuttered in shock. “Vichy just shot his driver on the bridge and his Rolls went crashing over the railing and into the water below. Those babies are heavy and he’s at the bottom of the ocean fornicating with the ﬁshes as we speak.” She began to laugh deeply and throaty. “I just love surprises.” Zaroya gave Sylvia a quick hug and started to cackle again in her best hyena like way as she turned and strolled back up the stairs. Her laughter reverberated off the walls as everyone stopped dead in their tracks and watched her walk up and out of the entranceway, still laughing long and heartily. 12 JUNK

As the Rolls crashed through the railing, it arched upwards for a second and seemed to hover like Dorothy riding out the twister in her farmhouse. Then it flipped nose down and started spinning violently as it sped to crash into the waiting ocean. Lucky Lai’s bad joss must have been his own because, as the Rolls arched up, over, and off the edge, a motorized Chinese junk was chugging its way under the bridge. As its prow thrust its way free from the shadow of the bridge, the shadow of Jayms’ falling automobile painted a bull’s eye on its deck like a laser from the sight of a sniper’s rifle. The poor fisherman, seeing the dark circle on his deck growing bigger and bigger, looked up suddenly to see a silver blue Rolls-Royce speeding nose first towards him. Seconds later the car crashed, hood first, onto the deck of his junk, penetrating all the way up the hood past the driver’s seat. The nose of the car just managed to punch a hole through the bottom of the hull. The car looked kind of like an arrow: the front was embedded in the boat like the tip, and the rest of it stuck out like the shaft. The jolt of the impact left Jayms dazed—or unconscious—for a few moments, before he managed to unsnap his buckle and kick open the rear passenger door to crawl out onto the deck. He heard the sounds of Harbor Police sirens growing closer and closer. The crazed old fisherman cursed and shook his fist frantically as Jayms struggled to his feet. Water was rapidly sloshing over the deck as it gushed up through

49 50 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE the gaping hole the Rolls had punched through the junk’s shallow hull, and it started to list.

Jayms’ grasp of both Mandarin and Cantonese was fairly competent, but he was grateful he didn’t understand the particular dialect the furious little fisherman was hurling at him. Jayms concentrated on clambering up to release the trunk latch and grab his bag. Whatever was being said couldn’t be terribly pleas- ant, but it was less heinous than the fish the wiry little fellow started hurling at him with one hand as he brandished his gutting knife in his other. “And a lovely ship it was, sir,” Jayms nodded consolingly as he dodged aside to avoid a jab of the knife. Luckily, before he really had to defend himself and hurt the poor old bastard, the Harbor Police pulled up along side the sinking junk in their cruiser and evacuated them both. Blonde really felt bad for the old goat and tried to get the officer to explain to him that he would reimburse him for the loss of his junk. After all, one man’s junk is another man’s treasure. And his was now sunken treasure. 13 KEEPING TABS

The entire perimeter of the room that housed the Intelligence and Research Department of S.T.O.P.’s Honolulu HQ, was lined with three banks of hundreds of TV screens. Each one was tuned in to a specific station twenty-four hours a day with key words and phrases fed into a monitoring V-chip. They alerted the monitoring staff if any topic or activity concerning S.T.O.P. agents was broadcast anywhere, at any time, around the world. Precious was sitting in the central elevated cubical when several alerts and flashing sirens went off at once, causing a local news broadcast from Hong Kong to appear on his computer monitor, in five different screens and four different languages. He quickly clicked on CNN and Connie Ling Qua appeared speaking in English about an emergency news broadcast. “This is Connie Ling Qua coming to you live from Hong Kong Harbor, the site of the worst traffic accident in history. Approximately fifteen minutes ago, a silver- blue Rolls Royce registered to Blonde International Salons spun out of control, crossed through four lanes of traffic, and crashed through the barriers of the inter- island bridge to the ocean below. “Jayms!” Precious shouted in fear, as he slammed the panic button, switching all the monitors in the center to the same CNN channel, and summoned Mama. “The Rolls was occupied by a driver and one passenger. One of those occu- pants is dead,” Connie Ling Qua said soberly into the camera, giving a poignant pause as Mama raced up the spiral staircase two steps at a time, despite her heels. “What happened?” Mama asked.

51 52 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Jayms was in an accident on his way from the airport to Hong Kong,” Pre- cious said anxiously. “Is he …” “Shhh!” Precious silenced her as he pointed to the screen where Connie Ling Qua had paused for a second to listen to her earpiece. “Ladies and gentlemen, we just received conformation from the Harbor Police that Lucky Lai, the driver of the Rolls Royce has been pronounced dead at the scene. The passenger’s condition is unknown for the moment, as is his identity, but he has been taken into custody, and foul play is suspected in the crash.” “Well, at least he’s alive.” Precious sighed with relief, as they both started breathing again. Connie Ling Qua continued, “Fortunately for the passenger, the Rolls Royce crashed onto the deck of a junk that happened to be crossing under the bridge at the exact same moment.” The camera crew cut to a shot of the water beneath the bridge and caught the last few feet of the junk’s main mast and sail sinking beneath the churning waves of the harbor. “Sadly, the junk, like the driver of the car, did not survive the accident and the fisherman, as well as the surviving passenger, were evacuated by the Harbor Police. This is Connie Ling Qua at the scene where the thirty-two cars were involved in the crash. It has been named the worst automobile incident in the history of Hong Kong. The owner of the junk and the surviving passenger have been evacuated by the Harbor Police, along with forty-nine injured. We’ll bring you more information as it becomes available. Tune in to CNN News at 4:00 PM. “Precious, we need to get you over there ASAP,” Mama snapped, “but first get the legal department to send someone down there to handle any other problems.” “Zaroya must really be up to something big if she tried to take him out again so soon,” Mama pondered. “This is not Zaroya’s style,” Precious added. “It was way too reckless and public. She doesn’t like anything that can result in multiple legal battles and punitive damages.” “It must have been a rogue plan of Vichyssoise’s. We got word that she might have been on the plane, but it was never confirmed.” “If she saw Jayms on that flight, she might have tried to off him the first chance she got,” Mama mused. “It might be time to plug that dyke permanently,” Precious growled. KEEPING TABS 53 14 DEEP SEA LOVER

Locked in a cell cooling his heels, Jayms had nothing to do but sit and think until S.T.O.P bailed him out. After his watery adventure, and knowing Lucky was headed for a dirt nap, he found himself thinking about his ex, Woody, and the good old days. He remembered how much he wanted to see Woody again. Sense- less death always makes you yearn to see people you love. Jayms felt really guilty about Lucky’s death, though he knew it was not the ﬁrst time or the last time he would feel that way. At times like this, it’s great to be gay, ’cause you can turn around and say, “I need a hug.” The next time Jayms saw Woody, that was gonna be the ﬁrst thing he said to him. They both had known another Lucky long ago who narrowly escaped death at the hands of ZENRON. Once upon a time (as all good stories begin) Jayms had been a member of Project Atlantis, a top secret CIA DSU team—Dolphin Squad Unit, which was an integrated human-dolphin family unit. Human members trained and bonded with the dolphins’ calves at birth. The stand the United States had taken on protecting dolphins and whales had garnered them the top specialists in the world, along with some pretty hefty fund- ing that bought a lot of top-secret gear too. To head the project they had enlisted the world’s most famous biologist and expert on marine mammals, Doctor Barry Cuda.

54 DEEP SEA LOVER 55

No one in the world knew more about dolphins than Barry, except his son Woody. The pairing of Jayms and Woody had practically been prophetic and would have yielded scions of their own if one of them had had a uterus. The two dolphins they had been paired with had been electronically tagged at birth and had been raised by the Cuda family. They were Woody’s only siblings and they instantly accepted Jayms as Woody’s mate. Dr. Cuda probably knew something was up with his son at an early age when he chose to name the dolphins Sonny and Cher. Cher, Midler, and Streisand idol worship was the global acid test for gay tendencies, and Woody knew what he was doing and exactly how to do it long before he met Jayms. 56 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

When Cher became pregnant, Jayms and Woody would feed and stroke her and play shove ball and target tag with Sonny. When the calf was born, they named him Elvis. Elvis was also tagged at birth, and both Woody and Jayms wore sonic bracelets so they could connect with the dolphins even if they were located hundreds of miles away. As a unit, they could communicate more than thirty specific series of actions by hand and sound codes, or by a combination of clicks and whis- tles—dolphin code—developed by Dr. Cuda. This collection of hand signals and sound codes enabled a dolphin to perform a number of complex functions in sequence, deliver or retrieve equipment, or attach explosives. If necessary, the dolphins could voice activate equipment or physically activate it through punch pads and toggle switches. The list of numerous projects and black ops assignments the teams successfully executed was very long—and very secret. These DSU teams had been doing things underwater between China and Tai- wan that would have made Mao tear his tongue out. Then one fateful day a storm hit. For their safety, they all submerged to wait out the storm inside the secret ocean floor habitat that was, in fact, their home. The storm lasted for five days, but in the middle of it, all three of the DSU dolphins went wild as they could hear the sounds of outlander dolphins screams of desperation reverberating throughout the moon pool. They were death screams, and, with all the turbulence in the water, they were very close. Elvis rose up out of the pool with a screech and fishtailed backwards, rising out of the water. “What’s wrong, Elvis?” Jayms called to him, giving him the hand signals to calm down and come to him. Woody rushed to the edge of the pool, as Elvis kept wailing in panic. With the storm still buffeting the habitat, suddenly Sonny and Cher moved as if to block Elvis, but he hissed in rage, dove up and over their heads, and straight down and out into the open ocean. Woody began tugging on his wet suit as he tossed one to Jayms. Sonny and Cher let out terrified cries and dove down after their son. Dolphins are mammals and must surface just like whales every so often to breathe. On rare occasions, they can drown in fierce storms, and this one was ferocious. Thirty seconds later, Woody and Jayms had snatched up their air tanks and were swimming after the dolphins. It was useless. Dolphins can see with sonar—humans can’t. It was night, and the water was so full of silt and seaweed all churning in the turbulence, it was like trying to see through spinning frosted DEEP SEA LOVER 57 glass. If the habitat hadn’t leaked light, they would have been totally lost and drowned. Woody grabbed Jayms and dragged him back inside. “There is nothing we can do, Jayms,” he sputtered as he yanked off his mask still holding on to his tank. “They can survive out there for a few minutes—we can’t. We just have to wait for them to come back.” Fortunately, that wasn’t too long. Jayms and Woody had barely gotten out of the water and removed their tanks when six dolphins broke to the surface of the pool. Five dolphins actually—the one being dragged by Cher was obviously dead. Sonny had a calf that looked newly born, but it was scarred and wheezing. Elvis had herded in a young female about his own age who was weak, but functioning, though badly gashed across her dorsal fin and her right flipper. She seemed terrified by the presence of Jayms and Woody and only the need to stay with her own family kept her from diving back into the madness outside. At first, the new female dolphin wouldn’t let Jayms and Woody near the calf, but Elvis and Cher formed a barricade as Sonny nudged the calf to the edge of the pool where Woody and Jayms gently lifted him into the medical sling. The habitat was fully equipped to treat any kind of dolphin medical emergency, and few people in the world knew as much about caring for dolphins as Woody. The calf was very weak and bruised about his air hole. An infection could kill him. Jayms did what he could to assist Woody, as Sonny joined Cher and Elvis to contain the female while he worked on the calf. Woody probed and examined the calf as he crooned to it and gently stroked its body to reassure it. Jayms felt he was just in the way, so he grabbed a bucket of fish and tried to make friends with the young female. She wanted nothing to do with him at first, but eventually she suc- cumbed out of sheer hunger and exhaustion. Still, the moment she snatched a couple of small fish Jayms proffered, she returned to nuzzle next to the dead dolphin, which was probably her mother. Finally Woody said, “The baby’s gonna be okay. He’s very weak, and I’ll need to harvest whatever milk is still in the female—but he’ll live.” “That’s great,” Jayms said, “but I don’t think Elvis’ new friend is gonna be too happy about you touching her mother, even if she is dead. Look at her, she’s attached to her like Velcro.” Woody flashed that smile that could melt even a shark’s heart and said, “I’m gonna put the baby down in the nursing pool and open the gate for her to see him. I’ll close the gate after her and put some food in there. She’s so tired, once she sees he’s all right she’ll drift off and I can extract the milk from the dead dolphin.” 58 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Jayms sighed, beginning to feel exhausted himself. “I gave the baby a vitamin shot and some antibiotics.” Woody took a moment to stroke the calf again and croon to it softly. It was one of those Madonna and child moments that make you weep. “He’ll be okay, but he’s gonna need all the milk we can give him as soon as possible. Calves can eat fish right away, but, they need the nutrients in milk to be healthy.” The pair extracted the milk, then removed the dead cow from the pool, sending her body off to nature and the mercy of the storm outside. If she were like any other mother, her spirit would rest in peace now that her children were safe. By the time the storm subsided three days later, Jayms and Woody had earned the trust of the young cow and dubbed her Priscilla. Since by then she and Elvis were glued together, they figured the name was the only appropriate choice. On the day that Woody had salvaged the milk from the dead cow, he had been able to examine her closely. She had been badly bruised and battered, and she’d had the same kind of gashes on her flippers and dorsal fin that Priscilla had. He could tell they had narrowly escaped a tuna fisherman’s purse-seine net. The cow, weighed down with her pregnancy, was slow to escape. She must have made several attempts to leap the net, crashing back into a mass of thrashing tuna before she finally made it out. Her bull was likely trapped trying to clear a path for her, and Priscilla’s gashes were consistent with a dolphin attacking the net from the outside. Most likely, they had been swimming away from the approaching storm to find calm waters for the birth when the net snared them. After her injuries, the cow was too weak to swim far and went into labor. The bruises complicated her delivery and the calf was lucky even to have been born. So, they called him Lucky. It had been international practice for decades to use purse-seine nets. The fishing boat would track a school of tuna on their sonar or search for pods of dophins which tend to follow tunas, then encircle them in a long net. Then the fishermen would draw the bottom of the net closed, trapping everything in its circumfer- ence as they jerked it tight like a French whore’s drawstring purse. You could catch millions of tuna that way—and kill thousands of innocent dolphins at the same time. There are few things that make a marine biologist angrier than whalers and tuna fishermen. Jayms agreed with the biologists, but he was not a man of science, he was a man of action, and when he got angry, things got dangerous. DEEP SEA LOVER 59

After the storm, Jayms and Woody surfaced. Everywhere they turned, dead bloated bodies of tuna and dolphins spread out before them on the surface of the water. The storm had driven the sharks from the immediate area, but they would soon return in mass and indulge in a feeding frenzy. The tuna fishing fleet must have been moored nearby when the storm hit, and parts of their nets must have been torn open disgorging their bloody harvest back into the sea. Woody examined several of the dead dolphins as the pod and Priscilla swam from body to body crying out in ever-increasing squeals of distress. The whole herd had been wiped out by these madmen. “The bastards have been dynamiting the catch,” Woody swore. “Over half of these dolphins might have made it over the nets, but their eyes and sonar sensors were ruptured by the blasts. They were murdered without a chance in hell!” “Those sons of bitches!” cried Jayms. “That’s been illegal for years no matter what country we’re talking about.” Click—that little switch inside Jayms’ brain flipped and he went into action. Woody continued to examine the other dead dolphins, and Elvis attempted to console the traumatized Priscilla as she swam from body to body of her former herd, with Sonny and Cher trailing quietly behind. Jayms wasn’t needed there and he had his own job to do, so he dove back into the habitat. “Dynamite dolphins?! Get ready for a dose of your own medicine, assholes.” Jayms swore as he climbed back up into the habitat. They were a C.I.A. cell. They had more explosives and detonators in that place than a shark has teeth. Woody didn’t know about half of it, being a pacifist. He hated violence and Jayms kept him in the dark a great deal about the nature of their missions. So, while Woody was topside, Jayms shoved what he needed in an aquatic pack and swam back to the surface. “I’m taking Sonny and checking things out, Woody. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Jayms said, keeping the bag of explosives hidden under the water. Woody was too lost in the nightmare surrounding him to do more than grunt an acknowledgment, so Jayms hooked his arm around Sonny’s dorsal fin and gave him the signal for top speed due north. They zoomed off following the trail of carnage to its source. At dolphin speed, it didn’t take long before a fleet of tuna boats appeared upon the horizon. Each ship bore the emblem of a giant Z for ZENRON on its bow. It was the first time Jayms saw that wretched symbol, and that moment was the beginning of the end of his old life and the foundation of what was to come. Sonny slowed instinctively as they saw the telltale signs of a few shark dorsal fins headed in their direction. Within minutes, the waters would fill with the 60 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Pac-Mans of the Sea.” Drawn by the scent of dolphin blood like a kitty to cat- nip, they would come from miles in every direction. Jayms didn’t pause to blink or think. He was in battle mode. The fleet was spaced in a semi-circle around a drawn net, frantically hoisting loads of tuna up on their decks. The fishermen separated the dolphins from the catch, hurling them carelessly overboard on the starboard side away from the net. Jayms grabbed a fifteen-minute mouth tank, sprang the seal, bit down on the mouthpiece, and signaled Sonny to submerge. They circled underneath the first ship and Sonny knew exactly what Jayms wanted to do. He wanted it, too. Jayms didn’t even need to signal him to stop underneath the keel of the first ship. Deftly, Jayms removed a detonator and a brick of plastique from the bag, shoved the detonator into the soft explosive material, thumbed a ten-minute countdown on the pad, and slapped the bomb on the hull just above the water- line on the net side of the ship. In that location it would minimize any sonic damage to local marine life. It took ten seconds tops, then thirty seconds to repeat the setup for the next boat, on which he set the timer at nine and a half minutes. They moved on. Boat after boat, thirty seconds a clip, synching the timers as they went, they finished the sixteenth boat two minutes before detonation. Several dozen sharks had already arrived for front row seats, and it was past time to leave. Jayms and Sonny dove down deep under the net and broke water a half league away, seconds before the fireworks began. The screams of the fishermen played soprano to the base tones of the shattering of the metal hulls, and the gushing water pouring into the holds gave a cello string pad swoosh to create a chilling chord of death. Fires broke out almost immediately. At first, the sailors leaped overboard seeking safety. But then the “cavalry” arrived. With their long silver bodies, rows of gnashing teeth, and those dull, pig- gish gray eyes that pierced through billowing crimson clouds of blood, the sharks carried off each sailor to a watery grave. The fishermen were truly caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, having to choose between death by fire, or death as lunch to the locals. Woody couldn’t help but hear the explosions and soon arrived on dolphin back via Cher. He looked at Jayms, silhouetted against a sky full of smoke and flames, as the hull of each gutted ship slowly sank beneath the waves. Jayms could see the tears rolling down his cheeks while the screams of terrified sailors echoed as they fell into the water. The screams lasted only a few seconds before the men were torn apart by the army of frenzied sharks that had gathered for the feast. DEEP SEA LOVER 61

“How many?” he gasped. “A hundred, maybe more,” Jayms whispered. “One for every twenty or thirty dolphins they slaughtered.” “Is that what you call justice?” “No,” Jayms swallowed, as he looked him squarely in the eyes. “I call it revenge. Blind, stupid revenge. Just as blind and stupid as what they did to all those dolphins. And I don’t feel sorry for them at all!” “It’s you I feel sorry for, Jayms—and for us,” Woody said. With that, he turned and swam back to the habitat with Cher. Sonny and Jayms stayed. They stayed and watched until the last scream died and every sign of the tuna ﬂeet had sunk beneath the waves. When Sonny and Jayms got back to the habitat, Woody was packed and waiting. He had cut the tracking tags off Cher and Elvis, and as soon as Jayms and Sonny broke the surface of the pool, he reached out for Sonny to slice his off.

“I can’t be part of this anymore,” Woody said. And that was all he said as he dove down into the pool and left. Sonny and Cher cried and clicked at Jayms for a moment, then headed out after Woody. A second later Elvis and Priscilla, with Lucky in tow, followed. If a man stands alone in a pool of water, with no one to hear him and no one to see his tears ﬂow down and merge with the water—does he really cry? Jayms didn’t see Woody again for almost ﬁve years. So, you can understand how happy Jayms was when a muscular, ruggedly handsome man with a head full 62 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE of glossy black curls and a long sleek swimmer’s body stood smiling outside his cell door. 15 EVEN BILLIONAIRES GET THE BLUES

“I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM! I WANT HIM DEAD!” Zaroya shouted as she stamped her feet and hurled priceless vases and figurines in every direction. Her boudoir boys dodged the flying projectiles and hid behind whatever furniture they could find. “DEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME?!” she wailed. “Stop that!” Sylvia slapped her daughter lightly across the face to calm her down. “Owww, Mother! You hit me!” “And I’ll turn you over my knee in two seconds if you don’t get a grip on yourself. I don’t know what’s worse, Vichyssoise hurling knives at the help or your hysterical tantrums, but they both have to stop.” “Mffffffh! Humm huf hmmm hmmm hymrftz!” A muffled string of curses exuded from underneath a struggling pile of blankets and covers that Zaroya’s private chauffeur was sitting on. “Shut your trap, Vichyssoise, or I’ll keep you there all night!” Sylvia barked, and the struggling subsided. “Okay, let her up,” Sylvia said to the chauffeur as she pulled back the bed- spread from the struggling form. Vichyssoise sat up and pulled the mango out of her mouth that had served as a gag. “I called you up here in private to avoid this kind of scene in front of our guests. Blonde survived the crash. You’d know that if you cared enough about

63 64 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE what was going on in the world to watch CNN once in a while. I was just waiting for the soufflé to be served before I told you.” “Thank you, Mistress Sylvia,” Vichyssoise grumbled as she got up off the floor and hurled the mango. It bounded quietly across the soft carpet. “Behave, Vichy, or I’ll take away your vibrator!” Sylvia snapped. Then she turned her attention to Zaroya. “Cut the histrionics, ZaZa. You can keep trying to kill him till you get it right, but tonight we are having a party and it’s time to be the hostess with the mostest at the ball!” “You never care about what I want, Mother!” “Well, I wouldn’t waste my time with half those jerkoffs downstairs if I didn’t. All you care about is a big thick wallet, Zaroya! I use plastic for both of those pos- sibilities, so give me a little more credit for caring about you huh?” Sylvia sat down on the bed next to her daughter and started to straighten out her mussed up tresses. “You’ll always be my little girl, even if you become the biggest despot of them all, ZaZa.” “Thank you, Mother.” Zaroya sighed. “Now,” Sylvia said, “the cars are arriving to take the quests to the club. Take a moment to fix your face and pull yourself together and be grateful it’s a masked ball. You can cover that red puffy mess you’ve made of yourself.” “Oh!” Zaroya whirled around to look at herself in the mirror. “I look awful!” “No one will notice if you keep your mask on. Now, I don’t care if your little despot dictators and sadistic banker buddies have a good time or not, but Harri Kummalot flew all the way from New Delhi to read my Tarot cards tonight, and I’m going to that party with or without you!” “Yes, Mother.” “I’ll tell everyone you’ll join us there. Don’t forget Harri’s gift when you pick up the rest of them at the shop on the way to the party. Harri sulks if I don’t bring him a pretty sercy when I see him. And trust me, a sulky psychic is a sad soothsayer! Try saying that seven times without losing your dentures.” 16 PEEK-A-BOO BITCH!

In a curve in the road just off the Lang Qui Fong club district there is a wide stand of trees. A couple of blocks from the International Press Club, this spot is the entrance to Hollywood Avenue—the Hong Kong antique district. At a particular time of night, the trees cast a solid shadow to the left side shoulder of the road just before you swing into the avenue. That was where Jayms and Woody and his new China-boy-toy lover Sum Yung Gae, chose to park the surveillance van so they would still have line of sight into the posh antique row. “Why don’t we tail Zaroya from her house?” Jayms asked. “I told you, Jayms, Zaroya Chang is having an exclusive soiree at her Victoria Peak mansion for all the Miss Galaxy judges and half a dozen ambassadors. My company did the ﬂowers for the dinner party, so we have that whole mansion bugged. Evidently the real deal is this very select secret ball afterwards in some private club in Kowloon. That’s where they plan to put their scheme into action. We just don’t know what that plan is, what they are going to do, or where they are going to do it,” Woody explained. “Sounds like we don’t know much of anything. So why are we sitting here?” Jayms asked. “The bug in Zaroya’s bedroom picked her up saying she was stopping by her son Bruno’s antique store on Hollywood Avenue to pick up a few special gifts she wants to give away at the party.” “Where is her son?” he asked Woody.

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“The kid’s as ‘queer as folk’ and can’t keep his pants on. She sends him off to a ‘spa’ every few months where they lock him up and try to straighten him out,” Woody shrugged. “Is he cute?” Jayms inquired. “He could play buck private for me anytime.” Woody smiled. “But his mother has other plans. Besides she launders millions through his decorating ﬁrm every year.” “Woody! Jayms! Something just hit the radar scanner and is headed up the road,” reported Sum Yung Gae, who looked like a buff young BD Wong. “Is it Zaroya?” Jayms asked, impatient for some action. “We’ll know in about … yes, that’s her limo,” Woody whispered, as they watched all the monitors and prayed no light was seeping out of the van to draw attention to themselves. Zaroya stepped out of her Mercedes presidential stretch limo with Vichyssoise behind her and the car drove off. “Come along, Vichy, don’t dawdle. You never know when the fairy folk are watching.” The long-range microphones picked up their conversation loud and clear. Vichyssoise seemed to be slightly hostile at the idea as she turned her head to look behind her and walked right into the doorframe of the shop. PEEK-A-BOO BITCH! 67

“I can see our little miss kick-ass is a klutz!” Jayms chuckled as Vichyssoise uncrossed her eyes and blinked, then shifted her course to the center of the door and followed Zaroya into the shop—the shop which was, in fact, still open for business. “I want to make sure they don’t spot us Woody. Why don’t you circle the block and I’ll follow them on foot,” Jayms said as he hopped out of the van. “Okay, Jayms. But I want you to do one of my favorite things for me.” “What?” he asked. “Watch your ass.” Woody winked. Jayms smiled back at him, then slipped into the shadows. “All right, Sum Yung, let’s get out of sight, but where we can still keep an eye on this joint,” Woody said as he slid the door to the van shut. Jayms did a waltz from shadow to shadow over to the shop. Jayms’ instincts clicked in from his “black ops” days and he melded with the darkness. Be one with nature and never let them see you coming, the way the Navajo Indians and Buddhist monks had taught him. He hovered outside the shop window unobserved and watched Zaroya and Vichyssoise pass through a beaded curtain at the back. As soon as the beads stopped swaying he stepped softly into the shop without being noticed by the shop girl. Her attentions were focused on her two female Caucasian clients, who had to be tourists because they were buying the kind of crappy fake antiques that only a tourist would. Jayms wanted to clear the shop fast so he cried out, “Oh, my god! There goes Tom Cruise!” “Tom Cruise! Where?” the shopkeeper squealed as she whirled around and ran to the window. CRASH! SPLAT! went the supposedly priceless antique statues the two tourists were holding as they literally dropped everything to rush over and look out themselves. “He just hopped out of a limo and went into that restaurant over there down the street!” “Tommmmmmmm!! Aaaaaah!” they all squealed as they raced out of the shop and down the street towards the restaurant. “It works on women every time,” Jayms chuckled. “I don’t know what Tom Cruise has that drives women wild, because he won’t let me see it.” he smirked. Jayms knew his little ruse would last only a few minutes, so he slipped softly through the beaded curtain and glided quietly down the hall that ended in front of a large solid wood door. He pressed his ear against the door and heard a few garbled snatches of the conversation going on behind it. 68 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Tomorrow—memfvhpff a femfom—and Mr. Gonzalez will hof jem sawa,” he heard in Zaroya’s unmistakable voice. The door was solid teak and too thick to hear through clearly. Jayms fished into his holster bag—a lovely black leather pocket bag stitched to an under the arm gun holster, slung slightly lower than usual underneath his bulging triceps. It was very supple and had several handy zipper sections he had made for holding his cell phone, Y-pod, hunting knife, revolver, and moisturizer. It also had a convenient center pocket for assorted accessories like the Cocktell condoms, eyelash transmitters, a small jar of bulletproof mousse, a set of peel- and-stick plastique explosive nails, and his cover stick camera. He had the shade custom made to match his complextion to hide an occasional passion rash, aka hicky, because a spy has to look his best. It was one of those old buildings and there were transoms above the doors that allowed the air to flow before for the days of air conditioning. Jayms snatched his cover stick camera out of the bag and silently slid it onto the transom ledge. Sound would pass though the glass much better and the microphones in the camera would clear up her conversation. The top of the stick camera slipped off and he placed the lid against the glass as a microphone. Jayms tuned his wristwatch to the right channel to see what was going on. “Peek-a-boo, bitch,” he whispered under his breath as a wide shot of the office filled the screen. Zaroya was closing the last button on a gold Mandarin floor- length Cheongsam as she snatched up a gold mask and waved Vichyssoise, who was burdened with a stack of boxes that towered above her head, towards the right side of the bookcase behind an expensive teak wood desk. Luckily, the elevated angle of the camera got a clean shot of Zaroya twisting the horns on a gargoyle bookend that caused the bookcase on the right to swing out, revealing a stone staircase that wound down into the darkness. Either they knew they were being followed, or Zaroya was taking every pre- caution she could not to be followed. As Vichyssoise tried to walk through the secret panel door with the stack of gift-wrapped boxes, several fell off backwards smacking Zaroya in the face. “Arrrgh! Damn it!” she shrieked as she dodged a couple more small packages that fell off the top of the stack. “Duck, you dimwitted dyke! I’ll grab these, you just keep going down to the garage. What a shitty day I’m having!” Zaroya whimpered as she snatched up several of the small packages off the floor and followed Vichyssoise down the stairwell. In the time it took for Jayms to retrieve his camera and pick the lock on the office door—about five seconds in all—the panel had swung shut. PEEK-A-BOO BITCH! 69

Jayms took advantage of the sound buffer created by the closed panel to twist the diamond on his earring—a lovely 1.7- karat Tiffany diamond earring that his pal Marvin had given him and Harry had converted into a two-way wireless sub- vocal communicator. It worked in concert with the gold chain around his neck, which acted as an antenna and sub-vocal transmitter. The stud on the earring passed through a microchip imbedded in the back clip. This was the receiver. Jayms was always in communication with the ofﬁce once he twisted the diamond to the left. The system ran off the electrical current of the human body, so it never needed batteries. A twist to the right activated his mole camera, located in a large freckle above his left temple. Being an auburn-haired Irishman by birth and blonde only by choice, he had a few freckles of note in more than one location. So, Jayms contacted Woody and Sum Yung and said, “Okay, Sherlock, the game’s a foot!” Everyone was back in the loop again then. “Watch closely kids, for future reference. You see our little horny bookend friend up here?” he said. “You open the secret panel with a twist of the gargoyle’s horn.” Without a sound the bookcase swung backwards to reveal the stone staircase behind it, “And the white rabbit’s hole down to Wonderland appears,” he whispered. “Time to follow our deviant duo down the stairs.” 70 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

Jayms crept carefully down the stairs in his crepe soles without making a sound. He was almost two ﬂights down before he could hear the conversation below him clearly. “Tonight MUST go smoothly!” He could now hear Zaroya’s voice say, as it drifted up from around the curve below.

