Lyrics to Sugar by Robin Schulz (feat. Francesco Yates) (2015)
Before anyone says anything, yes, this is indeed my second story set in Daytona Beach. I lived there between 2013 and 2016 and miss it every day (except for the fucking spiders, those things were as big as truck drivers). The song I used isn't normal Flagg music but it reminds me of Florida. I hope to move back one day. Anyway...
WELCOME TO FLORIDA, the sign said, THE SUNSHINE STATE.
Blue with white writing and boasting a yellow circle where the O in Florida should have been, it loomed out of the vegetation along the side of I-95 like a beacon, and the moment he saw it, Lincoln Loud let out a sigh of relief. "Look!" Stella said from the passenger seat, excitement in her voice. She pointed and twisted around to look at Lincoln and Jordan in the back. "Florida."
"About damn time," Jordan said. The warm, subtropical wind blew her honey hair around her face and made ripples in her white tank top. "If I have to sit next to this faggot for one more minute, I'm going to rip out my ovaries and throw them in the road."
Lincoln's eyes narrowed to hateful slits. "Fuck you, bitch."
"You wish, incel," Jordan shot back. "The only thing you've ever fucked is a crusty tube sock."
That was not true. He fucked Penelope Figglehorn plenty of times when they were together.
"Better than being an insecure slut and giving it up to every guy who tells you you're pretty."
Behind the wheel, Clyde drew a heavy sigh. "I knew it was a mistake to bring them," he said more to himself than to anyone else.
Scooting closer, Stella laid her hand on his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. "They'll loosen up when we get there," she said.
It was March 25th and they were on their way to Daytona Beach for spring break. They had been shoved up in Clyde's convertible for almost two days - Lincoln, Stella, Clyde, and Jordan - and were all tired and grumpy. That accounted for Clyde's headache and Stella's restlessness, but not for the venom between Lincoln and Jordan, that was something else entirely.
Back in eighth grade, Lincoln and Jordan - who had been tighter than Mr Krabs' wallet since fifth grade - had a huge falling out. Neither one said what it was about, but it must have been bad, because even now, in their junior year of high school, they couldn't stand each other.
Being caught in the middle of Lincoln and Jordan's neverending grudge match was hard on Clyde and Stella. They liked both of them and didn't feel right excluding one or the other, which led to every birthday party, Friday night hang out, and trip to the movies turning into a total nightmare. Clyde seriously considered not inviting either one of them on spring break, but broke down and did it anyway.
He instantly regretted it.
Lincoln and Jordan had been at each other's throats since before they even got in the car, a steady stream of bickering, fighting, name calling, insults, and misery. Didn't they realize that their crap-flinging ruined everything?
"...your sisters," Jordan was saying, "maybe."
"The fact you would even think that proves you're a nasty ho who only thinks with her vagina. I guess I would too if I didn't have a brain."
Rolling his eyes, Clyde turned up the radio to drown them out.
Ooh, sweet-talkin' lady
Love how you entice
Sugar with just the right amount of spice
Charmin', allurin', everyone's desire
She's out to get you
You can't run, you can't hide
"...cock sucking bitch," Jordan said.
"If you were a superhero, your power would be spreading your legs."
"My legs are always closed around you."
She's somethin' mystical in colored lights
I say, so far from typical, but take my advice
Before you play with fire, do things twice
And if you get burned, don't be surprised
Lincoln craned his neck. "Look, in the sky. Is it a bird? A plane? No, it's Super Whore."
The highway crossed a wide river over a tall bridge. Tree trunks jutted from the placid surface and tangled underbush flanked the muddy banks. A man in rubber boots cast a fishing line in and down stream, a group of boys paddled a kayak.
"And there's her arch-nemesis Dr. Micropenis wishing he wasn't 1 centimeter fully erect."
Got me lifted, driftin' higher than the ceilin'
Ooh, baby it's the ultimate feeling
You got me lifted feeling so gifted
Sugar, how you get so fly?
Lincoln uttered a harsh laugh. "At least -"
Flashing, Stella whipped around. "Will you two shut up, please? This is supposed to be a fun vacation and you two are messing it up. Just like you mess everything up."
"We don't mess everything up," Jordan said defensively.
For once, Lincoln agreed with her. "We barely talk."
"You've talked to each other more than you've talked to me and Clyde," Stella pointed out. "I get it, you guys hate each other, but we're your friends and we want to have a good time with you. Don't screw that up because you can't get along."
Looks of shame crossed Lincoln and Jordan's faces, and they thankfully fell silent, Jordan scrunching as close to the door as she could to get away from Lincoln and Lincoln sullenly crossing his arms.
