Kidney in my Soup

EXCUSE ME, BUT THERE’S A KIDNEY IN MY SOUP

j.a. kazimer

When j.a. kazimer isn't reading, she spends her time writing urban fantasies and crime fiction with a dark comic twist. Originally from Cleveland, Ohio, she escaped at a young age, and now lives in Denver, Colorado, where she received a master's degree in forensic psychology, and has worked as a PI, bartender, and most recently at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics.

“What the fuck?” Shane Morris said, upon waking, naked, in a kidney-shaped bathtub filled with ice. He blinked, trying to remember how he ended up there. Vegas…Dan’s bachelor party…a strip club somewhere on the Strip…a leather-clad brunette with a butterfly tattoo…

He started to rise from the icy water, but a sharp, intense pain in his back doubled him over like Jenna Jameson at a porn convention. The agony raced along his spine and into his soggy brain. He slid backwards into the arctic water, letting out a girlish scream. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub. It soaked the dirty floor and his clothing folded neatly in a pile by the door.

Oh, God, I don’t want to die.

He thought of Pam, of her sweet smile and kind eyes. She would be devastated. He pictured her standing over his coffin, tears staining her wind burned cheeks. Water welled in his own eyes as he remembered her face last Christmas when he’d finally gotten the guts to propose. He’d never felt more like a hero. The wealth of commendations and awards he’d received since joining the Los Angeles Fire Department meant nothing in contrast to the pride in her eyes.

He fought waves of nausea. Bile rose in his throat, spewing from his blue-tinted lips in a technicolor rainbow of stale whiskey, and cheap Las Vegas Buffet fare. The splatter of it against the bathroom tiles echoed in the small room like a gunshot.

“The phone…” Grasping the heart-shaped towel rack above his head, he pulled himself up a few inches. Beads of sweat popped out along his hairline, drenching his already damp head. He reached for the courtesy phone next to the shower. Why hotels put a phone in the john remained a mystery—like black holes or the female orgasm—but for once, he was thankful. Stretching his athlete’s body, his fingers caressed the edge of the phone cord.

So close….

His palm, slick with icy water and sweat, touched the receiver and a chorus of halleluiahs rang through his disoriented brain. With shaking fingers he pressed the number 9. The receiver slipped tumbling towards the floor. He grabbed for it. Luck was on his side. The phone halted millimeters from the floor. However Newton’s Third Law snuck up and bit Shane in the ass. The receiver flew back at his head, smacking him with enough force to send him spiraling into the frigid water.

Blood dripped from a gash directly above his eyes, and the water turned a pallid pink. Quickly, it began changing from pale pink, to dusty rose, to blood red. He rubbed his head—a thin trail of blood dripped from his fingertips.

Something was terribly wrong….

He glanced down at the rapidly color-shifting water, noting the darkest red was coming from the rear. Urban legends and horror movies flashed through his mind. He slowly twisted his arms behind him, feeling along his lower back with trepidation. Half-assed Frankenstein stitches held his pruney skin closed over a six-inch incision, a slit directly over where his right kidney used to be. Shane’s blood curdling shriek of horror echoed around the bathroom, down the hotel hallway and to the casino floor eight stories below.

* * * * *

Twelve hours earlier….

“This is it, boys. In two short days, our friend, Dan, here,” Shane drunkenly gestured to the ruddy faced guy getting a lap dance a few feet away, “will make the worst mistake of his life.”

A chorus of laughter and hear, hears echoed around the strip club, as complete strangers joined in the festivities.

“To Dan,” Shane raised a shot glass filled with amber colored liquid, “you dumb fuck.” He threw back the shot, grimacing at the taste of the cheap, watered down whiskey. He’d had too much already. His brain felt moldy, and his stomach burned. Suck it up, he ordered himself, don’t puss out.

Dan slurped whipped cream from the inside of a blonde haired strippers thighs. He spit trails of white confectioners foam. “You guys are the best.”

“Another round.” Shane motioned to the topless barmaid. She ignored him, so he took matters into his own hands and stumbled to the bar. He waved his hands in the air to attract her attention. “I need fourteen shots of whiskey.”

“Make it fifteen,” a sultry voice from the barstool on his right purred.

He turned to face the woman and nearly fell over. She was amazing with long raven hair and dark mocha lips. “Fifteen it is.” A string of drool slipped from the corner of his numbed lips.

The bartender rolled her eyes, pouring the requested drinks.

“So what’s a handsome guy,” the black-haired woman paused looking him over, “like you doing in a place like this?”