“Tuesday is the ofﬁcial Galaxy Gala. By then Blonde will be representing Goldie Locks Hair Products and overseeing Miss Galaxy’s hair and makeup.” “Can’t I kill him tomorrow, Mistress?” Vichyssoise grumbled. PEEK-A-BOO BITCH! 71

“I’m on a tight schedule, Vichy! You’ve bungled Blonde enough! Now let’s just do it my way and you can kill Blonde, remove Miss Galaxy, kidnap Jr., and blame it all on P.E.T.A. for his fur design collection. Do you think you can handle that?” “Yes, Mistress Zaroya.” “Good! Failure is not an option you will want to consider!” Zaroya snapped. “Sounds like a subplot out of General Hospital,” Woody chuckled through Jayms’ earring. “More like Erika Kane from All My Children in the good old days,” he sub- vocalized back. Clump, thump, thump, thump, whoosh, slam, varoooom! varoooom! Jayms heard the sounds of the trunk opening, packages shuffled inside, and the trunk, and car doors closing. An engine roared to life. Then he heard a clink, clink, chugga, chugga, clink, rattle of an electric garage door opening. He knelt and slid around the curve of the last landing to get a glimpse. The driver was sitting patiently inside the black limousine with the motor running. It was not the same blue Mercedes they’d ridden in before, but a limo with the official Chinese embassy logo on the front, giving the driver total immu- nity from any interference. It would also effectively throw anyone off the trail who had followed Zaroya here in her private blue Mercedes presidential stretch. “Take a look, boys. That’s what we are about to follow,” Jayms informed his team. “Trying to fool the fairies, is she?” Woody asked. “Some people never learn,” Jayms responded. “Time to launch an aerial tracker now,” he continued as he lobbed the gem from the right side of his watch- band at the bumper of the limo. It was a micro magnetic transmitter. Anyone who saw it would think it was just a bead of water. “I’ll meet you out front in fifteen seconds,” he added as he raced back up the stairs with the sound of Zaroya’s limousine fading off in the distance behind him. In less than a minute, Jayms, Woody, and Sum Yung had the tracker on their scope and were following the limo at a safe distance of about a quarter of a mile as they sped across the bridge towards Kowloon. Sum Yung was driving. Woody monitored the electronics, while he and Jayms formulated a plan of action. “Once we get across the bridge and into the club and warehouse district it will be easy to lose track of them, even with the transmitter. I think you should follow on a motorcycle as closely as you can while we hold back and monitor,” Woody said. “That would be nice—if we had a bike with us,” Jayms agreed. 72 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Sum Yung, get the Stinger.” Woody smiled as Jayms reacted to the whirling sound of sliding panels and spinning gears. The center floor of the van split open, and a sleek red-and-chrome bike rose up to sparkle at him. “Sum Yung may not be quite as good as Harry when it comes to inventing weapons, but when it comes to anything you want to ride, he’s as good as it gets in all arenas.” Woody winked. “Some guys have all the luck!” Jayms sighed. “As the bike rose completely up out of the floor, Jayms put on the gloves and helmet Woody handed him. Woody then flipped another series of switches that slid the side door of the van open and moved the section of the floor the cycle stood on out past the door, clear of the van. Jayms hopped on the cycle and released the kickstand. “Call us if you need backup, Jayms, and try not to get too cocky.” “That’s what I do best, joy boy,” he cried. Then he revved the bike and hollered, “Bat Girl, eat your heart out!” as he popped a wheelie off the platform and raced up the highway to catch up with Zaroya’s limo. Hong Kong has more motorcycles than it does limos, so no one was likely to pick Jayms out of the half dozen already speeding along the road. “I always feel like James Dean on a motorcycle,” Jayms said into the helmet microphone. “You kind of look like James Dean on steroids in real life,” Woody snickered in his ear. There was something about having a hot throbbing machine between his legs that made Jayms belt out a chorus of “Born To Be Wild.”

HEAD OUT ON THE HIGHWAY LOOKIN’ FOR ADVENTURE.…

As Jayms belted out the verse he could hear Woody and Sum Yung singing along and do-whopping behind him.

Then Jayms popped another wheelie as he hit the high note and roared down the road feeling sexy as hell and ready to send the bitch in the limo ahead of him there. 17 A SEXY PSYCHIC SWAMI

While Sylvia waited for Zaroya to arrive, she sat in the Lunar Lounge nightclub with an extremely handsome, dark-skinned Indian man in a silver turban. In the center of his turban, right above his forehead, was a large opal pendant surrounded by rubies. He was wearing a swami-saffron shirt and pants. A red and gold, heavily embroidered short vest with gold and opal buttons that matched his turban jewel completed his ensemble. A spread of Tarot cards was face-up on the table before him. Sylvia leaned forward eagerly to hear what he had to say. “Okay Kummalot, give me the good news ﬁrst!” “You have continued good fortune and many days of excitement ahead of you,” his rich lyrical voice purred to her. “Hell, Harri, I can get that detail from my stock broker and my vibrator, tell me something special.” “You have several new men in your life—not in your bed, not in your business, but in both those areas of people you love and hold dear.” “My daughter? If she got laid the whole world might wake up smiling!” “No, she has a man interfering with her business,” he continued. “What about the guy and the action between the sheets you just mentioned?” “You have a young man in your family. He is dark with blue eyes and is a Leo?” Harri queried. “My grandson, Bruno. You mean he’s gonna get some action? Poor kid’s had to live off the queer nurses I slipped into the hospital staff periodically for most of his life.”

73 74 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“No, he has a romance in his future. The card of the lovers here indicates a true union of the heart.” “Well wouldn’t that be a real Christmas. Now, what about my daughter? She can be real annoying, but I don’t want her totally screwed unless it’s the kind that makes you moist in the right places.” “Your daughter will always have more than she ever needs and never have what she really wants,” Harri concluded. “It sounds like the Bush family at a tax audit,” Sylvia sighed. 18 KISMET IS HUNG LO

It looked as if they had arrived at party central when Zaroya’s limo pulled up to a stop at the Lunar Lounge. Jayms just kept driving right on past for a couple of blocks, still keeping them in sight in his rearview mirror until he found a vacant spot with a big van in front of it, where he could park the bike out of sight. “Okay, Woody, Zaroya and Vichyssoise just went into the Lunar Lounge. The limo is driving off now and all the boxes are still in the trunk. You follow the car with the tracker and I’ll go inside and find out what Zaroya and Dyke-rella are up to.” “Okay, Jayms, we’ve got you on video and audio. Call us when you need us,” Woody responded, and signed off. Jayms waited until the limo turned the corner a block ahead of him and then stashed the helmet and gloves in the bike’s storage bin and pulled out his tuxedo jacket. It wasn’t the Bond-style traditional tux, but his Keanu Reeves Matrix one. If Jayms dressed to kill, he meant it, and he didn’t want someone mistaking him for a waiter. Jayms paused to check himself out in the black glass window of the van he’d parked in front of. He smoothed out his long jacket. “You gotta love this jacket,” he whistled softly, then did a fast spin and struck a karate pose. “Yes!” Jayms smiled at his reflection. “It looks great when you’re kicking someone’s ass, to have all this fabric flailing out behind you.” He laughed. “After all, a spy has to look his best.”

75 76 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

So, Jayms was styling as he walked into the Lunar Lounge, a techno club—a huge high-tech, spacey warehouse transformed by major money and architectural renovations. Everything was done in silver circles against deep indigo blue walls and fabrics—sort-of-a moon-maids-on-Ecstasy motif. He couldn’t see Zaroya or Vichyssoise, but he saw Sylvia over in the far corner with some Indian who must be Harri Kummalot, her personal psychic. “Well, if he looks as good up close as he does from here, I might want to cum a lot with him myself,” Jayms thought aloud, just as a hot jade prince walked up to him in his skimpy Lunar Lounge toga. “Good evening, sir. I am your cocktail waiter, Hung Lo. Can I get a drink for you?” “You can if your name isn’t false advertisement.” Jayms smiled at this Asian Adonis. “What’s your pleasure sir?” “I want a Sexy Russian. Can you make me one of those?” “Certainly, sir, if you tell me how to make it.” “It’s one part vodka, one part passion fruit juice. You shake and I stir.” “Coming right up.” Hung Lo smiled and trotted off. “Cuming up, cuming down, any way that works.” Jayms whistled. “Duty, not booty tonight, Jayms,” Woody reminded him in his ear with an, “oh, so annoying” tone. “Yah, yah, yah.” Jayms sighed. “Okay, it looks like Sylvia is splitting from the sexy swami. I’ll see if I can get anything out of him for a moment. Have you got a lock on the limo’s location?” “Hi, Jayms, Sum Yung here. Woody just went to retrieve the bike. I have a lock on the limo’s location in the same building, three flights down. There’s an underground garage and it seems to be parked there for now.” “Thanks, Sum Yung,” Jayms murmured as he walked over to the sultry looking swami who sported two porno-black eyes. “So, swami, can you do me now … or are you already taken?” he asked with a salacious smile. “You are the hunter, sir, in search of your prey,” Kummalot said without raising his eyes as he flipped three cards face up on the table. Jayms was dying to flip him face-up the same way, as he introduced himself, “The name’s Blonde, Jayms Blonde,” he said extending his card. “Blonde with an e?” he asked as he finally looked up at Jayms. “Yes, like Liza with a Z, and it’s J-A-Y-M-S.” “Y?” “Because I like it.” KISMET IS HUNG LO 77

“The name is Harri. Harri Kummalot.” “Is that a name or a promise?” “You are very precocious, Mr. Blonde,” Kummalot said as he gestured for Jayms to sit down across the table from him. “I’m even more fun when I get rambunctious.” “No doubt,” Kummalot replied coolly as he turned his attention to Jayms’ Tarot cards. Jayms took the inevitable gay man’s glance at the man’s crotch. It looks like the jewels on his turban aren’t the only ones he has to brag about, Jayms thought. The club was beginning to ﬁll up, and the music got louder and more driving, with the bass so strong the tables and chairs vibrated with each boom. “You are a Scorpio, Mr. Blonde—dark of mind, passionate of body. But your moon rising is in the house of Cancer.” “Actually, I rise well in any house,” Jayms smirked. “You bear the mark of a bird of prey,” Kummalot added. 78 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Actually, you’re a Cancer with a Scorpio rising aren’t you Jayms?” “With a hawk tattoo on your right shoulder,” Woody whispered through the earring. “Someone’s done his homework.” “You’ve always led a double life and always will,” Kummalot continued as he flipped another card. “Yes, well twins are twice as fun, and triplets are really special,” Jayms retorted as he reached out and stopped the Indian from flipping the next card. “Do you really believe in the power of the cards?” he asked. “America is a young culture that flaunts its technology and ignores the old ways, Mr. Blonde. But for those who have the sight, the cards never lie. They show you the future.” “I see.” “Take three cards,” he said firmly, as Jayms went “firm” under his hypnotic eyes. Jayms pulled three cards at random from the deck, and tossed them to Kum- malot, who spread them out, face down, across the table. “Turn them face up, one at a time from left to right,” he directed Jayms. Jayms turned each card over. Each was painted with muscular, half-clad people. It was the Da Vinci deck—full of very homoerotic designs—and the whole experience was taking his mind from duty to booty, licketty-split. Yah, licking came to his mind too. “Ahhh yes, travel, danger, and death. These cards seem to follow you everywhere, Mr. Blonde.” “Like the three stooges,” Jayms grinned. “This is no joking matter, Mr. Blonde. Pick one more card for the outcome.” “Anything to make you happy, Harri.” Jayms snatched up a card and tossed it face up onto the table, making it spin around and around in a flashy blur like the wheel of fortune, until it stopped suddenly, facing Harri. “The lovers?” Harri looked surprised and confused all at once. “Well, let’s just start with wild sex and work our way up, shall we?” Before Harri could reply, a nearly naked Hung Lo—and, oh, was that name appropriate—walked up sans toga in nothing but a silver thong with a tray and Jayms’ drink. “Your sexy Russian, Mr. Blonde, but if you would like to try a sexy Chinese next …?” “What a splendid idea, Hung Lo—as soon as I give Mr. Kummalot a chance to live up to his name. You see?” Jayms grabbed the lovers’ card and waved it aloft, “I think we just got engaged.” KISMET IS HUNG LO 79

“We shall see, Mr. Blonde,” Harri said as he stood up from the table. “But do not mock the cards. Kismet is very powerful.” “My kiss ain’t bad either, Harri,” Jayms replied, as he swept up the cards in a fluid arc, palmed them in the air and then made them reappear behind Harri’s ear. “I have faith we will bed together soon.” The images must have made Harri hot and bothered, because his face flushed, and he turned and left without a word. “Now, about that second drink, Hung Lo?” “Yes, Mr. Blonde.” “I was invited to a little private party somewhere here in the club, but I’ve lost my invitation. Do you know where it’s going on?” “Why don’t you take one of the reserved tables by the stage and I’ll send the manager over to you, Mr. Blonde.” “Sounds almost as good as you look.” With a blush of his own, although it wasn’t his face that did it, Hung Lo held his tray strategically and guided Jayms through the crowd over to a banquet area at the far side of the stage where the band was playing. The area was empty except for a white cardboard sign that said, “Reserved.” Suddenly, a voice that sounded like Casey Kasem’s with a bad oriental accent came over the club’s speakers. “Raidees and rentlemen,” it boomed—and looking around the club it looked like most of the men there were for rent. “Here dey are wif der ratest hit, ‘Bonsai Baby Bonsai!’—Beijing’s hottest boy ban—Chin Sync!” As the voice rumbled out the group’s name, the crowd went wild, stamping and applauding until five of the cutest pieces of dim sum you ever saw danced out on to the stage. The music began to pound the baseline through the floor as the Chyn Sync Boys spread out across the stage, dancing and strutting. Jayms took a long draw on his drink and leaned back against the booth to enjoy the show. Suddenly, with a fast swoosh that nearly threw him sideways, the booth spun backwards into the wall. It was replaced by an identical booth, but Jayms wasn’t there to see it. For Jayms, everything went black and silent. The sound of the music had cut off, and the electric hum from his earring transmitter went dead. He reached out to grab hold of something and smacked his hands into a hard smooth wall that hadn’t been there a second before. He was gazing up as he was sinking down into darkness. 19 NOTHING SAYS I LOVE YOU LIKE S&M

You know the old story of a light at the end of the tunnel, with heavenly bodies waiting to guide you to the other side? Well, that was sort of what happened next, but the “other side” was not Jayms’ idea of heaven. After the sudden shock of no sound, no light, and feeling like he was falling down a rabbit hole in slow-mo, Jayms was tense and ready. Or, so he thought, until he felt a slight thud. The table whipped around again and he found himself staring out at a huge three-story hall. There was a party going on, which was the reason he was not instantly noticed. But it wasn’t the kind of party he had expected. Huge columns made of giant cages stacked five high stretched from floor to ceiling on both sides of the three-story hall, and ran the full length of the room, which was as long as a football field. Each cage contained a masked couple fornicating in scanty leather-studded outfits. In fact, in half the cages, a mask was just about all they were wearing. Some of these couples were doing things that made Jayms blush and would make a whorehouse radioactive. But, the cages were just for ambiance. The real show was on the floor. At the back of the hall, on a raised dais, Ms. Z herself lounged on a golden dragon. She was dressed in a long, gold gown with a matching mask and she was wearing two large golden bangles. Five long golden chains were attached to each. At the end of each long chain was a collar attached to a naked man, wearing only

80 NOTHING SAYS I LOVE YOU LIKE S&M 81 a mask—or maybe a tattoo or three. From time to time she would spank, spit, bite, or step on one of these “pets.” To her right, about ten feet in front of the dais and twelve feet up in the air, a Bangkok beauty was doing an aerial act, “liquidating” from her dragon swing onto a crowd of groveling naked men below, who were holding up cups and wearing Fido-style studded collars. The smells of opium, sweat, and urine clung to everything. The clouds of mist hanging in the air were not from some cheap fog machine. Weaving through all of this, nodding to each leather vixen one at a time to remove a mask for a momentary “picture-is-worth–a-million-dollars” moment, was Vichyssoise. She was recognizable from her killer legs and the spiked lavender locks that only she could carry off. “It must be ZENRON’s annual blackmail black ball,” Jayms muttered as all the eyes in the room slowly turned towards him. When Zaroya and Vichyssoise saw Jayms, to their credit, they dropped everything to give him a warm welcome. Jayms waved heartily and pronounced, “Well, this is festive!” “I believe the correct word is ‘fetish,’ Mr. Blonde,” Zaroya snapped in a ran- kled manner from behind her mask. “It depends upon your circle of friends, I guess. I can’t place the face,” Jayms ventured, “but the bitchy voice rings a bell.” Zaroya pushed the masked man who was licking her boots gently to the side, and said, “Ambassador, I think you should rejoin us later.” She then slipped the chain attached to his collar off her bracelet, tossed it to him, and indicated a door for him to exit through. Next, like a true hostess, she turned back to Jayms and said, “Let me introduce Xang Bang,” and—surprise, surprise—she pointed to Vichyssoise in her little “Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon” mask ensemble. It was basically a German- style dominatrix outfit complete with riding crop and bullwhip, but with a V- neck bodice, and a cham sang with lateral slit, ivory frogs, Mandarin collar, and Fu-Manchu sleeves. In fact, it would be very fetching for Halloween in China Town. Of course, while Jayms was making these mental notes, Vichyssoise purred, “Welcome to the party. I’m the Princess of Pain!” and lashed out with the bullwhip, pinning Jayms’ arms to his side as it snaked around his torso with a crack of thunder. “Actually, you’re a pain in the ass, and I do that only by invitation!” Jayms snapped back, as he dropped to the floor and rolled, yanking her off balance. Vichyssoise fell with a jerk and Jayms rolled back the other way, unwinding the 82 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE whip. Snatching it up in one hand, and whipping his gun out with the other, he leapt to his feet. “Okay, I came dressed to play. So let’s party!” he shouted. “Drop it, Mr. Blonde!” Zaroya’s voice echoed through the hall, preceded by a whoosh, as a dozen guns whipped out from some very interesting places, and all of them pointed at Jayms. “It’s my party and I’ll kill who I want to! Drop the gun now, or you’ll be the first.” “I might have the wrong address.” Jayms smiled. “I left my invitation in my car. I’ll go and check it just to make sure, if you like!” “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Blonde.” “You have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name,” Jayms said. “No one has a name here, and let’s keep it that way.” “No tit for tat?” “Sorry. We would have met under different circumstances eventually, but by crashing my party you have saved me a great deal of trouble.” “Can I help it if I deal in trouble for a living?” “You won’t be living much longer, Mr. Blonde.” Zaroya waved her hand and five firm young bodies in leather loincloths and masks surrounded him. “Take him outside and kill him! The fireworks go off in five minutes. Wait until then before you shoot him, so nobody hears anything.” “I want to kill him!” Vichyssoise stamped her feet and shouted at Zaroya. “You had your chance. Now, let the boys have some fun!” “I only do it with boys anyway,” Jayms smirked. With that, the boys grabbed him and dragged him down a long hallway and up a ramp, which seemed to be the signal for Vichyssoise to start cursing and kicking every naked male on a leash within reach of her flying feet. The rest of the crowd just ignored her little corner of terror and went back to screwing around—literally. Just as they shoved him out the back door into the alley, Jayms’ communications snapped back on as if he had just passed through a signal-dampening field. Which in fact, he had. “Hey, guys, we still have five minutes to kill before you kill me. How about a nice game of hide and suck?” “Jayms!” he heard Woody yelling in his ear. “Are you all right? Who are those masked guys?!” NOTHING SAYS I LOVE YOU LIKE S&M 83

“You know, I’m serious about spending the last ﬁve minute of my life having great sex with you guys!” He uttered loudly. “Jing co yo ji mehi fung fu!” one of the guys shouted at him in a dialect he didn’t understand. But it was something that caused the rest of the group to roar with laughter. “I love group sex in the alley behind clubs don’t you?” Jayms tried to give the cavalry directions since all they were getting on the visual from his mole was jum- bled close-ups of masked faces and an occasional pec or forehead. 84 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Yi pee tu bung moo pow pu!” another one said as he punched Jayms in the gut. “Oooof!” he gasped and stumbled to the ground—something they also found funny as a group. Suddenly, a heavy metal tray came spinning out from the corner behind the door. It smashed into the head of the guy holding Jayms’ right arm. Then the sound of a racing engine and squealing tires intruded on the little party. A foot flew past Jayms’ face into the guy holding his left arm and Hung Lo spun into view. Taken by surprise, the group faltered a second longer as Hung Lo vaulted over Jayms and then whirled to kick the guy holding Jayms from behind in the head. “Let’s get rambunctious!” Jayms hollered as he kidney-punched the thug next to him, grabbed the tray and swung it back flat against the face of another masked mauler. Then he spun up on his feet and positioned himself back-to-back with Hung Lo, his knight in shining thong. Together they turned into a pivoting whirl of flying feet and hand chops until they were the only ones left standing and conscious. “Are you alright, Mr. Blonde?” Hung Lo asked as they finally turned to look at each other. “I’m fine, Hung Lo, and I must say so are you,” Jayms said as he glanced around at the five other half-naked unconscious male bodies strewn in every direction. Can I interest you in a little, POFTH?” Jayms smiled down at him. “What’s POFTH?” Hung Lo looked up questioningly. “It stands for Put Out For The Hero.” Jayms smiled as fireworks exploded in the night sky. “You see, Hung Lo,” he continued as he reached forward, cupped Hung Lo’s ass, and pulled him close. “When I kick ass, it’s foreplay,” and he snatched off what little there was blocking him from Hung Lo’s jade gate and entered into heaven. About ten minutes later, as the fireworks started to slow to an occasional pop, bang, and roar, and Hung Lo was lying satisfied and sweaty against Jayms’ chest, Jayms realized that Woody and Sum Yung had never arrived to help. And there was an annoying sound of crunching in his ear. Then he heard Woody’s voice whisper softly, “Can you please pass me the popcorn?” Jayms sat up and smacked his hand over the mole above his left temple. “Now don’t do that, Jayms!” Woody’s voice chuckled. “This is the best porno rental I’ve had in weeks and Sum Yung loved some of those tricks you pulled. How do you stay so limber?” NOTHING SAYS I LOVE YOU LIKE S&M 85

“What happened to you guys? You were supposed to be watching my ass!” he growled. “What do you think we’ve been doing for the past ﬁfteen minutes. Jayms? The aerial tracker worked just great and my, my, Hung Lo was ready for his close-up, wasn’t he?” Woody snickered through the transmitter, as Hung Lo and Jayms shoved themselves back into their clothes and headed towards the van. “I’m gonna get you for this, Woody,” Jayms threatened. “Well, after watching you, Jayms, that’s exactly what Sum Yung and I are hoping for.” 20 A VIEW FROM AFAR

Mama was at S.T.O.P. Intelligence Central standing by to watch the first official press interview of Jayms as he joined the Miss Galaxy tour and CNN teased the segment. “This is Bruce Kneeler,” a Brokaw-ish looking newsman said, “Coming to you live from CNN in Atlanta for the International Entertainment News. In just a moment, we will join Connie Ling Qua in Hong Kong for an interview with Jayms Blonde, the world’s most famous hairdresser. Mr. Blonde is launching a new line of hair care products for one of the co-sponsors of the pageant. Goldie Locks is a joint venture between Madonna and Britney Spears. It is also Mr. Blonde’s first interview after his near-fatal car crash, which took the life of his driver, Lucky Lai. And now we go to Connie Ling Qua, in Hong Kong.” “Hello, everyone, this is Connie Ling Qua from Good Morning Hong Kong.” “Ooooooh, we need to get that girl in to our salon,” Mama said. “Whoever did those highlights should be shot, and she needs to have that hair cut shorter around her face,” Mama declared as the camera cut back to a medium shot of Jayms and Connie standing together at a heliport. “Today, we’re talking to the internationally famous hairstylist, Mr. Jayms Blonde,” Connie gushed on screen. “Good morning, Connie.” Jayms smiled as the camera zoomed in for a close- up. “He looks good!” Mama said.

86 A VIEW FROM AFAR 87

“Jayms, as the representative of Goldie-Locks Hair Care Products,” Connie continued, “I understand that your new products are the official hair care line for the new Miss Galaxy?” “That’s right, Connie. Try our new Goldie-Locks Hair Care Products for the golden goddess in you.” Jayms smiled as he panned his best interview smile right at the camera. “When will this new line be available to the public, Jayms?” Connie asked. “Right after tomorrow’s gala at the Kowloon Hyatt Regency, which is the official commencement of the new Miss Galaxy’s reign.” “And, of course, Goldie-Locks is an official sponsor of the Miss Galaxy Pag- eant, along with ZENRON Oil & Energy, whose CEO was once Miss Galaxy herself,” added Connie. “You mean Mrs. Zaroya Sylva Kenmoor Hess Binhoman Cohen Abud Grim- aldi Chang, widow of Prince Omar Binhoman of Oman and most recently the widow of General Chin Chong Chang, territorial governor of Hong Kong,” Jayms corrected. Mama shouted, “Watch your back, Liz, Ms. Z is going for the record!” “Isn’t Zaroya Chang now the richest lady in the world?” Connie continued. “She’s the richest something in the world for sure.” Jayms winked as the sound of a hovering helicopter began to drown out their voices. “That’s her private helicopter now.” Jayms pointed overhead as the helicopter slowly descended and touched down behind them. “I’ll be staying at her private island estate tonight,” he told Connie. “Well, we look forward to seeing you again at the gala tomorrow, Mr. Blonde.” “Thank you, Connie Ling Qua. I’ll see you at the ball,” he added as she walked over to the helicopter with him. The cameras followed and zoomed in on the helicopter door as it swung open. The pilot waved as he pulled off his glasses and headphones to reveal a golden, dimpled, chiseled face with piercing blue eyes, and an unruly mop of curly sun-bleached hair. His taught, pumped pecs strained against the fabric of his low-cut tank top. Mama nearly swooned. “CLOSE-UP!” she shouted. As if the cameraman had heard her plea, he zoomed in on the calendar boy as he waved and addressed Jayms. “G’day, Mr. Blonde. Hugh Humpit at your service.” “Hello, Mr. Humpit. I’m Connie Ling Qua of Good Morning Hong Kong. Are you Zaroya Chang’s private pilot?” Mama sighed. “Oh, too cute to waste on ZENRON! This boy’s a down-under Dorothy!” 88 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Well, actually, I work for the Miss Galaxy Pageant, little sheila. But for the next few days I’m here to service Mr. Blonde.” “That’s nice to hear, Mr. Humpit,” Jayms smiled and moved in between Hugh and Connie. He gently pushed her away from the helicopter door and waved good-bye to the cameraman. “It’s time for Mr. Humpit and me to get to it.” He flashed a final smile and hopped into the passenger’s seat as the camera moved in for a tight shot. “I’m your man, Mr. Blonde.” Hugh smiled as he leaned over to give Jayms a friendly pat on the shoulder, giving the camera a clear shot of his bronzed brawny chest. “It’s my job to keep our VIPs happy.” He followed Jayms in to the helicopter. Mama snorted. “Uh, oh!” Suddenly, the helicopter door slammed shut and the camera pulled back to show Connie ducking under the blades and walking quickly towards the edge of the helipad as the helicopter unexpectedly began to hop and swing, first one way and then the other. For a second, the helicopter launched upward about three feet into the air and then slammed down to the ground again and started spinning around and around, totally out of control. “What’s happening?” Connie shouted at the camera as the TV crew watched in amazement. Finally, the helicopter stopped spinning. It sprung upwards in a series of three quick hops, then slammed back down and stopped moving as the engine wound down to idle. Mama gasped. “What the hell do you think happened?” On the screen was a quick wide-shot of Connie and then blurred and bumpy images as the cameraman ran towards the now-still helicopter. He stopped and focused on the cabin door. Connie called out anxiously, “Mr. Blonde, are you alright?!” as she flung the door back to reveal Jayms adjusting his zipper. Hugh lay back against the other cabin wall, pantless, shirtless, with his underwear on crooked, completely dazed and smiling. “Just getting a lay of the land, Miss Ling Qua.” Jayms smiled as he slipped the pilot’s headset on, patted Hugh’s knee, grabbed the stick with one hand and pulled the door shut with the other. Over the sound of whirling blades Jayms asked, “Where exactly is this island, joy boy?” And the helicopter lifted upwards and flew off. A VIEW FROM AFAR 89

“It looks like someone’s been playing ‘Top Gun’ again.” Mama sighed. “Now that can be fun, depending who’s on top and how big the gun is. And I know the answers to both of those questions.” Mama laughed. 21 GOLDEN DOORS

Private islands have been all the rage for the ﬁlthy rich since time began. When it came to being a rich bitch, Zaroya Chang was hopelessly cliché, though her private island mansion had a few original surprises. Sylvia was playing gin with Harri Kummalot at the opposite end of a gigantic hall from Zaroya. The entire hall was a recreation of the Sun Throne Room from the Forbidden Palace. Matching sets of eighteen-foot-high gold carved doors gave entrance to the hall—one set at each end. The doors opposite Sylvia were opened wide onto a black marble balcony carved like a sprawled winged dragon. A pool of sunlight poured through the open doors and spilled across a golden couch. In the center of that light, basking in the sun like a golden lizard lay Zaroya. Curled up at her feet on either side, languidly drinking in the sun, were her two pet albino tigers, named after their original mother and father, Siegfried and Roy. The cats seemed happy and content. It was Zaroya, reading the headline in the newspaper, whose tail would have been twitching if she’d had one. “Chin Sync boys got castrated for their art,” she snapped as she tossed the paper to the ﬂoor with disgust. “They’re just lucky I didn’t have you cut their throats while you were at it.” “You should have left Mr. Blonde to me, Mistress,” Vichyssoise noted as she sat there in a sleeveless oriental silk embroidered cat suit. “Just be grateful you weren’t the one who bungled the job again, Vichy! I’m fed up with excuses!”

90 GOLDEN DOORS 91

“According to Harri’s Tarot cards, ZaZa, you need to can that vendetta and stay as far away from Mr. Blonde as possible,” Sylvia informed her daughter. “Tell Harri to shove those cards where the stars don’t shine, Mother!” “Don’t get bitchy with me, ZaZa!” Sylvia stood up. “’Cause I’m the real bitch and you’re still just in a bitch in training, sweetie. Now, say you’re sorry or I’ll give ‘Page Six’ your real birth date and send them the before and after shots of the nose job I paid for when you were sixteen!” “Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrh! MOTHER!” “Say you’re sorry fast and sweet, little lady, or I’ll throw in your maternity photos for free!” “All right! I’m sorry, Harri. Thank you for the wisdom of the stars! Now are you happy, Mother?” “Not quite feeling the warm and fuzzy stuff, ZaZa, but I’m getting there,” replied Sylvia. “Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” Zaroya struggled to control her anger as she turned to Vichyssoise and grumbled. “Well, then I’m stuck with Blonde for a few days, whether I like it or not. I can’t have him killed while he’s here, and there’s not enough time to get anybody else decent to do Miss Galaxy’s hair and make up for tomorrow.” Just as Vichyssoise was about to say something, the two-story golden doors at the opposite end of the hall swung open. Chaz Rodriquez, an extremely handsome and extremely gay young man, and the new Miss Galaxy, Sakira Mandib of India, a veritable ethnic Marilyn Monroe, entered together. “Zaroya, this place is phenomolicious!” Chaz gasped as he swung one hand up in the air above his head with a swirl and snapped his ﬁngers, like a queer cartoon character. “It is every bit as beautiful as the Taj Mahal in its own way, Ms. Chang,” said Miss Galaxy in a melliﬂuous voice as lovely as her face. “Thank you, Sakira, and thank you, Chaz. It’s just a little cottage by the sea, but it feels like home to me,” Zaroya said as she rose to greet them. “I was about to show Sakira the Miss Galaxy evening line. It’s so phenomolicious it would make Edith Head moist. Would you care to join us?” Chaz asked. “As soon as I wash my mind out with soap,” Zaroya said softly to Vichyssoise and then turned back to Chaz. “I’d love to, just as soon as I greet our new guest, Mr. Blonde, who should be arriving any minute now.” “I’ve seen many photos of him in People magazine and your National Enquirer,” Sakira said in her lyrical Indian accent. “They say he is the stud to the stars!” 92 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Stylist to the stars, Sakira. We have to work on your vocabulary, my dear,” Zaroya said. “With an ego that big, anything else he has would be a disappointment,” Chaz huffed. “So you don’t approve of Mr. Blonde, Chaz?” Zaroya asked in surprise. “I’ve had too many male models cry their hearts out to me over him. No one is that good or worth that much trouble,” he answered. “He doesn’t like women?” Sakira asked. “He loves women, kido, he just fornicates with men,” Sylvia called out from across the room. “Now, miss lovely, are you and hot stuff gonna get your butts over here and give big mama a kiss, or am I gonna have to call the palace guards to give you both a spanking?” “Sylvia!” Chaz waved affectionately and practically skipped across the room towing Sakira behind him. “Ya need to put some of those weights back in your shoes, hot stuff, or you’re gonna bounce off the ceiling,” Sylvia cooed, which sent Chaz into a state of gig- gles. “God love’s yah baby, ’cause he hung you like an ox, but that laugh sounds like “Hee-Haw” on helium! Give me a kiss quick before you take off like Tinker- bell!” she added, as he pecked her cheek. “You too, Maharini.” and Sakira happily complied. “Chaz, Sakira, this is Harri Kummalot,” Sylvia announced introducing them all, “my personal psychic.” “A pleasure to meet you both.” Harri smiled, as he bowed slightly with his palms clasped together and raised slightly above his forehead. “A pleasure to meet you, too,” Chaz and Sakira responded together as they returned his bow. “Before this turns into an absolute love fest, Mother, can we get back to our agenda?” Zaroya called out to them from across the room. “Oh, yes!” Chaz clapped his hands, “let’s all go see my collection, before that bed-hopping hairdresser arrives!”