They managed to contain themselves for the rest of the trip, only snarking at one another near Jacksonville before resuming their frosty silence. The first sign for Daytona appeared a hundred miles out. Traffic was heavy, and most of the cars they passed were filled with college kids heading to points south for a week of sex, booze, and bad decisions. Every couple miles or so, a Florida state trooper had a hapless Jeep or Kia pulled over in the breakdown lane. Tall palm trees waved them on and the weakening late afternoon light drenched the world in hues of amber and gold. Lincoln watched the countryside pass in a blur, his lips pursed and his nostrils flaring. Jordan's insults played in his mind on an endless loop and the more he heard her voice echoing through the chambers of his skull, the madder he became. Why did Clyde have to invite that cunt anyway? He and Clyde had been friends forever. Jordan was an interloper, a poser, a Johnny-come-lately who didn't care about anyone but herself. He should have left her stankin' ass back in Michigan.
Just before eight, as the fiery orange light began to cool and turn purple, they reached their exit. Clyde turned onto the off-ramp and slowed. The road curved down and to the left, filtering out onto a two lane highway lined with gas stations, restaurants, cheap motels, and palm trees. Lincoln and Jordan both perked up and craned their necks to see better. "Oh, it's pretty," Stella breathed.
"This is nothing," Clyde said, "wait until we get into Daytona proper."
Clyde and his Dads had been coming here once or twice a year since he was small, usually on winter break but sometimes in the summer too. To him, Daytona proper was Beachside, a long, narrow strip of land between the Halifax River and the Atlatnic populated with big hotels, bars, clubs, and busy shops that sold everything from beach towels to coffee mugs. He hadn't been to many areas on the mainland save for speedway and the airport, which were a stone's throw away from each other.
The buildings and neighborhoods comprising Ormond Beach, Daytona's closest neighbor, fell away, and the buildings on beachside presented themselves, dark against the fading sky. All decked with lights, they looked like the top decks of a stately ship at sail. They crossed the river via the Granada Bridge and turned south. Traffic was heavy and vast groups of spring breakers flooded the sidewalks, boys in trunks, girls in bikinis, and local vendors hawking anything they could to make a buck. The Sand Castle hotel, where Clyde had reserved three rooms, sat at the far northern end of the boardwalk between another hotel and an amusement park. A giant Farris wheel trimmed in lights creaked an endless circuit and a kiddie roller coaster clacked and groaned beneath the din of happy voices. Clyde turned into the parking lot and found a space at the very end, right next to a chest high concrete retaining wall separating the hotel grounds from the boardwalk, which was cement rather than planks as the salty air and constant intense sunlight rotted wood too quickly for the city to keep up with.
Daytona Beach was famous for allowing cars on the beach, and right now, a line of Jeeps, vans, and trucks, beds filled with drunken college kids, formed a sluggish line along a worn down path. Cops in dune buggies patrolled the coast, shooing away late beachgoers, and people walked along the water's edge. The roar of the surf filled Clyde's ears and the ever blowing breeze dried the sweat on his forehead. "Here we are," he said giddily. He had been waiting for this for months.
"This is cool," Jordan said, "so cool that not even Lincoln tagging along could fuck it up."
"The only thing that would make it any better is if Jordan drowns in a riptide," Lincoln said.
Clyde pinched the bridge of his nose.
Throwing the door open, he got out and everyone else followed, Lincoln and Jordan still arguing. Jesus, make it stop. He opened the trunk and everyone got their bags out. "Can you carry it, noodle arms?" Jordan asked Lincoln. "You're struggling."
"Struggling not to throw up," Lincoln shot back, "close your legs."
Inside, the lobby was furnished with uber modern leather furniture and potted plants. They checked in at the main desk and carried their luggage to the elevator. Clyde and Stella's room was on the sixteenth floor, Lincoln's and Jordan's were on the eighteen floor. Clyde did that on purpose so he and Stella didn't have to deal with their drama. It was a standard room with one bed, a table and chair set, and a bathroom, but, like all other rooms, featured a sliding glass door leading onto a balcony. Clyde tossed his suitcase down and Stella jumped onto the bed with a bounce, almost flying off. "Isn't this great?" she asked. She exuded the excitable energy of a small child on her first vacation and Clyde couldn't suppress a smile.
"It's okay," he said, "my dads usually get the honeymoon suite. It has a jacuzzi."
Stella threw her arms out and flopped back onto the bed. "Imagine how much sex people have in honeymoon suites." She crinkled her nose. "It's probably covered in spunk."
Stretching out on his side next to her, Clyde laid his hand on her flat stomach. "And you think this room isn't?"