Shane couldn’t believe his good fortune. He was in Sin City, and a woman beautiful enough to grace the cover of Playboy was chatting him up. He thought of Pam, and her sweet, kind eyes. Guilt rose inside him as he thought of their last night together. He’d promised to behave—not to drink too much or sleep with strippers. She could trust him, he vowed, this time he would keep his word. No more secrets or lies. He was on the straight and narrow.

“My friend, Dan, is getting married,” he said, trying not to stare down the woman’s black leather halter-top.

“Lucky me.” She crossed her long, tan legs, running a hand up her leather skirt.

His mouth went dry, as did his resistance.

“I’m Shane.” His hand shook as she took it in her manicured one.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

“Nice to meet you.” She stroked his palm with a red talon. “Gina. So Shane, are you single or is there a Mrs. Shane waiting at home?”

“I’m not married.” He evaded the real question. What Pam didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Besides, this was harmless flirtation, nothing more…

“Can you keep a secret?” She licked her lips.

He nodded, waiting.

She leaned close to him. “I love a man in uniform.” She trailed her finger along his LAFD patch on his polo shirt. He’d discovered that chicks were suckers for firefighters soon after joining the department. They got wet just thinking about the pressure hose.

His blood pressure rose when Gina’s tongue darted between her teeth, and licked her lips. Her saliva glistened in the strobe lights making him imagine her lips wrapped around his…

“Shane, who’s the beauty?” Ross, Dan’s best man and older brother leered at Gina. A player since birth, Ross knew he was irresistible to woman. He had money, good looks, and a Mercedes. What else did a man need? Shane hated him on principle, and that hatred became personal when Gina flashed Ross a flirty smile.

“Get lost,” Shane mouthed. “Mine.”

Ross grinned, and sat in the empty seat on Gina’s other side. She gave him a smile, and prompt turned her back on him in favor of Shane.

“What do you say we get out of here?” She trailed her nail along her plump mouth.

God, yes, his mind begged. “I don’t have that much money…” How much was a Vegas hooker? He mentally counted his wallet. Would she take credit?

She pulled back. “I don’t want your money. I’m not a prostitute.”

Oh, he’d fucked up now. “I didn’t mean to offend you….”

But she didn’t look offended, she looked intrigued. Her pale blue eyes widened with desire. She stood, and leaned close to him. “Do you have a hotel room?”

He nodded, numbly. “At the Excalibur.”

“Meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes,” she took a step to the door, over her shoulder she whispered, “don’t make me wait.”

As she walked away, he noticed a blue butterfly tattoo on the right side of her lower back, just below her kidney. The wings dipped below the supple leather of her skirt, tempting him to follow her anywhere.

* * * * *

“Bitch,” Shane whispered, blinking his teary eyes. She’d lured him away, drugged him, and stole his kidney but a part of him still wanted her, desired to taste her deceitful mouth.

“Son,” a medic said, holding a plastic tube in Shane’s nose, “you need to stay as still as possible until we know the extent of the…injury.”

Extent of his injury? His fucking kidney was gone. That was the extent of his injury. How much more did the medic need to know? Shane’s teeth began to chatter, and not from the ice bath. What if she’d taken more than his kidney? Quickly, he groped underneath the thin cotton sheet.

“Thank God.” He released his testicles. Everything below his waist was numb from the icy water. His balls had headed north for the winter, but they seemed intact.

The ambulance attendant didn’t even blink. This was Vegas after all. “Son, is there anyone you’d like me to call?”

“Pam.” What was he going to say to her? How would he explain a missing kidney? “Call my fiancé, Pam. But don’t tell her what happened, make something up. Tell her I was in an accident or something.”

“I can’t lie for you.” The medic shook his graying head. “Why don’t I tell her you’ve been taken to the hospital, and leave it at that?”

“I just don’t understand.” Tears gathered in Shane’s eyes. “Why did this happen to me?”

The attendant shot something into the I.V. connected to Shane’s arm. “Right place at the wrong time. That’s how these kidney thieves work. You’re lucky. Last week I had a guy who’d had both kidneys and his liver removed…poor bastard…”

Shane stopped listening, and let the morphine take him away. His last conscious thought was, ‘I wonder what blood type Ross is?’

* * * * *

“Oh, baby, I got here as soon as I could. What happened?”

Pam stood over Shane as he returned to the land of the living two hours later. The numbness was gone, replaced with a bone-cold chill. His body ached, like he’d gone five rounds with Bruce Lee. Pam looked frazzled, her silken blonde hair mussed, and eyes red-rimmed. The drive from Los Angeles must have taken its toll.

Blinking against the harsh florescent lights of the hospital emergency room, he croaked, “I don’t know. I can’t remember a thing…”

Liar.

“Nothing?” Pam bit her bottom lip.