Meanwhile, Jayms could see the island looming up ahead of him from the cockpit of the helicopter. After the wonderfully bumpy take off, Hugh had eventually taken over piloting the helicopter. It was a short ﬂight and Jayms took the time to get acquainted with two other passengers—two cuddly little chow dogs in two Louis Vuitton dog carriers. As soon as they landed, Hugh grabbed both cases. GOLDEN DOORS 93

“I have to take these dogs and you to Ms. Z right away, mate. She’s waiting for you in the grand salon, and that’s one sheila that don’t like wait’n! We better git or I’m gonna wind up in the doghouse like these little pups!” “Lead the way, joy-boy,” Jayms quipped and followed him at quick clip down a series of halls. They glided past enormous rooms with vaulted ceilings, each more gloriously appointed than the last and all with gigantic windows facing the harbor. Finally, they entered a wide gallery that contained one of the finest collec- tions of Oriental art Jayms had ever seen. As they crossed to the center of the gallery in front of two towering carved gold doors, Jayms heard a voice that would have made the Tooth Fairy sound butch: “Let’s all go see my collection before that bed-hopping hairdresser arrives.” “Someone call my name?” Jayms questioned as he pushed the door in front of him open and stepped into a veritable Fu Manchu throne room. The sun cascaded down through matching two-story open golden doors and landed on Zaroya, who was reclining on a gold and jewel-encrusted divan. It was glorious—like special effects drenching her in goddess light with that shimmering glow that only a well-oiled stripper spinning around a pole in a spot- light can get. So, Hugh, toting the two cuddly fur balls, and Jayms entered the glitter palace with the gang all there. Jayms instantly recognized Chaz Rodriguez from his picture and his resem- blance to his father. It was now evident that the voice from “Swishingdom” he’d heard a moment ago had come from Chaz. The vicious little fashionista spun around with his arms fluttering like a windmill with a hiccup and sputtered. “Pardon me for repeating Hollywood gossip,” he lisped. “Ah—gossip! The sport of queens, which makes it your God-given right.” Jayms smiled at him. Well, maybe it was a full-blown leer at that moment in time. That might have been why Chaz’s left eyebrow whiplashed upward as his nostrils flared and his fluttering hands landed on his hips like crouching cats ready to spring. But Jayms was kind, and cut him off before he cut him down. “I see we have a true queen of beauty to pay homage to,” he said. Zaroya did the high school prom blush and the one-handed hair primp, trying to claim the compliment, as Jayms knew she would. As soon as she moistened her lips to reply, he winked at Hugh and spun towards Sakira and bowed. “You have the midnight beauty of the stars like an Elvin princess of old, Miss India,” Jayms complimented her as if he were one of the members of the Fellow- ship of the Ring. “I’m sure a galaxy of admirers will fill your reign.” 94 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

Zaroya hissed, Chaz humpfed, Sylvia smirked, Vichyssoise glared, Harri tisked, and Sakira shivered with excitement. Let’s face it, Jayms looked good enough to eat. He was standing in front of this twenty-year-old girl—tall, bronzed, and ruggedly handsome with bulging everything, dripping in Versace—as he locked his emerald green eyes with hers and kissed her hand. “Ya got style, Blondie, we’ll give you that, won’t we, girls?” Sylvia purred as she sauntered across the room, and Jayms turned to see her and Harri for the first time. They had been tucked away at a corner table a few feet behind Chaz and he hadn’t really noticed them between watching Zaroya in her golden glow, Chaz in his sugarplum fairy prance, and Miss Galaxy standing poised and glorious in the middle of the madness. “Breathe, Sakira, and pull the claws back, ZaZa. Chaz, if you purse your lips any harder, you’re gonna bruise them,” Sylvia proclaimed, giving everyone their marching orders. “Mrs. Shrubwell, a pleasure to finally meet a living legend. And you brought Mr. Tease with you,” said Jayms. “Kummalot,” Sylvia corrected. “Like I said, ‘Mr. Tease.’” “Oh, honey, I like you!” Sylvia giggled. “But that won’t do me any good will it?” Sylvia giggled girlishly again. “Sorry, Sylvia, I treat a gal like a pal and a guy like a gal, but,” said Jayms, as he leaned forward to whisper into Sylvia’s ear, “We can double date with a vibrator.” “Okay,” Sylvia responded as she slipped her arm though his. “I think I’m going to keep him, and the rest of you can just do saucy things in the dark.” “Mother, we are doing business here!” Zaroya snapped in a voice that held not one cultured tone per syllable. “So are Jayms and I, as soon as I find my checkbook.” “Mother!” Zaroya stomped her foot, making the tigers rise up on their haunches and growl. “All right, ZaZa, don’t get your pussies in a twist. Vichy, stop growling. You’re just aggravating the situation. You and the kitties need a Quaalude cookie.” “Pass the tray to me while your at it, sister,” Chaz retorted, snapping out of his silence. “I have a checkbook too, Mr. Blonde,” Sakira smiled coquettishly. GOLDEN DOORS 95

“There! Are you happy, Mother? You’re already corrupting Miss Galaxy!” Zaroya stamped her foot again, causing the tigers and Vichyssoise to growl louder. “Oh, eat me!” Sylvia yelled at the tigers, who shrank back from her anger. “But with names like Siegfried and Roy there ain’t much danger of that, is there?” she giggled. “All right, ZaZa, I’ll take the kids on a picnic while you and,” Sylvia patted Jayms’ bottom, “Blondonis, here, and oh! …” Sylvia realized no one had even acknowledged Hugh, “… our hunky bit of heavenly Hugh, too. I didn’t mean to ignore you, sweetie. So, we’ll go play while you all attend to whatever ‘business’ you need to. Okay?” “Fine, Mother.” Zaroya spat the words, then gritted her teeth for control. “Good answer, princess,” Sylvia cooed trying to bait Zaroya further, but not succeeding. “Okay, hot stuff,” Sylvia said slipping her arm through one of Chaz’s, “and Miss Maharini,” Sylvia added, then slipped her other arm through Sakira’s. “Harri and I are gonna come play dress up with you.” “Then we’ll have a nice game of strip Tarot,” Sylvia giggled as she glided out the door arm-in-arm with her charges. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Kum-with-me,” Jayms said as Harri ﬁnally looked up from his deck of cards and gave Jayms a small nod of acknowledgement. “That’s Kummalot,” he snapped. “So you keep saying.” Jayms smiled as Harri squared his shoulders and tossed his turbaned head in annoyance before he walked out the door. Vichyssoise, who had followed a few feet behind them, swung the gigantic gold doors shut, and then turned back to face Jayms. She took up her position like a goon guard in a Maﬁa movie. “Your mother is an amazing woman, Zaroya,” Jayms turned to compliment her. “Yes, and she hasn’t gotten any better with age.” Zaroya frowned. “Thank you for bringing Mr. Blonde, Hugh. I won’t need you for the rest of the day.” “Certainly, Mrs. Chang. What about the dogs?” Hugh held out the carriers with the now whimpering pups who could smell the scent of the giant cats, whether they could see them or not. “Just hand them to Vichy on your way out,” Zaroya ordered, having forgotten all about them until that moment. “Yes, Mistress.” Hugh bowed slightly. “See you around, Jayms.” 96 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Thanks for the ride, Hugh.” He winked. Hugh handed the two dog carriers to Vichyssoise and exited through the wall-sized golden doors. Vichyssoise seemed entranced by the terrified whimpers of the dogs and Zaroya just smiled like a Cheshire cat for the next minute or two as they surveyed each other silently like the three predators they were. “Nice pussies.” Jayms nodded at the chained cats. “I’m not sure if you are qualified to judge, Mr. Blonde. But they are a lovely pair.” Zaroya pushed a lotus flower carved into her Chinese bridal couch and a section of the floor a few feet in front of him slid to one side, revealing a pit beneath. “Termites?” Jayms asked. A ramp deep in the pit rose to the level of the opening in the floor. “Nothing quite so tame,” Zaroya answered as she picked up a remote, aimed it at the center of the room, and thumbed a button. Jayms tensed up, expecting a trap was about to be sprung. “Don’t be paranoid, Mr. Blonde.” Zaroya smiled with all her teeth bared like a cat at a mouse, as the room began to hum as the floor split apart even farther. “I’m just putting Siegfried and Roy back in their play pen. Vichy, you can bring the dogs over here and set them by the divan,” Zaroya instructed, as she grabbed the leash of each tiger firmly in her hands and marched them towards the ever-widening opening in the floor. For the next few seconds, it was as if three fighters were circling each other in the ring, looking for the first chance to strike. Zaroya and the cats crossed to the side where Jayms had been standing, while he circled back towards the two golden doors and Vichyssoise crossed from one end of the room to the other carrying the whimpering dogs. “I’m surprised to see you are such an animal lover, Zaroya,” he called out as he paused on the balls of his feet like one of those tigers, ready to spring into action. “I appreciate beauty and power in all its forms, Mr. Blonde,” Zaroya answered, as the floor finished opening with a solid click. “Just let me put my kittens away. It’s feeding time,” she added with a surreptitious smile. “I do hope I’m not on the menu.” “Not today, Mr. Blonde, but I’m sure Vichy will consider your offer for the future,” Zaroya responded in a seductive tone. Vichyssoise, for the first time all morning, actually smiled, something Jayms found much more terrifying than a couple of hungry tigers. He watched closely as Zaroya disconnected the leash from each tiger and they raced down the ramp into the pit with anticipation. Vichyssoise, who had GOLDEN DOORS 97 reached the divan by then, placed the two dog carriers next to each other on one side of the divan, pressed another petal on the lotus flower inset in the frame of the divan, and the ramp leading down into the pit retracted. “Come sit by me, Mr. Blonde, while I take care of the frightened little doggies. Then we’ll get down to business,” Zaroya cooed, as she spun away from Jayms and sauntered back to the waiting dogs. As soon as Zaroya reached the divan, Vichyssoise circled back around the pit towards the doors and exited. Zaroya reached into the closest dog carrier and pulled out a shivering, plump little Chinese chow pup, holding it up to look into its frightened eyes. She smiled. “Life is all in how you look at it, Mr. Blonde.” She turned and smiled at Jayms as she held out the quivering animal for him to take. “Does it have a name?” Jayms asked. “Let’s just call him Dumpling for now,” Zaroya purred. “Hey, Dumpling, don’t worry boy, I’ve got you,” he said as he stroked the little fella softly. Jayms had a special soft spot for dogs. It was a family thing. Dogs were used by U.S. soldiers during the Viet Nam war to search out the enemy. They were so effective that the Viet Cong had a bounty on them. A Vietnamese who killed a dog could eat for six months. The army had all kinds of them—shepherds, Dobermans, rottweilers—but when they pulled the armies out, they were ordered to leave the dogs behind to be hunted down and eaten. Jayms’ dad was in ‘Nam, and went A.W.O.L. to go back and save his dog, Max, a Belgium shepherd. “Never leave a comrade in arms behind,” his dad always taught Jayms, “even a four- legged one. And if your commanding officer is too chicken to do it, tell him to oil his rifle with his ass and go get your buddy anyway.” Max was pitch black except for three of his paws and the tip of his left ear. He had a bullet hole through that ear, too. Jayms was about six years old when his dad came home with Max in tow. He lived to the ripe old age of sixteen. He was like another brother, and endured being turned in to a dress-up doll and a horse ride by Jayms’ baby sister Sarah with all the dignity of a true soldier. “I love dogs,” he said to Zaroya as he rubbed the little dog’s belly. “I can’t have a dog because I’m always on the go, but someday, when I’m old and gray—if I’m lucky enough to get old and gray—I’ll get one.” A sudden roar from the tigers in the pit sent Dumpling into a fit of trembling all over again. He was so desperate for consolation and attention he gave a little “woof” and planted a sloppy doggie kiss on Jayms’ face. “Very touching, Mr. Blonde,” Zaroya said approvingly. “And this one,” Zaroya reached into the second cage and took out the other whimpering ball of 98 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE fur, “we can call Dim Sum.” Once again, she held the dog up almost ritualisti- cally to gaze deep into its terrorized eyes. “Chows, aren’t they?” Jayms asked her as she lowered the dog to the crook of her arm. “That’s right.” She gave a strange little giggle. “That’s exactly what they are—chow dogs.” “Didn’t the Chinese emperors keep them as palace pets?” “You’re quite the scholar, Mr. Blonde. Indeed they did. And yet the Koreans, who claim to be from the kingdom of heaven, and consider everyone, including the Japanese, with whom they share ancestry, to be barbarians, use dogs for food.” The huge doors suddenly whooshed open again as Vichyssoise returned with a golden pagoda shaped teacart. Actually, it looked like a golden rickshaw. It had two long pushcart handles to maneuver it with, and large spoke wheels. The canopy over the top was shaped like a pagoda roof and the cart itself was heavily laden with a large ornate silver tea service and triple tiered trays filled with sandwiches, scones, cookies, and pastries. The dogs smelled the food and their spirits seemed to change instantaneously from fright to feasting on whatever tidbits their cute little wiggles and pleading woofs might be able to wheedle. “Oh, perfect! Here is Vichyssoise with our tea. Have a sandwich, Mr. Blonde. Everything must eat.” Suddenly one of the tigers gave a grumbling roar from the pit. “Be quiet Zig- fried! Mama will feed you in a moment,” Zaroya called to it in a firm tone. “Those tigers are quite amazing,” Jayms commented. He held little Dumpling closer to him as he started shivering all over again. “Yes, the perfect balance of beauty and power, Mr. Blonde.” “And beauty is part of your passion isn’t it, Zaroya?” “A power we both have often used, Mr. Blonde. A power that has caused, and ended, more wars throughout history than can be counted. Just like a tiger—never underestimate it. Now, look at this beautiful feast Vichyssoise has prepared for us.” “Thank you, Zaroya,” Jayms said holding on to Dumpling as he wriggled towards the food once more. “Vichy, take the dog from Mr. Blonde,” Zaroya instructed as she handed hers over and Vichyssoise crossed to take Dumpling from Jayms. There was a tense little moment there when they were eye to eye, and he was holding the dog, where neither one of them was sure if the dog or Jayms, was going to bite her. GOLDEN DOORS 99

Jayms decided to mind his manners and politely handed Dumpling to Vichy without a word. They both relaxed as she moved away, carrying the protesting dogs farther from the cart with the sumptuous smelling feast. “Time for everyone to relax and have a little snack!” Zaroya pronounced and handed Jayms a small plate. “Or as you Americans call it—chow time.” Zaroya clapped her hands together quickly, and Vichyssoise tossed the two dogs into the pit. They squealed as they twisted in the air. They seemed to hover in denial above the pit for a second, and then howled as they crashed down into the abyss. Those howls of terror were cut short as the tigers stopped growling long enough to tear them apart. Then there was silence again. Dead silence, as Jayms just sat there in shock. Vichyssoise and Zaroya leered in glory, lapping up his horror like the tigers below lapped up the blood as it gushed forth from the two little furry lifeless bodies. One of them was Dumpling, who a moment ago had clung trustingly to him. Nothing broke that silence for several hundred throbbing heartbeats, except the sound of soft cracking bones and gnashing feline teeth. Then Zaroya plucked a finger sandwich off the silver tray and sank her teeth into it with savage relish. “Vichyssoise, you’ve outdone yourself. The cucumber and caviar canapés are delicious!” Jayms looked at the pit, then at his plate. He set the plate down and exerted more control than he ever had in his entire life not to reach out and snap Zaroya’s neck in two. “Oh, forgive me, Jayms,” the savage bitch cooed, “I know it’s rude to feed animals at the table,” and she pressed the lotus petal that slid the floor back across the tigers pit, as if that could fix things now. Her face would forever be frozen in his mind, sitting there smiling that sadistic Cheshire cat grin. He could feel the floor hum, as the floor covering the pit slowly closed, muffling the sound of the tigers’ deadly feast. This time, the click that signaled the final closing of the pit sounded more like a judge’s gavel clanging, “guilty.” He wanted to jump up and scream, “You fucking psycho bitch!” He wanted to kick over the teacart, smash everything up. He wanted to kick both their butts into the tiger pit and say, “Hey, here’s the main course, kitties!” He couldn’t. You can’t just get up and walk out when you are an agent on a covert operation. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to break bread with the bitch or say, “Yes, I’d love a cup of tea, two lumps please,” either. If the door hadn’t opened the very second the floor click closed and the most gorgeous mixture of manhood this side of a Bangkok brothel strutted in, Jayms 100 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE didn’t know what he would have done. The guy looked like a mixture of several ethnic groups that all looked better on him as he strode across the floor carrying a clipboard, his long white lab coat flaring out behind him. “Zaroya, I’m sorry to disturb you but that shipment of thrusters has not arrived and I have to have them if we are going to keep the launch schedule for our new communications satellite.” His rich baritone voice reverberated as he called out to her from across the room. This man has that quixotic undeterminable ethnic look of the Rock, Jayms thought to himself, and he can rock me any time he wants. “What good is a man without his thruster?” Jayms asked with his naughty reflex back on line. “Who are you?” asked the man. “Dr. Randy Dick, this is Mr. Jayms Blonde,” Zaroya announced as she rose to introduce them. “Actually, the only thing blonde about me is my name, plus a few highlights,” Jayms quipped slipping into flirt mode to wash the dirt of those ravaged pups from his mind and replace it with his desire to ravage Dr. Dick. “I’m afraid that’s too much information without pictures, Mr. Blonde.” “That’s what I like about scientists—they have to see everything for themselves,” he retorted. “We also rely on the research of others and I’m sure that subject has been amply researched already.” He’s good at this, Jayms realized. This might turn out to be more fun than I’d thought. “Dr. Dick is the head of our Aerospace Industrial Development,” Zaroya continued. “Why don’t you show Mr. Blonde our facilities? It might serve as an inspiration for his work.” “I fail to see what a hairdresser would find interesting in an aerospace lab,” Dr. Dick replied. He was clearly annoyed with the idea of being taken away from his work, and clearly annoyed by the fact that Jayms was taken with him. “Aerospace, aerosol, it’s all the same—we both have to work under pressure.” Jayms smiled at him. “I also have a line of makeup so I’m very well versed in chemistry, and I’d like to explore that subject with you much deeper.” “Fine!” Zaroya declared. “That settles it, Dr. Dick.” She waved them towards the doors he had just entered through. “Shall we?” Jayms said, desperate to be anywhere but there. “All right,” agreed the doctor with distaste, “come with me.” GOLDEN DOORS 101

“I’m looking forward to it, believe me,” Jayms quipped, not even caring about the obvious fact that Zaroya did nothing out of the goodness of her heart. There wasn’t any goodness there to work with. And clearly Vichyssoise was dying to kill him the second she had the chance. So, off he went, leaving the evil bitch of the East and her devil dyke behind. All he wanted right then and there was out of that room and in to Dr. Dicks pants. 22 HEAD OVER HEELS

Since Zaroya’s veritable palace was sprawled around the mountaintop of the island, it was no surprise that, a few feet down the hall from the grand gallery, Jayms and Dr. Dick stepped into an elevator that took them down several stories. As they rode, Dr. Dick silently ﬂipped through the papers on his clipboard, ignoring Jayms as much as possible. Jayms was undressing him with his eyes in rehearsal for his ﬁngers. Finally, the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors slid silently open, and they stepped out into a cavernous chamber strewn in every direction with titanic-sized equipment, one piece of which was a dual gyroscope with one section big enough for a man to stand in, and one section the size of a beach ball. “So, Dr. Dick, I’d love to see your equipment.” Jayms smiled. “I’d love to be the Emperor of China, but that isn’t going to happen either,” Dr. Dick retorted. “Life is full of surprises, Randy.” “And the world is full of fools, Jayms. And don’t call me Randy, those are just vicious rumors.” “Sorry to hear that, doctor,” Jayms said. “Look, Mr. Blonde, I’m really very busy.” “I was under the impression Zaroya wanted you to show me your stuff.” “I believe she was referring to the machines,” he growled. “Fine. What is that machine over there?” and Jayms pointed out the dual gyroscope. It appeared to be the right choice because Dr. Dick seemed to relax a bit.

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“We call that a dual gyro-fuge,” he pointed out. “Besides standing a date on his head, what’s it used for?”

“It happens to be a sophisticated piece of training equipment! We use it to train our astronauts for remote operations, satellite repairs, reflexes, and spatial orientation,” he said in a professional tone. “What is your personal orientation, Dr. Dick?” “Can’t you keep your mind out of the gutter for one minute?!” “It’s like Oscar Wilde said, ‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.’” “Well, let’s try to keep the conversation at that level,” he said as he walked over to the larger sphere and popped open the door. “Step in and I’ll show you how it works.” It was a lot bigger than the cages he’d danced in during his go-go boy days, so Jayms wasn’t feeling too claustrophobic as he stepped in. “Slip your feet into the stirrups and grab onto the hand controls,” Dr. Dick instructed. “And what does this test for again?” Jayms asked. “Reflexes, spatial orientation, and endurance,” he replied in that officious tone that Jayms couldn’t help finding terribly attractive. 104 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Endurance has always been my long suit.” “Did you have anything to eat recently? You can’t do this on a full stomach,” Dr. Dick commented. “All I’ve had today is a few ounces of liquid protein.” “That should be fine then.” “Trust me, it was,” Jayms cooed. “Trusting you would not be easy, Mr. Blonde.” “Trust me, I’m very easy.” “Ecchemm!” The good doctor cleared his throat. “Let’s get to back to the demonstration.” He slipped the latch on the door, flipped the power on, and the lights and dials on the controls sprung to life. “Your right hand controls your right-side thruster; your left, the left side.” “Very clever, these Chinese.” “This is an American scientific research group, Mr. Blonde, so please keep the B-movie humor to yourself and try to focus on what I’m telling you.” “Sorry, doc.” “Okay, so, once again, left hand moves you left, right hand moves you right. Your right foot spins you backwards and your left foot spins you forward.” “Sounds like sex on a trampoline,” Jayms remarked—a remark the doctor totally ignored as he shut the cage door in Jayms’ face. “Now, maybe we can get some actual work done,” Dr. Dick said, as he moved away from the gryo-fuge and over to a control console a few feet away. “The task is to control the spinning of a steel sphere in the dual gryo-fuge. The larger the ball, the easier it is to control.” “Sounds fine to me.” Jayms shrugged as he familiarized his fingers with the controls. “Your task, once the ball enters and begins to spin, is to control your gyro-fuge to the point of making it stand still. Try touching the control. Give the joystick a nice soft squeeze with your right hand.” Jayms gave it a nice little squeeze and suddenly found himself spinning head over heals to the right. “Whoa!” he hollered. “Softly, I said, Mr. Blonde! Take it very easy.” The doctor sighed. Jayms focused on what he was doing and countered quickly with short little taps with his left hand, and slowed the gyroscope back down. “Very good, Mr. Blonde. Your reflexes are quite impressive.” “So are my pecs, if you care to check.” HEAD OVER HEELS 105

“I see you need some more training time.” The doc shook his head like a par- ent scolding a kid. “Why don’t you try a real ball? We’ll start at the top and work our way down.” “That sounds like my style.” “Hmmmpf,” was all the doc replied. Then, “Showtime!” Dr. Dick shouted as he aimed a remote at a large tube that hummed and then spit a steel sphere into the dual gyro-fuge. “If you can’t handle it, Mr. Blonde, just let go of both of the hand controls and it will spin down to a stop.” “If I can grab it, I can handle it,” Jayms promised him as he activated the dual gyro-fuge and sent himself spinning. Vichyssoise entered at that exact moment in time, which instantaneously spun all the play time out of Jayms’ head and made him struggle to gain control of the large metal sphere. “Dr. Dick, I believe your thrusters just arrived,” Vichyssoise said. “Thank you, Vichyssoise!” Dr. Dick said to her. “Mr. Blonde, I’ll be right back.” “I’ll be here when you get back—having a ball,” Jayms shouted, as the doc walked out, leaving Jayms alone and totally vulnerable with a woman who wanted nothing more in the world than to see Jayms exit it. “Have a nice time, Blonde,” she said as she turned to follow the doctor out. “We have lots of toys for you to play with.” And that’s when she waved good-bye with the remote in her hand and a sneer on her face. He was trying too hard to gain control for any glib comebacks or comments. His brain sent him instructions: press this, twist that, pull hard, push soft, spin head over heals, and don’t hurl while your at it. Slowly, moment by moment, he was gaining control and getting the hang of it. Jayms had just righted himself and managed to get his eyes to focus when he heard the hum of the ball dispenser again. The ball the doctor had selected with his remote was as big as a basketball. The smaller the ball, the harder it was to gain control and make it match the spin cycle of the larger sphere he was strapped into. When he heard the hum, he saw the ball he had finally controlled drop out of the cage, jerking him to a sudden halt. Then another higher pitched swoosh sounded as a small steel sphere the size of a tennis ball spit out of the shoot into the cage. Jayms looked up in panic to see a gloved hand with the remote retreating back behind the door to the lab as it clicked shut. The sphere he was in surged into a lightening series of spins and whirls so fast that it pinned him flat against the restraints and his hands slipped 106 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE off the controls. But the safety didn’t kick in and the machine didn’t spin down to stop. Instead, it got faster and faster till everything went black. It could have been seconds or minutes, he didn’t know, but suddenly Dr. Dick was there shouting at him. “What the hell is happening?!” He yelled at Jayms as if he thought Jayms was just screwing around having a good time. “Heeeellllllllppppppp mmmmmemeeeeeee!” was all Jayms could get out before he started hurling in every direction. That seemed to get the message across quicker than any conversation. Jayms somehow sensed the doctor racing between control panels as he tried to shut the damn thing down, but nothing worked. Dr. Dick finally shoved a heavy metal stool down through the other cage with a wrenching crash. Jayms blacked out. He couldn’t see, smell, move, breathe, or speak. He just suddenly “was” and then a resounding slap seemed to knock everything back into his body as he arched his back and gasped for air. His ears were ringing and his face stung like hell, as the black swimming before his eyes started to turn gray. Finally, fuzzy clouds of color appeared until Randy’s face, as he was shouting down at Jayms, swam into focus. “Jayms! Can you hear me? Breathe deep. Try to breathe deep and slow. Are you all right?” his worried voice asked. “I’ll let you know that when my guts stop spinning.” “Okay.” Dr. Dick sighed with relief. “I think you’ll survive,” he noted as he checked Jayms’ pulse and looked in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what could have happened.” “I’m not sure, either,” Jayms gasped, “but just for the record, the next time you want me to go head over heels for you, just wear nicer cologne.” 23 PILLOW TALK

Jayms was out of commission for the rest of the day, which he was sure caused Zaroya no grief. The whole petite adventure de jour made him realize it was time to get what he needed and get out of Z-town A.S.A.P. The first step for that was a little inside information, and he knew just who to get inside to get some. He waited till 11:15 PM to make his move. Mama Sylvia had invited Jayms for Singapore slings if he felt better that night, but he told her he wasn’t into Asian leather and not to expect him. ET Fashions was filming a segment on Chaz and his Miss Galaxy eveningwear. They’d decided to film everything on Zaroya’s yacht, using the nighttime skyline of Hong Kong as the backdrop. If you think New York looks gorgeous at night, you should see Hong Kong. There’s nothing like it. First, the architecture of anything built since the ’50s in Hong Kong way out classes anything in New York. And the lights! Intense, jewel- colored lights are scattered in Faberge-like patterns on all the buildings facing the harbor from the top of Victoria’s Peak to the bottom. You could put someone as gorgeous as Sakira in a gunnysack against that background and she would still look “phenomolicious” as dear, queer Chaz would say. It was time for Jayms to get the lay of the land and Hugh must have seen him coming. When Jayms walked into his quarters, he was hanging upside down from his gravity boots, wearing nothing but a jock strap and doing crunches. “Jayms!” Hugh lowered his hands to the floor, pushed upwards to free his boot hooks from the back of the door, and flipped back onto his feet to face

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Jayms. “How are you? I heard about the accident, but they wouldn’t let me in to see you.” “I’m feeling okay now.” Jayms smiled and gave him a pat on a curvaceous body part. “I’m so glad you came,” Hugh smiled in response. “Let’s not dwell on the past, joy boy,” Jayms said. “How do feel about handcuffs?” Time passes quickly when you’re screwing around. When he heard the clock striking midnight, Jayms realized he had asked enough probing questions, so Hugh started asking a few of his own. “How does a guy like you wind up with a teasing comb and a blow-dryer?” Hugh rolled over to snuggle down by Jayms’ shoulder. “You’ve got scars like a warrior and you walk like a marine who’s had one margarita too many.” Hugh giggled. “What is that supposed to mean?” Jayms asked. “It’s the old sailor-on-shore-leave Chelsea two-step. You flex your ass every four of five steps in case someone is watching it, and do an eye sweep every eight or nine steps to see if you want them to.” “You’re very observant for a civilian.” Jayms laughed. “I’ve dated my share of soldiers, and I can spot one a mile away.” You’re either an ex-marine, went to military academy, or are a serious military brat,” Hugh said accusingly. “All of the above.” Jayms sighed. “I’ve always thought living away from your family like that would be lonely,” Hugh whispered, as he kissed a jagged scar that was a few inches to the right of Jayms’ heart. “Lonely was my status quo. I was gay, I was in the Navy, I was the son of a hero, and I was terrified of anyone finding out—always feeling dirty and dis- gusted with myself … until I met Patrick.” “Was he someone special?” “Oh, yeah. He was extremely special. He was a little too thin, a little too blonde, a little too pretty, and the new assistant cook on the ship. The day he arrived, the food got better and kept getting better—and so did my life.” “So he looked gay and you didn’t?” “I’ve always looked like a tough guy—strong jaw, Romanoff nose, thick hair, and carved cheeks. My dad said I had the face of a gladiator. He taught me how to kick the ass of someone twice my size when I was just a little kid. He knew I’d have to go off to boarding school and he wanted to make sure, ‘If any of those PILLOW TALK 109

‘odd’ boys try to get their hands on you, this is what you do to them.’ Little did he know that I would turn out to be one of those ‘odd’ boys myself.” “Did the other sailors on the ship make fun of Patrick?” Hugh asked. “Yah, but no one ever messed with me or made fun of me. Patrick looked like a slim statue of David to me, and I looked like James Bond to him. We were instant lovers. No one dared say anything and we managed to get bunks switched around to be together.” “How long did it last?” “Three years. Three incredible years. I became an intelligence liaison with the Navy Seals because I was good at languages and even better with my ﬁsts. I spoke Mandarin, French, German, Spanish, and Russian by the time I was twenty-two. Patrick became the head cook on our ship until an admiral visiting the ship became impressed by his cooking. Before we knew it, he was reassigned to the admiral’s ship. The admiral also promoted me into the Navy Seals. It was his way of keeping us apart. I tried to refuse the promotion, but the Navy doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, especially a Navy admiral.” “That’s awful. But you could still write and keep in touch?” he offered. “Life as a Seal makes keeping in touch by mail very sporadic.” Jayms shrugged. “I’m sure Patrick understood that,” Huge offered. “At lease he could still write to you.” “Not for long. The ship’s cook that Patrick replaced was a twenty-year veteran Alabama redneck. He was simply demoted, and he was not happy. Patrick was miserable, drinking and sobbing about being away from me—blatant about wanting to be with his ‘lover.’ So the guy started telling the entire crew that a faggot was serving up their grub.” “I’m sure that went over well.” Hugh sighed. “Exactly. One night the ex-cook got a pack of drunken sailors to go into the kitchen and try to drag Patrick out for a little party. Patrick grabbed a frying pan full of hot grease and ﬂung it at the group. He wound up with a butcher knife through his chest. “Twenty-two years old, and never gonna get any older. They didn’t do anything to the men. No one really knew who did it. I didn’t even know it had happened until my mail came back with his name crossed out and the word ‘deceased’ stamped on the envelope,” Jayms said softly and then fell silent. Hugh seemed lost for words, but he did something else which was much more effective. It left Jayms a little breathless and very relaxed as he enjoyed the rare mix of lust and comfort that he had only found with three other men in his life. 110 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

Something in Hugh’s doe-like eyes inspired Jayms to lazily trace his fingers across Hugh’s sweaty torso and have one more go at it for the Gipper. Half an hour later, Jayms left Hugh the hand-cuffs as a memento and told him he was headed back to his rooms for some undisturbed sleep. Of course, he was planning a large detour in the route he was taking to his quarters. It took him past the Tiger Palace where Zaroya kept the kitties. And, according to Hugh (between a few pants and moans), there was another hidden room off the grand hall that was her main office and communications center. Jayms hadn’t gotten all the details out of him, but he had seen Zaroya pushing petals on flowers like a control board, and using remotes, so he had a good idea where to start. Thank God for good maintenance, because if those solid two-story, gold doors were squeakers or just not balanced well enough to swing, he would have had to break a couple of nails to get in there (plastique explosive peel and stick nails, of course). He was saved from that inconvenience by well-oiled, well-balanced doors that swung silently inward at the barest touch. But as he stepped inside, he heard a voice hiss behind him, “Jayms! What are you doing in there?” Instinctively he dropped into a fighter crouch and whirled around ready to launch himself at whoever approached him. That “whoever” was Hugh. He was quickly pulling on a tank top over his head, and padding after Jayms in his gym shorts and bare feet. The plush, silk Oriental runners had masked his bare-footed approach and caught Jayms off guard. “Hugh, go back to bed,” he whispered. “This doesn’t concern you.” “Yes, it does. Now, either tell me what’s going on or I’ll start making noise.” “You are a bit of a moaner.” “Jayms!” “Zaroya and her cronies are up to no good, or they wouldn’t be constantly trying to knock me off.” “What do you mean ‘knock you off’? I thought today was an accident,” he said as he finished pulling on his shirt and shoved it into his pants. “Sure, it was,” he sighed. “Just like Vichyssoise accidentally tried to gun me down in Hawaii last week, and accidentally shot my driver in the head on the way from the Kowloon airport two days ago. And Zaroya’s Chin Sync boys accidentally attacked me last night at a masked ball, too.” “That sounds too crazy!” he gasped. “I did read about the car whose driver was shot, and I heard something went down at the club. It’s also not like Dr. Dick to have his equipment malfunction. Why are they trying to kill you, Jayms?” “I don’t know exactly what’s going on yet, but I know both Chaz and Sakira will be in danger soon if I don’t find out.” PILLOW TALK 111

