Wash 15

Betsy and Letty lay side by side on the hotel bed,

sheets pulled up to their waists,

scrolling through their phones

like two tired housewives ignoring their husbands.

Letty sighed. "So, did Sylvia answer yet?"

Betsy scoffed. "Absolutely not. Phone’s off. I've been calling

and texting her so much I chipped a damn fingernail.

I KNEW she was gonna pull this stunt—ditch us,

not pay for the hotel, and leave us hanging. Typical”

She shook her phone like it was Sylvia’s neck.

Letty smirked. "Maybe she's busy."

"Busy with WHO? Miguel dumped her,

and that lunatic son of hers—Teddy?

What can you squeeze out of him?

Detergent and bleach?

All that he cares about is his damn laundry."

Letty giggled, twirling a strand of hair.

Betsy narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. Just...thinking."

Betsy lifted a brow.

"Don’t you dare tell my boyfriend about this,

or I swear I’ll tell yours. Karma’s real, bitch."

Letty rolled her eyes.

"Please, I'm not stupid. I don’t even know your man’s number."

Betsy sighed. "Fine. Spill."

Letty hesitated, then blurted out,

"Do you think we could...you know...kiss?"

Betsy’s eyes bulged. "KISS?! ARE YOU FREAKIN’ HOMO?!"

Letty laughed nervously. "No, no, I was just...curious."

Betsy recoiled. "CURIOUS?!"

"Chill! Why you gotta yell everything? We’re just talking."

Betsy exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

"Fine. But if I do this, you’re helping me hunt Sylvia down

and squeeze my damn money down to the last cents out of her. Deal?"

"Deal."

With a dramatic eye roll, Betsy leaned in,

quickly kissed Letty but her lips barely brushing—

"That’s it?" Letty giggled. "What happened to the tongue?"

Betsy scowled. "TONGUE?!"

Letty raised her eyebrow, “A tongue is required to become an official kiss.”

Betsy almost screamed, “Are you fuckin’ serious?”

Suddenly, a head popped out from

under the sheets—right between Betsy’s legs.

"Betsy," the hot guy groaned. "Can I stop now? My tongue’s cramping."

Letty shrieked as another guy emerged from beneath her sheets,

rubbing his eyes. "Ugh, I’m bored. Can we go home?"

Letty turned to Betsy, deadpan.

"I mean…that’s it? I’m still waiting for the tongue"

Betsy squinted. "Oh, you want the TONGUE DRAMA? Fine."

She grabbed Letty’s face, cupped her cheek,

and smooched her EXAGGERATEDLY, her tongue rams all

over her cheeks. Letty screamed in frustration and then giggled like

a ticklish toddler.

The two guys gawked at the kissing friends. "Seriously?!"

Before they could process it,

the bathroom door swung open.

Another guy—wearing only underwear—stepped out,

stretching. "Damn, that was a long one."

The other two sniffed, gagging. "Bro, what’s that smell?"

"Uh…broccoli?" He scratched his stomach. "I’m vegetarian."

The guy in underwear then turned to Betsy and Letty,

who had already gone back to scrolling through

their phones like nothing had happened.

"Soooo… where’s the cougar you guys promised?"

Betsy didn’t even look up. "She scammed me."

The two guys exchanged glances.

One of them reached for the other’s hand.

His finger teasing him.

The guy in underwear strips down and jumps on bed,

he started kissing the neck of the other guy.

Letty noticed. "Wait—what is going on? Are you guys about to—"

Before she could finish, the guys immediately started making out,

rolling around on the bed,

rocking the phone off Betsy, “What the HELL Letty you knocked my phone off.”

And that’s when everything hits Betsy.

She held on to Letty’s shoulder and screamed like HELL.

In front of them, are the three guys, all sweated up and

banging each other like there’s

no tomorrow.

“HOLY SHIT LETTY THEY’RE LITERALLY DOING IT IN FRONT OF US!!”

Before Letty can reply, the bed rocked so hard, that it knocked both of them off,

Letty landed on the floor, Betsy on top of her.

Their lips locked in. And that’s when they again

both screamed so loud, because everything is TOO MUCH.

In the next room, Harold, in his sixties, was sweating and panting,

his face scrunched in determination as he stared at His wife, Agnes,

bored beneath him, scrolling through her phone.

He'd been at it for a while now, but nothing was working.

No spark. No passion.