The gesture was familiar, but it sent a chill through him. Didn’t she believe him?

“We were at a club,” he paused, glancing at her with veiled eyes, “a dance club. I was drinking lemon water…someone must have spiked it. Next thing I know, it’s morning and I’m in a tub filled with ice.”

“But that’s an urban legend.” Pam frowned, touching her soft, warm hand to his pale brow. “Things like that just don’t happen in real life.”

Anger rushed through him. “They don’t? I’m missing a fucking kidney. How much more real do things get?”

She stepped back, as if he’d struck her. Instantly, he regretted the outburst. None of this was Pam’s fault. She was a victim, just as much as he was. Poor, sweet Pam…

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “It’s been a long day.”

He took her hand in his, and she smiled. A loving, warm smile that made him feel like as long as she was by his side nothing else mattered. “I love you, you know that right?”

“I know.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

A doctor in surgical scrubs entered the examination room. He was handsome in a dirty, bad boy way, with a devilish smile. Pam took notice, and Shane’s temper flared. How dare she ogle some doctor while he was lying wounded on the table a foot away?

“Good news.” The doctor checked Shane’s chart.

“Good news,” Shane scoffed. “Someone sliced me open and stole my organs and you say good news? What the hell kind of doctor are you?”

“A first-class one.” The doctor grinned. “As a matter of fact, I am so good that it only took me three minutes to figure out someone is playing a nasty joke on you.” He laughed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Shane sat up, and waves of pain shot through him. “This is no joke. I’m dying here.”

“Honey, please.” Pam gripped his arm, trying to urge him back down. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Right,” the doctor said. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

His tone was much too sarcastic for Shane’s taste. “Tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Well, it looks like you were drugged and while you were out; someone gave you a nice clean incision on your outer right flank. They then proceeded to sew it up with fishing line and a butterfly bandage.”

“Are you saying this was all a joke? That I still have two functioning kidneys?”

Happiness rushed through Shane. He would live!

“Yep.”

“But what about all the blood?”

The doctor’s smile widened. “Who knows? Cow’s blood maybe.”

Shane fell back against the pillows, his heart filled with a mixture of anger and relief. A joke. It was all a bad joke. I bet Dan and the guys are laughing their asses off right now, he thought. He’d pay them back. One way or another, he’d get revenge.

“Thanks doc.” Shane suddenly felt a lot warmer about the man. “When can I get out of here?”

“We’re going to have to remove the stitches and clean the wound, but it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” The doctor paused, staring intently at Pam. “I imagine you’ll be back to yourself within the hour.”

The doctor finished cleaning and examining the wound.

“I’ll write you a prescription for some antibiotics. Keep it clean and dry, and if it starts to get infected see your family doctor.”

“Thank you,” Pam gushed.

“You’re very welcome.” His smile was a bit friendlier than Shane liked. “I’ll send in a nurse with your discharge papers.”

He gave Pam another meaningful glance and left.

After the door closed behind the doctor, Shane said, “Some joke.”

“Why would someone do that to you?” Pam eyes were downcast.

A prickly sensation of guilt rose within him. Pam deserved better. If he wasn’t careful he’d lose her. From now on, he would remain faithful. No more one night stands in cheap motel rooms, or fucking drunk girls in the back alleys.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He gave her a brave smile. “I’m sure it was just a joke that got out of hand. You know how Dan is. The guy has no sense of when to draw the line.”

“Right,” she said, and Shane wasn’t sure she believed him.

“So let’s get out--,” Shane began. His voice cracked as the nurse entered the room. Her long black hair was twisted into a ponytail, and her mocha chocolate lips were outlined with coral pink lip-gloss, but he recognized her instantly. Gina. Fuck.

“Honey, would you mind waiting outside?” Shane asked Pam quietly.

Gina grinned, a slow sensual one that made the blood pressure cuff on Shane’s arm beep in response. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Shane muttered.

“Do you two know each other?” Pam glanced between them.

“No!” Shane shouted.

“What? She doesn’t look familiar?” Pam leaned closer to him.

He glanced at Pam, eyebrows raised in affected confusion. “What do you mean?” Denial was the best offense in his mind.

“This is Virginia.” Pam moved to the other woman.

“It’s…nice to meet you,” he stuttered, “Virginia.”

“My sister, Virginia.” Pam laughed as the color drained from Shane’s face. “Didn’t I tell you she lived in Vegas? I could have sworn I’d mentioned it.”

“No,” he croaked out.

“Hmm, must have slipped my mind.” Pam paused, a spiteful grin turning her kind eyes, cold and black. “Now why wouldn’t I have mentioned it…? After all, we don’t keep secrets from each other, do we?”

END

by J.A. Kazimer