“This is nuts. There is nothing in this world Zaroya can’t afford to buy if she wants it!” “You pay different prices for different things, Hugh. Sometimes sex, sometimes money, sometimes blood. But all of it involves power, and she will never have enough of that.” “I won’t let you steal anything, Jayms. She is my employer!” “I just want to look at her computer and her calendar to see what she’s up to, but I can’t find so much as a laptop in this palace.” Hugh glanced nervously over at a large, full-length, oval, golden-framed mirror mounted between two eight-foot standing golden dragons. “So that’s were I need to look.” he smiled slyly back at Hugh. “No, I didn’t say anything. I—” Jayms shut him up with a big kiss that left them both still hungry for more … but tempus fugit. “Stay put. You haven’t told me anything or shown me anything and I don’t want you to do anything so you can answer them truthfully if they suspect something.” “But, Jayms!” “Stay here!” he ordered, and crossed the hall quickly to the full-length mirror. First, he raised both his hands out to shoulder height and touched each dragon statue probingly. If there were a release latch, it would be in one of the statues. Jayms moved his arms in closer to his body to approximate what Zaroya’s reach would be, and then moved his hands downward to her shoulder height and started running his fingers softly over each statue in that area. Within seconds, both index fingers found flat circular areas on both statues that seemed to be slightly indented as if to fit the tip of a finger. He pressed hard on one side and nothing happened. Then he tried the other and was rewarded with a click and a whoosh as the mirror in front of him suddenly swung open. “Well, dip me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians!” he murmured, as the hidden room behind the mirror revealed itself. It appeared to be an extremely high-tech control room, and a large one at that. The existence of the room wasn’t detectable from the outside because the bulk of the room was hollowed out of the mountain. Jayms noted a giant map of the world, a meeting table, and a wall of clocks, each set to the exact corresponding time of a city in another time zone. There were three high-tech, 3-D, high-speed internet access terminals, a giant five-foot flat screen monitor, and stacks of data storage devices. The data disks went as far back as a five-inch floppy, through CD, DVD, and infrared storage up to the lat- 112 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE est innovations—some that he had never even seen. Jayms circled the room to check out the screens and equipment as Hugh entered and crossed to him. “Hugh, I told you to stay back. I don’t want to get you involved.” “It’s a little late for that, Jayms. Where I come from, after what we did tonight we should at least be engaged.” “We’ll have to wait to pick out drapes and furniture until after I find what I’m looking for.” “Which is?” Hugh asked with a tap of his foot and a cute little lift of his left eyebrow. “Some sort of clue that tells me if she has a PDA or personal organizer—she has to have one.” “Yah, she does, I see her use it all the time.” “Good, ’cause that is where she would keep all her most sensitive information. Now, we need to find out where her infrared data transfer port is.” Hugh and Jayms spread out looking for a shiny dark red plastic square with a spark of light inside it. “This looks like the G-spot!” Jayms pointed to a data port inset into the most elaborate chair in the room. He punched a few buttons on his Y-Pod and Pre- cious’ face appeared on the screen. “Hey, Precious. I think we’ve hit the jackpot,” Jayms said, as he jammed his Y-Pod in to the docking slot and pushed a button. The giant computer instantly came to life, flashing pictures, formulas, and blueprints at lightening speed across the screen. “Yah, give it to me, baby! Oh, oh, YES! More, more, don’t stop till you pop and spank me, daddy!” Precious cooed. Hugh looked at Jayms questioningly as Precious continued to moan and groan. “What can I say, he enjoys his work.” “No shit, Sherlock! And you call me a moaner?” Hugh retorted. The upload ended and Jayms switched off the power to the port and to Precious’ sound effects. And that … is when the shit hit the fan. Jayms had just stepped back through the looking glass with Hugh close behind him when he felt a sudden rush of air to his left. Instinctively, he shoved Hugh back hard, sending him sprawling to the floor. Hugh bumbled back behind the door to the communications center. Jayms dropped to a crouch as one of Zaroya’s big pussies went sailing over his head. It just missed him by a hair—he felt the soft fur of its underbelly gently brush the top of his head. The next brush of fur would not be so gentle. PILLOW TALK 113

“Jayms!” Hugh gasped, as he struggled back up off the floor. “Stay down and stay back,” he barked. The tigers were loose. A pair of throaty growls echoed like bookends on either side of him as the second tiger slunk into view. They must have considered him tonight’s dessert since they were in no hurry to pounce. They probably thought it would be fun to work up an appetite playing tug of war with his body, but he had other plans. He needed to get in and out of there without being seen, like a Rabbi at a whorehouse. Leaving their bloody bodies behind as a calling card, or his own scattered remains as a souvenir, was not on the agenda, so knives, guns and smashing things was out of bounds. As his mind searched for a solution to the situation, the striped food processors purred one more time before the kill. “Jayms!” Hugh shouted behind the door. “Come back inside and I’ll call security!” “Don’t! I can handle this. Just stay put and stay quiet!” he hissed back. The dragon statues on either side of him thrust out about three feet from the wall and he estimated they weighed over a ton each. They stood about four feet apart and eight feet high, which gave him a little niche of safety from a sideswipe. The two putty-tats seemed to be thinking the same thing and started eyeing the top of the dragons thoughtfully to see if they could leap on top of them. But if anyone was going to be on top, it was Jayms. He took a deep breath and a deep bend and launched himself skyward in a high straddle vault, spreading his legs wide to catch the inside of each statue. He spidered his way to the top. His move- ments were so fast, the kitties went cross-eyed just trying to keep track of him. With snarls and gnashing jaws, they leaped to where Jayms had been moments ago and stood up on their hind legs inches below him snapping and clawing as he looked down from atop the statues. The best thing about billionaires is they tend to like big, ostentatious pieces of art and furniture, like the stone dragon he was perched on and the giant chandelier overhead. The ceiling was over twenty-four feet high and the giant Venetian crystal chandelier miss-matched the room’s motif terribly (she must have opted for a straight decorator who cared more about cash than décor). Suspended on a long, heavy chain, the bottom faceted brass tier was about fourteen feet off the ground—a giant leap away from him. He balanced, crouched, flexed that fabulous ass for what might be the last time, and fantasized about Miles O’Keefe in Tarzan. He leaped out into the air to snatch a vine (the said chandelier) and swung out into freedom from the deadly tigers. Lights, make-up, action! “Let’s get rambunctious!” Jayms hollered, as his fingers closed on the metal of the chandelier and his legs pumped upwards to swing it forward into a high arch. 114 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

At the top of the arch, Jayms let go, tucked into a backward flip and landed lightly on his feet on top of Zaroya’s golden divan, thirty feet away from where he had been three seconds before. The kittens were fed up with his antics and spit- ting mad as they whirled and charged in his direction. As they leaped towards Jayms, he slapped the switch that operated their tiger pen. The floor they aimed for spilt open before them. They tried to spin and pivot to avoid the pit—but they fell the extra eight foot depth with body-bruising thuds! The pitiful whimpers that followed then were muffled as the floor slid back shut above them. 24 ROOM SERVICE

Sylvia and Cognac were curled up on the divan watching a DVD of Homeward Bound on a large plasma screen in a decadent guest suite at the far end of the mansion. “Okay, Cognac, this is the part where the doggies and the kitty ﬁnd their way back home to their family. Vichyssoise entered with a covered tray and Cognac started to bark. “Quiet down, honey, and let me put it on pause or you’ll miss the good stuff! Thanks for getting up and cooking something, Vichy,” Sylvia said as the sullen assassin set the tray down on the coffee table in front of the divan. “Hmmmm, shrimp dumplings with curried peanut sauce and chicken sate. That smells delicious!” “Thank you, Mistress,” Vichyssoise replied, as a little of the tension and resentment left her face. “You sure can cook, honey. Cognac just loves this stuff. Go for it, boy!” And with that, the pampered little Yorkie leaped up on the coffee table and buried his muzzle in the plate of food. “This is for the DOG? You woke me up in the middle of the night to cook for a DOG?!” Vichyssoise hissed. “Calm down, honey! With these nails, I’d never be able to use a can opener, let alone ﬁnd my way to the kitchen, which is, what, about a half a mile away from here? Besides, that dog food gunk has way too many preservatives, and Cognac loves your cooking.”

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“Why I …” Vichy sputtered, but her reply was cut short as a light started ﬂashing on her wristwatch. It beeped at the same time. “Someone has accessed the central computer! It can’t be Mistress Zaroya; she’s not back from her meeting yet!” “Is there a problem?” Sylvia asked. “I’ve got to get over there!” Vichyssoise whirled around without another thought about the dining dog and raced back down the hallway, clutching the lid to the tray in her hands. “Don’t worry, honey, you can come back and pick up the dishes later!” Sylvia called out after Vichyssoise. “Boy, Cognac, I thought she was about to have a hissy ﬁt over your midnight snack.” “Wooff wooff wuf!” the little Yorkie lifted his head from the tray for a moment to respond to her and then went back to devouring the contents. “Yah, well, next time you get the midnight munchies, buster, I’m just gonna order you some cocktail weenies with pork and beans. It’s a lot less cooking for the help to deal with and less gas for you too.” 25 SECRET ROOM

Timing is everything and Jayms had located what he needed, taken what he wanted, and made a hasty retreat. “Where are you going, Jayms? That’s not the way to your room,” Hugh pointed out as they turned down a hallway he hadn’t expected. “I’m not going back to my room, Hugh.” “That’s the direction of the hangar, Jayms. If I ﬂy you out they’ll know something is wrong and I’ll get ﬁred.” “I’ve got it covered, Hugh. Precious is picking me up in a few minutes.” “How? By boat?” “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, and it’s top secret for now. But don’t worry about me. I want you to go back to your room as if nothing happened, and I’ll call you tomorrow.” “Don’t say you’re going to call unless you mean it, Jayms.” “Trust me, after next week, you, Precious, and I are all getting to know each other extremely well.” And just to make his point clear, he grabbed the back of Hugh’s head and pulled him up into a tongue twisted kiss. “Now, get that hot little ass in gear.” “Yes, sir!” Hugh saluted him and didn’t use his hand to do it. Half an hour later, Hugh was back in his room, and Jayms was standing on the roof of the mansion gazing up at the largest full moon since JLo got frisky at the Latin Music Awards. Suddenly, like the kid on the bike in the Dreamworks logo, Precious’ winged silhouette crossed in front of the moon and then made a beeline straight for him.

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“Hey, handsome!” Precious called to him as he stopped to hover about a foot off the ground. “Want to ﬂy me to the moon?” And he tossed Jayms the other Bumble Pack as he shot upwards, laughing. “Oh, we’re in one of those kind of moods, are we?” Jayms asked as he slipped the backpack on, pulled out the cerebral cortex transmitter, and clipped it onto his brow. The little stingers that snapped out of the circlet and punctured the epi- dermis above his temple did their little thing, and suddenly his wings were hum- ming too. “You know, we haven’t really given these things a complete test ﬂight,” Pre- cious winked. They did, on the way back to Hong Kong, and the moon blushed crimson from the naughty aeronautics. 26 FEED THE KITTY

Zaroya was reclining on her golden couch on the black marble terrace as the sun rose behind her. Her two tigers lay, one on either side of her. She looked up as Sylvia entered the room. “ZaZa! Where is Bruno?” Sylvia called across the room as soon as she entered. “Why do you ask, Mother?” “It’s his birthday this week, if you haven’t forgotten again, and I wanted to see what he wanted to do. He’s not at the ‘spa’ as you call that overdecorated Gulag, and his cell phone has been disconnected since yesterday!” “I know, Mother, I had it disconnected.” Zaroya yawned as if totally bored by the subject of conversation. “When were you planning on telling me? He is my grandson and I have a right to know.” “You are the reason his phone is disconnected and he’s no longer at the spa, Mother.” “Me?” Sylvia recoiled in complete surprise and shock. “Why would you keep me from talking to my little prince?” “Oh, well, let me think about that. It might be the fact that you hired two porn stars as personal nurses and you hired his last three psychiatrists—who all tuned out to be gay!” “How can you accuse me of such vile things, ZaZa! I would never jeopardize the welfare of my darling Bruno.”

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“Well, you got away with it for quite a while, Mother, until the porn stars got greedy and did a hidden-camera party with my son that is now selling all over the Internet. It’s called Rich Boys & Big Daddies.” “Those treacherous bastards! I’ll never rent another Chi Chi LaRu film again!” “And if you don’t stop meddling with Bruno’s therapy you may never see him again, Mother.” “ZaZa, you wouldn’t dare keep me from my baby!” “Oh, yes, I would. I’ve got him at my secret missile base locked up and under guard. We will be there on his birthday and you can see him then. If you don’t behave and he doesn’t shape up, I’m taking him to the moon with me and leaving him there!” The conversation was abruptly interrupted as the doors swung open right behind Sylvia. Vichyssoise entered, followed by Hugh Humpit. “You wanted to see me, Zaroya?” “Yes, Hugh. I received a note from Mr. Blonde this morning, saying he had urgent business to take care of in Hong Kong and had to take the supply boat back this morning.” Humpit looked surprised. “He’s gone? Are you sure?” “Quite sure. He will be joining us in Kowloon at 5:00 PM to get ready for tonight’s Miss Galaxy Gala.” “That’s great.” “Did his sudden departure have anything to do with the fact that you showed him where to find my computer?” “What? No! I didn’t show him anything—I swear it!” Zaroya pushed the lotus petal on her divan to open the floor covering the pit that was about five feet behind Humpit. Humpit was starting to sweat. Sylvia turned away, crossed to the corner table, and slumped in a chair. “I demand loyalty from all those who work for me,” Zaroya snarled as she rose up from the divan and took a step toward him. “When it comes to me, myself, and mine, I expect my employees to keep their legs crossed and their mouths shut.” “I didn’t do anything,” Humpit insisted. “Don’t lie to me!” Zaroya forced him back another step to where he was just inches from the edge of the pit without knowing it. She pushed a button on the small gold remote in her hand, and voices came over the stereo speakers built into the walls. FEED THE KITTY 121

“Yes, I want it!” Humpit’s voice suddenly came over the speakers underscored with heavy breathing, grunts, groans, and bed thumping. “Oh, pound me, meat master! Oh, yes!” the recording continued. “It seems the only thing you know how to cross, Mr. Humpit, is me,” Zaroya said threateningly, and stepped toward him again. “I swear I only …” Humpit stepped back into thin air and fell into the pit. “Aaaahhhhhh!” he screamed as he crashed down onto the ﬂoor of the pit to see half-eaten dog skulls and bones scattered about. “Shit! Let me out of here!” “Consider yourself unemployed, Mr. Humpit.” “All right, I’ll leave, just let me out of here!” “ZaZa!” Sylvia called rising from her chair. “This has gone on long enough. I think you’ve made your point.” “Sit down and shut up, Mother, if you ever want to see Bruno again. It’s time I taught you both the law of the jungle.” “What is that?” both Sylvia and Hugh asked as one. Zaroya stood up and clapped her hands. The tigers leapt down into the pit. “No! God NO! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!” Humpit screamed. Zaroya stood there a moment as the tigers grabbed Humpit’s legs and arms and started ripping him apart as he continued screaming. Sylvia collapsed in shock and horror against the wall, hiding her face in her arms. “The law of the jungle is,” Zaroya said as she stared down into the pit, “if you don’t eat pussy, pussy will eat you.” 122 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE 27 PLOTS THICKEN

Jayms was being domestic with Precious—just lying in bed, looking out the balcony window, and finishing the last of the coffee on their breakfast tray. He dreaded the day ahead. Sakira was lovely, but her waist-length hair was going to take hours to updo into something stunning enough for the auspicious occasion, and something worthy of his reputation. Precious had gone to get his Y-Pod and was now snuggling back again into the crook of Jayms’ arm, as he started punching the keyboard. Seconds later Mama’s face appeared on the screen. “Precious, get off him, and Jayms you’d better drag your ass out of bed and get going,” Mama stated. “Time is running out. We discovered several notes referring to ‘after the death of Miss Galaxy.’” “Why would they want to kill Sakira?” Precious asked. “The first runner up just happens to be Miss Pakistan,” Jayms mused. “That would create accusations that might start more than sparks flying.” “Exactly,” Mama agreed, “but there is more to it. The notes also refer to ‘Operation Popcorn’ in connection with the senatorial hearings on ethanol distribution.” “When do the hearings begin?” “Tomorrow.” Mama sighed. “And tonight is the official gala to begin Sakira’s reign as Miss Galaxy,” Jayms muttered. “And she’ll be wearing a dress from Chaz Gonzales’ evening line, no less,” Mama reminded him. “So if Zaroya kills Sakira and snatches Chaz, the son of

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Senator Gonzales who’s the author of the Ethanol Distribution Bill, she can force him to withdraw the bill. Then she’ll get Pakistan to attack India and position China to step in as a peacekeeping force and steal the Kashmir oil fields.” “Some of the richest undeveloped oil fields in the world,” Jayms added. “Well, now that we three fairies have unlocked the secret plot of the Wicked Witch of the East, you two flying monkeys had better get your butts in gear and trash the bitch’s plans,” Mama finished. 28 GOWN & COUNTRY

Sometimes the beauty business is downright ugly—like when you have to give Linda Tripp a bikini wax. But sometimes you just luck out. Jayms wasn’t sure which way things were heading as he and Precious entered with all their gear. Chaz and Miss Galaxy were arguing about which dress she should wear. “It’s either the red one or the gold one. They both work with the ballroom and red is respectful to the Chinese Republic,” Chaz declared as he waved one dress and then the other up in front of Sakira’s face. “The gold gown is too heavy and the red gown makes my tits look tiny!” she hissed back in frustration. “Hi, Chaz, Sakira, this is my associate Precious,” Jayms said, trying to break things up. “Your tits are tiny, Sakira—so live with it!” Chaz hollered at her, oblivious to both of them. “I’m not some stupid Barbara doll you can shove anything on you like, Chaz.” “Hi, nice to meet you both.” Precious waved frantically trying to get their attention. “That’s ‘Barbie’ not ‘Barbara,’ and she’s got real knockers!” “Well, you’ll be missing something real yourself before I wear either one of those damn dresses,” Sakira shouted back. It was getting tedious to say the least, so Jayms walked over, grabbed a stunning emerald green gown from the rack and tossed it on top of Chaz’ head.

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“Wear the green, Sakira,” Jayms interjected, “You’ll be the only one in that color, and it goes perfectly with your hair. It’s a Greek-style wrap that will accen- tuate your figure in all the right places and bring out the copperish tone of your eyes.” “Fist me, Freddie! Who the hell did that?” Chaz sputtered as he grabbed the gown off his head. “Such colorful language in front of the children, Chaz! You really mustn’t!” Jayms cried. Chaz was about to hurl the dress away when he realized it was one of his and stopped to smooth it out. “Who wants your opinion?!” “I do!” Sakira snapped as she snatched the green gown out of Chaz’s hands and held it up against her, turning to look in the mirror. “I think you’re right, Mr. Blonde!” Sakira cried. “He usually is,” Precious added. “Who are you? And who is the designer here anyway?” Chaz questioned. “This is Mr. Needmore, my styling assistant,” Jayms said, as he reintroduced Precious. “And what does an assistant know about anything?” Chaz asked. “I know a prissy faggot who obviously has no more sense or manners than he does experience when I see one. And I know way too much not to be too stupid to listen to someone who’s worked with the best designers in the world and made himself a multi-millionaire. But, you can continue to amaze all of us with your Miss Mary histrionics if you so choose. Or do I have to go find Freddie to fulfill the prophecy?” Precious retorted. Chaz took a step back, gulped, looked at Jayms, and asked, “Who’s assisting whom?” “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Jayms laughed. “Chaz and Sakira, this is Pre- cious Needmore.” “Let me help you with that,” Precious said as he walked over to Sakira and took the gown from her. “Is he usually this feisty?” Chaz asked. “Only if he hasn’t had enough of his medication.” “What does he take?” Chaz inquired. “Me.” Jayms winked. He could hear Precious and Sakira giggling off in the corner and Chaz noticed it too. “Okay, if it’s not asking too much could you just tell me what he actually does?” Chaz queried. “He’s like a sushi chef with a teasing comb!” GOWN & COUNTRY 127

“No, some people tease—I deliver.” Precious smirked from across the room—something he had a real talent for. “You’re just too cute!” Sakira laughed. “You can never be too cute!” Precious said as he ﬁnished zipping up the back of the green dress on Sakira. “And this dress delivers it, too,” Precious added as Sakira turned around in the translucent shimmer of emerald green confection that was truly spectacular. “WOW!” they all spouted in unison. “Do you like it?” Sakira asked as she did a girlish twirl. “My apologies, Mr. Blonde, you are absolutely right, she looks phenomeli- cious!” Chaz beamed. “She does at that. Now—time for hair and makeup!” 29 HELL OF A BALL

The Kowloon Hilton stretches out across the harbor boardwalk of Kowloon, mainland China, a mile across the bay from Hong Kong. Its three-story glass windows, marble floors, and chrome framework catch the magnificent beauty of Hong Kong at night, reflecting all its glittering glory and surrounding people in a confectionary bubble of colored lights and shadows. As the grand ballroom began to swell with arriving guests for the Miss Galaxy Gala, Sylvia stood near the buffet. She was wearing a strapless bronze-colored gown that caught the light as she swayed slightly back and forth. As each waiter walked by with a tray of full champagne glasses, she snatched one off, downed it with one gulp, tossed the glass over her shoulder to crash against the wall behind her, and reached for the next passing tray. After she shattered three or four glasses, Zaroya swept in wearing a shimmering gold evening wrap with a matching scarf around her hair. She inserted herself between her mother and the next passing waiter. “I think you’ve had enough, Mother! Or do you plan to get falling-down drunk before the party?” “After your little reincarnation of Caligula this morning, I may never be sober again!” “He was lucky I wasn’t retaining water! On those days, I would have let Vich- yssoise take her knives to him. Now behave yourself.” “No!” Sylvia turned around to glare at her. “You don’t have your cats here to do your dirty work and I’m more than ready for anything else you’ve got up your sleeve, Missy! You can push the rest of the world around, but not me! Now if you

128 HELL OF A BALL 129 don’t want your big mama to trash this party and expose the more sordid details of your life, you’d better let me talk to my grandson right here, and right now.” “Don’t threaten me, Mother.” “You already took my little prince from me, and if you think anything else can frighten me, you’re about to land face down across my knee and get the fanny paddle of your life—in front of all these people.” “I told you, we’ll see him tonight!” “I want to talk to him now!” Sylvia screeched the last few words, drawing attention from the early arrivals. “All right!” Zaroya hissed as she slipped her cell phone out of her clutch bag. “But keep it short, Mother,” she added as she hit a speed dial button, then waited a second to speak. “Put my son on the phone … Bruno? Your grandmother wants to speak with you.” Zaroya held the phone close and exclaimed, “I’m warning you for the last time, Mother, do not screw around with his therapy ever again or I’ll take him on a trip to the moon and he won’t come back.” With that, Zaroya shoved her cell phone into her mother’s hand and stomped back under the giant banner with glittering jewels spelling out the words, “A Gal- axy of Beauty for a Universe of Peace,” to greet her arriving guests. “Bruno?” Sylvia searched the cell phone screen and cried, “Pookie, honey, are you there?” The vision of an attractive young man with long auburn hair and intense, gray-blue eyes appeared on the screen. “Nana, you’ve got to help me. Mother’s really gone berserk!” “Don’t you worry honey, Nana’s coming to the rescue. I’ll see you tonight and I’ve got a wonderful birthday present for you, too.” Zaroya was standing in the grand entryway in a ﬂoor-length gold metallic dress, greeting guests as they arrived. It was a backless, halter-top décolletage with plunging neckline that gathered under the breastplate with an enormous, jeweled pendant of opals and diamonds. She wore a matching necklace and bracelet and magniﬁcent diamond chandelier earrings with large opal teardrops. Sylvia walked up and handed her the cell phone just as Zaroya turned to greet an auspicious looking elderly couple. “There you go, sweetie, I’m pretty and peaceful now, just like your big banner,” Sylvia cooed. “Good evening, Ambassador Habebee. Countess Lichumdrie, it’s so good of you to come,” Zaroya said. “This is my mother, Sylvia Shrubwell.” “Not the Sylvia Shrubwell? Of Pandora’s Box Vibrators?” Countess Lichumd- rie asked. 130 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Yes, that’s me,” Sylvia giggled as Zaroya rolled her eyes. “My secretary has been trying to reach you for a month.” The Countess pulled Sylvia off to the side for a more private conversation. Connie Ling Qua and her TV crew entered, sped across the room, and headed toward Zaroya. Connie tossed off her coat to an assistant, revealing a deep blue beaded ﬂapper-style gown. She stepped right up to Zaroya and signaled the cameras to roll. “Hello, and welcome. This is Connie Ling Qua of CNN for Hong Kong Today at the Miss Galaxy Gala celebrating the beginning of this year’s reign for the newest Miss Galaxy, Sakira Mahndib of India. We are standing here with a former Miss Galaxy right now. Ms. Zaroya Chang, how thrilling is this for you?” “It’s not about me, Connie, it’s all about Sakira.” Zaroya smiled. “She is the perfect Miss Galaxy and I promise you I have put together a party tonight that is to die for.” 30 TO TEASE OR NOT TO TEASE

Sometimes Jayms forgot that he was almost as good in the salon as he was in the sack. Shakira had long, ﬂowing, glossy black tresses to which he added massive highlights of warm chocolate brown, and contrasting deep, rich auburn to give her hair a lush texture and burnished shimmers. Precious then handed him his own special Kevlar bullet-proof-mousse product with the new moisturizing emollients to keep her hair supple. The highlight treatment left a residual chemical in the hair ﬁbers that helped the Kevlar bond properly. When he was done, she had a massive updo with a fountain of curls woven around and through her Miss Galaxy crown that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. He wanted to cover as much of her body as possible with her now bulletproof hair. Sakira was as enchanted with her image in the mirror as Jayms and Precious were when they were done. “Mr. Blonde, it looks wonderful!” Sakira gasped. “Phenomalicious!” Chaz shouted and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sakira, you are absolutely radiant.” “I hope this hairdo holds up all night.” “Don’t worry, kiddo.” Jayms grinned as he tossed the jar of bulletproof mousse to Precious, who put it in his holster bag. “This gel will keep it as taut as a teenager’s butt all night long.” “Great job on the makeup, Precious,” Chaz added as he patted Precious on the shoulder. “Those false eyelashes are fabulous.”

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“The male version is worn by Mel, Tom, and Brad for all of their films,” Jayms told Chaz, hoping he would take the bait. “You should try a pair, Chazzy!” Sakira interjected, making Jayms’ life easier. “And just look at my new beauty mark. Isn’t it perfect?” Chaz picked up a camera from the table and cried, “Phenomolicious to the max! Step over there by the window, gorgeous, and let’s get a picture of you and my gown!” As Chaz and Sakira crossed to the window for pictures, Precious did a quick tech check. “Everything up and running?” Jayms asked quietly as Precious flipped out his Y-Pod and selected one of the screens from his menu. “These beauty mark cameras really are amazing,” Precious murmured. He could see the perfect image of Chaz on his Y-Pod holding up the camera in front of his face. “One more!” his miniature face on the screen called out. Precious pushed another button and it showed a blip on the screen. “The eyelash transmitter is working fine, too, Jayms.” “Good. Fit Chaz with a set after the photo-op.” 31 A KILLER PARTY

It took Precious and Jayms only a couple of minutes to slip into their tuxedoes and get ready for the party. Jayms was wearing his long, flowing silk Matrix tuxedo. Precious was wearing a vintage Valentino tuxedo with velvet pants, satin piping, and a bolero-style jacket. It showed off his spectacular bubble butt and made Jayms think of Robert Conrad from the old Wild Wild West TV series. Conrad was the James Bond of the Wild West. He always wore Elvis-tight pants and a short bolero jacket. His gorgeous ass single-handedly turned more young boys queer in the ’60s and ’70s than Ron Ely’s loincloth did in his Tarzan series. And that was one hell of a loincloth. So, Precious and Jayms walked down the grand stairway without any fanfare and without attracting anyone’s attention. They took up positions on either side of the landing. A second later Chaz came floating down, all smiles and excitement as he stopped on the bottom step right between them and announced, “I just love these big galas, don’t you?” “When you say it like that, I think of West Hollywood,” Jayms replied. Then “Lady Z” looked across the hall toward Jayms looking for a cue, and Chaz waved back at her and gave her a thumbs up—something Jayms would have used a different finger for. But, he was playing nice for the moment, so Zaroya smiled back and then turned to Vichyssoise who was now standing beside her. “All right, everyone. All the fairies are in their places and the Queen of the Ball is ready to get iced. Are the rest of the boys ready?” Zaroya queried one of the Chyn Sync Boys who stood next to her, all in black.