Just the faint sound of the air conditioning and scent of his desperation.

“What was that Harold?”

ANOTHER blood-curdling scream from Betsy and Letty’s room shattered the silence.

The walls practically shook. AGAIN.

Harold flinched—WHAT THE HELL was that? Who cares?

Right now Agnes,

we’re in the middle of something.

DAMN. How many pills should I pop to get my thing working.

Agnes nudged him again. “Should we knock on their door to make sure

they’re ok? Harold ignored Agnes, Knocked? Right now I’m still trying,

to knock you off, BUT the key won’t fuckin’ lock in.

Something is terribly wrong.

And in his panic—He MADE a mistake.

"HOLY SHIT, HAROLD YOU’RE AT A WRONG HOLE. THAT FUCKIN’ HURTS”

Harold stared at Agnes in sheer horror.

He realized what was wrong.

Tonight what he really need is a MAN.

Not this SHIT.

————————————————————————————————

Meanwhile, Across Town…

Sylvia is back.

For her ribs.

She lost her designer Jacket from Teddy.

She won’t lose. AGAIN.

She’s here to conquer.

and WIN. Ribs win.

She sauntered into the Latin restaurant where Miguel

had taken her before,

that fucking night when Miguel ditched her.

Slamming her purse onto the counter.

Her freshly manicured nails clicked against the wood like war drums.

A familiar voice cut through the music.

"Well, well, well. Look who’s back, The rib lady returns.

Here for another plate of our tough-as-fuck ribs?"

Sylvia locked eyes with the Guatemalan waitress.

"Actually, you're right. I do want those ribs—on the house.

Because you stole my plate last time."

Sylvia’s phone rings. It was Betsy.

Fuckin’ Betsy why she’s always worried about her money.

She has Cliff’s golden credit card, she’ll pay her later.

“Boyfriend troubles?” The Guatemalan waitress scoffed.

Sylvia ignored her. It was Betsy, again calling her.

She finally gave in.

She answered Betsy’s video call.

To her shock, she saw Betsy and Letty screaming and in total panic

behind them are three guys going at it.

She slammed her phone shut

Karma is real for Betsy.

She stared at the Guatemalan waitress.

The waitress leaned in, arms crossed.

"Well, girl, why are you exactly here? For free ribs?"

Sylvia smirked. "Very well…"

The waitress snaps, “Very well, what?”

With a dramatic snap, Sylvia popped open her blouse.

Buttons exploded off her shirt, flying across the room like lethal bullets.

The gay cruise patrons SCREAMED,

shielding their eyes like vampires exposed to sunlight.

Trays clattered to the floor. Drinks spilled.

Someone shouted, "MY EYES!"

The Guatemalan waitress gasped—then

narrowed her eyes on Sylvia. "Oh, you wanna play? So you want me

to go that “ribs” direction?"

In one swift motion, she RIPPED off her own blouse

and tossed it onto a nearby table.

A horrified gay man used his pinky to lift it off his plate

before hurling it onto the floor, he screamed as his partner comforted him.

Totally disgusting.

Another patron IMMEDIATELY poured tequila

on it, as if purging an unwelcome spirit.

"Your move bitch…." the waitress taunted.

Sylvia’s confidence wavered. "Wait a second—"

"Bitch, NO TAKE-BACKS!"

With a smirk, the waitress hooked her thumbs

into her skirt—and in one swoop, let it drop.

Gay men collapsed in horror.

"PLEASE! STOP STRIPPING!" someone begged.

"THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR US! NIGHTMARE ALERT!"

Sylvia had no choice.

She lunged forward, grabbing the waitress’s

wrist—pulling her close—and kissed her.

Silence.

Then, the entire restaurant erupted into applause.

A rainbow flag appeared out of nowhere.

"LOVE WINS!" someone cheered.

The Guatemalan waitress pulled back, dazed.

"Damn, girl. You taste like expired margaritas."

Sylvia wiped her mouth and grinned.

"And you taste like free ribs."

A waiter immediately slid a plate

of ribs onto the counter.

"On the house. Please—just leave

before more people go blind."

Sylvia flipped her hair grab the ribs

and starts munching it off.

The waitress laughed. “Do you want to go to Guatemala?”

Sylvia stopped mid bite.

“Like..right now?”

The waitress ditched her apron,

grab her wrist and pulled her out

of the ribs place.

And they both run outside.

Towards who knows where.

Guatemala? Like for real?