The Beevenger

It took the young man several extra seconds to realize that the sexy, dark-haired girl had slowed down to stop. He’d been too focused on watching the way her amazing ass moved inside her tight catering pants. Only when those ass cheeks no longer shifted back and forth did he raise his gaze up her body. That’s when he saw her glance over her shoulder with a playful smirk before entering a door at the end of the hall.

Having been told to keep a discreet distance, the young man now picked up his pace. With his night previously looking bleak, he'd jumped at the chance to ring in the new year while hooking up with a sexy, older ex-classmate. Visions of what he'd do to the waitress flooded his mind.

Upon finally reaching the door his future lover slipped through, he recalled at the last second that discretion was necessary. So, after checking to see if the coast was clear, he opened the door. Stepping inside, the young man found a room far from what he expected.

Walking a few steps further inside, he stood on a small metal platform, which overlooked a large room set several feet down below. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the dark, dingy room was the boiler room. While unlikely to garner much foot traffic at this time of night, it also wasn’t very romantic.

“Paloma!” he hissed, seeking to be heard over the room’s noises but also not loud enough to get caught by any workers.

A loud laugh/giggle combination caught his attention. To his right, he saw Paloma skipping down the side of the room. She moved away from his direction until she came to a halt near the back corner. Although he couldn’t see her hand, a light flickering on inside the doorway filled in the gap. That’s also when the young man noticed the dark-haired woman start to unbutton her white blouse. Catching his eye, she motioned with her head before slipping off and out of sight into the side room.

Well, okay! Paloma must know a secret hookup spot, the young man thought. Wasting no time, he descended the half-flight of stairs. At the bottom, he raised his hand while rubbing his fingers in disgust at whatever substance he’d just run his hand over. Jeez, I guess Pierce spent all his money remodeling the public parts of the hotel. This room looks a hundred years old! It's creepy, too.

Although he didn’t realize it, the heating system had undergone a major overhaul. Still, Dalton Pierce had sought to keep as much of the Witzler’s old charm intact. That had even extended to keeping the old boiler in place as a historical exhibit. The choice left the room feeling cramped.

Walking across the dark, dingy room, the young man watched his feet after nearly tripping over a toolbox. Even with the lights on, the room wasn’t lit very brightly. Too much of the pipe system created shadows.

Suddenly, when he was about eight feet away from Paloma's door, the overhead lights went off. Startled, the young man stopped to check the main door. No one had entered behind him. Now, the only lighting came from a small scattering of bulbs that gave off a soft, yellowish light. They could be emergency lights or bulbs always kept on as standby lighting. Not seeing anyone, he resumed walking to the open side door, which beckoned even more as the primary source of white light emitting from inside.

SLAM

Palmer Malloy’s head rocked back as the door slammed shut with him only a few feet away. Barely able to make out the doorknob, he rushed forward to find that the door wouldn’t budge.

“Paloma, the door won’t open. Paloma!” Palmer raised his voice with the second saying of her name. Not sure about the size of the room on the other side, he added several hard knocks.

Out of nowhere, a scrapping sound came from behind Palmer. Spinning around, he scanned for the source of the prolonged, moving sound. It stopped with Palmer speculating it came from straight ahead, deep inside the room.

Next came indecipherable whispers. Or they sounded like whispers to the suddenly wary man.

“Hello, anyone there?” Palmer asked, leaning forward slightly while cocked his head to listen.

CLANK

As a chain clanked to the cement floor, Palmer's head turned on a dime. This new noise didn't come from straight ahead but to his left, somewhere behind the old boiler system. Even worse for the now-concerned college student, the chain slowly dragged across the concrete.

Flipping around again, Palmer rapped loudly on the door.

“Paloma! Open the door! Let me in!”

Cackling.

That's what caused Palmer to swing around once again as a shiver ran down the back of his neck.

“Wh-Who’s th-there?”

The stammered question caused the sinister laughter to stop abruptly. In its place came a faint, raspy voice.

