Where to find a hero, in 3 links or less

I pull the tank top away from my sticky skin; but it doesn’t help much. “Next place we move to, will have air conditioning,” I mutter, along with a few choice phrases, as I head towards the kitchen. Visions of ice cream dance in my head.

A few minutes later I’m staring into the ice creamless zone of my freezer. WTF? The Boy. As if birthing him wasn't enough, he had to go eat my pint of frozen pleasure too.

“Guess again.”

I whirl around with a high pitched yelp. There’s this vaguely familiar looking chick standing in the middle of my kitchen-- then my eyes practically bug out of my head --and she’s eating my Cherry Garcia(!) with my spoon. “Who the hell are you?” I make a grab for the ice cream, but she's too quick and backs away, waving the spoon at me.

“Nu-uh. You took my man, so I get your ice cream. Fair trade.” She makes a face, and I catch a glimpse of sadness in her eyes, before she looks at me mean again. “Get him back.”

“W-what?” I didn’t know what was making me madder, that she was accusing me of stealing her man, or the fact that she’d taken another hella big ole spoonful of my ice cream and crammed it into her mouth. A quite delectably shaped mouth, I couldn’t help noticing. (Not that I swing that way. And NOT that there’s anything thing wrong with that.) But at least she was too busy savoring and swallowing my damn ice cream to be sprouting anymore foolishness.

“Listen, I don’t have your man. And gimme that carton.” I swiped it from her. I had the cream, but she had the spoon, and she was also standing in front of the utensil drawer. It was stand off. Almost. I used my fingers.

“Ewww.”

I licked the rim for good measure.

“Where is he? Where’s Odil. You decided to use him in another of your stories didn’t you?”

Well what can I tell you?. I was in shock. Odil? “Six foot three of hunk o burning love, Odil?”

“Bitch. I knew it.” She came at me with the spoon.

“Wait!” I held both arms out to ward her off; this chick was unpredictable. She took the opportunity to steal back the carton.

“What happened to ‘eww’?”

“Fictional characters can’t get 'real life' cooties.”

I was parched, I tell ya. I could still taste those two last fingerfuls of creamy heaven. “Okay, Zoë, let’s deal. Tell me when and where you last saw Odil, and I’ll try and figure out where he is.” I licked my lips. “And I get the Ben and Jerry’s back.”

“You know exactly when I last saw him.” She swallowed another mouthful of ice cream. “He slammed the door in my face, remember?” Then she laughed. “As if that was going to keep me away. Ha!” Her eyes narrowed. “I snuck round the back, looking for another way into the house. I figure he’d have listen to reason, right?” The pause wasn’t for me to agree with her, it was for another scoop of my damn ice cream. I whimpered.

“But then, before I could break into his house, this wack job blows the hinges off the back door. Looked like a military type. Not bad looking-- actually damn fine looking; if I hadn’t met Odil first....” She shakes her head, coming out of her reverie, and notices I’d been inching closer. “One more step and the cream gets it.” She holds the carton under the tap, and flicks the lever to the right. Hot Water. Sweat beads my upper lip.

“Hey, hey, let’s not be too hasty there,” I say, placating. “I think I know who grabbed your man.”

“You do?”

Jake; he’s over at Steph’s.

“Steph?” Her eyes become tiny vengeful slivers, (edged with a double row of thick long lashes). “That bitch. I’ve heard about her and her Alpha heroes. Well she can’t have my Odil.” Zoë leaves. I feel a little guilty about sic’ing her on Steph. But only a little. I scoot over to the sink and grab the carton. It’s empty.

That bitch.

Then I start to laugh. I laugh and I laugh and I laugh. Oh, yeah, she's is soo going to get it, when I start on that ms again. Yeah, she and Odil are both gonna get it. Get it good. Yeah. Hehehehehehehee. Gonna give it them. Heheh. Both of them. Heheeheheehehheheeeheheee. Eheheheheheheeeeheeheheeeee. Heheeeeheeeeheheheheheeheeehehehe.