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“Yes, Mistress,” he squeaked. “Tell Ambassador Habebee he has an urgent message in the lobby, and chloro- form him when you hear the gun shot. Vichy will plant the gun in his hand a second later,” she explained to him. “Now, make sure your ninja masks are all on tight, ’cause if you mess this one up you’ll lose more than your family jewels.” “Yes, Mistress,” he squeaked again. “Vichy!” commanded Zaroya, “give the signal, cue the band, and find out what the hell happened to those wasabi shrimp canapés. I’m starving!” “Yes, Mistress.” “And, Vichy!” “Yes, Mistress?” “Please kill Mr. Blonde quickly and quietly while we kidnap Chaz. I have no time for fun and games tonight.” “But …” “No!” “Can’t we kidnap them both and let me kill him slowly later?” “Absolutely not! You’ll spend all your time torturing him and ignore me. I simply won’t have it,” Zaroya snapped. “I have no idea what you’re up to, Zaroya,” Sylvia said with a slight slur, “but every time you mess with Mr. Blonde it gets you into trouble, and I will not tol- erate you hurting Chaz!” “Stop meddling and start mingling, Mother. Isn’t that your rag-head-Tarot- card buddy standing around by himself over there?” Sylvia turned to look and waved excitedly. “Harri, you sexy seer, where’ve you been, baby?” Sylvia cried and waddled across the room to him. “Oh, honey!” Sylvia giggled as she slipped her arm through Harri’s. “I’m so glad to see you. Let’s go say ‘hi’ to the kids. Yoo-hoo! Chaz, come and join us?” Sylvia waved Chaz over from across the room. “Now we’ll have lots of fun and, Harri, you can tell our fortunes!” Sylvia suggested. “Really?” said Chaz, joining them. “Well, Mr. Kummalot, what do you see in my future?” “I see you surrounded by those who wish to use you. I see danger and hardship in the days ahead.” “It sound like you’re going to have a real career in the fashion business.” Sylvia laughed. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” Zaroya called out on a microphone above the noise of the crowd. “Tonight, as you all know, begins A KILLER PARTY 135 the official reign of Miss Galaxy 2007,” she proclaimed. The crowd, who were over dressed and over liquored, applauded wildly. “I know first hand what an exciting year our new Miss Galaxy has ahead of her from the fond memories I have from my own reign as Miss Galaxy,” Zaroya offered. “But let’s not forget all the other beauties in our Galaxy. No one likes to lose, especially when they represent an entire country—something that I never had to suffer through. But, when the race is so close, and the ‘runner up,’ as we like to call it, is as lovely as Miss Pakistan … well … stand up, dear, and let them see how lovely you are!” Everyone applauded politely as a lovely young woman in a red sequined dress stood up and waved. “That’s enough, dear, you can sit down now. After all, you are the loser.” Zaroya smiled sweetly. Miss Pakistan blushed with embarrassment and sat down quickly as the ambassador of Pakistan, sitting beside her, flushed visibly with anger. “And now! …” Zaroya gushed, “without further ado, may I present Ambassa- dor Sinhim Sokar of India as he introduces the lovely Sakira Mandhib of India, the winner of our pageant, for the first official night of her reign as Miss Galaxy 2007!” The orchestra played the Miss Galaxy theme song and the audience rose to their feet in jubilant accolades. Connie Ling Qua’s camera crew suddenly flooded the stairwell with light and she shouted to her cameraman over her mic. “These international A-listers are going wild as the lovely Sakira Mahndib just appeared in a stunning emerald green Chaz Gonzales original gown. Her hair and makeup have been done by none other than Jayms Blonde himself, and she is now making a glorious entrance as Miss Galaxy 2007! Her handsome escort, India’s Ambassador Sokar, is beaming with pride,” Connie exuded. “That gown is to die for!” Sylvia gasped prophetically a second before a shot rang out. A bullet bounced off Sakira’s bangs and ricocheted into the shoulder of the ambassador. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Sakira cried out as she stumbled backwards from the force of the bullet, knocked the Ambassador to the floor, and collapsed on top of him. It was an action that saved both of their lives because a series of shots rang out, exploding into the marble wall behind them. At the sound of the first shot, Jayms whipped his Uzi blow-dryer out of his bag and dove for the foot of the stairs. He crouched and looked for the assailants. The moment the second round of bullets sounded, Jayms looked up to see the gun flashes reveal their positions. 136 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“SAKIRA! AMBASSADOR! Stay down!” he shouted, and sent a round of silent Teflon bullets fanning in a spray across the back left corner of the ballroom where five men dressed like black ninja had launched the attack. “Chaz, take cover behind the orchestra!” Jayms hissed. “Precious! I’ll cover you. Get Sakira back upstairs!” “Got it,” Precious shouted back, as he did a series of remarkable handsprings and backflips across the hall and up the stairway to avoid the bullets. “God, he gets me hot when he throws his legs in the air,” Jayms growled. A shot rang out from the other side of the room and Jayms turned to lay down some additional cover fire as Precious gathered up Sakira and the ambassador. “Are you all right, Sakira?” Precious panted, as he pushed her behind him to shield her body. “Yes, but the ambassador was shot!” “I’ll live,” he gasped, “but it hurts like hell.” “Okay,” Precious said, “on the count of three, I want you both to keep low and run up the stairs back into the presidential suite. Stay down, don’t stop for anything, and do not look back, no matter what.” He pushed in the center of the venting comb concussion bomb, and started counting. As Jayms pinned the ninja down with another spray of bullets, guests were fleeing in panic in every direction. Chaz tried to duck and scramble toward the cover of the orchestra pit. Then Vichyssoise stepped out from behind a marble pillar and threw a net over him. She yanked the cords and swept him back off his feet to the floor. “What the HELL?!” Chaz screamed. “Shut up if you want to stay alive!” Vichyssoise hissed, and then she turned to fire a round at Jayms as she growled, “Say ‘bonsai,’ Blonde!” “Jayms, look out!” Chaz cried. “Comb-out, Jayms!” Precious bellowed at the same time, tossing the concussion bomb. Jayms dove for cover behind a giant five-foot bronze vase, as bullets plowed into the wall where he had crouched a moment before. Precious’ venting comb arced toward the assassins gunfire, and he ran up the stairway behind Sakira and the ambassador. Vichyssoise screeched in anger as her bullets slammed into the floor where Jayms had been sprawled a second earlier. “You idiot!” she screamed and hauled Chaz up in front of her to smack him just as Precious’ explosive went off with a boom that shook the room. Hundreds of narcotic knockout darts sprayed the air, rendering everyone they pricked unconscious. A KILLER PARTY 137

Chaz’s upright body served as a shield for Vichyssoise. When the bomb went off, he was peppered with darts. He collapsed on top of Vichyssoise, leaving her struggling underneath him. The concussion from the bomb flung Zaroya, Sylvia, and Harri backwards over the buffet table. A huge tray of imported caviar toppled back and garnished all three of them, as more dishes flew through the air. “My dress!” Zaroya shrieked. “For God’s sake, Harri!” Sylvia shoved the unconscious Swami off her and crawled to Zaroya, who was pinned behind the toppled buffet table. Sylvia shifted a large tray of smoked salmon and caviar off her daughter’s chest. “What the hell just happened, ZaZa?” Sylvia stammered. “Harri’s out cold. If this is one of those murder mystery parties, this acting troupe sucks!” “It’s that bastard, Blonde! He’s ruining my party!” Vichyssoise staggered over with an unconscious Chaz across her shoulder. She dumped him without ceremony into the arms of one of the ninja. Then, she swung back around to send another round of bullets blasting at Blonde. “If you think he’s the only problem, you need serious medication!” Sylvia spat the words at Zaroya as they struggled to their feet. Two more black-clad ninja staggered toward them. One of them, covered in darts, collapsed head first into a crystal champagne punch bowl. A fourth ninja was out cold with a dozen darts in his back—sprawled across the chest of a snor- ing Countess Lichomdrie. “Is Chaz all right?” Sylvia turned to look at him, but Zaroya slammed a silver tray over her mother’s head and Vichyssoise caught her as she crumpled to the floor. Vichyssoise dragged Sylvia out behind the ninja who carried Chaz into a waiting black SUV. As soon as Zaroya saw the service door swing shut behind her mother’s unconscious body, she struggled back to her feet, crying and waving her arms above her head and shouted, “Help me please! Someone has kidnapped my mother!” But no one seemed to notice her amongst all the mayhem. “Damn it!” she stomped her foot and then threw her head back and gave a long howling Banshee scream. “AaaaaaahhhAAAAAAhhaaaaAAAAAh- haaaaAAAAAAAAH!” The room was engulfed in dead silence and all the cameras and lights snapped on and aimed toward her. “I said …” she paused to look around and make sure she had everyone’s attention, “HELP ME! Someone has kidnapped my mother!” Then she fainted, making sure to flare out her dress properly as she crumpled to the floor. 138 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

As if on cue, a squad of armed Chinese policemen swept into the ballroom and shouted, “NO BUTTY MOVE!” Jayms slowly stood up from behind the bronze urn with his hands above his head, and looked at Zaroya’s crumpled body. “Lady! You sure know how to throw a party,” was all he had to say. 32 HISSY FIT

They were all gathered in the presidential suite being checked out by the hotel doctor and interrogated by the CIA. Those guys are never far from trouble, and they had arrived shortly after the Fu Manchu goon squad. The Indian ambassador had just been evacuated to a hospital, and agent Boink was talking to Sakira privately. Zaroya, Precious, and Jayms sat under the watch- ful eye of agent Swallow waiting to be individually questioned when the news flash of what they’d just survived filled the TV screen. “Sure smells fishy to me,” Jayms said to Zaroya, who was sitting across from him still trying to wipe the stink of salmon and caviar from her evening gown and jewelry. “Very funny!” she snapped. “Have you no sympathy for a woman who has had her dear mother ripped from her arms by vicious Japanese ninja who are working for Pakistan terrorists?” she shouted loud and clear, for the benefit of agent Swal- low. The TV screen then cut to a close-up of a flustered Connie Ling. “This is Connie Ling Qua of CNN TV coming to you live from the Kowloon Hyatt Regency Hotel.” The scene cut to the hotel ballroom as the cameras swept the room to show the bullet-riddled stairs and entry hall, and Connie Ling Qua continued to narrate with a voice-over. “This once-elegant ballroom was just moments ago the scene of a bizarre assassination attempt and the apparent double kidnapping of designer Chaz Gonzalez and millionaire Sylvia Shrubwell, mother of billionairess, Zaroya Chang.” The TV screen cut back to a close-up of Connie Ling Qua’s face.

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“Mr. Gonzalez is the son of Senator Gonzalez, a United States senator from New Mexico who was scheduled to begin the final hearings and vote on his Etha- nol Distribution Bill tomorrow. So far, the senator has been unavailable for comment. However, Mrs. Zaroya Sylva Kenmoore Hess Binhoman Cohen Abud Grimaldi Chang …” Agent Swallow raised the remote and clicked the mute button, cutting off the TV narration in mid-sentence. “Mr. Blonde, did you or did you not see who kidnapped Mr. Gonzalez?” “No. I already told Agent Boink everything I know.” Jayms winked at Zaroya. “Agent Swallow! I’m telling you it was a group of Pakistani terrorists. They want to get rid of Miss India so Miss Pakistan can be Miss Galaxy, and they’ll stop at nothing short of killing my mother and Senator Gonzales’ son to do it,” Zaroya ranted. “Yah, yah, I heard yah, lady,” Agent Swallow replied. “Except from everything we’ve been able to discern, they were dressed as Japanese ninja, but they were spouting Mandarin!” “Don’t be ridiculous! Everyone knows ninja are hired assassins. The Pakistan government obviously hired them to kill Miss Galaxy because she’s from India!” Zaroya fumed. “Take your own advice ’cause only an idiot would come up with a plan like that,” Agent Swallow snapped. Senior agent Boink entered the room with a handful of videotapes. “Swallow! Someone got to the security tapes and wiped ’em clean.” Jayms glanced at Precious, who winked acknowledgement that he had switched them out to cover their own activities. “We’re screwed,” Boink growled. “I’ve got a hundred guests and nobody seems to know who fought off the terrorists. There’s no evidence except for a few hundred Teflon bullets scattered all over the ballroom, and reports that you …” Agent Boink whirled around and pointed at Jayms, “were holding a blow-dryer like a gun.” “I know I have a reputation as the best blow job in the business, agent Boink,” Jayms responded with wide-eyed innocence. “Let me demonstrate.” “That’s not necessary,” Boink said as he raised his hands up quickly. Jayms smiled and held the blow-dryer up again for all to see, “… this is a real blow-dryer.” He smiled and crossed the room to the outlet closest to Agent Swal- low. “You really need to relax, Agent Swallow.” Then, as Jayms knelt next to Swal- low, he murmured, “Is that last name of yours an order or an offer?” and shoved HISSY FIT 141 the plug into the outlet slightly behind him with an energetic thrust as he rose up slowly, a micro inch away from Swallow. Swallow gulped and Jayms could see beads of nervous sweat on his brow as he clicked on the blow-dryer. He held his hand in front of the jet of hot air. Still, at the sound of the blow-dryer, Swallow jumped back a yard like a doll jerked on a string. “See?” Jayms smiled as he held the blow-dryer out in front of him with his hand in front of the nozzle. “It’s just a bunch of hot air. Nothing to get worked up about.” “Well, something is going on around here and your story is just as fishy as hers!” Swallow blurted out, as he jabbed a finger at Zaroya. “What happened to the ninja?” Precious asked. “The Chinese police arrived to take them into custody, but they never made it to the police department,” Boink responded. “This is China,” Swallow interjected. “People disappear all the time here. If Chaz weren’t a U.S. senator’s son, we’d get no cooperation at all from their government.” “What about my mother? I am, after all, the widow of the former territorial governor of Hong Kong, General Chang!” Zaroya huffed. “What about the attack on the Indian ambassador?” Precious queried. “We can’t tell who they were trying to assassinate,” Agent Swallow explained. “It might have been Miss Galaxy. Luckily they will both be fine. We treated the ambassador’s flesh wound, and gave the babe a sedative.” “She’s Miss Galaxy, not ‘babe’!” Zaroya snapped. “I was a Miss Galaxy myself, I’ll have you know.” “It must have been a very small galaxy back then.” Agent Boink smirked. “Why, you …” Zaroya curled her fingers, ready to scratch his eyes out. “Wait!” Precious jumped up and shouted pointing to the TV. “Turn that up!” Agent Swallow reacted like a pro and swung the remote in his hand up in a precise arch, aimed, and pushed the button, spilling the sound back out through the speakers. Filling the screen now was a shot of Senator Gonzalez on the capitol steps surrounded by reporters. “I have decided to postpone the commencement of voting regarding the Etha- nol Distribution Bill until my son is safely returned,” Senator Gonzalez said. “If this is an attempt by terrorists to manipulate a beauty pageant, they have nothing to gain by hurting my son. If it is a more diabolical plot by the oil cartels to manipulate my bill, it will not work.” 142 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

A young white male reporter shoved his mic in front of the senator and asked, “Have you heard from the kidnappers?” “No comment,” said the senator. “What does India or Pakistan have against you?” a distinguished looking black reporter wedged his way in to ask. “No comment.” “Is it true your son and Ambassador Habebee were secret lovers?” a frizzy- haired, matronly looking woman shouted from behind. “No comment,” he said again. “How much money do they want?” called out a young Hispanic female reporter. “No comment.” the senator sighed. “Is your son gay or bisexual?” shouted another one. “No comment.” Senator Gonzales grunted as he pushed his way down the steps of the capitol toward his car and driver “Is Miss Galaxy really a drag queen?” someone else called out. And then a champagne bucket suddenly ﬂew across the room and crashed through the TV screen. “How dare they!” Zaroya screamed. “What the hell are you doing?!” Agent Swallow yelled at her as he took her by the shoulders and shoved her back down in her chair. “I won’t stand by and listen to my pageant being demeaned,” she hissed back at him. “If this was America, lady, I’d have you sitting in a cell for destruction of private property. You’re a wacko.” “You can’t talk to me that way! Do you know who I am? Do you know who I sleep with?” she screamed at him. “Probably half of Asia, with all the money you’ve got,” Agent Boink quipped. “What?!” Zaroya screeched. “Why! You! You … ASSHOLE!” Then she started hurling every object she could lay her hands on in his direction. CRASH! “You PIG!” She hissed. CRASH! “What the hell is going on in here?” Swallow yelled. “You SCUM!” she screamed. WHAM! A cut-glass fruit bowl knocked Swallow out cold! “Calm down, lady!” Boink shouted. HISSY FIT 143

BAM! “You stupid troglodyte,” she snarled and—SMASH!—she hurled a ginger jar lamp that Swallow dodged as it flew over his head. “Boink! Get her OUT of here!” Swallow screamed as he tried to struggle back up from the floor and … WHOOSH! Boink dodged a coffee-table book on the Great Wall as he rushed out to help Swallow. “Stinking guttersnipes!” Zaroya bellowed. She kicked over a side table then flung the first thing she grabbed. “For God’s sake, STOP that bitch!” Swallow yelled. “What do you think I’m trying to do?!” Boink screamed as—WHOMP!—a brass horse bookend glanced off his shoulder. “Ouch, that’s gonna leave a mark,” Precious quipped as he and Jayms sat on the loveseat behind Zaroya chomping on some popcorn. SWOOSH—BAM—SPLAT—CRASH—POW! The next few objects were hurled in such close succession it was hard to recognize them. “Stay away from me, you Neanderthal!” Zaroya raged between hurls. “Somebody call for reinforcements,” Boink screamed as he leaped and rolled to avoid a series of porcelain projectiles. “Pig!” CRASH! “Help me!” yelled Boink. “Bastard!” SMASH! Jayms decided it was time to get out when Zaroya wound down to one-word insults. “Chow Bella,” he called. He gave Precious a kiss, then leaped over an overturned armchair and slipped out the door. Boink made the mistake of peeking out from behind the bar for a second, when he heard the door shut and nearly got crowned by a silver candlestick. The attack gave Swallow a chance to crawl into the bedroom. “I’ve broken my nails!” Zaroya suddenly wailed. “That’s it!” She started to froth at the mouth. “Now, I’m going to cut you!” The whole scene looked like a Dynasty re-run, with Zaroya playing Joan Col- lins in some histrionic Crystal–Alexis catfight. “You’re crazy, lady, calm down. Don’t just stand there, kid,” Boink pleaded with Precious. “Help me before she throws the goddamn coffee table!” 144 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

Finally, Zaroya stopped momentarily when she ran out of objects nearby to hurl. Boink took the opportunity to lunge into the bedroom after Swallow and slam the door behind him. “I’ll kill you all!” Zaroya swore, her anger uncontrollable. Precious heard the click of a deadbolt on the bedroom door, proof that Boink was taking no chances that Zaroya would move in for the coup de grâce. As if on cue, she seemed to sway with exhaustion as she scanned around her for something to do damage with.

“Shhhhh! Calm down, they’re gone,” Precious reported. “You showed them who’s boss.” HISSY FIT 145

“I’ll find them. I’ll hunt them down like dogs!” she wailed as she collapsed on to the couch. “No, that’s what you have help for, Zaroya,” Precious countered soothingly. “Now, just take it easy, relax, and let Precious make it all better.” “But, my dress! My hair! And now my nails!” she sobbed. “Now, now, we’ve got a whole rack of gowns in your size and a full beauty salon right here at your disposal. I’ll order up some lunch, give you a nice sham- poo and set, fix those nails, and we’ll pick you out a fabulous dress, too.” “You really are precious,” Zaroya cooed as she collapsed, sobbing in his arms. “No one appreciates me anymore,” she blubbered. “I’m not really twenty-nine, and they all know it.” “Now, listen to Precious and give me one of those billion dollar smiles. Every- one is just jealous, dear. You know that.” As he stroked her hair, Precious slipped a package of Bang Fingers plastique press-on-nails from his makeup bag and smiled. “I’ll fix you up as good as new,” Precious promised as he led her to a chair and pulled out his manicurist pad. With a reassuring wink he patted the manicurist pad in front of her with the two plastique explosive nails. “Really?” she asked, “Trust me!” he smiled angelically. 33 GOING NATIVE

Confident that Precious could handle things back at the hotel, Jayms was already several blocks away, surrounded by a crowd of Chinese dressed in holiday garb. Of course, they were all about five foot five in height and, being six foot four, he looked like a giant bobbing head moving over the crowd. Luckily, they were also carrying long poles laden with bright paper lanterns, banners, dragons, and deco- rations that waved above their heads and gave him some cover. There was also a sky full of exploding fireworks above him creating quite a distraction. It was the Festival of the Moon. There were lots of people, lots of noise, lots of fireworks, and lots of tourists running around waving cell phones in the air, snapping pictures. Jayms drew very little attention to himself as he flipped open Pre- cious’ Y-Pod and selected the transmitter tracking screen. “Let’s see where you are, Chaz,” he muttered to himself, as the screen popped up, showing a series of blips well within the radius marker, with direction detec- tor, and four tracking signals blinking. “Bingo! Now let’s eliminate me, Precious, Sakira, and that leaves only my missing joy boy.” One by one, Jayms deselected the tracking ID number of everyone till there was only a single blip on the screen. “Good, let’s see if the mole camera is working as well as the eyelash transmitter.” He switched from the tracking screen to the video feed and got nothing but a black screen and distorted sound. “Damn! They must have him blindfolded!” So he switched back to the tracker screen and selected a satellite map overlay. “Good!” Jayms sighed when the overlay plotted a walking chart from his current position to where the eyelash trans-

146 GOING NATIVE 147 mitter was broadcasting. It was less than a mile away and he could continue down the street he was on until he was halfway there. Jayms slipped the tracker into his pocket and headed down the avenue, threading through the revelers and the occasional tourist, ignoring the glorious fireworks that wove a dancing canopy of lights above him. Then a Chinese pushcart peddler shoved his cart in front of Jayms to block his path and shouted, “Ming chia gia jin xia ti mong fu chow chi?” in a rare Chinese dialect from the delta region of the Yangtze that Jayms just happened to know—which translated to, “Hey Dude! You want party clothes for Moon Festival?” “Yo su pai ku feng. Sook mu chi chu tonk bok? Tow fu peek?” replied Jayms. Which means, “I look like crap in red. Do you have anything in pastel?” Soon Jayms stood, dressed in teal blue pajama top and bottoms with deep pink silk trim and matching frogs. He finished his ensemble with a natural-fiber coolie hat, and he still loomed over the average passing peasant. He peered around the corner of the nearest building, up at the façade of a towering building at the end of the electronic tracking trail. “Well, there is a God. Chaz is right where I should have guessed.” Jayms flipped open the Y-Pod and dialed Precious. “Precious, who won the game?” “Zaroya, 2; CIA, 0,” Precious giggled. “I calmed her down with a manicure until the concierge called and said her helicopter had landed on the hotel helipad. She grabbed a dress and bolted.” “Good work, Precious. I found Chaz. Guess where?” “Somewhere inside the brand new thirty-story ZENRON International Asia Pacific Building?” “How did you know that?” Jayms asked. “Because I have a map overlay showing that’s exactly where you are now.” “No one likes a smart ass, Precious,” Jayms snapped. “Unless they have a cute one like mine,” Precious purred. “It’s duty time not booty time, kiddo. So stop turning on the wrong equipment and give me some information.” “You Batman, me Robin. What can I do you for?” “Somewhere deep inside that building is our dude-in-distress. Can you tell me where they have Chaz hidden?” “He’s located somewhere on one of the sub-basement levels. The building schematics on file with the Chinese government and the insurance company stop three levels above where he is located, so I can’t give you any specifics beyond that.” 148 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Secret subterranean headquarters, huh? Surprise, surprise.” Jayms smirked. “I guess I can find my way down there somehow.” “Great. How do you expect to get in there?” Precious asked. “I can just walk in. Goldie Locks’ Headquarters are in the same building and I’m on the board of directors.” “And will be as long as Brittany Spears is CEO.” “It pays to be beautiful,” he quipped as he pulled off his Chinese ensemble, revealing his tuxedo again. He tossed the peasant clothing to the curb. Jayms slipped the Y-Pod in to his pocket and started to cross the street. Before he was halfway to the curb, a long blue Lincoln raced up in front of the building and stopped, brakes squealing. Dr. Randy Dick jumped out of the back seat and headed toward the entrance. Will wonders never cease? Jayms thought to himself as he switched on his mole camera and spoke to Precious. “Dr. Dick is here. Stay on the monitor, Precious, I may need some backup.” “You know me, I love to listen,” he purred in Jayms ear. “How rude, dude!” “Well if it isn’t my favorite Dick Doctor,” Jayms called out, stopping the good doctor in his tracks. Two steps more and he would have been at the glass doors that served as the main entrance to the building. “Blonde?” the doctor stammered in surprise as he turned to see Jayms a few steps behind him. “What the hell are you doing here? And it’s Dr. Dick, thank you.” He glared at Jayms. “And Randy, too, if I remember correctly.” “In your dreams.” “Yes, you have been, but seldom so well dressed.” Jayms patted the shoulder of his tuxedo in a complimentary way and then winked and added, “Well, actually just seldom dressed.” Dr. Dick blushed, “I was late to the party and, when I got there, the whole thing was cordoned off. Ninja? Japanese assassins attempted a kidnapping in China? Sounds like you had a busy night, Mr. Blonde.” “Very. What’s your excuse?” “Excuse?” Dr. Dick bristled and turned back toward the entrance. “I don’t need an excuse, Mr. Blonde, I work here. And since I find myself with some extra free time on my hands I thought I’d just check my e-mail at the office.” Dr. Dick placed his palm on a screen, and the door opened for him. He walked through quickly, letting it shut behind him, locking Jayms out. “Good GOING NATIVE 149 night, Mr. Blonde.” He waved smugly, obviously thinking Jayms was stranded outside. Jayms just stood his ground and waved back calling out, “Oh, I’ll catch you later, Dick. A hard man is good to find and there’s a lot more to find out about you.” As soon as Dr. Dick walked out of view, Jayms said, “I just slipped a dewdrop tracker on his tuxedo, can you activate it and add him to the schematics, Precious?” “As easy as me,” he quipped, as Jayms walked up to the security scan plate. There were actually two sets: one for ZENRON and one for Goldie Locks International, which was the plate bellow the one for ZENRON. Jayms placed his palm on the plaque and, as soon as his palm touched the screen, it glowed to life. An angry red laser line scanned Jayms’ palm from top to bottom. With a beep, the screen turned green and the door swung open before him. “Download the new tracking ID number and the building floor plans to the Y-Pod for me please, Precious.” “Already done, Jayms.” Jayms re-activated the video monitor in tracker mode and saw three tracking dots with the building floor plans on overlay. “Chaz is yellow, you are green, and the good doctor is red.” “We don’t know if he’s good or not yet, Precious, but I’d swear the cologne he is wearing is eau de CIA.” Jayms switched Precious to mute as he walked toward the guard at the inside security desk and addressed him with an authoritative tone. “Ti muk mo shi pang?” (Who is in charge here?) “Ya to pu tai.” (I am. Who are you?) the security guard answered. “Pu tik mi Jayms Blonde, Chan Cheng ying lo zen tok Goldie Locks Interna- tional.” (I am Jayms Blonde of the Board of Directors of Goldie Locks Interna- tional.) Jayms informed him. “Muk mo Sho kai to, ta Blonde?” (How can I help you, Mr. Blonde?) the security guard responded in a more solicitous tone. “Ti shi pang ying lo zen tok. Si sai fuk yu mi bung toy.” (I need access to my office and sample supplies for tomorrow.) “Kai to, ta Blonde?” (Yes, Mr. Blonde.) “Chia gia jin xia ti mong fu chow chi g ying lo zen tok.” (Give me a night staff person to assist me for as long as I need him.) “Hia. Bang Toi! Bang Toi!” he called off to someone and, around the corner, trotted a very attractive young Chinese man in a janitor’s uniform with the words 150 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Goldie Locks International” stenciled across the back, and the name “Bang Toi” embroidered on the front left pocket. “Hai, sa ku fung? Kat kit to pu poi na?” (What are you yelling at me for? Who is this foreign devil?) Bang Toi snapped. “Not te gok yuk puk!” (Shut up, you son of a whore!) The security guard swore. “Sa se ta Mandarin?!” (He speaks Mandarin?!) “Su pai ku feng! Sook mu chi chu tonk bok. Tow fu peek muk muk to su mae bu tee,” (Take my keys and go with this man. He is very important. Do whatever he says.) said the guard. “Chook koo ping tak tojo.” (I shall please him in all ways.) “Suc yung tu mie long dong.” (I think I’m going to like it here.) Jayms smiled back at them both, and then followed the cute little Bang Toi down the hall to the elevators and entered behind him, which already gave him some lovely ideas. “Bung hung tung mai,” (I am here to please, sir.) he said and bowed slightly as the elevator started to rise as fast as Jayms did. “Ying lo zen tok chang Bang Toi, goo shi yang pok Engleesh.” (If you are going to work with me, Bang Toi, there are two words you must understand in English.) Jayms said to him with a smile, and pulled two items out of his pocket and held them up in front of Bang Toi to explain. “Condom.” Then he shook a Cocktell packet in front of his face for him to repeat. “Congdong?” Bang Toi repeated, nodding his head as if he understood. “And hand-cuffs,” Jayms said, and shook a set in front of Bang Toi’s face so he could understand. “Hondtuffs,” Bang Toi nodded with a perplexed look at a pair of steel-blue, eighteen-inch chain set. “Handcuffs,” Jayms repeated, “the perfect gift for work and play.” 34 SPLITTING HEADACHE

Sylvia sat in the back seat of a private helicopter and clutched an ice pack to her head as Zaroya talked on her video cell to Vichyssoise. “Mother and I should be landing at the missile base in forty-five minutes. I need you to organize the lab relocation and bring Dr. Xing and Dr. Xang along with Chaz and meet me in the control center within the next six hours. “What the hell happened? My head is killing me!” Sylvia groaned next to Zaroya. “It’s all right, Mother, you got hit from behind by a flying cocktail shaker,” Zaroya told her. “Just lie back and relax. We’ll be at the island in a few minutes and you can see Bruno and one of his doctors at the same time.” “I’m gonna see my baby?!” Sylvia sat up excitedly. “Oooooh! … Whoa!” she groaned and collapsed back on to the seat. “I’d better get a cup of Valium with a side of Darvon first, or I’ll be looking at triplets!” she groaned. “Just sit still,” Zaroya said, as she turned her attention back to her cell phone. “Vichy, I’ll contact you as soon as we land and I can get to the control room. Just get everything ready and make sure no one—not Blonde, the CIA, or anyone else—interferes this time or you will be feeding my tigers tomorrow from the inside out.” “Where’s my little Cognac?” Sylvia whimpered, and the little dog in the carrier at her feet gave a quick little, “Ruff! Ruff!” “Oh, not so loud, baby! Mama’s got a sumo wrestler sitting on her head!”

151 152 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE 35 DICK TEASING

Jayms could hear Dr. Dick through the dewdrop tracker, talking into a speaker phone and frantically searching files on a computer, cursing and stroking keys like a sadist in cyber-sex. “Mr. Director, there is nothing new here I can tell you,” Dr. Dick reported. “Then your password must not give you top clearance,” Jayms heard a voice snap over the cell’s speaker phone. “I have all the plans of the Lunar Colony, the list of the corporate blackmails, all the politically controlled figures, the actual cost per item, and the layout of the secret launch facilities—everything they want to hide,” Dr. Dick retorted. “How much higher could the clearance get?” “You are still missing something, Dr. Dick! Whatever plot ZENRON is putting in action is separate from the lunar base, and the missile base has been under surveillance for ten years without any activity. We need to know what Zaroya is planning, and we need to know now!” the voice commanded. “The only other thing here is a reference to a ‘Project Popcorn’ from the bio- tech section of their cosmetic division down in the subterranean levels.” “Then you must not have a top clearance password, or you could access those files.” “It’s probably just a developmental cosmetic formula for some new facial scrub!” Dr. Dick grumbled. “Then check it out and get back to me!” the director growled. Jayms decided it was time for him to slip through the door and make his presence known. “It must be the code name of ZENRON’s plot to start a war

153 154 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE between Pakistan and India,” he said in his most blasé tone, as he entered Dr. Dick’s office and shut the door behind him. “What the …?” Dr. Dick whirled around to see Jayms standing behind him. “It would give the Chinese a chance to move in and take over under the aus- pices of peace keeping,” Jayms smiled at him innocently. “Who the hell is that?” the voice spilled out of the cell speaker. “Sorry, I can’t make it tonight Mae Ming …” Dr. Dick spoke loudly into the phone, “… I’ve got a full load of work to do.” “Promises, promises,” Jayms sighed. “Who is there?” the voice demanded again over the cell. “A Goldie Locks International corporate executive. I’ll get back to you later, dear.” And he hung up the phone. “I think it’s time for us to stop playing games and collaborate on freeing Chaz and taking Zaroya and ZENRON down,” Jayms said sincerely. “Let’s get one thing straight right here and now, Tinkerbell.” Randy flipped his cell shut and jammed it into his pocket. “It’s more like ‘Tinker-Bull’ where you’re concerned, Randy,” Jayms smiled. “Why …” “I’ve worked deep inside the CIA before.” “But …” “And you have a cute one.” “You …” “… can gain access to the place where they’re holding a kidnapped senator’s son in what appears to be a secret laboratory.” “I …” “… think you might want to come with me—in more ways than one.” “Don’t …” “… you know that blushing does wonders for your complexion?” “Stop …” “… pretending you’re not CIA and participate in this rescue mission,” Jayms finished, smiling. “What could you possibly have that would convince me to go anywhere with you at any time for any reason?” Dr. Dick glared. “Hmmm? Well … a body tracer attached to Chaz that shows up on my Y- Pod.” He beamed. “And the master keys to the service elevator that goes to all levels. Not to mention the ability to speak and read Mandarin and nine other Chinese dialects fluently.” DICK TEASING 155

Dr. Dick punched a disk out of the computer and slipped it into his pocket, then grabbed a gun from a drawer and stood up facing Jayms. “All right, lead the way. But if you touch me, I swear I’ll shoot!” “And more than once, I assure you.” Jayms smiled wickedly. 36 LET’S PLAY DOCTOR

Vichyssoise and a muscular ninja, who had Chaz draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, were descending in an elevator. Suddenly, Chaz started to twist and move. “Ooooh, damn Dolce & Gabbana!” Chaz groaned, as he started to stir. “My head!” “Should I knock him out again?” the ninja asked. “No, I’ll give him a sedative. We’ll be in the lab in a few seconds. Zaroya may want to talk to him. Just keep him under control.” “Okay.” The ninja smiled and took his right hand and slapped Chaz’ bottom really hard. Chaz sighed groggily and quipped, “Not now, I have a headache.” The ninja growled and spanked him harder. “Oh, all right, Jayms, but at least take off the blindfold and the handcuffs, and put me over your lap. I like playing principal better than kidnap!” “This isn’t a game, damn it!” the ninja growled as the elevator lurched to a stop. “Who’s that? Take off this blindfold and put me down!” Chaz demanded. The elevator doors swooshed open and Vichyssoise snapped, “Shut your trap, Chaz!” Then she ordered the ninja, “Bring him in to the lab.” “Oh, Vichy, this keeps getting better. But if we’re gonna play doctor, take off the blindfold so I can see how big your friend’s stethoscope really is.”

156 37 BIOLOGICAL BASEMENT BARGAINS

Dressed in Chinese red pajamas, and sporting a coolie hat pulled down over his face, Precious straddled a pedal cab across the street from the ZENRON Interna- tional building. “Okay, Jayms.” Precious spoke into his cell phone as he patted a bundle of clothes lying on the seat of the peddle-cab. “Protégé in position.” “Just keep out of sight till I need you.” Jayms nodded and switched off. He turned his attention to Dr. Dick. “Let me check the mole camera I have on Chaz. If they took off the blindfold we can see what he sees now.” Jayms took the Y- Pod back from Dr. Dick and switched to another screen. “Yes! Houston we have a signal!” Chaz appeared to be bound and gagged in a chair at one end of a laboratory as a ninja held a gun on him. Vichyssoise was talking to a couple of Chinese doctors across the room, and Zaroya was talking to all of them from a giant-sized communications screen. “Doctors Xing and Xang, we have to move the launch forward,” Zaroya announced. “But neither the ambassador nor Miss India was killed,” Dr. Xang answered back, seeming highly agitated. “Don’t you think I know that?!” Zaroya snarled. “Do you think it’s easy planning a kidnapping, an assassination, and a major gala all in one night?”