“You shouldn’t have come down here, boy.” Palmer thought the voice said. It was hard to fully hear over the room’s other noises. “For too long, nobody came. Nothing to eat.”

“Hungry,” a second voice sounded, far closer to Palmer than he’d like.

“Feed us!”

The last demand came right as a value released, leading to a roaring squeal as steam filled the deepest section of the shadows.

Freaking out, Palmer gave up on the door against his back. Instead, he rushed back in the direction he’d come. A pipe clanked loudly as it hit the floor somewhere in front of him. The frightened man barely noticed it roll into his path because of the limited light. Staggering, Palmer managed to keep from falling to the floor as his hands hit the cold concrete.

Righting his balance, he booked hard for the stairs. And he almost made it until a hulking figure stepped out from behind a large post. To Palmer's horror, the man blocking his path wore a mask that seemed straight out of a slasher film.

“Aiyee!!!”

---

“He fainted. He fucking fainted!” Fletcher squealed before doubling over at the waist in laughter. “This turned out so much better.”

“I did good, Fletch?” Bert asked, raising the welder’s mask as he looked down at Palmer’s body on the floor before them.

“Good? You did outstanding!” Fletcher praised his older, somewhat dimwitted, distant cousin. “Great call with your mask selection. It literally knocked him cold.”

“It was the only one I could find,” Bert admitted sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. He wasn’t used to getting complimented. His sister and brother usually nitpicked all his choices.

“Damn, Bert, I think we found your calling. Horror film killer!” Seth Francy declared, clapping his hands as he and Dexter Kirby emerged from the shadows.

The side door opened nearly simultaneously, ushering in Paloma and a stream of light.

“Nice creepy voice, Seth. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Fletcher complimented his other distant cousin.

“That’s wasn’t me. It was Dex,” Seth revealed, slapping his best friend on the shoulder.

“Okay, I really didn’t think you had that in you,” Fletcher clarified.

“I didn’t either,” Seth added, pulling his phone out to take a picture.

"Uh, I just tried to copy Odette's version of a creepy stalker voice," Dex admitted before shifting the uncomfortable attention away from him. "Is he okay?"

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Fletcher brushed off the concern.

“Is he breathing?” Paloma questioned.

“Of course!” Fletch assured her. But he also slyly motioned for Seth to check. Once his younger cousin nodded that Palmer was breathing, Fletcher added, “See! It worked out great.”

“What you wanna do with him, Fletch?” Bert queried.

“He’s going to wake up soon,” Dex pointed out.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t already,” Seth remarked.

“Uhhh,” Fletcher sounded as he pondered his options. He’d never considered that Palmer would faint in fright. “Bert, did you see any rope?

“There’s some duct tape over there,” Dex revealed, pointing to a small workbench.

"Great! Bert, we'll tie up his hands and feet. His mouth, too," Fletcher ordered, going to grab the roll of tape. Placing his phone down on the workbench, Fletch handed the tape over while also spotting a pair of heavy-duty scissors they could use. Then, a thought occurred. "Not too tight. We don't want a repeat of Cops and Robbers."

“I was only following Stella’s orders,” Bert grumbled, still feeling guilty years later.

“And that’s why I never played the kidnap game again at the lake,” Fletch reminded before turning to his other cousin. “You guys know those big laundry baskets that hotels have? The ones that you push.”

“Do you mean basket carts?” Paloma asked with a sigh. “There should be some just down the hall in the laundry room.”

“That’ll work! Go bring it up to the door. Bert will carry Palmer up the stairs once he’s done taping him up,” Fletcher directed before turning to face Paloma. Flashing a grin, he turned on the charm, ”And thank you! I am now in the debt of my favorite waitress. One that I could never let step outside on such a slippery night. You know, I have a penthouse suite with a large bed up–”

“You’re not in my debt. I did this favor for Seth, not you. Steph’s always been helpful, so I know I owe her,” Paloma interrupted, referring to Seth’s older sister.