For a moment, she was silent, thinking, then she rolled onto her side, slipped her fingers into the waistband of Clyde's pants, and pulled him close. "If it's not now, it will be when we get done with it."
In his room upstairs, Lincoln laid his suitcase on the bed and snapped it open. A Ziploc baggie of toiletries - toothbrush, soap, deodorant - sat atop the neatly folded contents. He took it into the bathroom, sat it on the counter, and paused, glaring at the wall. In the next room over, Jordan was hoing it up; her room was probably already a messy pigsty. What garage. What a fucking waste of human DNA. Out of 20 million sperm cells, she was the one who got through. Not a doctor or a lawyer or a scientist, but a third rate nobody on a losing girls basketball team who thought she was hot shit even though she dropped every pass to the point that her own teammates wouldn't even throw to her. When he was a kid, he liked Jordan, not just as a friend but as more. He was lovesick over her loser ass and even passed her a cringey CHECK YES OR NO note in math class asking her to be his girlfriend. She turned him down saying she wasn't ready to date, but wound up with Chandler two months later.
Whew, he sure dodged a fucking bullet. She turned into a stubborn and insufferable know it all who made his dick retract into his stomach. She was basically a younger version of the Karen meme: Loud, abrasive, opinionated, didn't give a fuck about anyone but herself. He'd rather date Clyde than be with a jerk like Jordan. She was the biggest POS he knew. Man, what was he thinking when he was into her? He should have gone for a nice, quiet girl who didn't run around bragging on herself 24/7. That should have been a huge red flag but he didn't see it. He did now, thank God, and he figured Jordan deserved credit for showing him everything a girl shouldn't be.
Turning, he snapped off the lights and left the bathroom. His phone was lit up with a text from Clyde. We're going to dinner.
They wound up at a seafood restaurant off the boardwalk. The dining room was packed so they sat outside on the patio. Clyde had changed into a Hwwian shirt and Stella wore a light, floral print sundress. Lincoln put on khaki shorts and a nice polo. Jordan, of course, wore the same T-shirt she had on since Royal Woods. She had put her hair in a sloppy French braid that looked haphazard and pathetic, just like everything else about her. They ordered and chatted over glasses of Pepsi as they waited. "My room is really nice," Jordan said, "I was hanging out on the balcony before you texted."
"Where's a banana peel when you need one?" Lincoln asked.
"In the store with all the other basic shit your broke ass family can't afford," Jordan said.
Lincoln bristled. He hated when she made fun of his family for being poor. "Maybe if your mom didn't have so many abortions, you'd have ten sisters too."
Throwing her head back, Jordan laughed. "No one but your family has eleven kids, Lincoln. Then again, no one has a big fat thot for a mother except for you."
Stella slapped the table, jangling glasses and silverware. Lincoln and Jordan both jumped. "Shut the fuck up," she said. When Stella used a curse word, you knew she was mad. "I'm tired of hearing this. If you two want to be awful to each other, go do it somewhere else."
Awkward silence.
Lincoln wasn't going anywhere, so he shut his mouth. Jordan looked at him, pursed her lips, then, finally, jumped to her feet. "Fine, I'll go."
"Bye," Lincoln said.
Jordan flipped him off.
When she was gone, Lincoln shook his head. "What a fucking -"
"Lincoln, you're starting to piss me off," Clyde said. "I know you guys don't like each other, but this is getting out of hand. Stop antagonizing her."
"But I -"
"You started it this time," Clyde said. "There was no reason for you to say that. You can hate Jordan all you want but don't ruin our vacation over it."
Our vacation.
His and Stella's.
He said that like Lincoln was a burden that they allowed to come along out of pity. That pissed Lincoln off. He was Clyde's best friend long before Yoko Ono over here came along. Didn't that count for anything? Didn't that mean anything to Clyde?
No, because Stella would suck him off and Lincoln wouldn't, All Clyde cared about was getting his peepee wet, ten year long friendship be damned.
Women ruin everything.
"Sorry to intrude," Lincoln said and stood up.
"Linc," Clyde sighed.
But Lincoln walked away.
After leaving the restaurant, Jordan walked the streets of Daytona Beach, her hands thrust into her pockets and a scowl on her face. College kids streamed around her on either side, some drinking beer from red solo cups, others horseplaying, and others still milling around in big groups. A cop walked the beat, reminding everyone he saw of Daytona's open container law, and cars slowed to let kids cross the street. A white boy with a tribal tattoo whistled at Jordan, and a guy wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else drunkenly yelled after her. "Hey, sugar tits, come give Tommy Dees Sr. some lovin."
"I'm sixteen, pervert," she replied.
"The younger the better!"
She held up her middle finger.