157 158 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

As Jayms and Dr. Dick eased around the corner of the hallway, they could hear the conversation in person. Jayms turned the volume down on the Y-Pod, but kept the picture on screen as they poked their heads around the corner of the glass wall that surrounded the front of the lab to get a look before they were noticed. “Okay, Chaz is there, but there is no way to sneak up on them without being seen,” Dr. Dick whispered ever so quietly. “But the odds are greatly in our favor—two of us and only four of them,” Jayms whispered with a wink. He held up his Y-Pod for both of them to see while he figured out their next move. Dr. Xing and Dr. Xang both seemed highly agitated as they spoke to Zaroya. “How will the world believe India was provoked into launching biological warfare against Pakistan over this?” Dr. Xing practically shouted. “They will if we blow up a city in Pakistan with one of India’s missiles! We make them for India and we can launch them for her, too.” Dr. Xang stepped closer to the screen and declared, “There must be no taint of suspicion against China, or we will not cooperate.” “How did we miss this? I’ve got all the info on the space program, her Lunar Colony, arms deals—but none of this.” asked Dr. Dick. “You know about the Lunar Colony?” Jayms was surprised. “It’s already built. The moon is international property so we can’t stop that. But this …” Dr. Dick hissed, “… we damn well will!” “I love it when you get forceful.” Jayms smiled. Zaroya seemed to be getting more and more aggravated by as she peered down at her team, omnipotent from her giant screen. “You will launch Operation Popcorn on my orders or you will die!” she snarled. “You dare to threaten us?” Dr. Xing shook his fist up at Zaroya’s face on the screen. “Vichyssoise!” Zaroya nodded in Dr. Xing’s direction and Vichyssoise turned and, without hesitation, shot him in the head. Xing jerked upward for a second, like a puppet on a string, as a spray of blood erupted out of the other side of his head toward Chaz and the ninja. The doctor’s lifeless corpse staggered with the last few electrical impulses that commanded the body to flee, and then collapsed on the floor oozing blood right at Chaz’s feet. “Dr. Xing!” Dr. Xang screamed in horror and rushed to the fallen body. BIOLOGICAL BASEMENT BARGAINS 159

The picture on the Y-Pod began to shake and swing erratically as Chaz reacted, horrified by the bloody execution. He began to scream hysterically through his gag, and desperately tried to “hop” his chair to get away from the body. “Holy shit!” Dr. Dick hissed as they looked at the screen and then at each other. “That is one hostile bitch,” he added. “Calm down, Chaz!” Zaroya shouted down at him. “It’s all right!” “You are mad!” Dr. Xang howled up at her as he cradled the body of his fallen comrade. “After a night like tonight, I’m not only mad, I’m pissed as hell, Dr. Xang. And that’s exactly where I will send you if you don’t do every single thing I say.” “You see?” Jayms exclaimed to Dr. Dick. “You missed a great party.” Zaroya glared down at all of them as Chaz continued to scream and hop while Dr. Xang whimpered and clung to the dead Dr. Xing for protection, drenching his white lab coat in blood. “Enough!” Zaroya screeched, which encouraged Vichyssoise to slap Chaz hard across his face. The ninja reached down and jerked the live doctor roughly to his feet. Chaz and the doctor fell into silent shock. “What is your answer, Xang?” Zaroya demanded. “I swear I will do whatever you say,” Xang gasped. “Good. Vichyssoise please get rid of Dr. Xing before he bloodies up the entire lab,” Zaroya ordered. Vichyssoise nodded to the ninja as she crossed to Dr. Xang and shoved him down in a chair next to Chaz. “Get the body out of here and bring back a mop to clean up this mess.” “Got it,” he grunted. “Does the virus work, Dr. Xang?” Zaroya continued as the ninja hoisted the dead Dr. Xing up off the ground. “Yes, it kills everything you wanted,” Dr. Xang answered nervously as he watched his former colleague, dripping blood, carried out of the room over the ninja’s shoulder like a sack of wheat. Jayms handed the Y-Pod to Dr. Dick. “You stay here and let me take care of him.” He slipped down the hall to take out the Ninja. He could hear the ninja moving ahead, the dead weight of the doctor making him more heavy footed than usual. Jayms followed the ninja silently, his Kenneth Cole patent leather tuxedo shoes, with special crepe soles for stealth—as well as secure footing on the dance floor—perfect for any sneaky occasion. He didn’t want to leave Dr. Dick alone 160 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE for too long, but he wanted to take out the ninja where there would be no one to overhear. Taking a chance, he raced around the other direction to the garbage room by the service elevator. The garbage dumpster was the most logical place to dispose of the body and grab a mop and bucket at the same time. The entrance to the room was through double swinging doors opposite the elevator. With the two-by-three-foot rolling dumpster in the eight-by-eight-foot room, there wasn’t a lot of fighting space left. The place was well kept and pretty empty of clutter. There was just a plastic bucket filled about a quarter of the way with gray-looking water and a string mop with a wooden handle sticking up and leaning against the wall. The only other object in the room was a red metal fire extinguisher on a wall mount, and a few pipes and a ventilation duct, that ran across the ceiling. Jayms stood just inside the garbage room, off to the side out of view of the swinging doors. When the ninja came through, Jayms pivoted around, blocked his path, and pointed the gun at his chest. “You again!” snarled the ninja, and he hurled the body of the doctor at Jayms to knock the gun from his hand. Jayms didn’t have enough room to counter move, so he dropped the gun and caught the body by the neck and thigh. He clean jerked the unfortunate doctor’s body up and over the rim of the garbage dumpster, dropping it on top of the refuse so it couldn’t further hamper his movement. The ninja took that time to whip out a pair of three-pronged metal sai. “Come on, faggot!” he snarled as he whirled the sai around in circles and figure eights like a butch Electra. “Let’s see you fight a real man!” “Why? Did you bring one with you?” Jayms asked, as he grabbed the mop and flung the plastic bucket with its dirty water into the cocky ninja’s face. “Hiyah!” the ninja hollered, as tried to bat the bucket aside with his sai, but wound up skewering it like Captain Hook. As the ninja tried to shake the sai free of the bucket, Jayms dropped the mop to the floor and snapped off the head with a stomp, then he raised the wooden handle over his head with both hands and brought it down across his knee with a snap, breaking it into two fighting sticks. The ninja finally disentangled his sai and engaged Jayms in a series of jabs, kicks, and chops with blinding speed in the cramped room. Jayms worked his way back toward the fire extinguisher until it was about level with his head, then taunted the little ninja. “Is that topknot you’re wearing real or just some cheap extensions you got in a Hong Kong beauty parlor?” BIOLOGICAL BASEMENT BARGAINS 161

“Topknot only for honor. You question my honor?” the little ninja squeaked. “I’d tell you to talk to the hand, but my ﬁst will get there ﬁrst,” Jayms said egging him on.

“Hiyah!” the ninja took the bait and fully committed to a head kick at Jayms. But Jayms was ready. He side stepped the kick, which drove the ninja’ foot full force into the metal ﬁre extinguisher. Jayms could hear the bones crunch, and the ninja yelped in pain as he lost his balance and landed on his back on the ﬂoor. The force of the blow snapped the extinguisher off the wall mount and sent it crashing down on top of the ninja’s head. He fell at Jayms’ feet—out cold. 162 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Stick with your singing gigs, ’cause you ain’t no karate kid.” Jayms patted the ninja’s unconscious cheek, and then tied him up with the dead doctor’s bloody tie. The ninja started to come to. “You’re gonna die!” He spat the words. Jayms stripped a blood-soaked sock from the dead doctor, and stuffed in into the ninja’s mouth. “Oooooh! Arrrgh!” Topknot garbled. “No use trying to sound seductive. I don’t have to time to shove anything else in your mouth,” Jayms said. “Remember, next time you want to play, a good fairy makes a bad enemy,” and he slipped back through the metal doors. “One down, a few to go,” Jayms said as he raced back down the hallway hoping Dr. Dick was still in charge. “Precious?” Jayms called to him on his earring cell. “Here, Jayms,” his sultry little voice seeped into his ear. “Do you still have a signal from Chaz’s mole camera?” “Yep.” “Can you patch it through to my wristwatch screen?” “I live to serve,” he replied glibly. “That’s what I love about you,” Jayms whispered back, as a picture of the lab filled his wristwatch screen and he raced back to Dr. Dick. Dr. Xang, a bit calmer now and wearing a fresh white lab coat, walked over to a wall of floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinets. He opened one of the cabinets and entered a series of numbers on an electric keypad mounted at the back of the interior. After a few clicks and hums, the entire wall split down the center and swung inward to reveal another larger, more extensively equipped lab. Dr. Xang walked inside and wheeled a humungous laboratory table out from the hidden room. A three-foot-high glass dome was built over the table, protecting several items and cages. He rolled the table in front of the giant video screen for the cameras to see. “Here, growing in this container, we have samples of the five most common varieties of corn. Next to it is a container of dried kernels from the same varieties. In the container in the center is the same varieties made into popcorn. In the container to the left are several cages that contain monkeys, pigeons and rabbits,” the doctor concluded, as Jayms finally reached the laboratory. He clicked off his wrist screen and scooted around the corner to join the good doctor again. “Score one for our team,” Jayms whispered, then noticed Chaz, who was quietly slumped over in the corner, still tied to his chair. “Is Chaz okay?” “They sedated him again, but otherwise he’s fine.” BIOLOGICAL BASEMENT BARGAINS 163

“Good,” Jayms muttered as they hunkered down closer together to share the screen. Dr. Xang was back in scientific mode. “Watch what happens when I introduce the virus into the glass chamber,” he instructed. “Look!” Dr. Dick whispered, as Dr. Xang pressed a button on a control console on the side of the portable lab, causing three jets of gas to spew into the chamber from nozzles tucked into one of the corners of the table. “Whatever the virus is, it must be airborne. That’s real trouble,” Dr. Dick noted. Dr. Xang pontificated, “Notice how in less than three seconds the virus takes effect.” Then, right on cue, the corn stalks shriveled, the bowl of corn kernels vapor- ized, and the popcorn turned to goo. The animals, however, remained unaf- fected. “Jesus Christ!” Dr. Dick swore. “Calvin Klein!” Jayms echoed. “Scrumptious!” was Zaroya’s take on the demonstration. “Flawlessly scrumptious!” she cried again. “What about the animals?” she asked, “are there any adverse effects?” “Only some mild ones if they are currently digesting any corn-based feed. In humans, it will cause bad flu-like symptoms, but it will be fatal only to about two percent of the population or less, Mrs. Chang.” The doctor bowed timidly. “How many could that be?” she asked. “Globally? From as few as six hundred thousand to as many as three million,” he stammered. “Sort of a petite Armageddon. Well, pity the plebeian,” she sighed. “Someone has to suffer for my wealth and beauty and it might as well be them.” “But we do have an antidote developed for the illness,” the doctor countered. “Great! We can make another fortune off of that. And where is the rest of the virus?” “Already en route to our launch base,” Vichyssoise answered for the doctor. Zaroya seemed pleased. “This day may not be a total waste after all. Time to pack up Chaz and get the doctor here to supervise the launch.” “Yes, Mistress,” Vichyssoise answered. With that, Zaroya severed the connection and the screen went black. Dr. Dick slapped the Y-Pod shut and shoved it back into Jayms’ hands. “We can’t stop this from here anymore. We’ve got to follow them to that island and destroy the missiles,” he explained as he crawled past Jayms to get to the hallway. 164 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“What about Chaz? We can rescue him now.” Jayms stated the obvious. “And tip them off? No way, he’s not a priority now. We have to find the virus and keep those missiles from ever taking off. They’re holding him for insurance in case this whole thing falls apart and they need to manipulate his father’s Etha- nol Distribution Bill. He’s perfectly safe for the time being.” “I like a man who can think on his feet.” Jayms leered. “It makes it a lot more fun sweeping him off of them.” “Will you give it a rest!” hissed Dr. Dick. He seemed poised to add a few more choice bons mots when the alarm went off. ERRRRRR-HHHUUURR-EER- RRRR! It roared through the building giving them both a start. “What’s happening?” Vichyssoise cried out. “Somebody sounded the alarm,” Dr. Xang shouted back at her. “Time to move!” she yelled as she jerked a semiconscious Chaz to his feet and waved the gun at the doctor. “Grab his other arm, Doctor, we are getting out of here now!” Meanwhile, the head doctor and Jayms were still hunched down, hoping to follow them when they heard the sound of pounding feet. “Time for a good blow job,” Jayms muttered as he reached for his Uzi. “I’m warning you, Blonde,” the doctor cautioned as he whirled toward Jayms with his gun but faltered for a moment when he saw Jayms holding up the blow- dryer. “Well, a spy has to look his best,” Jayms countered, as he flipped the switch and loaded the chamber with Teflon bullets. “I’ll explain more later, Dicky-poo, but right now it looks like somebody is crashing the party.” No sooner said than more ninjas raced around the corner of the hall with guns drawn. “What the hell do you intend to do with that?” Dr. Dick asked, nodding incredulously at the dryer. “Blow ’em away,” Jayms replied as he raised his blow-dryer. “Haute couture this!” he shouted and fired a round of bullets above the heads of the guards forcing, them to dive for cover. “You shot them with your blow-dryer?” Dr. Dick gasped. “Yes, men die for a blow job from me,” Jayms answered nonchalantly. “This time I believe you!” Dr. Dick replied. Jayms glanced back over his shoulder to see Vichyssoise and the doctor throw a switch that opened another wall, revealing what looked like an escape pod from any one of all the sci-fi movies he’d ever seen. (Except for Stargate—they’ve got that whole Egyptian motif thing going on, which sets them apart.) BIOLOGICAL BASEMENT BARGAINS 165

“We’ve got to get to the missile site!” Vichyssoise screamed at Dr. Xang, as she dragged Chaz down behind an overturned lab table to wait for the escape pod to fully extend from the wall. “This will get us out of here,” Dr. Xang shouted back. “We have to follow them!” Dr. Dick exclaimed as he shattered the lab window with a bullet and dove through. Jayms turned and laid down some cover fire as he rolled, then pivoted and laid another round of fire across the heads of the ninjas. They stumbled back around the corner of the hall until another assassin rushed into the lab through the other door and started shooting at Jayms and Dr. Dick. “Stay down!” Jayms screamed at Dr. Dick over his shoulder, then pivoted to fire a round of bullets into the ninja who was shooting at him. “Get back out here, now!” Dr. Dick dove back through the shattered glass wall and landed right at Jayms’ feet. “We’re penned in!” he gasped. A nasty flesh wound on his shoulder stained the floor beside him with blood. Through the shattered wall, they could see Vichyssoise struggle to her feet to help the fallen Dr. Xang into the escape pod. “Stay there,” Jayms yelled as he pivoted, spaying bullets into the lab and then back down the hallway to keep the wolves at bay. “Ninjas to the right, ninjas to the left, we’re finally getting down to party. And that makes me real rambunctious!” he laughed. Jayms yanked a large Dolce & Gabbana clear makeup clutch pouch from his bag and spilled a dozen hot curlers on to the floor in front of him. “What are those for?” Dr. Dick gasped. “Just twist one and toss it for a real hair-raising experience!” Jayms smirked. He grabbed a handful, twisted each one quickly, and tossed them over his shoulder into the lab. The three-second delay gave the ninja a chance to wonder what the hell was up, before the plastic explosive curlers made of nitro-gel exploded the floor underneath them into dust, carrying half of the ceiling above along with it. “Come on!” Jayms shouted, as he leapt over the crumbled wall, dragging Dr. Dick beside him, hurling hot curler grenades every direction. “Jayms, look out!” Dr. Dick shoved him to the floor and took a bullet in the chest as Vichyssoise swung out of the escape pod for one last shot at Jayms. She then leapt back into the pod. “Arrgh! That’s gonna leave a mark,” Dr. Dick gasped, as Jayms twisted to shoot back at Vichyssoise. But the escape pod hissed and vanished through the floor, sealing the exit behind it. 166 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Randy! Are you all right?” “They escaped!” he grunted. “Don’t worry, remember, we can track them through Chaz. But for now, we’ve got to get you out of here. Time for some super fairy magic.” He reached into his holster bag and pulled out the venting comb concussion bomb and smiled. “Okay … sweet dreams everybody!” he shouted as he activated the bomb and tossed it behind him, covering Dr. Dick with his bulletproof moussed hair and titanium thread tuxedo. BOOM! Arrggggh! Thump, bam, crash bump! You could count the bodies collapsing unconscious to the floor as the tiny barbs embedded themselves into everything and everyone. “Come on, it won’t last long,” he called as he scrambled to his feet dragging Dr. Dick up after him. “I don’t think I even want to know this time,” Dr. Dick muttered as they stumbled toward the service elevator. Jayms pulled Bang-Toi’s key ring out of his pocket and activated the service elevator, sealing the door shut behind them before he pressed the lobby button. “Let’s see how bad that bullet wound is, Randy,” Jayms said as he lowered him gently to the floor. “So, you think we’re on a first name basis now?” he coughed. “Hey doc, in my world, when a guy takes a couple of bullets for you, you’re at least going steady,” Jayms quipped as he slipped the doctor’s jacket off revealing a wound that was bleeding heavily. “You’re always trying to get my clothes off,” he coughed again. “Is this the way you planned to take advantage of me, Blonde? Shoot me?” “I’m a killer date,” Jayms stated softly. “Damn straight!” Dr. Dick said with a grunt. “I’m beginning to believe that, Randy. Now keep talking and stay with me or I’ll give you mouth to mouth resuscitation, and that may change your ways.” That started Randy coughing again, so Jayms eased him back and ripped open his shirt to check the chest wound. It was a very, very, nice hard, cut, and meaty chest. “You are a lucky man, my friend,” Jayms told him, as he pulled his own shattered Y-Pod from Randy’s left breast pocket and held it up for him to see. “This little gizmo just saved your life.” Jayms smiled. “Your wound is from the shattered Y-Pod. The impact just knocked the breath out of you!” “Damn!” he swore. “Now, how are we going to track Chaz to the missile silo?” BIOLOGICAL BASEMENT BARGAINS 167

Jayms was about to explain it to him when they ﬁnally reached the lobby level and the door opened to reveal a naked Bang Toi handcuffed to a heating pole by the service exit door. “Dong te fung xie cho chung di chow!,” (censored) he shouted at Jayms. “I no longer have time for employee relations, kid,” Jayms said as he swung Dr. Dick over his shoulder, and said to Bang Toi, “Fi mok yu kong muck mei pong tuk ko man jang pu hong wu,” (keep the handcuffs for next time), then kicked open the service door and raced out through the lobby. “We’re coming out the front door now, kid!” Jayms called to Precious. By the time Bang-Toi screamed, “Chi Tong fook nook ah jam cha!” (No more rough sex!) they were past the napping security guard and out of the building. 38 GET CARRIED AWAY

Precious had had nothing better to do while he waited than to enjoy the festival. The fireworks and the confetti cannons were his favorite parts so far. The confetti cannons were long tubes that, in the olden days, were made of bamboo, but now were made of cardboard. The tubes were crammed with effervescent shades of shredded crepe paper. Pull the string at the end of the tube, and sun bright yellow, crimson red, deep turquoise, and aqua blues exploded high up into the air. They fanned out like fireworks, but stayed up floating and spinning in the air for hours on the slightest waft of breeze. Fire-breathing dragons danced down the street while sparklers and firecrackers perforated the ground with clouds of smoke and sparks. Precious was charmed by scores of adorable, laughing little China-doll kids, perched on the top of the shoulders of every other reveler. Suddenly Jayms came racing out the door of the international headquarters of ZENRON with a hundred and ninety pounds of hetero-sexy CIA scientist on his shoulders. He ran down the steps and into a crowd of revelers, with fireworks exploding over their heads. The same little China-doll kids who had been giggling and happy now scrambled to keep from falling off their human “horsies” as Jayms shoved his way through the crowd, desperately dodging every giggling child and doting daddy. Despite his best efforts, he earned too many angry stares and pointing fingers as he made his way across the street to Precious, who stood still, straddling the bike of his pedal cab, one foot poised to shove off the moment the doc was in the seat. “They got away with Chaz, but Dr. Dick needs your services. He’s wounded.”

168 GET CARRIED AWAY 169

“How bad?” Precious asked. “He’ll live,” Jayms grunted as he lowered the doctor into the passenger seat and shoved a coolie hat on top of his head. “Just get him to Boink and Swallow.” “If you couldn’t, what makes you think I can?” Precious snickered. “Ah, I love a boy whose mind is in the gutter. See you back at the ranch.” Jayms waved as Precious started pedaling through the crowd. “Okay, playtime,” Jayms muttered as he started to weave his way back across the street toward the ZENRON entrance. Just as he arrived a few ninjas came bursting out of the building with Topknot ninja hobbling after them. “There he is!” Topknot hollered. “Mai tu si! Mai tu si!” “No one catches this fairy,” Jayms chuckled before he ducked down into the crowd and started to thread his way through it. They were on an elevated level and he was shoving his way through the crowd, leaving the ninjas a more-than-adequate trail to follow. The idea was to lead them on a merry chase for about ten minutes and then disappear without a trace—something Jayms was very good at for many reasons. “Mai tu si! Mai tu si!” The ninja kept shouting as the other ninja kept looking around to find Jayms. “No, you idiots!” Mr. ninja shoved them away and fired a shot over Jayms’ head. “There!” That got their attention, as the next bullet ricocheted off the street lamp beside Jayms as he turned a corner. Once he rounded the corner, Jayms looked for the first door to a big building, yanked it open, ran inside, and slammed the door behind him, cutting off the sounds of the ninja goon squad in hot pursuit. Jayms raced down a short hall, through two sets of double doors, and found himself on a balcony looking down into a giant glass atrium full of mulberry trees and flying bugs. It took him a second to assess the layout and realize there was no way around without going down and through the orchard. It was a silkworm ranch. “What a moth-eaten place,” he muttered, as he raced down the spiral metal staircase to the orchard floor and raced through the trees, shoving workers aside as they gathered cocoons. “Woo pa ki tee!” (What are you doing here?!) shouted one of them. “Pu zi wa kot!” (Get out of here!) the chubby one with a butterfly net screamed at him. “Mi gu be fuk zu!” (Grab him you fools!) the older one who seemed to be the supervisor shouted. 170 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Tang xoo ni jog!” (Look out you stupid tourist!) the woman at the top of the ladder he’d almost knocked over screeched. “Pe nu di fu pong ja sit fu peek zee!” (Don’t bug me, you guys, I’m in a hurry!) Jayms shouted back as he made his way to the end of the row and started up the stairs. “Yee tog chi hu dong!” (That is not a door knob!) called the cute one at the end of the row. “Sorry.” Jayms smiled. As if on cue, three ninja exploded through the door he had come through seconds before. They charged down the stairs like a tsunami, scattering everything in their way. “Ai Yeeh!” (censored) one worker screamed. “Fuk mei!” (censored) the tubby one with the net screamed as a ninja kicked him out of the way. “Shi Vok!” (ancestral reference) the woman on the ladder swore as she clung to a limb when the ladder beneath her was knocked to the ground. The rest Jayms couldn’t interpret, because he’d just slammed the metal exit door behind him before a round of bullets plowed into it a second later. Timing is everything! Rhythm and endurance can add a lot to an evening, too, but, in the spy biz, “luck” and “timing” are the twins you want to bed down with and keep happy. While Jayms listened to the cries and screams as the workers and his fan club collided, he raced from an atrium into a space-age micro meat market. Or at least it looked like a petite monochromatic version. All along a series of white tables, standing every three feet, dressed in white suits stood the workers. In front of each of them, dangling from strings, were dozens of tiny lumpy white cocoons in small glass cylinders like Chinese lanterns. It looked like angels in a heavenly factory tending baby clouds. The cocoons were removed one at a time and were tenderly and carefully unwound. At least until Jayms got there. As he raced through a row of tables to more screeches and shouts, Jayms snatched a dozen of the glass cylinders and stood there hurling them across the room to smash into the heads of Topknot ninja and his boys as they burst in a few seconds behind him. “Bugs away!” he shouted as the first one shattered against a ninja’s forehead. He hurled the rest of them in quick succession. The trick was to brain a couple of them and get out of the room before the workers reacted and tackled him. So, after a quick hurl session, Jayms reached the far side of the room, grabbed the GET CARRIED AWAY 171 ropes above two of the tables, and yanked them out of the walls, sending hundreds of glass vials flying and shattering in every direction. The workers screamed and scrambled to dodge or catch the vials, colliding into the ninja, which gave Jayms the few extra seconds he needed to escape. Jayms really needed to start building a lead now, and chaos is your best friend when you want to put some distance between you and someone else. He raced through the next door and slammed it behind him, to find himself in a gigantic room with big mechanical cogs and chains spinning man-sized spools, wrapping yard after yard of fabric onto them. It was very noisy. The machines were laid out on three different levels built on metal platforms and scaffolding. Jayms found himself on the entrance level—a catwalk at the middle level, with a level above and below him. Instead of being laid out in straight rows like the orchard and the cocoon room, everything here was staggered and confusing with zigzag trails between the equipment and no clear sign of which direction the next exit door was. He must have stood there longer than he thought, trying to orient himself because, before he knew it, a troop of ninja came crashing through the door. That jolted Jayms back to reality. He jumped up and grabbed a scaffolding crossbar as one ninja stepped toward him. He swung up and kicked the ninja hard in the center of his chest with both feet. Wham! All of the ninja’s breath whooshed out of him as he fell backwards over the railing, knocking another ninja over with him and a third backwards out the door. Jayms held on to the bar as the force of the kick swung him backwards up out of sight as Topknot ninja hobbled through the door looking for his pack. Jayms swung back down, wrapped his legs in a choke hold around Topknot’s neck, and twisted him off the catwalk over the railing to join his men. Topknot somehow twisted in midair to try and gain control of his fall, and instead landed sprawled face down right in the middle of the spinning bolt of fabric. He quickly found himself wrapped up tight in several layers of a lovely flo- ral silk crepe. Actually, he looked like a bug in a lumpy cocoon, flailing and kicking as he was wrapped up in more and more fabric while his men frantically tried to rescue him. “Some men just don’t know how to dress!” Jayms said as he bolted across the catwalk above them.

“Don’t let him get away!” Topknot screamed at his men, who then stopped trying to free him and ran after Jayms. 172 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Don’t leave me like this, you idiots!” he screamed at them again, and they rushed back. Meanwhile, Jayms rounded a corner and saw the exit sign in Chinese and raced in that direction. He could hear the wrenching sound of jamming equipment and smashing machines as he slammed open the exit door and found himself in a blind alley- way. There were three doors and only one of them was unlocked, so he yanked it open and found himself backstage during the ﬁnale of a Chinese opera, with sets and props and costumes everywhere. GET CARRIED AWAY 173

Jayms dove behind some rolling wardrobe racks jammed with costumes to figure out what to do next, just a few moments before Topknot staggered in with the rest of the ninja. “Spread out and find him,” Topknot ordered. “He can’t have gotten far. You two go up front and cover the exit,” He stayed center as the other two went to the far opposite sides of the stage. Hiding behind the costumes, Jayms was taking a moment to formulate a plan when he realized he was very familiar with this opera. And there was no time like the present to make his debut. He crawled around the corner and snagged a sword off the prop table to put his plan in to action. Jayms could hear the music swell as the emperor’s head wizard sang his incan- tation to bring back a noble warrior from the dead. Jayms crawled on all fours past the props and toward the center slit in the backdrop curtain where, after an explosion of flames and smoke the actor would slip through and appear as if by magic. Lucky for Jayms, the actor was still crouched behind the curtain, ready for his entrance, when Jayms knocked him out cold. A second later, he had ripped off the actor’s robe and his mask and put them on. He shoved his unconscious body off to the side. “He’s got to be here!” Jayms heard Topknot shout from a few feet away just as the wizard finished casting his spell and the stage in front exploded into a flash of flame and smoke. “It’s show time!” Jayms whispered and rushed through the slit in the curtain to stand up in the full glory of his costume waving the sword aloft—but standing about a foot taller than the actual actor would have—a bit of a giveaway he suddenly realized. “Fueg ti bo Chen!” (You’re not Chen!) Mr. Wizard cried out when the smoke cleared and Jayms stood there chanting. “Me poo ta ka vi bong doi!” (I am the ghost of Christmas Past!) It might have worked, if Chen hadn’t stumbled on stage naked except for his China diaper and started yelling and pointing at Jayms. “It’s the same everywhere, nobody ever wants his understudy to go on,” Jayms muttered. “There he is!” Topknot ninja screamed, running toward the stage, with the rest of the ninja racing, limping, tripping, and shoving their way behind him. “So long, Mr. Wizard! You’re gonna get a bang out of this,” Jayms grunted as he gave a roundhouse kick to the bottom of the fake pagoda beside him and sent it crashing down on Topknot and his men. Then he snatched the wizard’s staff and used it to vault over the orchestra pit. He raced up the center aisle and out of 174 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE the theater, stopping only to jam the door shut behind him with the wizard’s staff to buy some extra time. “Well, at least I had my night at the opera.” Jayms laughed as he raced out into the square. It was still filled with masses of Chinese celebrants, but that gave him no protection. You could kill anyone in the middle of a Chinese city and no one would question it or lend a hand. “I need some good old Euro-trash tourists around me,” Jayms muttered. Then, like mana from heaven, he saw a sign right across the street in big English letters: Forbidden City Treasures Exhibit. “I love all things forbidden.” He smiled and raced toward the entrance still wearing his warrior mask and costume, with the sword tucked into his belt. As luck would have it, Topnot ninja and his gang came stumbling out of the theater just in time to see Jayms enter the exhibit. Jayms needed to work the crowd, so he walked quickly and quietly around a matronly tour guide, trying to become part of the group as she talked to about forty mostly female, mostly elderly tourists. They were standing in front of a large display of terra-cotta Chinese warriors, dressed in the same style as his costume. “Oh, you must be from the museum,” the old lady observed, before he’d had a chance to remove his mask. “How lovely.” “This gentleman is dressed exactly like the one hundred life-sized, terra-cotta royal guards we have here on exhibit. They were found in the secret burial tomb of …” The word “burial” seemed to be the ninja’s entrance cue, because just then Topknot came whirling through the glass exhibition hall doors with his men. “So sorry, must run,” Jayms remarked to the old lady and raced for the nearest stairway. “Grandma, who was that masked man?” asked a little boy standing next to the old lady. For a moment, Jayms thought he was going to make it to the stairway, but Topknot and his ninja were clever enough to split up and circle in both directions and cut him off. As he stepped back towards the confused tour lady, Top- knot and his men circled around the terra-cotta soldiers toward Jayms from both directions. “What are you doing here?” the old lady tour leader snapped at Topknot. You are several centuries out of place and you’re a Japanese warrior, not Chinese. Can’t these special-event planners get anything right? Now get out of here. Shooo!” “Back off, you old biddy,” Topknot said in perfectly good English. “We just want him.” He pointed to Jayms. “And no one will get hurt.” GET CARRIED AWAY 175

“Nothing like having lots of men desperate to get their hands on you!” Jayms muttered. “Old Biddy? What did you call me?” The old lady reared up at that with her umbrella in hand. “I haven’t got time for this nonsense,” Topknot said as he shoved his way past her and knocked one of the terra-cotta warriors over. It crashed to the ﬂoor. “Party crasher!” Jayms shouted at him. “My Lord, what are you doing?!” screamed the tour guide as she started whacking the ninja with her umbrella. “Ladies!” she called out, and the rest of the group followed suit, each attacking whichever ninja was nearest to her. Jayms left his new-found lady friends to it, and made a hasty exit out the back entrance. Finally, luck gave him a lap dance as he raced around a corner and hopped into a cab. As he rode back to the hotel, the ninja were getting a whack job behind him. 39 GETTING RANDY

“How you doing, doc?” Precious asked Randy Dick. “You’ve got to stay with me, so keep talking.” “I’m okay,” he groaned as he struggled to keep from collapsing on the ﬂoor- board of the pedal cab. “Agents Boink and Swallow have an ambulance waiting just around this next corner. We’ll have you patched up in no time, and we’ll keep in direct contact with you during the rescue mission.” “The hell you will!” the doctor snarled. “I’m going with you boys!” Further conversation was interrupted, as Precious turned the corner into the waiting arms of the CIA operatives and the private ambulance they had standing by. “We’ll take it from here, Mr. Needmoore,” Agent Boink called out as he rushed over with Agent Swallow and hoisted Dr. Dick onto a waiting gurney. “Thanks for getting our man safely back to us, Mr. Needmoore,” Agent Swal- low said. “Where is Mr. Blonde?” I’m not exactly sure, Agent Swallow, but my boyfriend’s butch so there’s gonna be trouble.” Precious winked. “He should be back at the hotel soon, and when he gets there we’ll put our heads together and something will come up.”

176 40 COME HERE OFTEN?

By the time Jayms arrived back at the hotel, Precious had triangulated the where- abouts of Chaz. It seemed that Zaroya had been holding out on all of them. She had another island in the middle of the ocean that was not on the charts. Precious had Woody and Sum Yung organizing the posse while Jayms decided to see if he could gather some extrasensory intelligence from Mr. Kummalot, who still had a promise to keep. “Oh, the men I do for my country,” he sighed, as he knocked on Harri’s door. “Coming …” Jayms heard Kummalot’s voice call through the door. “Gee, he is psychic.” Jayms smiled. But Harri didn’t smile when he opened the door. “Mr. Blonde! What do you want?” He looked Jayms up and down as he stood there wearing nothing but a knotted bath towel that gave Jayms naughty thoughts. “Some lip service,” Jayms said as he grabbed the back of Harri’s head and pulled him into a hard, thirsty kiss. Jayms figured he must be telepathic too, because as soon as he locked lips with him, Kummalot pulled him through the doorway and kicked it shut. Jayms yanked the knot on Harri’s towel, and pulled it off. Harri wrapped his legs around Jayms like a cummerbund. Jayms had thoughtfully worn a simple T- shirt and sweat pants, so in five seconds flat, the clothes were off and the lights were out.