“Still, a gentleman would never let–”

“I can find my own bed for the night, Wynwick,” Paloma shot down forcefully. Then, she gestured toward the two younger teens, “Come on, I’ll help you get the cart.”

Fletcher watched as the trio went up the stairs and out of the boiler room. And as Bert went about his task, the teen thought out loud.

“I mean, what the hell is happening tonight? Have I been cursed? Is somebody paying girls off? Have threats been issued? Is someone behind this? Sienna? Whitney? The Bumble Bitches? Gawd, this better not be a sign for the next year!” Fletcher mulled over that point before shaking his head. “No, no, I can’t think that. College is coming up later this year. Hmm, perhaps Paloma is just tired. Sure, that’s it. It’s been a long night for everyone, even more so for a waitress working the ball. Yeah, that must be it.”

“Fletch?”

“You done?”

“Yeah,” Bert responded. “Uh, I thought Skye was your favorite waitress. That’s what you always tell her. Did you lie?”

"Lie?! I'd never lie to a gorgeous woman," Fletcher insisted before clarifying. "Skye is my favorite waitress. However, Skye is more of a hostess/waitress, while Paloma is a caterer/waitress. Technically, they're different. Okay, I'll get his feet, and you get the rest."

They carried Palmer up the half-flight of stairs and propped him against the railing while Fletcher peeked out the door. The timing worked perfectly as the others appeared with the cart, and a groggy Palmer started to come to his senses. Quickly, Bert placed their prisoner into the large basket while Seth and Dex covered him with a few blankets.

A buzzing sound led to Seth pulling his phone out of his pocket. Checking the message, he nodded at Dex. A quick question to Fletcher followed.

"Yeah, yeah, we're good. Thanks!" the older teen told the two younger ones. He also reminded Dex not to say a word about this to either Katie or Kizzy, who happened to be his next-door neighbors.

Paloma also took the opportunity to leave with them after giving directions to the service elevator. However, a new realization hit Fletcher. “Shit! I forgot my phone. Um, just start rolling him down toward the ballroom. I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

Turning to head back into the boiler room, Fletcher paused as Bert asked a question.

“Do you want me to put him with the other guy?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Bert’s question didn’t sink in until Fletcher had already reached the workbench, picked up his phone, and checked his missed message. Suddenly, his head shot up.

“Other guy? What other guy?!”

Running up the stairs, Fletcher hurried out into the hallway and around the corner that Paloma mentioned. Unfortunately, it seemed as if Bert had already taken the service elevator up to the first floor. So, racing over to the main stairway, Fletcher dashed up the steps. He arrived in time to see a whistling Bert start down the hallway toward the ballroom.

“Hey, Bert, where are you taking him again?” the dark-haired teen with graying temples inquired in his best nonchalant act.

“To the supply closet around the corner from the restrooms.”

“Ah, okay,” Fletcher replied, recalling that supply closet. It was the same one the Babybees had been acting suspiciously around earlier in the night. A commotion in the laundry caused Fletcher to slam his fist down into the moving blob. “Stay still, asshole!”

Bert turned around the next corner, leading them into a possible predicament. A hotel employee was headed in their direction when he noticed them. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he neared. Sighing, Fletcher reached into his pocket, pulling out a roll of cash. Stripping off a few bills, he responded to the beginning of the worker’s question.

“What is going–”

“Don’t worry about it,” the teen said, pushing the money into his hand. “Thanks for the great work. Happy Holidays!”

“Happy Holidays!” Bert added cheerfully.

After two more turns and nearing their destination, Fletcher finally couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer.

"Sooo, I mean, it's not a big deal or anything, but what do you mean by the other fucking guy?!"

“You don’t know, Fletch?” Bert appeared surprised by this revelation. “Sienna didn’t tell you?”

"Sienna? Sienna put you up to something? Whew!" Fletcher sighed with relief for a moment. He'd been concerned that Chance had put his brother up to something terrible. Yet, his ice queen cousin also worried him. "What did Sienna make you do?"