As she walked, she thought of Lincoln, and the vein in her neck started to pulse. At one time, she thought Lincoln was a good guy. She thought he was kind, considerate, and sweet, but he grew up to be a fucking self-centered asshole and possible incel. Well..scratch that. He did date Penelope and Penelope said he was God in bed, but what did she know? He was the only boy desperate enough to ever fuck her so she had nothing else to compare him to. His dick game was trash just like him; Jordan just knew it.
He was probably just butthurt because she wouldn't go out with him "bUt YoU wEnT oUt WiTh ChAnDlEr." Yeah, she did, but only because he pushed her into it. Lincoln backed off when she said no, Chandler didn't. He told her pretty lies, bought her presents, and said she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He made her feel bad for rejecting his advances and even cried one day. "I just don't know what's wrong with me...I'm trying so hard to show you I care about you but I keep failing." He started smacking himself in the forehead and chanting, "Stupd, stupid, stupid." Jordan's dumb, unexpierenced heart broke and she fianlly agreed to go out with him.
What a mistake. He was a bigger douchebag than Lincoln and pressured her into sex at thirteen. He manipulated her, cheated on her, and treated her like she didn't matter. Why did she stay with him? She couldn't say. Maybe she was just retarded.
All during this time, Lincoln acted cold and pissy. One time she started to complain about Chandler and he blew up on her. "I don't want to hear about your dumb mistakes. You chose Chandler, deal with it."
Okay, he wasn't technically wrong, but did he have to be such a dick about it? It hurt losing their friendship, but by the end he was jealous and shit and she had her own problems to worry about without adding his fucking whining on top. Fuck him. Lincoln Loud was a crybaby bitch boy and didn't even deserve Penelope. He deserved to be molested in his butt and dumped dead on the side of the highway with all the other garbage.
God, she hated that son of a bitch. If he was just a little less of a dickboi, he might be handsome and get a little more attention from the ladies, but his shitty personality had a way of seeping through like diarrhea on toilet paper, so no one wanted him. Ha, enjoy dying alone with no one to keep you company but your ten cats, you spinster faggot.
Now she was seething and wanted to hit something. If he showed his face right now, she'd pound it in the way she should have five years ago. He wouldn't do this shit to Ronnie Anne 'cause she'd beat the stuffing out of him but he thought he could get away with it now. Oooh, she had half a mind to go back there and break his fat nose.
And Clyde and Stella didn't even try to stop her from leaving. Hah, how do you like that? What kind of friends were they? She got it, she and Lincoln could be annoying sometimes (only because of Lincoln) but they were the ones who kept refusing to get rid of him. Clyde kept saying oh, he's my best friend. Yeah, well, Stella was hers and because she was always with Clyde and Clyde was always with Lincoln, she never got to spend any quality time with her without Lincoln stinking the place up. Stella didn't seem to care; she just said you should try and get along with him. That was gay advice and Jordan was beginning to think Stella didn't really care about her.
It was all Lincoln's fault.
Why not just cut to the chase and fucking kill him already? She was pretty sure she could get away with it. She watched a lot of Investigation Discovery and those shows were basically a free course in how to dispose of dead bodies and not get caught. She could get him drunk, go into his room, and shove him off the balcony. It would look like a tragic accident and no one would ever know the huge favor she did them by taking him out of the gene pool. She'd even go to pieces and sob uncontrollably so no one suspected her. The fact that that would only make her look suspicious, since her hatred for Lincoln was well known, was completely lost on her.
Obviously she wouldn't really kill Lincoln, but she could totally see herself drop kicking him a few times.
Some time later, she stopped at a Mexican place on the corner of 6th Street and Atlantic Avenue where a mariachi band played loud. She sat on the patio and had a burrito so good she cummed on herself three times while eating it, and then followed it with some ice cream. By the time she was done, she was so stuffed she could barely walk. Somehow, she made her way back to the hotel. She was in the elevator when her stomach started to gurgle. Just as the doors slid open, her middle clutched like an angry fist and her eyes widened in alarm. Uh-oh.
She streaked out of the car and down the hall, scalding hot liquid shit crashing against her butt hole like a battering storm surge. At her door, she fumbled out her keycard and jammed it into the slot, then staggered inside, not bothering to close the door behind her. She made it to the toilet just in time: Her guts turned inside out and everything she had splashed into the bowl. She let out a long, wavering ahhhhh and held onto the counter. Another wave hit her, and she stomped her feet against the floor.
When it was over, she sat there, spent, head hung and arms dangling. Goddamn, what was in that burrito? Seriously, who the fuck sells a burrito that makes you almost shit on yourself? How did they stay in business? Did they -
Something pounded on the wall and Jordan jumped. "What are you doing over there?" Lincoln's voice, muffled.