177 41 MOMMY DEAREST

While Jayms was giving dose after dose of Sodium Pentothal to Harri in the most erotic ways, a new dude-in-distress entered the story: Bruno Sylva. He was being held captive by his own mother in a chamber located beneath the secret volcano missile silo on Zaroya’s secret island. “How’s my little prince?” Sylvia asked as she rushed into the stark windowless room that had imprisoned Bruno Sylva for the last week. “Nana!” The tall, attractive, auburn haired young man cried out in relief as they hugged each other. “Hello, Mrs. Shrubwell.” Bruno’s six-foot tall, tattooed, three-hundred-pound female bodyguard grunted. “Hi, Helga. I’ve been asking for you. Haven’t had a descent massage in weeks. But now that I know where to ﬁnd you, I’ll give you a ring.” Sylvia patted Helga’s arm like she’d pat a puppy. “Do you think I could have a little moment alone with my baby here?” “Sure thing, ma’am.” Helga nodded. “Give ’em a little space, doc,” Helga commanded the androgynous-looking female doctor who shrugged a bored acceptance and crossed to the far end of the room where she picked up a magazine and pretended to read. “You look great, Baby!” Sylvia smiled as she pushed him away to get a look at him. “That Clinique moisturizer is doing wonders, and I love the way you’ve shaped your eyebrows!” “I had the same makeup man who tweezes Brook Shields’ ﬂown in to do them. Unfortunately, he didn’t stop at the eye brows, which got my male nurses

178 MOMMY DEAREST 179 going and that’s what wound up on the Internet and brought the wrath of Mother down upon us all! Nana! You have to …” “Shush!” she cut him off sharply. Then she turned to the female bodyguard and attending doctor she said, “Hey, ladies, I brought you both a gift pack of this year’s new line of Shrubwell talking vibrators. But my back was giving me problems, so I had to set them down on the ﬂoor back by the elevator. Seems this joint doesn’t come with porters! Can one of you go grab ’em for me?” “Sure, Mrs. Shrubwell,” the large bodyguard answered with a girlish tone, then rushed out the door. “Wait, I’ll help you, Helga!” called the female doctor as she raced out after her. 180 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Lesbians.” Sylvia smiled and patted Bruno’s cheek. “They just love their toys.” She winked at Bruno. “And your Nana just loves their money! Now listen, baby. Nana has a lovely birthday gift in tow for you, and a plan to get you out of this dump.” “Oh, Nana!” He hugged her ﬁercely. “I knew I could count on you! What’s the plan and where’s my present?” “Well, honey, it’s a case of who’s your present, and that will have to wait until after we put the plan into action.” “What’s the plan?” he asked. “Not enough time for that, sweetie. Just be ready to rock and roll when I come for you, and keep the faith, Baby. Nobody’s taking my little prince to the moon unless he’s a highly trained, drop-dead gorgeous personal escort, keeping it earth- bound in a hotel. And I don’t care how big your mama’s spaceship is!” “Do you really think she’d do that to me?” Bruno gasped. “Honey, she’s all ready to turn your sperm into a take-out stand on the moon for all of her man-hating handmaidens so she can breed a bunch of great-grand kids for me and a dozen more tax shelters for her!” “Doesn’t she care if I’m happy or not?” “NOT is the operative word there, my darling baby boy,” Sylvia cried as she hugged him to her buoyant breasts. “Watch it, Nana, those things can smother a man if you’re not careful.” “They certainly left a few of them gasping,” Sylvia giggled as she pushed him away. “God bless silicone, I always say. But try not to aggravate your mother tonight. Just play along with whatever she says until we get you out of here.” “I will, Nana. The last thing I want is to be stranded on an airless rock, thousands of miles away from the nearest gay bar at happy hour with a couple of homophobic heterosexual astronauts lusting over a bunch of lesbian moon maid- ens.” “Oh, you can paint a pretty picture when you want to, can’t you, Baby?” Sylvia giggled as she sat down on the leather couch provided by the resident psy- chiatrist and patted the spot next to her for Bruno to sit. “But it’s gonna be much bleaker than that if we don’t get you out of here tonight,” she told him. “’Cause if your mama has her way, the only man on the moon is going to be you!” 42 MAMA GOOGLE

Halfway around the world, Mama still needed to know what was cooking. She walked into the communication center. The S.T.O.P. ops crew was keeping close tabs on the large wall map ahead of them showing an aerial view of the Hong Kong Islands off the coast of mainland China. A dotted red line traced the path of a tiny icon of a submarine. On the desk in front of her was a twenty-inch, ﬂat- screen monitor that Mama kept glancing at every few seconds. “Any news?” Mama asked. “The ship, or rather submarine as we’ve determined by satellite, has held a steady course of 20 degrees, 32 minutes, north by 123 degrees, 2 minutes, east. It seems to be slowing to a stop and the only land mass nearby is this island,” one of the operators told her. Then he entered a number of keystrokes and the giant map on the wall zoomed down and showed the topography of the land mass in the middle of an open sea. “Don’t you just love Google Earth?” Mama purred. “It’s not on any of our charts.” “Yes, but nobody fools Mama Google.” she smiled. “Any visual or audio from the mole camera?” “Just a bunch of mufﬂed voices and blackness. They must have him heavily blindfolded.” Suddenly there was a grunt and the blackness on the screen disappeared as the camera fuzzed up for a moment and automatically refocused. “Blow me!” Mama said. “It’s Christmas in Taiwan!” A distorted close-up of Vichyssoise growling into the camera appeared, as she shook Chaz.

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“On your feet, yah little faggot. I’m not going to carry you off this friggin’ ship!” Vichyssoise’s face snarled, as she jerked Chaz up onto his feet as the camera swung up and down and back and forth. “It’s the Blair Bitch Project,” Mama quipped, “The camera that can’t stay still!” “Give me a chance, will you?” They heard Chaz’s voice whine as his head turned toward Vichyssoise’s snarling face glaring at him nose to nose. “That poor child needs a major facial. She’s got clogged pores for days!” Mama gasped. “What the hell did you give me?” Chaz gasped. “My head feels like spandex on an elephant!” He groaned again as his head turned sideways to reveal Dr. Xang reaching out to him. MAMA GOOGLE 183

“Be careful, young man. This is not a woman to cross,” Xang commented as he helped Chaz to steady himself and directed him to move straight forward. “Where the hell are we anyway?” he asked the doctor. “On a small turbo-powered submarine. We have arrived at our destination and are about to disembark,” the doctor whispered. “Just keep your mouth shut and don’t ask any questions, Princess, and you may get out of this alive,” Vichyssoise snapped at Chaz. “Girlfriend, you need a serious session at charm school,” Chaz retorted. Suddenly there was a whoosh of light and sound then, SMACK! and the camera picture jerked violently, then pointed to the ground. “Shut your trap!” Vichyssoise’s voice growled off camera. Suddenly the camera flipped upright and whirled to a stop as it squared off on Vichyssoise’s face. “Back off you $29.99 Ginso dyke,” Chaz sneered at her. “Oh, really? Let me tell you something, you kneeling mouthpiece! After Zaroya is through with you, I’ll change that pretty face of yours into something no one dates unless there’s a glory hole between you.” “Whoa, Ms. C., with no silent t!” Mama cried. “A plastic mask of you will do just fine,” Chaz hissed back. “Cat fight! Grab the popcorn!” Mama hollered. “I’m gonna Tevo this one for sure!” “Ladies!” Dr. Xang stepped forward. His outstretched arm blocked Chaz’s mole camera’s field of vision. All that transmitted was the doctor’s distorted palm. “I think Mrs. Chang has been waiting for our arrival and would appreciate us to enter all in one piece,” Xang admonished. “Damn!” Mama swore. “Just when it was getting juicy!” “Fine,” snapped Vichyssoise, as she reached past the doctor’s hand and grabbed Chaz by the front of his shirt. She hauled him past her and shoved him ahead of her. “Let’s move out, and shut up!” “Eat me!” Chaz grumbled softly. His hands came into view clutching at the rails of a ladder as he started to haul his way up into a darkened passageway. 43 SWAMI, HOW I LOVE YAH

“I have to switch from booty to duty if I’m gonna save the world today.” Jayms sighed. He slipped on his pants as he watched the steam rise off of Kummalot’s naked body. Jayms had used his best Joan Rivers “can we talk” impression and Harri had blabbed for an hour—every detail he knew!

184 SWAMI, HOW I LOVE YAH 185

“Jayms, let me come with you to the island!” sighed Kummalot. “Too dangerous.” Jayms shook his head as he slipped on his tennis shoes. “But where do I go now, what should I do?!” Harri did a little Scarlet O’Hara—he was still loopy from seven doses of Sodium Pentothal. “Zaroya will know I crossed her and come after me,” he said as he scrambled out of the bed to find some clothes. “I’m taking you to Swallow and Boink till I get back. You’ll be safe with them for now. “Be careful, Jayms, and remember what I told you,” Harri said. “You can’t fly anywhere near the island or sail within three miles of it without triggering the shields and laser cannon. And her sonar will track and destroy anything bigger than a dolphin.” “You learned all of this through the tarot cards?” Jayms shook his head in amazement. “No, from my sister Salima.” He smiled. “She’s Vichyssoise’s sous-chef. She used to be an electrical engineer but all the high-tech jobs were outsourced to Bangkok so she went into the service industry for job security.” “Smart girl,” Jayms noted as he slipped Harri’s turban back on his head. “Very! She was going to be part of the initial staff at Zaroya’s new Lunar Spa. Not only does she make the best curry dishes in the world, but she’s also a genius in zero-gravity hydroponics. The volcano that houses the missile silo on the island was first used to develop those systems because the dormant lava pools were close enough to the surface to provide thermal energy.” “What happened to her? Where is she now? Can you contact her so we can get her off the island?” “Oh, no, she fell in love with a dancer she met when he was doing an industrial for ZENRON, and ran off last week with him to Bollywood. My parents nearly burned my deck when I told them the cards told her to heed true love’s call.” “And what did your cards tell you today, Harri?” Jayms asked with a smile. “That I would be happy—but I’ll be sore in the morning.” Harri smiled. 44 STRANGE RELATIONS

Meanwhile, in a “clean room” at the CIA Chinese headquarters, an untapable phone conversation was taking place. “Dr. Randy Dick is coordinating the rescue efforts with S.T.O.P. and the CIA. The director asked me to send you his regards, Mama, and explained that I could trust S.T.O.P. and Jayms 100 percent. It seems you two have a history together?” “Let’s just say, in another life and under another name, we were once related.” Mama sighed. “It took a long time for him to realize that, just because I changed the way I look on the outside, the inside was still 100 percent American. No matter who is in the White House.” “I wish we had a different president in the White House, too, Mama, but we don’t and the director can’t take any overt action against Zaroya Chang. Even at that, we’ll be hard pressed to touch her and her fellow conspirators. One of our boys at the Pentagon is still particularly fond of Jayms and has ordered a submarine exercise in the vicinity of Zaroya’s secret island base. Should something blow up or explode in that quadrant, they would have to investigate.”

186 STRANGE RELATIONS 187 45 PINK BERETS

Back in their hotel room, Precious contacted Woody with the longitude and lati- tude of the uncharted island. This being Woody’s little corner of the world, he was already aware of the island, since it was not far from where he and Sum Yung had set up house to raise their dolphin squad. He contacted Jayms. “That information from Kummalot nails it down for sure,” Woody conﬁrmed over the videophone. “Sum Yung and I will be waiting for you with the dolphin squad, four miles off the leeward side of the island on my catamaran. I’m transmitting the coordinates to you now.” “We’ll see you in two hours.” Jayms waved at the Y-Pod and signed off.

188 46 NEXT TIME, USE FEDERAL EXPRESS

Zaroya was pacing in front of a twenty-foot-high, convex-glass atrium set into the solid rock walls of her private office, which was carved into the mountainside. Her office was flooded with light. The setting sun infused the sky with vibrant reds, yellows, and shades of deep purple that mingled together and seemed to wrestle for prismatic dominance. The convex shape of the atrium distorted the perspective of the vista causing it to loom toward the mountain like a finger pointing blame. “Where IS everybody?!” Zaroya raged to her mother. Sylvia was applying polish to her nails as she sat at Zaroya’s gigantic Louis XVI desk a half level below. The desk sat by itself in the center of the chamber on the central level, a full six feet above the entrance floor. The whole effect gave the desk the aura of a Judge’s bench in a sentencing scene from a space-age version of The Count of Monte Cristo. “Oh, ZaZa, come sit down and relax. You’re giving me whiplash. The world will still be there to blow up tomorrow, so what’s your hurry?” Sylvia asked. “Very funny, Mother! And, just to keep the record straight, I’m not blowing up the world, just crop dusting a competitive fuel source into oblivion!” Zaroya snapped. “Okay, I get the drift! Now come sit with me and we’ll have a nice girly moment doing our nails since you don’t have a manicurist in this dump to do it for us!”

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“Stop complaining, Mother, I can’t think of everything. You have no idea how much planning it takes to run an international cartel, host a beauty pageant, organize an international terrorist event, and decorate a dead volcano all at the same time. Staffing this place was a bitch!” Zaroya whined. “Yah, but you’re the right girl to do it, baby. And don’t think I’m not proud of you—I am. I just wish you’d make fewer decisions during PMS and spend a little more time worrying about the common people, Sweetie,” Sylvia explained soothingly. “Somebody has to suffer for my wealth and beauty, is my motto, so it might as well be them.” “Okay, let’s not talk shop. Let’s have a nice bit of tea and bring Bruno and Cognac down to have it with us.” “Nice try, Mother, but Bruno stays under lock and key until we take off for the moon, and so does your little dog. I’m not having him peeing all over my volcano.” “He’s all right now, honey, he was just a little air sick from the helicopter ride,” Sylvia said. “Well, both he and Bruno are in the dog house until I finish launching my missiles—which would be done by now, if everybody got off their duffs and did what they were supposed to, when they were supposed to! Like deliver the goddamn virus and haul their asses from Beijing to the office on time!” Zaroya raged her way back into a tantrum. “WHERE THE HELL IS EVERYBODY?!” she screamed. “Here I am, Mistress,” Vichyssoise called out as the door on the floor below swung open and Chaz was shoved roughly through the opening. He was immediately followed by Vichyssoise and Doctor Xang. “Vichy!” Zaroya whirled around to glare from the upper level down at her subordinate. “What on earth took you so long? I expected you hours ago!” “There were several military cruisers in the area, so we had to wait until they had passed far enough out of range to avoid sonar detection.” “Oh, hell! I’d tell you to just blow them up if those damn ships weren’t such gas guzzlers,” Zaroya mused. “That’s right, ZaZa, you can’t blow up the big buck customers—it’s bad for business,” Sylvia quipped. “Hi, Chaz, baby. Good to see you.” “I can’t say I’m exactly thrilled to be seen, Sylvia. Are you part of this whole twisted plot?” Vichyssoise slapped Chaz across the back of his head. NEXT TIME, USE FEDERAL EXPRESS 191

“Hands off, lesbo!” Sylvia stood up and snarled. “That boy is under my protection from now on, and if you hit him one more time you’ll never ride a vibrator to heaven again.” Sylvia suddenly got an idea. “Chaz, are you any good with nail polish and an emery board?” “Not now, Mother! I’m under a deadline here. The shipment with the guidance system and the virus was due here by 11:00 AM. We’ve missed a whole after- noon of media coverage. I was supposed to be on Oprah tomorrow and now I’ll never make it on time!” “They still have time to deliver, Mistress,” Vichyssoise informed her. “We can still fire the missiles tonight, cause destruction, and have an international incident in time for tomorrow.” “Do you think coordinating international evil, assassinating ambassadors, poi- soning husbands, dealing with incompetent therapists for my hormonal nympho- maniac son, and tracking a missing overnight delivery package is easy?” Zaroya ranted as she stormed down two flights of stairs to stand glaring in front of Vich- yssoise and Dr. Xang. “No,” both Vichyssoise and Dr. Xang gulped in perfect synchronicity. “I should say not!” Zaroya glared back at them. “I do have a life aside from global domination. And I still have to decide on the color scheme and wallpaper to take to the lunar spa!” “Honey, you should have let Bruno do that for you in the first place. Decorat- ing is his business, after all, and it would look great on his resume,” Sylvia commented, and then suddenly brightened with another idea. “Oh, ZaZa, I know! I love playing with swatches! Why don’t you let Chaz and me do that for you? It will give me something to do while you, the doctor, and little Miss Vicious go start a war and explode a few missiles.” “I can’t start my war, mother, because—in case you haven’t heard—I DON’T HAVE MY GUIDANCE SYSTEM YET!” Zaroya screamed. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door to the chamber, which then swung open, and a man in a DHL uniform entered with a dolly carrying a stack of boxes. “I have a delivery here for a Mrs. Zaroya Chang,” the deliveryman grunted in a bored tone as he snapped his gum and shoved a pen and clipboard in Zaroya’s direction. “You’re eight hours late!” Zaroya screeched as she shoved her way past Vichys- soise to stand glaring at the DHL man and his clipboard. The deliveryman shrugged his shoulders and waved the clipboard at her to sign for the shipment. 192 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Hey, lady, you’re the one with the unlisted island. What do you want from me? Do you want the packages or not?” Zaroya whirled around, snatched a gun out of Vichyssoise’s belt, and shot him. “Aaaah gull-ech-eeech ech rgh!” The DHL man gasped in shock. “I want you to cancel my account!” Zaroya answered sweetly as the man ﬁnally collapsed on the ﬂoor—with a bullet through his head.

“Next time …” Zaroya turned and waved the gun at Dr. Xang and Vichys- soise, “… use Federal Express!” “Yes, Mistress,” they said as one. NEXT TIME, USE FEDERAL EXPRESS 193

“Now get him out of here and get those missiles loaded and launched!” Zaroya waved the gun at the packages and at the man. “I am running out of time,” she snapped, and she shoved the gun back in Vichyssoise’s hand. “What about him?” Vichyssoise waved the gun at Chaz. “Oh, let him pick colors with Mother until we’re ready. Just send a couple of guards here to watch them while I go for my massage. All this tension is giving me a pain in my neck, and with as many Botox shots I’ve had lately, that’s saying a lot.” 47 FLY ME TO THE MOON

Compared to other forms of transportation, the Bumble Packs were amazingly quiet. You could get as close as five or six feet before anyone could hear the hum or feel the push of the air. There really was some kind of antigravity field generated by these puppies. And speed? You just thought “zoom” and you did. Jayms and Precious lifted off from the balcony of their hotel room and zipped across the sky at a few hundred miles an hour without batting an eye. Somehow, the gravity field protected them from the blast of wind they expected to press against their faces. It was like flying in a bubble. Woody was transmitting a homing beacon to their wrist screens so they flew straight to him through the black velvet sky with just a kiss of wind slipping through the power sphere around them. Precious and Jayms sang “I’m Flying” from Peter Pan about six times, and then switched to “Up, Up And Away” by the Fifth Dimension. Next they did a rousing version of “Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang” followed by “Fly Me To The Moon” and “Beyond The Blue Horizon,” ending with a rousing rendition of “Leaving on a Jet Plane” as a tribute to Peter, Paul—and sounding so Mary. Just imagine some poor fisherman looking up into the night sky and seeing two men zipping through the heavens, singing show tunes with slightly off-color, improvised lyrics! They were half hoarse and totally off key as they zoomed down toward the catamaran. Woody caught them with a beam of light about twenty feet up in the air as they settled slowly toward his deck and did a little pre- rehearsed spin and bow as they touched down. “I don’t believe my own eyes,” Woody gasped.

194 FLY ME TO THE MOON 195

“Sugarplum fairies at your service, sir!” Jayms and Precious said in unison, then smirked and mentally commanded their wings to fold up into the diagonal slats in the back of the Bumble Packs. “Where did you get those?” Sum Yung whispered in awe. “I saw them at a costume shop in Chelsea and just had to have them!” Jayms replied. “Kiss and tell, Jayms!” Woody cried. “A lesbian bug freak and astrophysicist living in Brazil discovered the secret to the flight of the bumble bee. She made a couple of Bumble Pack test models and sent them to S.T.O.P. the day before she was killed and the secret to their design died with her. We’ve got the only ones left, and if you’re very good, you can play with them after we blow up the island and get back here with Chaz. Fair enough?” “Okay, by me! But why didn’t you just fly right to the island with these?” Woody asked. “We need to enter the submarine base through an underwater tunnel to get to the missile silo and rescue Chaz. When we get back with Chaz, we’ll hand him over to the CIA who will rendezvous with us here,” Jayms informed them. “So, you’ve called in the Marines. I didn’t think you wanted that big a crowd on this.” “No, Woody, the United States can’t touch ZENRON or Zaroya. The current White House is sleeping with half the enemies. This will be an accidental rescue mission as a U.S. submarine will just be coincidentally in the neighbor- hood when we blow up the missile silo. After they take off with Chaz, you and Sum Yung can take off in these while Precious and I can have dolphin time.” “Cool!” Sum Yung cried. “Now, where are the kids?” Jayms asked. “Have they arrived yet?” Then showing terrific form, Sum Yung vaulted over the railing and did a backflip with a double twist into a perfect swan dive. With barely a splash, he slipped into the indigo waters of the sea, right through the center of the full moon reflected on its surface. “Wow!” Precious gasped. “If you think that’s good, you should see him dive into bed,” Woody winked. Suddenly, four dolphins rose up out of the water. Sum Yung was riding one of them. “Green Police Dolphin Squad ready and waiting!” Sum Yung saluted from the back of his dolphin. “This is soooooo cool!” Precious giggled. 196 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Wait till you meet my pet killer whale, Sushi,” Woody smiled. Jayms and Precious slipped off their Bumble Packs and handed them to Woody as they stripped down (without music) and slid into their bullet-proof wet suits. They were standard, deep-sea issues that had an extra outer layer of the Teﬂon mesh that was stronger than titanium, making them shark proof and bullet proof at the same time—sort of mermaid chain mail. By the time they were ready, Sum Yung was waiting with Woody to distribute the rest of the equipment. “In order to avoid setting off a sonar warning with metal air tanks, you will be relying primarily on masks and snorkels,” Woody explained. “However, the underwater tunnel may take several minutes to traverse and you may need to go deep and hide for various reasons. So, each of you has a shoulder harness contain- ing three small ceramic canisters of air that will last up to ten minutes each.” “Here are your transmitter bands.” Woody handed them three black, thick, smooth bracelets that looked like slices of rubber tire, with no markings or breaks of any kind on their surface. “Slip these on and whenever they are in the water they transmit a call signal to the dolphins, bringing them to you. There is an extra one for Chaz.” “Sum Yung will take you in and stay within the base harbor with the squad, waiting to pick you up. When you get back with Chaz, just use your canisters and swim down into the water. Sum Yung and the squad will retrieve you,” Woody ﬁnished. “All right, little mermaids,” Jayms said, “let’s go kick the sea hag’s ass, save the handsome prince, and restore peace and beauty to the world once more.” 48 KISSING COUSINS

Sylvia entered Bruno’s detention chamber with Chaz and two armed male guards trailing behind her. They were all encumbered with swatch books and paint chips. Bruno sat petting Cognac, who was snuggled in his lap. Helga, his female Amazonian guard, looked up from the TV, which was playing female mud wres- tling. “Ruff! Ruhruhruhruh ruff!” Cognac barked out a greeting to Sylvia. “What are you men doing in here?” Helga demanded. “Cognac! Come to mama, baby!” Sylvia cooed. “There are no men allowed in this room,” Helga hissed at the two-armed guards. “Get out! Now!” she yelled and stamped her foot. “Oh, sorry, boys! I forgot,” Sylvia said to them. Cognac raced back and forth across the couch. It was too high and his legs were too short—he couldn’t jump down. Bruno just stared in utter surprise and amazement at Chaz. “You two just wait outside. Okay?” Sylvia smiled at the guards, wiggled them a friendly wave as they turned to leave, and grabbed the swatches they were carrying. “Him too!” Helga pointed to Chaz, who was glancing around nervously until his eyes landed on Bruno, who was staring back at him with rapture. “Oh, no, honey, this is Chaz, my nephew, and Bruno’s assistant.” Sylvia smacked Chaz on the arm to get his attention and over pronounced her words to get Bruno’s.

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“Look who Nana brought you, Bruno, just like she promised—your cousin Chaz, your design assistant.” Sylvia enunciated excruciatingly. “Oh, hi, Chaz!” Bruno chimed. “Love the new hairdo. Barely recognized you as a brunette.” Bruno walked quickly over to them and handed Cognac to Sylvia. “I could really use a hand with … aah …,” Bruno looked at Sylvia for guidance. “With all the swatches!” Sylvia jumped in to complete the sentence. “Can you believe all this stuff is just for one little hundred-room lunar spa?” Sylvia smiled at Helga as she and Chaz held up the swatch books and paint chip wheels. Sylvia turned to Bruno. “Your mother wants you guys to finalize the color schemes and give her the list within the next hour so she can get the materials flown over for tomorrow’s launch. There may not be any atmosphere on the moon, but there will be even less in the spa if you guys don’t get the job done.” “I have explicit orders from Mrs. Chang not to let any male within twenty feet of her son, including a blow up doll,” Helga stammered, confused and unsure. “Listen, Helga, my daughter is tied up with terrorists at the moment and needs to delegate a little authority to get things done in time. Where do you think I found Chaz? Down in the cafeteria? She had him flown over for an emergency meeting because she’s running out of time.” She took a deep breath. “And I am running out of patience when it comes to having everything I say challenged. This is my daughter’s secret volcanic island and this is my grandson. He is my daughter’s personal decorator and Chaz is his personal assistant. Now that you have the entire family tree etched in your brain, can we please let these boys do what they need to do?” Sylvia gasped, nearly out of breath from the disserta- tion. “Besides I need a moment with you alone to talk about some girl stuff while they focus on drapes, wallpaper, paint chips, and things.” “Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!” Cognac barked as he jumped up and licked Sylvia’s face, breaking the tension. Bruno grabbed one of the big swatch books by Sylvia’s feet and smiled at Chaz. “Let’s lay these things out on the couch,” Bruno suggested as he played along. “The lighting there is much better than any place else in this room.” “Let’s leave the boys to themselves and have our private little talk outside.” Sylvia cradled Cognac in one arm and slipped her other arm through Helga’s and swung her toward the door. “The doctor is out on lunch. I can’t leave them alone,” protested Helga. “We’re just stepping outside for a moment. They’re not going anywhere.” “But he’s a male,” Helga pleaded. KISSING COUSINS 199

“Only in his dreams, honey. But don’t worry, they’re cousins. Chaz is my half brother Harvey’s son. Harvey’s a bit of a drunk, a gambler, and a terrible dresser, but the kid’s okay and ya need to do what you can for family, right?” Sylvia smiled and coaxed Helga out the door. The two male guards stood at attention outside. “Only for a moment, Mrs. Shrubwell, if you’re sure it’s really all right.” “Trust me, Sweetie. Now what I wanted to ask you about is.…” Sylvia paused to look at both the male guards, and then she moved Helga a few steps farther away before she continued. “I wanted to see if you’d be interested in being a field tester for my new double-sided deluxe Dutch model. It’s a great way to meet other women.” Before Helga could answer they heard a crash and the sound of ripping cloth. “What in hell is going on in there?!” Helga turned back toward the door as the male guards were about to open it and check on the noise. “Stand back!” Helga snarled at them. “No men allowed inside that room.” “Helga, honey, I’m sure it’s nothing.” “What was that crash, then?” she glared at Sylvia. “Some of those swatch books are heavy as hell! One might have knocked over a vase on the desk or something. Let’s finish our little talk while they get down to business, huh?” Sylvia cooed. “Oh, Daddy!” Chaz’s voice shouted from behind the door. “What kind of business are they getting down to, Mrs. Shrubwell?” Helga glared at Sylvia as she pushed past her and reached for the doorknob. “They’re collaborating on some interior work,” Sylvia gasped as she tried to block Helga’s path again. Unfortunately, Bruno’s voice rang out from the other side of the door with, “Take it bitch! Take it all!” Helga shoved Sylvia aside unceremoniously and flung open the door to reveal Bruno standing naked with Chaz’s legs wrapped around him, and his back on the leather couch, his arms spread wide as his hands gripped the edges. “What the hell is going on in here?!” Helga shouted at Bruno. “Just giving cousin Chaz some dictation,” Bruno gulped as the two of them quickly scrambled for their clothes. “Cousins, you said?” Helga turned around and glared at Sylvia. “I guess I forgot to mention they were kissing cousins.” 49 DOLPHINS AT THE GATE

Memories of the Atlantis Project and all the good times with Woody came flood- ing back to Jayms as he glided through the waters clinging to the dorsal fin of his dolphin. The animals were trained to rise to the surface within snorkel range every ninety seconds until a dive command was given. The human partner could also send the dolphin to the surface with a pat on the blowhole, which was at the back of the melon (the mound of flesh above their eyes that emitted the sonar waves). The China Sea, or at least the part of it that is not severely polluted by Chinese industrial waste, is gorgeous. The world above truly lives in ignorance of the boundless beauty of the seas. Finding Nemo exposed the reality of its lushness to a new generation of children. If they could just be taught to love and respect the oceans and grow up bent on protecting them, the world might have a fighting chance. The world was damn lucky it had Woody and Sum Yung on its side. Sum Yung and Precious seemed to bond instantly. Jayms was so glad to have Woody back in the fold, and the fact they both had adorable, bright young lovers kept the equation balanced and worked as a safety net for their friendship. The new dolphin squad Woody and Sum Yung had raised were an amazing, bright flamingo pink like Elvis, Sony, and Cher had been. Actually, when Elvis was born, he was gray like any other dolphin. They turn pale gray and then pink as they mature. The fresh-water river dolphins in the Amazon are pinkish grey, too, but not as pink as the harbor dolphins, which accessorize much nicer with the indigenous coral.