“Oh, I just had to help that nice fireman’s son. He led the picture guy right to me. Then I tied him up,” Bert explained with a proud, goofy grin. “Sienna told me that I’m a hero.”

“Nice fireman’s son? Wait, are you talking about Newt Denton?”

“But I wasn’t as much a hero as his dad,” Bert said, nodding at the question.

“And who the hell is the picture…no way!”

Running the last few feet, Fletcher whipped open the supply closet's door. Inside, he found a bound and gagged Dennis Conway lying on the floor. The struggling, squirming basketball small forward's eyes lit up for a second until he recognized Fletcher. Despite the gag, Fletcher could tell that Denny's face had turned red with fury, and he had attempted to scream obscenities through the material.

“Looking good, Denster,” Fletcher chuckled, using his phone to take several pictures. Turning around, he gave Bert a thumbs up. “Awesome idea. Let’s put the asshole boyfriend with the villainous photoshopper.”

Bert started to pull off the blankets that covered Palmer until his cousin stopped him. Instead, Fletcher directed the big brute to push the laundry cart into the supply closet. Stepping inside, Fletcher raised his phone again, snapping off multiple shots of the irate college student.

Next, Bert easily hefted Denny off the floor and into the basket, putting him beside Palmer. More pictures followed, along with a threat.

"Okay, listen up. You both deserve this. Denny, you likely broke some laws, and Palmer, you're just a piece of shit. So I don't want to hear jackshit about me, Bert, or Sienna being involved with this. Oh, Denton, too. That means when you're found, you tell whoever asks that you don't know who did this. Got that? If you do drop our names, it will get bad for you. You both know how Chance is a serial killer waiting to happen. Well, his brother is one of the few people he likes," Fletcher warned, gesturing at Bert.

Palmer continued to thrash around, but Denny appeared frightened by the threat. Starting to leave, Fletcher had a self-described brilliant idea. Not wanting to dig into the guys’s pockets, he asked Bert to do so, which he readily did. Then, Fletcher used the two phones to take several additional pictures.

Motioning for Bert to step out into the hallway with him, Fletcher asked for an opinion about the photos.

“I’m going to send a couple to Nosy Nectar. However, I want to stay anonymous for now. So I’m going to use their phones to send them.”

“Wow, Fletch, you’re like a viga…vigolent…um,” Bert struggled to pronounce the word.

“A vigilante?”

“Yeah, like Batman! Do you have a name?”

“Um, no…but I should! I like the way you think, buddy. Let’s think of one,” Fletcher suggested.

The two cousins spent a couple of minutes going through names. The Honey Knight, Lusty Phantom, and Sugarslayer were all finalists, but they settled on Bert’s suggestion of The Beevenger as the name to use when sending the pictures to Nosy Nectar.

“They’ll never know it’s me,” Fletch chuckled. Although he did plan to eventually take credit to earn brownie points with Kaitlin and the girls whom Denny created fake nudes of. “Okay, thanks for your help. Toss their phones back in the basket with them. And if nobody discovers them by morning, the Witzler will get a tip.”

After finishing, Bert headed for the nearby restroom as Fletcher walked to the entrance to the ballroom. Fortune seemed to shine on him again as his timing worked perfectly.

“Our next song is for Paige from a very special secret admirer,” the DJ announced.

You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway
You can rely on the old man's money
You can rely on the old man's money
It's a bitch girl but it's gone too far
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway
Say money, but it won't get you too far
Get you too far

Fletcher grinned for two reasons. First, he imagined his best friend’s reaction to getting this song in her honor. Paige would know immediately that he’d been behind the joke. It’s the people who didn’t catch on right away and gushed over her secret admirer that would piss off the uptight girl the most. That damn girl needs to loosen up. School isn’t everything in life. And maybe I’m being a good friend. For all I know, some guy who has a crush on Paige might be spurred to make his move before the mysterious admirer.