"Fuck you, nothing," Jordan cried.
"It sounds like you're dying but I know I'm not that lucky."
"Go finger your pussy and stop spying on me."
"I heard you over my TV. Shit quieter next time."
Taking a deep breath, Jordan wiped and then washed her hands. She briefly considered going over to Lincoln's room and slapping the piss out of him but decided against it. Screw him. This was her vacation too and she wasn't going to let Lincoln fuck it up for her. If he wanted to be a salty little sissy, fine, but he wasn't going to drag her down him with,
She switched the light off, shut the room door, and unpacked her things, putting them away neatly. Unlike Lincoln, she was clean and tidy. She bet he was already living in his own filth. Without his mommy to pick up after him, he was a big fat slob who deserved to be mocked and bullied. Done, she decided to go out on the balcony for a little while. She opened the sliding glass door and walked out into the warm, summery breeze. Below, the beach had emptied out and the sound of a thousand different parties scented the air. The moon-dappled surf pounded the shore and way out in the distance, the lights of a ship twinkled gem-like in the dark.
Ahhhh, beautiful. She resolved to forget about Lincoln Loud and enjoy herself. See, she could do that. Lincoln was probably thinking about her and fuming because he had nothing else going on in his life. He could be in paradise and still obsess over her. Dumb Jordan durr hurr hurr. In fact, she didn't even know why he came along in the first place. He could have stayed in Royal Woods and hated her there. For whatever reason, though, he decided to take his freakshow on the road and annoy her, Clyde, and Stella to death with his constant bellyaching. What a bitch. She felt really bad for his mom. If her son was as big an incel, simp, neckbeard, loser, idiot, failure as Lincoln, she'd probably hang herself. She would literally rather give birth to the antichrist than Lincoln's baby. And if she did, she'd probably abuse and neglect it.
Okay, no, she wouldn't do that at all.
Lincoln probably would, though, if he stuck around, which he most likely wouldn't since he's not man enough to be a father. In order to be a father, you have to be selfless and mature. Lincoln was so far from those things that he might as well be on the other side of the whole freaking galaxy. He'd make a terrible Dad. Honestly, she and their baby would be a lot better off if he pussed out and never came back.
When she was tired of the view, she went back in the room, leaving the sliding glass door open, and took a long, hot shower. Could Lincoln hear the muted hiss of the shower through the wall? She bet he could. She pictured him with his ear pressed against the wall and glowered. Stopping in the middle of lathering up, she balled her fist and pounded the wall. "This is the closest you'll ever be to a naked woman again, you bastard, enjoy it while you can."
"Fuck you," he replied, his voice faint and faraway. It sounded like he was in the bedroom area. Likely playing with himself to Toddlers and Tiaras like the fucking pedo he was.
"Baby dick."
"Wasted hole."
"Poor white trash."
"Wannabe jock."
Jordan stiffened, then slammed her palm against the wall. "I am a jock, you fucking nerd."
"A jock who can't play."
She smacked the wall again, three times in rapid succession. Her hand stung. God, she hated him.
Taking a deep breath, she finished showering, got out, and tried off. She dressed in a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt, got into bed, and tried to lose herself in AEW Dynamite. The song Tarzan Boy hit, and Jungle Boy danced to the ring like Tank Abbot for a 0.00001% rating. Jordan curled up with a pillow and called out, "I hope you die in your sleep."
"I hope you live to be a thousand and hate every minute of it."
Drowsiness came over her and she started to drift. "Go suck a nutsack."
"Like you did to the whole football team?"
"Fuck you," she mumbled. "That was a...rumor."
Her eyes fluttered closed, and the last thing she thought of was Lincoln Loud.
The prick.
The next morning, Lincoln dressed in a pair of red swim trunks and a black tank top, draped his towel over his shoulder, and stepped into a pair of OC flip flops. The hall was dim and sleepy, the lamps long the wall casting muddled pools of light on the ugly carpet. It was just past nine and no one else was around, the perfect time to take a dip in the pool.
On his way out, he kicked Jordan's door, hoping to scare the shit out of her, then took the elevator to the lobby. Before going out to the pool, he stopped off in the dining room for that free continental breakfast the brochure bigged up so much. He expected a smorgasbord of eggs, bacon, sausage, hashbrowns, and pancakes. What he got instead was some fruit, a few bagels, and a couple bran muffins that looked just as old and dry as the people who enjoyed them.
Really? Who'd they put in charge of cooking, Jordan? That bitch could burn water.