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There is nothing in the world like zooming through water clutching a dolphin’s dorsal ﬁn—feeling the power and majesty of a creature beneath you that glides up to the surface to let you breathe in the smoothest rhythm like a long- time lover. As Jayms glided through the water clinging to Doc, with Happy swimming unencumbered to his right, he noticed Precious was getting along well with Grumpy. He instinctively seemed to know just how tight to hold onto the dorsal ﬁn and arch his back to raise his snorkel just above the water line to catch his breath. 202 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

A few minutes later, Sum Yung gave the signal for them to dive and switch to the canisters. Jayms glanced over to make sure Precious got the signal to switch over to air, and then he reached for his own. Sneezy was the name of Sum Yung’s dolphin. (It seems Sum Yung was a Disney kid from way back, where Woody and Jayms tended to name kids after rock stars.) They dove steadily downward to about fifty feet where they could see the opening to a large underwater tunnel that was carved out of the rock and led deep into the island. Sum Yung, Precious, Doc, Happy, Sneezy, Grumpy, and Jayms swam down into the dungeon of the wicked witch to save a son of Dorothy and make sure that, when the sun next rose in the east, popcorn still popped. They passed swiftly and silently through the eerie phosphorescent glow of the lichen that clung to the rock-hewn walls of the submarine tunnels. They could feel the water growing warmer as they drew closer to the end of the tunnel. The center of the underground submarine bay was lit by giant lamps, hung on steel arches that spanned the marina. The light penetrated down into the water and clung to the upper thirty or forty feet, then fused out to the dark edges like a cloudy looking ghost in a sci-fi movie. It seemed to float through the water in and out of the walls, and curve around the bottom bellies of the submarines like the oily sheen on a fish, or lubricant on a hot date. Woody and Jayms had worked out all the logistics before they left, so as soon as the squad entered the submarine bay Jayms handed bags of explosives and timers to Precious and Sum Yung, who took off in opposite directions to set the explosives on the supporting posts of the docks while Jayms took care of the submarines. Nice equipment, too. Zaroya had two Kovalev atomic submarines with 100,000 horsepower propul- sion marines, first launched by the Russians back in 1980—the last, and one of the best, of the cold war submarines. They looked brand, spanking new—or fresh out of dry dock—with some interesting modifications. The original armament package for each consisted of twenty ballistic rocket launchers, eight missile launchers; 4 x 533 mm torpedo batteries, and 2 x 650 mm torpedo batteries. God knows what nasty toys had been added to that group, but they were nothing to mess with. What Jayms guessed was that Zaroya’s private submarine was the modified Laivateollisuus. It had a displacement 24500/33800 tons at a length of 175 meters, a width of 22.8 meters, a draft of 11.5 meters, and it was capable of supporting a crew of 150 men (50 officers) at a speed of 27 knots. Of course, Zaroya couldn’t resist the chance to fool with Mother Nature, so she apparently had it plated in gold—to match the set of balls she must carry around with her. It was a DOLPHINS AT THE GATE 203 bit over the top, but also very efficient, since gold is the only metal that won’t corrode in salt water. They completed placing the explosives in less than three minutes and met back near the tunnel entrance. “Okay, Sum Yung,” said Jayms, having slipped off his snorkel, “the explosives are set, and you have the remote detonator. No matter what happens, this base has to be destroyed. If we can’t make it out, I will transmit the destruct orders that will activate the lovely little red skull-and-crossed-bones logo on the upper left corner of the detonator screen. That means you take Doc, Happy, Grumpy, and Wheezy out of here immediately, and, as soon as you clear the entrance to the tunnel, you blow this joint to New Jersey!” “Got it.” He nodded. “Everybody set?” Jayms asked. “Ready.” They both nodded. “Precious, do you have a clear signal on Chaz?” he asked, as he pulled out his Y-Pod in a sealed case and flipped it on. “Yep, I’ve got a lock on him. He’s dead center in the volcano, which puts him at the mission control for the missile silo. Zaroya must be keeping him close at hand.” “Sounds like we’d better get moving then,” Jayms ordered. “Happy is going to create a distraction so you can get up to the docks and past the guards,” Sum Yung told them as he turned to the dolphin and uttered a series of clicks and squeaks that sent it into a dive. “You actually speak dolphin?” Precious gasped. “My parents were drowned in a sudden storm a few leagues from here when I was three. The dolphins saved me and carried me to a small island nearby and I grew up with them, not even seeing another human for ten years. A research team headed up by Dr. Barry Cuda and Woody found me. The rest is family history.” “Wow!” they both sighed, looking at this amazing young man with new respect. (That’s one of the major differences between gay secret agents and the heterosexual ones—they’re very chatty.) “We’ve got a lot to catch up on after this gig, so let’s get going,” said Jayms. “Grumpy, Sneezy, and Happy will wait here for you under the docks and come to you as soon as you enter the water.” “Eeeeeh eeeeeh Eeeeeeh!” They all turned at the sound of a dolphin’s cry as Happy rose up out of the water in front of the guardhouse and swam backwards rising up out of the water on his tail fin. 204 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“Okay, like Woody says, ‘It’s show time!’” Sum Yung slid his snorkel gear into place, smiled behind his mask, and slipped under the water with just his snorkel above the surface. Next, Precious and Jayms dove deep beneath the lighted levels of the water, clinging to their dolphins as they sped toward the pylons of the docks. Less than a minute later, they rose up under the pier dead center in front of the guardhouse. A large knothole that had broken open in the planking gave Jayms a perfect view. The two guards had apparently been playing cards and eat- ing sandwiches when Happy started his dance. “Hey, he looks just like Flipper on those late night reruns,” one of the guards said. “Maybe he could smell your tuna fish sandwich and wants a snack,” chided the other guard. “Yeah! Let’s see if he likes it,” the first guard said. He broke off a small piece of his sandwich and tossed it toward Happy. Happy saw the tidbit arch upward into the air and over the water, and he surged up and snagged the treat with an audible gulp. Then he dove back under the water. A second later, he soared up into the air in a perfect backwards flip. The guards exploded into applause and Happy was clacking and squeaking with joy ready to do it all again. 50 A TIT FOR TAT CHAT

Woody was seated in the small cabin beneath the main mast of his catamaran with a series of screens in front of him and a Y-Pod screen filled with the face of Mama on his lap. “So far everything seems quiet, Mama,” Woody said, scanning the row of screens in front of him. “There’s no sign of the U.S. sub on my sonar screen yet. No energy blips on the sensor screens to indicate launch preparations, and the boys have made it into the harbor and appear to have just separated, which is all according to plan.” “Sounds like everything’s fine and dandy, Sugar,” Mama beamed up from the screen on his lap. “Yeah,” sighed Woody, “if you like sitting around on your bum while a pod of dolphins that represent your life’s work and the two men you love the most swim off to risk death and destruction, leaving you behind to mind the fort.” “Someone had to stay behind as a reserve and to coordinate the rendezvous with the submarine, Woody. There wasn’t any other choice,” Mama tried to sooth his agitation. “Besides, it’s Jayms we’re talking about,” Mama’s reassuring smile flashed up at Woody from the screen. “Jayms always gets his man. Then has a good time with him before he gives him back.”

205 51 PAYBACK’S A BITCH IN CHIC CLOTHING

Happy’s little dance did the trick and gave Precious and Jayms plenty of time to sneak up the ladder onto the docks and out into the cavern tunnels. They left their wet suits on and slipped into the shoes they had brought in their diving bags as they stashed their ﬂippers under the steps leading down from the docks to the entrance of the cavern tunnels. The wood of the docks indicated that the pier was only a year or two old. It was also clear that the tunnels that led into what was a vast natural cavern had also been mechanically widened and shaped in recent years. “Zaroya must have started building this joint on her honeymoon with General Chang,” Jayms whispered. “The poor bastard lasted two years before she poi- soned him—practically a record with her husbands.” “The place could use a spot of color and some fabric here or there to give it a little warmth,” Precious muttered. “Actually, the C-4 explosives we just planted are gonna give the place a lot of warmth in about ﬁfteen minutes,” Jayms chuckled. While Jayms entertained dreams of explosive decorating, Precious scanned for the tracking signal on his Y-Pod. “Jayms, Chaz is moving toward us!” Precious hissed, just as the sounds of whirling tires, marching feet, and Zaroya’s nasal voice drifted down the tunnel toward them.

206 PAYBACK’S A BITCH IN CHIC CLOTHING 207

“Sounds like a large group,” Jayms muttered as his military senses took charge and he set his ear to the ground to get a sense of their approach. He looked around them and realized they needed some real cover. “No place to hide here, we’ll have to hide on the other side of the entrance,” Jayms whispered and dropped to a crawl. He had heard the sounds of Happy’s squeaks and clicks end a few seconds earlier. So, whatever distraction the dolphin had provided was over and they needed to stay low and out of sight. As quickly and as quietly as possible they scooted through the cavern entrance back into the submarine base. The sound of the marching feet and Zaroya’s inane chatter grew closer and closer as they crawled low enough to the ground to avoid the notice of the guards, and back to the other side where they found a vantage point that gave them a view of what passed by. Jayms could tell the group was getting close by the clarity of Zaroya’s voice as she gave an order to his least favorite lesbian. Her voice rose over the sound of marching feet. “Vichy, after the missile launch, call the Imperial Spa in Hong Kong and have them send a manicurist over. I need a decent manicure before I go to the moon—since you shot Bruce yesterday, which leaves me without a manicurist on my staff.” “You are more twisted than a ’60s B-movie horror queen,” Chaz snarled at Zaroya until Vichyssoise reached back and slapped him—again. “Ahh!” Chaz gasped. “If the missiles launch successfully, you will be redundant,” Zaroya sneered. “So I suggest you shut up and don’t upset anyone, or I’ll let you play hide-and- seek in the barracuda tank.” “Stop that!” Sylvia snapped at Zaroya. “He’s a nice boy. Why did you even bother to kidnap him in the ﬁrst place, ZaZa?” “I always have a backup plan, Mother. Besides, I needed a new dress.” “You certainly do, dear,” Jayms whispered to Precious. “Screw the dress,” Precious whispered back. “Did you see her shoes? Quel blasé!” “You’re right. What she needs is a nice beaded clutch to create an ensemble.” “She doesn’t know how to accessorize,” Precious mumbled. “But I think Chaz looks good, considering everything.” “He does, but the ﬁrst thing we need to do after we rescue him is give him some highlights!” Jayms whispered back. “Stop sulking, Mother!” Zaroya snapped just as a deluxe gold golf cart rolled past the open archway. 208 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

Zaroya was reclining on a divan languidly holding a gun on Chaz. Vichyssoise was behind the wheel. Sylvia Shrubwell was sitting glumly in the backseat staring at a trailer hitched to the back of the cart. There were six missiles in the cart. Half a dozen marching men brought up the rear of the parade. “As soon as these missiles impact and spread the virus,” Zaroya continued to chatter, “it will be high time for a break, and you and Bruno and I will have some quality time together.” Zaroya tried to sound conciliatory toward her mother. “Oh yes, and we need a new pilot, too, since the kitties ate Humpit,” Zaroya added as the cart rolled on past. “@!#!” Jayms gasped in surprise as his brain was hammered with a flood of images of Hugh in bed with his incredible body and double-jointed flexibility. “You’re gonna pay for that one, bitch,” Jayms hissed louder than he should have. Thank God the whole uncontrolled reaction seemed to go unnoticed by the billionaire witch and her bitch behind the wheel. But Sylvia sat up and looked in their direction. “Hold it!” she shouted as she stood up and stopped the procession. “What is it, Mother?” Zaroya tensed and looked around. Vichyssoise slammed on the brakes. The marching soldiers stumbled into the trailer à la Keystone Kops. “@!#!” Jayms swore. “Get ready to rumble,” he whispered to Precious as they both switched off the safeties on the guns they had tucked in their holsters. “Where is Cognac?” Sylvia waved her arms in panic. “You left him with Bruno, Mother.” Zaroya and the rest of the group visibly relaxed. So did Jayms and Precious. “No, I didn’t!” Sylvia stomped her feet and lifted the empty dog carrier at her feet. “I had him in here. He must have jumped off the cart. We have to go back and look for him or he’ll get lost!” “I’m trying to start war today, Mother. I don’t have time to chase after your damn dog!” Zaroya screeched. “Don’t you yell at me. I don’t give a damn about your war, your Moon Spa, or your incessant need for global domination,” Sylvia yelled as she hopped off the cart. “You go blow up the world if you want to, but I’m gonna find my doggie!” Then she stomped back down the tunnel toward Jayms and Precious. “Let her go, dammit!” Zaroya exclaimed as Vichyssoise was about to jump down after her. “But when you ruin those Hermes sling-backs, Mother, I’m not buying you another pair!” Zaroya called after her. “Drive on,” she ordered Vichyssoise. PAYBACK’S A BITCH IN CHIC CLOTHING 209

“She’ll be back. She left her bonbons in the front seat and Mother goes nowhere without her chocolates.” With that, Vichyssoise grunted and threw the switch that sent the gilded golf cart forward. A few seconds later, they rounded the curve ahead and disappeared. “That bitch is gonna die for killing Hugh.” Jayms ﬁnally swore, and he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Sorry about Hugh, Jayms,” Precious whispered as they crawled through the entrance far enough to be out of sight of the harbor guards and struggled to their feet. Jayms shrugged. “I’ll deal with all that later, we’ve got a job to do now,” he said and stepped through the entrance in to the tunnel without looking both ways. “Hi, boys!” Sylvia’s voice came from behind Jayms. He whirled around to see her standing a yard away with a gun pointed right at him. “Shrubwell!” Jayms grunted. “Lower your gun, Blondie, and your little friend too, if you don’t want me to shoot that cute little butt of yours and bring my daughter’s army racing back here.” “I’m sorry, Ms. Shrubwell,” Jayms stammered without lowering his gun. “You can call me Sylvia, Blondie, and relax—I have no intention of stopping you from ruining my daughter’s plans.” Now Precious and Jayms were both surprised—and confused. “We’re gonna play ‘Let’s Make A Deal,’” she giggled. “You see, you want to save Chaz and the planet, and I want to save my grandson. So it just happens that neither one of us wants my daughter to have her way at the moment.” “Keep talking,” Jayms told her, as he got the feeling fortune had just smiled at him, and it wasn’t even sitting on his face. 52 TOO MANY DICK JOKES

Dr. Randy Dick and agents Swallow and Boink were sipping strong black coffee in the map room of a nuclear-class submarine as a sailor entered to speak to them. “The captain told me to let you know we will be in position to rendezvous with the ship in another ﬁfteen minutes, Agent Boink.” “Thank you, sailor,” Boink responded as he returned the salute dismissing the sailor, and turned back to look at Dick and Swallow. “Well, no missiles have launched yet, and the island seems to still be intact, so I guess we are right on time,” Swallow said. “Let’s hope our luck holds and Jayms blows things up before Zaroya shoots her missiles.” Dr. Dick sighed. “Let’s see if he’s as good at blowing things as he claims,” Swallow smirked. “Please don’t go there,” Dr. Dick growled.

210 53 A SISSY’S ASSESSMENT

It seemed to Chaz that they had been rolling down a series of endless gray tunnels for hours. This crappie garish golf cart really needs to get over itself, he thought. If Zaroya doesn’t stop playing Bette Davis with diarrhea of the mouth, I’ll vomit. He looked at her on her little gold cart like a lame drag queen on a sedan chair sans studs. Then there was Cruela DeDyke and her skunky hairdo, sitting next to her driving the cart with “attitude squared.” You’d think that bitch was Mario Andretti. I mean, HELLO! It’s a golf cart! He sniffed. The only decent person in the place, Chaz realized, was Sylvia, and she had bolted—leaving him high and dry. He hoped she was going back to help Bruno. What a babe and what a schlang! God knows how much he’s worth! Chaz thought. I could stay partially monogamous to a man like that for the rest of my life, he thought, dreamily. If his wallet is as big as he is, this could be true love. They kept rolling down the frigging tunnels, “Ms. Z” doing the yada, yada thing, and the soldiers, who were all Chinese doing their little precision marching drill with glazed-looking eyes. Finally the procession rolled into a small cavern where Dr. Xang awaited them. The whole chamber was blocked halfway across by two giant gold doors with the ZENRON logo carved on them. Whoever designed it needed serious anger management—it was this giant angry fist squeezing the globe like some bad ass squeezing your bladder during an FF date. “Soon that symbol will be flying on flags above all the capitols of the world,” Zaroya waved her hand in the direction of the towering doors and they swung wide open to let her roll through.

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The room behind door number one really was a killer. Dr. Xang was in his glory. The room had the hi-tech-Bond-motif down to the doilies—freaking lights and screens, chrome arches and scurrying technicians with giant world maps and huge monitors circling the entire cavern. Not one piece of rock surface showed through. Every square inch was covered in chrome or electronic equipment, and in the center of it all was another damn dais. “Ms. Z” had a thing for round metal objects. The moment she sat on the platform, it rose and spun like a Saturday night date. Then she pointed her little gold remote at the ceiling and clicked. The whole floor started to vibrate when the top center part of the cavern dilated to reveal the sky. “Welcome to my volcano,” Zaroya purred like a drunken Eartha Kitt in some village piano bar. “A secret volcano missile site?” Chaz looked at her with such contempt you would have thought she’d taken him to Kmart! “How déclassé.” “Nonsense,” she giggled. “Every villain needs a volcano, dear.” “I’d tell you to talk to the hand, Zaroya, but I’ve only got one finger for you!” Chaz said, then showed her which one. Which is when Vichyssoise slapped him again. SMACK! She caught him right along the side of his head as he tried to duck the blow. “Damn!” Chaz hissed. “Take your skunky hairdo and shove it up your ass, you steroid bitch!” SMASH! She whomped him again as she yanked him toward the dais. “You want to play rough, just take off my hand cuffs and I’ll stick my foot so far up your tunnel of love your children will be born with the Nike logo on their foreheads,” Chaz snarled at her. It was a really butch moment. “Shut up, Chaz. And behave yourself, Vichy. I’m too busy now to play ref- eree,” Zaroya snapped. “And will someone go find my mother and her damn dog?” Dr. Xang turned toward a large array of computer screens that were suspended ten feet up in the air. The entire array was built on a ring of steel platforms that circled the cavern like a cheap cock ring. “What is it, Dr. Xang?” Zaroya asked as she flounced her dress around her into a new pose on her gold, control-central divan. Not for nothing, Chaz grumbled to himself, but, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress like that if I was trying to rule the world. No tailoring—not even cut on the bias—just some little gold embroidered David Tang rag. A Manchu-goes-Manhattan inspiration that looks like Chop Suey on a hanger. A SISSY’S ASSESSMENT 213

“If you’re going to kidnap me, you could at least wear my designs,” Chaz huffed. “Shut up before I slap you myself,” Zaroya hissed. “The missiles are all in position and the virus is being loaded into the com- partment behind each warhead,” Dr. Xang proclaimed like a proud papa handing out cigars at a briss. “How much longer till we can launch?” Zaroya inquired. “Jay Leno is on in fifteen minutes and I hate it when I miss the opening monologue.” “We should be able to launch our missiles on Calcutta in five minutes.” “Perfect! Within twenty-four hours the virus will spread across the planet destroying every form of corn product in the world.” “No more popcorn!” cackled that little Manchu misfit. “What will the movie theaters do without popcorn sales?” Chaz gasped. “I mean, I may look like a little Swish Miss, but I have a degree in marketing and design from F.I.T. and I know that profit from the sale of popcorn is about 35 percent of the total profit of the movie theaters. We’re talking the loss of nachos and salsa sales here, too, you know. How can they make a profit?” “Do I look like I care?” Zaroya snarled. 54 GOOD VIBRATIONS

Bruno Sylva was sitting in a chair with Cognac sleeping on his lap. Bruno was glowering at a new Amazon-sized female guard. Then he heard Sylvia’s voice come from the other side of the door to the chamber as she screamed and banged on the door. BAM! BAM! BAM! “Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!” Cognac stood up in Bruno’s lap at the agitated sound of his mother’s voice and started to howl. “Let me in! We’re under attack. Call my daughter and warn her! Let me in, you’ve got to save me!” Sylvia’s voice cried. “The door is open,” the guard called out, confused as she took a couple steps toward the door and lowered her riffle slightly. “Does it look like I can open it from this side, you numbskull?” Sylvia’s voice cried through the door. BAM! BAM! BAM! “Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!” The door shook and the dog howled again. “Let me in, you’ve got to save me!” Sylvia’s voice cried again as her fists continued pounding on the door. “All right! I’m coming, Mrs. Shrubwell,” the guard called as she rushed to the door. “Stand back,” the guard cried as she flung the door open and leaned forward to see what was outside. WHAM! A twenty-four inch, four-pound, Double-Sided Dutch vibrator smashed down on the back of her head and knocked her out cold. She collapsed to the floor with a thud.

214 GOOD VIBRATIONS 215

“Sorry, lady,” Sylvia quipped as she stepped over the prone body of the unconscious female guard. “Come on Bruno,” Sylvia cried. “We’re busting you out of here, and my little dog too!” “What about Chaz?” Bruno asked as he scrambled toward the door. “You said I could keep him and they took him away!” Bruno pouted. “Nana’s not an Indian giver, baby. I’ve made arrangements for both you and Chaz to be escorted off the island with a ﬁrst-class ticket to Totoville.” “Where?” Bruno asked, totally confused. “They wouldn’t give me any speciﬁcs,” Sylvia explained. “But it’s a private spa in a warm climate, run by a muscle-bound hairdresser with a staff of pretty boys who bend over for breakfast.” 55 LET’S GET RAMBUNCTIOUS

The whole base seemed to be otherwise engaged as Jayms and Precious trotted down the tunnel after Zaroya and company. The island seemed to vibrate with a mechanical hum that kept ticking the timer in Jayms’ head, as it counted down toward zero. They had only a few minutes to go before the world was faced with total disaster, so he prayed that the ID card Sylvia had given him was gonna give them access to the missile site without sounding any alarms. Jayms and Precious had had to promise Sylvia they wouldn’t shoot or harm Zaroya in any way. And they had to promise to take her grandson along with Chaz, and put him in a “gay witness protection program,” which basically is just giving him a new name like Bruce or Steve, a spiky haircut, and an apartment in Chelsea. “There are the doors to the missile base,” Precious whispered as they rounded the last corner of the tunnel. “She does the door thing well, doesn’t she?” Jayms commented as he looked at the ZENRON logo embossed on the gold doors that were big enough to roll a Lear jet through. “Since ancient times, elaborate or ornate doors have symbolized the wealth and prosperity of the owner of the building. Zaroya must have caught that episode on the History Channel and gone for broke.” Precious shrugged. “Well?” Jayms sighed as he ﬂashed Sylvia’s ID card, “Shall we kick some ass?” “I thought you’d never ask.” Precious smiled. They clicked their heels three times and felt themselves rise up a couple of inches as their vinyl red tennis shoes converted into Rollerblades. Then, they

216 LET’S GET RAMBUNCTIOUS 217 both slipped on some wrap-around bulletproof ray bans, and slapped on their forearm protector pads, each with a row of one-inch, mini tossable explosive C-4 self-adhesive disks. They were the new models that initiated a five-minute countdown on impact. “Let’s get rambunctious!” Jayms called, as he grabbed his fully loaded blow- dryer and Precious grabbed his trusty crimping wand. It was a wand worthy of Harry Potter, kids, because it shot a nasty three-second bolt of electricity up to twelve feet. Each of them had a bag full of hair-curler grenades at his hip, and the rest of their equipment was tucked away in an adorable diagonal shoulder bag especially designed for them by Karl Lagerfeld. When it came to being an action adventure hero, Jayms knew how to accessorize! “Knock, knock. Who’s in there?” Jayms whispered as he slid the ID card across the bottom line of the raised letter Z as Sylvia had instructed him. There was a soft click and a slight hum as the doors slid back. They stepped forward into a high-tech billionaire bad pad that looked like the chrome set of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? For a moment, nobody seemed to notice them until Zaroya whirled around to find them waving at her. “Hi, Z, how’s the manicure holding up?” Precious asked. “You didn’t?” Jayms whispered. “Oh, yes, I did.” Precious smiled back at him. Zaroya activated a bubble shield around her chair and screamed directions at everyone over the com system, like an announcer at a football game. “SHOOT THEM, YOU IDIOTS!” she screeched as Jayms and Precious zoomed off in opposite directions on their Rollerblades a second before bullets ripped into the door as it slid shut behind them. “You’re going down, Zaroya!” Jayms snarled as he zigzagged at lightning speed across the cavern toward her, drawing everyone’s attention. Meanwhile, Precious whizzed around the corner under the circular catwalk, tossing the adhesive mini C-4 explosive disks against the wall. Vichyssoise shoved Chaz aside and fired at Jayms. The bullet ricocheted off his Kevlar wet suit, then off a steel girder—sending everyone ducking. Pandemo- nium erupted. “Protect the missiles and leave Blonde to me!” Vichyssoise shouted to the technicians and soldiers. “Launch the missiles and kill them, you idiots,” Zaroya howled. “And get me a goddamn aspirin!” 218 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

Just as Vichyssoise raised her gun and whirled to charge Jayms, Chaz spun around and gave her a ﬂying kick in the ass, sending her sprawling on the ﬂoor and scrambling for her gun.

“How’s that for a kick in the ass, bitch!” he hollered at her, diving for the ﬂoor and rolling off to the side. Dr. Xang bolted for the stairs until Zaroya called out to her soldiers, “Shoot Dr. Xang if he tries to leave before the missiles are launched!” LET’S GET RAMBUNCTIOUS 219

Vichyssoise was racing after Jayms, firing at his butt and back while yelling, “Asshole! Faggot! Dickwad!” and lots of other, lovely, unladylike things, then dodging the bullets as they bounced back at her. “I’d tell you to talk to the hand, but my fist would get there first,” Jayms said as he wheeled around and bitch-slapped her soundly, sending her falling back on her can. “Ooops! You see what I mean?” Precious gave Jayms a thumbs up from across the room. The guards were shooting at them as they whizzed around on their Rollerblades, but, since the room was circular in shape, they ended up shooting each other instead of their targets, or getting hit from all the bullets that ricochetted in every direction. “Somebody save me, damn it!” Chaz screamed from under a desk. “One rescue, coming up,” Jayms hollered as Precious tossed detonation disks and Jayms shot a few more bad guys with his Uzi. Zaroya was screaming and gesticulating behind her bulletproof bubble. Vich- yssoise was on all fours hissing like a cat as she scrambled for her gun—until Chaz reached out, snatched it, and hurled it across the room. It was quite the party! “We’ve got to get out of here!” Dr. Xang screamed at the soldiers who hemmed him in at the control board. “Stop pointing those things at me,” Dr. Xang screamed “and shoot at them, you imbeciles!” “Two and counting, Jayms,” Precious called out. “Roger!” Jayms yelled back and whirled around to face Vichyssoise, who by now was foaming at the mouth with frustration. She finally grabbed a gun off a fallen guard and then she and Jayms stopped, locked eyes, and, like a slow-mo segment in a movie, smiled at each other and both raised their guns at the same time. But it was Jayms who was just a tad quicker, squeezing off the first round. “Arrrgh!” Vichyssoise gasped, as the gun exploded into pieces and flew from her hand. “#@!” she screeched as her hand shredded into dozens of cuts from the shattered metal. “Now, that’s how you plug a dyke,” Jayms growled as Vichyssoise dropped to the floor screaming in pain. “Time to rock and roll!” he yelled, as he scooped Chaz out from under the desk and threw him over his shoulder. “Let’s blow this joint, Joy Boy!” Jayms shouted. Precious started counting down as he swiped the ID card on the silo doors, which slid open just in time for Jayms to zoom through them with Chaz. 220 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“19, 18, 17, 16 …” Jayms heard Precious counting. Precious followed Jayms through the door and swiped it shut behind them. “Come back here!” Zaroya screamed as she hammered on the protective shield in front of her with her ﬁsts. Then she uttered those fateful words, “Damn you! I broke a nail!” Whoosh! As the doors slid shut behind them, they heard a small explosion and a scream.

BOOM! “Aaaaaaaaaaaah!” “10, 9, 8 …” Precious continued counting. “What was that?” Chaz gasped. “Is that all the explosives you planted?” he asked in a disappointed tone as Precious kept counting. “6, 5, 4 …” “That was just the booby prize,” Jayms snickered. “2, 1, 0!” Precious cried. LET’S GET RAMBUNCTIOUS 221

BOOM-BAM-BOOOOM-CRASH-BA-BAH-BANG-SMASH! A stream of explosions rocked the ﬂoor beneath them. “That was the grand prize!” Jayms exclaimed. 56 A TICKLISH SITUATION

Woody and Randy were just going over the schematics of the secret island base while the other agents were contacting the sub when the ﬁrst series of explosions blasted a hole out of the side of the volcano and part of the caldera crumbled and collapsed back inside it. “Wow!” Randy exhaled. “No missiles have been launched, so it looks like Jayms pulled it off!” “If anyone can make something explode, it’s Jayms,” Woody smiled. “Okay, can the sexual innuendos,” Randy snapped. “I’m feeling a little vulnerable right now.” “I ﬁnd that very attractive in a man.” Woody smiled. “I thought we were here to save the world and rescue some poor kidnapped kid, or something noble like that,” Randy retorted. “You’re right, Randy.” Woody grinned. “Okay then, mission accomplished and I want to go home,” Randy announced. “Lighten up, Randy, you need to stick around and take custody of Chaz Gonzales. So just relax, and take it like a man.” “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid ever since I met Jayms Blonde!” Randy growled.

222 57 A NO NONSENSE NANA

Sylvia and Bruno had made it all the way down to the tunnel without running into any of Zaroya’s troops as they dropped to the ground and crawled in through the cavern entrance to avoid detection by the guards. “Is it really necessary to crawl like this, Nana?” Bruno whispered. “Give me a break, Bruno, and hush up until the guards run by and we can konk ’em on the back of their heads with these vibrators.” “Okay, Nana.” “And try not to put a dent in that one, it’s my new prototype.” BOOM-BAM-BOOOOM-CRASH-BA-BAH-BANG-SMASH! A stream of explosions rocked the ﬂoor beneath them and they both gasped! “Whoa, baby! That was good for me. I was lying between a rock and the right hard place for that one.” Sylvia giggled. “I hope Mother’s all right,” Bruno thought out loud. “Jayms promised not to hurt her, and that should mean the cavalry is on the way.” “Here come the guards,” Bruno hissed, as the sound of pounding feet running down the dock came toward them. “What the hell was that?” the guard in front yelled as they raced to the entrance to stop and look down the tunnel. “Maybe it’s just the missiles launching? They make a lot of noise.” Both of them were now standing with their backs to Sylvia and Bruno who were hidden in the shadows. Sylvia gave Bruno the thumbs-up signal and slowly

223 224 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE rose noiselessly to her feet—which, in a pair of three-inch pumps, is no mean feat. Bruno followed her. “What do we do? Go and look, or call in and check?” the second guard asked as Sylvia and Bruno swung silently into position. “We shouldn’t leave our …” WHAM! Groan. Like the Dolly Sisters, Bruno and Sylvia whacked both guards over the head at the same time, knocking them senseless to the ground. “We did good, Baby! Slam, bam, knock ’em out, Sam!” Sylvia giggled triumphantly. “I hope we didn’t hurt them,” Bruno commented. “The one on the right is really cute. Maybe we should drag these guys off to the side and tie them up?” “Good idea, baby. You might get good at this spy stuff yet, honey.” Sylvia smiled as she tucked the vibrator under her arm, knelt, and grabbed the guard closest to her by the feet to drag him off to the side. Bruno grabbed the other guard and did the same. They had moved them a few feet out of the way when they heard the sound of people racing down the tunnel in their direction. “Hurry!” Sylvia hissed as they yanked the guards into the shadows a second before Precious and Jayms, with Chaz over his shoulders, came racing to a halt outside the archway into the submarine base. “Stay here, Chaz, and stay down,” Jayms ordered as he lowered to a crouch and set Chaz on the ground beside him. “We have to take out the guards and make sure all is clear.” “I’m not leaving without Bruno!” Chaz spouted. “I think I may be in love.” “That must have been some quickie!” Precious whispered. “It was,” Bruno cooed as he stepped out of the shadows smiling. “Bruno!” Chaz leapt up to hug him. “Let’s get this rescue on the road.” Sylvia sighed. “Now I’ve got to go ﬁnd my little girl and make sure she’s okay.” Jayms and Precious rose and looked in the direction Sylvia pointed and saw the guards lying in the shadows. “Did you kill them?” Precious asked. “No, we just banged ’em with these.” Sylvia swung the talking vibrator from under her arm up into the air for them to see. “Just like real life. It wasn’t good for them, but is was great for me.” “Eeeeehh eh eeeeh eh eeeeeeeh!” Suddenly a large pink dolphin rose up out of the water near the edge of the docks squealing. “That’s our ride, so we’ve got to go now,” Jayms stated. A NO NONSENSE NANA 225

“They’re pink!” Bruno and Chaz gasped as the rest of the squad rose out of the water after hearing Jayms’ voice. “Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Jayms asked Sylvia as Precious handed each of the boys an air canister and showed them how to use it. “I can’t leave my little girl all alone after I let you take my grandson from her. She needs a major spank-fest, honey, but she’s still my baby.” “Someday she has to be dealt with, Sylvia, one way or another,” Jayms shook his head sadly. “She will be, but you have to leave her to me and take my little prince somewhere he can be a princess.” “You have my word on that, Sylvia,” Jayms promised as Bruno raced over to give her a hug. “I love you, Nana. Take care of Mother for me!” “I will, baby!” 58 THE STRAIGHT MAN COMETH

Three days later, Sakira, Chaz, Bruno, Precious, Randy, and Jayms were sitting in the elegant dinner car of the Orient Express, raising a glass of champagne in a toast. “To Sakira, the Queen of the Galaxy and official hostess of the Orient Express. May she bring peace and beauty wherever she goes.” All of them cheered and applauded and drank heavily, because the pageant was picking up the tab. “Thank you all so much for saving me and my country, and for giving me a chance to continue my reign.” Sakira beamed. “Have a great year, and find a filthy rich husband, my dear,” Chaz quipped as he leaned back against Bruno who kissed him on his forehead. “Maybe money can’t buy you happiness, but a rich lover can.” he smiled triumphantly. “What am I, chopped liver?” Randy growled as he slipped his arm around Sakira. “Every girl wants to marry a doctor.” “Heterosexuals.” Jayms sighed dramatically. “Yah got to love ’em!” “Well, you certainly tried hard enough, Jayms, and when you said you wanted me to meet a queen, I was about to call for reinforcements—until this little lady walked into the room.” “And I thought—oh, not another gorgeous hunk who’s gay!” Sakira smiled and turned to Jayms and added, “So I didn’t even blink at the thought of slipping out of my clothes in front of him to try on the new dresses Chaz made me.” “Until the man blushed red, and our scientist showed he had a big rocket of his own?” Precious threw in.

226 THE STRAIGHT MAN COMETH 227

“Well, like I always say,” Jayms winked at Sakira, “it doesn’t matter how big it is, as long as it’s big.” “From your mouth to God’s ears.” Precious purred as he crawled into Jayms’ lap. “I’m sure somehow she’s listening,” Sakira sighed.

THE PLATINUM HAND

Sylvia gazed at the glorious view of earth shrinking quickly beneath her as she munched another bonbon. Zaroya, in a silver metallic gown, was watching a video feed of the diners. “You can bet your precious ass on that one!” she cackled as a female nurse sat unwrapping the bandages around her badly damaged hand. “ZaZa, can’t you just be happy for your son and stop ﬁdgeting so the nurse can ﬁx your hand?”

229 230 THE HAIR-RAISING ADVENTURES OF JAYMS BLONDE

“I’m in no mood for a lecture, Mother!” “Well, you’re going to get one. What on earth were you thinking smashing your hand against the glass wall with the whole cave coming down on your head?!” Vichyssoise entered, holding the kind of velvet pillow you would carry a crown on, but this one carried a platinum hand that looked like something out of the Terminator goes Tiffany. “Here you are, Mistress, just as you instructed.” “Ah, beauty and power, just what I need to keep my hand in,” she sighed as she turned back to look at the screen with Bruno, Blonde, and the others drinking and laughing. “Don’t count me out yet, Mr. Blonde, because now the man in the moon is a lady—and I’ll be back!”

The end of this story … and the beginning of another.

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