Second, Fletch acknowledged that he’d made the proper decision by switching the subject of the request from his cousin to his best friend. Shit, it’s good that I didn’t push Sienna anymore tonight. I didn’t think she had it in her to sic Bert and Newt after Denny. Hell, I was merely rolling with the flow on Palmer. She likely set out from the start to tie Denny up.

Deciding to let Paige stew for a while and also to avoid Sienna, Fletcher turned and headed to the lobby through the maze of hallways. Along the way, he considered his dwindling options for a bedmate. With many of his female classmates already upstairs, he decided to head toward the hotel bar. Perhaps a slightly older woman would appreciate his company.

Nearing the main doors to the hotel, Fletcher spotted a friendly face rushing inside the warm lobby. Pausing his feminine pursuit, he met the chilly redhead.

“Ah, the star of the night has returned!”

“Don’t start, Fletch,” Lacey replied wearily, stomping her feet in an attempt to warm up. “Have you seen my parents?”

“They left you at the hospital? Wow, I didn’t think they liked Austin that much,” Fletcher teased until he saw the sweet ginger’s glare. “No, I haven’t seen them. I just came over this way. Wait, did they let you drive? In this weather!”

Lacey scowled as Fletcher leaned around her to look outside at the worsening weather.

“They let me park the car,” the petite redhead whined. “It’s not my fault that I—forget about that!”

“How’s your dad?”

“Thank you! At least somebody thinks to ask,” Lacey grumbled, still thinking of her ex-boyfriend’s selfishness. A quick rundown followed.

“Whoa, Milner’s party got that wild? Fuck, maybe I should’ve gone there,” Fletcher mused. “Say, you haven’t heard of any plot or conspiracy against me, have you?”

“Just because girls turn you down doesn’t mean people are out to get you,” Lacey explained as if talking to a child. “Life doesn’t work like movies.”

“So says the girl that just lived through a wild cabin trip with a ****-defying rescue,” Fletcher shot back. “You sure that Whitney didn’t put some plan into motion–”

“Whitney’s been a bit busy trying to stay alive,” Lacey emphasized.

“Right, right,” Fletcher agreed, glancing around furtively.

“What did you do?” Lacey inquired with a sigh. Having been classmates with Fletcher since the start of grade school, she knew the signs.

“Me? Nothing. I’ve been a good boy…mostly,” Fletcher defended himself. “I have! In fact, I’ve been acting as a good samaritan tonight.”

“Really? I’m going to assume that’s not the whole story. What did–you know what? I’m just going to let that pass. I need to find my family and friends.”

“Most of your friends are upstairs. Cheerleader sleepover, or so I heard.”

"Why? What happened?" Lacey knew immediately that a New Year's Eve sleepover couldn't be a good sign.

“Palmer.”

“Argh!”

“Yep. His actions cost me several solid prospects for tonight,” Fletcher complained.

"Well, don't look at me. I'm not going from Austin to anyone's bed," Lacey proclaimed slightly heatedly.

“I’d never,” Fletcher replied indignantly. Lacey’s disbelieving expression caused him to continue. “I have too much respect for the Pink Cupcake to take advantage of a messed up night.”

“I don’t know. The Chocolate Chip Cookie is supposed to be bad,” Lacey joked, referring to their roles in Mrs. Singer’s nutrition play.

Whatever comeback Fletcher planned never came as his head cocked to the side. Lacey followed his eyes to see an attractive yet frazzled young woman bent over as she picked up her fallen purse. The action put on display a toned ass.

“Good luck with that,” Lacey stated, causing Fletcher to ask why. “Whitney pranked me with her. Told me that she was lonely and needed a date. When I offered to play matchmaker, I got back a haughty response. I mean, she practically jumped down my throat. ‘I have a man!’ is what she screamed at me.”

“Sexy, feisty, and bitchy…me likey,” Fletcher declared, smoothing out his white tuxedo. “How do I look?”

“She has a man, Fletch,” Lacey reminded.

“What’s her man got to do with me?” her old classmate responded before walking past the woman to begin his reconnaissance.