Disappointed, he ate then went out to the enclosed pool on the side of the building. Beyond the wrought iron fence, the boardwalk gave way to sand and surf. He was alone and he dropped his towel on a patio chair and popped off his shirt. He didn't expect anyone else to come down for at least an hour, maybe more and intended to take full advantage of the pool before it got crowded.
He dove in head first and his system went haywire.
COLD.
He broke the surface, shook his head, and treaded water, giving himself a minute to get used to it. When he had adjusted, he dipped underneath and glided from one side of the pool to the other like a fish, feet and arms working. At the opposite end, he came up for air, slapped his hands onto the concrete lip surrounding the water, and pressed his feet to the wall. He had the sudden feeling that he wasn't alone, and turned toward the door. A girl in a pink bikini bent over one of the patio tables, going through a purse or something. The fabric of her bottom stretched tight across her cute little butt and her shoulder blades flexed beneath her sun-kissed skin. Lincoln did a double take and moved closer, a big grin spreading across his face. He crossed his arms on the edge of the pool and allowed his eyes to travel up her long, silky legs and the curve of her back. His dick stirred and began to grow…
...but she turned around and his instantly slammed back into his guts. "Oh, great, you're out here," Jordan said.
Lincoln rolled his eyes. "Go back inside."
"Screw you," she said, "I wanna swim."
"Swim away then," Lincoln said and waved her off. He dipped under and swam to the steps. When he came up, Jordan was sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water. "Can AIDS travel through water?" he asked.
"You should have asked your doctor before you came."
Now that his morning was ruined, Lincoln got out of the water and went to grab his towel. Water dripped from his body and made dark spots on the concrete. He dried off and glared at Jordan, who still sat there like she owned the place. Didn't she say she wanted to swim? Why wasn't she swimming then?
Maybe she needed help.
Being as quiet as possible, Lincoln crept up behind her, hunching over so that she wouldn't be able to see his shadow. When he was on top of her, he shot out his hands and shoved with all his might. Jordan flew off and disappeared below the surface. An instant later, her head appeared, wet hair plastered to her face. She kicked her feet, rotated her arms, and spat out a stream of liquid like a decorative statue. "You bastard," she cried.
"Enjoy your swim," Lincoln said.
She splashed him and he laughed all the way inside. In the elevator, he bumped into Clyde and Stella. After last night, there was a certain awkwardness in the air and Lincoln didn't know what he should say, if anything. Finally, Clyde broke the silence. "Stella and I are going to the beach. You wanna come along?"
LIncoln shrugged. "I might show up, I dunno."
As it turned out, he did. Clyde and Stella had set up towels and an umbrella well back from the water and frolicked in the water. The day had heated up and people were beginning to come out of their burrows to enjoy it. A lifeguard sat on a raised platform and cars crept up and down the beach, pausing to let gangs of people by. Lincoln didn't see what was so great about driving two miles an hour on sand, but hey, it was a Daytona tradition, and most traditions are blisteringly retarded.
He laid his towel down at random, far away from Clyde and Stella's stuff. He was still smarting over how shitty they acted to him last night and didn't even want to fuck with them right now. He stretched out on his towel, laced his hands behind his head, and sighed in contentment. Warm sun, lulling surf, the cry of seagulls in the air...nothing could ruin this perfection, not even that man-looking shemale Jordan.
Just then, something blotted out the sun and he tensed. He opened his eyes and Jordan sood over him, a sun hat on her head and a sheer jacket thingie over her bathing suit. "What are you -?"
Without warning, she kicked sand in his face. It stung his eyes and got in his mouth and nose. He cried out and she did it again, getting even more in his mouth. "Choke on it, faggot," she said and walked away.
"You fucking bitch," he coughed.
She flipped him off.
Lincoln got to his feet, hissing in pain and watering at the eyes, and made his way blindly to the shore, where he washed out as much of the sand as he could. When he was finished, he looked around and saw Jordan standing in the surf, the waves crashing around her. He spotted something on the beach and went over to it. Oh, just a shell…
A wickedly devious idea came to him and he picked it up, hefting its weight in his hand. He aimed it at Jordan, cocked back his arm, and let fly. It arched through the air like a bullet and hit her in the back. She screamed and her knees went out, spilling her into the water. A wave swept over her and she tumbled away, one foot breaking the surface. Lincoln threw back his head and laughed.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she shrieked.
"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, you dumb ho."
She got out of the water and stalked away. Lincoln flipped her off and went back to his towel. Clyde and Stella were under their umbrella and shot him dirty looks. He ignored them and laid on his towel.
Now...for some real relaxation.
Jordan met with Clyde and Stella for lunch at a place called Dustin's BBQ. The inside looked like a barn, with wood planks, lofts, and wooden benches and barrels and smelled like pure goodness.
Oh, Lincoln was there too.
Sigh.
She sat next to Stella and ordered a glass of sweet tea. Lincoln stared down at his menu, ignoring her. He was fronting like she wasn't there but from the way the veins in his neck stood out, he did and really, really wanted to say something. The only reason she didn't jump down his throat was because of Clyde and Stella; it wouldn't be fair to them. "You look burned," Stella said. "How do you feel?"
"Fine," Jordan said and took her tea from the waitress, "but my back really hurts." She zeroed in on Lincoln as she said that.
He had the audacity to say something back. "So do my eyes."
"Fuck your eyes, bitch," she spat. "I hope they fall out of your ugly face."
Stella slumped her shoulders and Clyde took a deep breath.
Turning red, Lincoln half stood and slapped his hands on the table. "I've had enough of your shit, you fucking cunt."
Before she could stop herself, Jordan was throwing her drink on him. It drenched his hair and shirt. Stella squealed and threw up her hands and Clyde cringed. Jordan slammed the glass down, jumped up, and shoved past Stella. She stumbled and fell into a waitress carrying a tray of food. Jordan kept her balance but the tray clattered to the floor, glass breaking and French fries and pulled pork littering the planks. The chatter died and everyone turned to see what was going on. Jordan's face flushed and she was frozen with humiliation. Then she turned to Lincoln, screamed, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT" at the top of her lungs, and stormed out, pushing the waitress as she went.
In the parking lot, she shoved over a newspaper display, threw back her head, and let out a mighty screech that some say still echoes through the hoods and side streets of Daytona Beach to this day. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
That stupid motherfucking son of a bitch was ruining her good time AND SHE WOULDN'T STAND FOR IT ANY FUCKING LONGER. She was gonna kill him, she was literally going to put her hands around his scrawny chicken neck and squeeze until he passed away. She was going to murder him, she was going to murder him she wasn't going to care about going to jail. She'd rather be in jail than out here with HIM.
Panting for air and opening and closing her hands, she looked around for something else to destroy, but she saw only a cop pulling into a slot down the walkway, so she hurried up and got out of there. She walked back to the hotel, burning with hatred, and glared at all of the stupid white urban yo boys who tried to holler at her. A little boy walked up to her crying. "I can't find my mom."
"Fuck you, kid," she spat, "just fuck you."
He cried even harder.
At the hotel, she stormed up to her room and slammed the door so hard it shook in its frame. For the second day in a row, she was hungry because of Lincoln's crap. Last night she had a burrito, yeah, but she wanted to have dinner with her friends, just like she wanted to have lunch with them today, but that fucking...fucker ruined it all. She came here to have fun and cut loose, and because of him, she hadn't been able to do either of those things. Lincoln fucked her over at every turn and if she didn't put an end to it, her whole vacation would be destroyed. What could she do, though? Call the cops and accuse him of rape? That would be easy; all she'd have to do is say the word and they'd throw him in jail. No one gives a shit what the man says. She could just whip up some tears and lie, and that would be that.
Something about that idea struck her as deeply wrong, however, and she rejected it. She couldn't do something that messed up; that was half a step down from just killing him. Maybe she could talk to Clyde and Stella about sending him away, though that was probably a lost cause. She'd be better off just asking if they could spend time together separately, like Lincoln can hang for part of the day and then Jordan the rest.
Yeah, that could work. Why not? If Clyde and Stella insisted on bringing that asshole around, the least they could do was move things around and make a few accommodations. It wasn't her fault they had shit taste in friends. If they wanted to be friends with both her and Lincoln, they were going to have to make some sacrifices.
Her stomach growled.
Might as well get some room service.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she picked up the phone and started to dial but a loud banging at the door stopped her. Who the fuck was this?
Jordan sat the phone back in its cradle, got up, and crossed the room. She unlocked the door and it burst open. Lincoln, look gay as always, came in, and Jordan fell back. His face was red and twisted in hatred, his eyes wide and crazed. He came at her and she stumbled back. It was impossible to be afraid of someone as weak and ineffectual as Lincoln Loud, but she was almost scared, so that had to count for something. "What the fuck are you doing?" she demanded.
"Me and Clyde just got into a huge argument because of you. You basically cost me my best friend. I hope you're happy."
Jordan snorted. "Damn right I am."
Never in a million years would she think for even a second that Lincoln had the balls to think he could put his hands on her, but he proved her wrong when his open palm fell across her face. Her head rocked to one side and pain exploded in her skull. She gaped at him in shock...then lunged at him with an animalistic growl, her claws tearing at his face and neck. Lincoln shot out his arms and grabbed her around the neck. Baring his teeth, he squeezed, crushing her delicate throat, and she battered his face, drawing blood. He slammed her against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs. Lincoln held her there, panting, and neither one moved. Their eyes met…
...and suddenly they were kissing, their tongues violently lashing. Lincoln grabbed her butt and squeezed as hard as he could, as though he were trying to rip it off, and Jordan's nipples stiffened. She grabbed the front of Lincoln's shirt and pushed him back; they stumbled, hit the wall, and bounced, knocking into the dresser. Lincoln ran his hands up her back, under her shirt, scratching her so hard that she moaned into his mouth. She bit down on his lower lip and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist and attacking his mouth with angry lust. They wobbled, spun around, and crashed into the end table. The lamp toppled off and shattered on the floor, ceramic littering the carpet.
Lincoln and Jordan fell onto the bed, Jordan on top. She caged Lincoln's legs with her knees and pinned his wrists over his head. Breaking from his lips, she bit and sucked his neck, her hips rocking mindlessly against his growing bulge. He bucked her off and rolled on top of her, hooking one arm under her leg and lifting it up to bare her middle; the fabric of her bikini bottoms sucked into her moist, love-swollen pussy and the prodding of his boner through his pants made her so wet he needed a snorkel just to fuck her. She slipped her arms around him and raked her nails down his back. He responded by grabbing her throat and cutting off her air supply as he yanked her bottoms down. Jordan's head swam and her pussy tingled excitedly. Her face felt warm and numb, her nipples throbbed -
Letting out a primal grunt, Lincoln slammed into her, his dick piercing her womb and ripping down her sensitive walls. God, he was so fucking big; it felt like he was going to turn her guts inside out. "Fuck me hard so I can feel it," she hissed, spittle flying.
He thrusted and she could swear he penetrated her cervix. She screamed and scratched his back. "You're smaller than I thought."
"Your breath stinks."
"You better pull out."
Lincoln started pounding her into the mattress, making her tiny breasts jiggle and knocking grunts from her throat. "You'll make a great single mom," he said.
"Fuck your baby, I'll abort it."
He tightened his grip around her throat and drilled her, butt blurring up and down, up and down, up and down. "So...small," she managed.
Lincoln pulled her hair until tears filled her eyes, and she wrapped her legs around his butt, their flesh slapping together and his balls knocking at her back door. "FUCK YOU!" she screamed. The biggest and sloppiest orgasm she had ever had in her life hit her and her entire body seized: Her walls closed around Lincoln's dick and her back bowed off the bed, impaling her up to the hilt. Lincoln's dick swelled and molten lava flooded her, intensifying her climax. They shook, groaned, and trembled together, his body giving hatred and Jordan's receiving it.
As soon as the post nut clarity set in, Jordan shoved him off. He lay next to her, breathing heavy, and she stared up at the ceiling in shock. It took her a full five minutes to realize that she had just had the best sex of her life…
...with Lincoln fucking Loud.
She sat up and his seed oozed out of her onto the bed. She looked at him and couldn't decide if she wanted to kick him out or do it again. Her eyes went to his dick.
It was still hard.
Fuck it.
She mounted him, pressed her hands to his chest, and sank onto his no-so-baby dick. She rocked her hips and Lincoln slipped his hands under her top and squeezed her tits until she yelped, the mix of pleasure and pain almost bringing her to her end. She glared down at him and went faster. "Take it, you little bitch."
"Give me something worth taking."
She lifted up until he was almost out, then slammed back down. "Penelope did it better."
The second time he came, Jordan jumped off of him, taking his load all over her stomach, inner thighs, and pussy lips. She was covered in sweat and shaky from riding him; her back hurt, her legs hurt, and, most importantly, her insides hurt. They lay together for a long time, not cuddling or even touching, then Jordan looked at him. "You hungry?" she asked.
On the drive out of Daytona Beach three days later, Clyde looked in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrow. Ever since the other day, Lincoln and Jordan had been acting funny with each other.
That is...they didn't fight anymore.
In fact, they hardly looked at one another and hadn't traded a single word in days. The ever present tension between them seemed to have broken and now there was peace. Clyde didn't know what had happened, but it was almost like they had come to terms with one another and moved on from the fiery grudge that had characterized their relationship over the past few years. It didn't feel like they were friends, but it didn't feel like they hated each other's guts anymore either.
He looked at Stella and she shrugged.
Maybe they were fucking.
Clyde laughed.
No.
That would never happen.
Of that, he was 1000 percent sure.
Until much later when he walked in on them fucking and calling each other the most awful names he had ever heard.
Then it all made sense.
THE END