In the Unlikely Event... (14 page)

“Oh, yes, there it is,” Gitana said, dumping more in.

“I can hear you. Our bedrooms are not that far apart,” Bud said.

“Well, honey…” Gitana said.

“I’m finished with it. You can have it.”

“If you knew that, why are you putting us through this embarrassing charade?” Chase said, her face flushed.

“Because part of a healthy childhood is learning to torment your parents,” Bud said.

After breakfast Chase went upstairs to change into her muck-about gardening clothes and discovered to her horror that Phyllis was sitting openly displayed on the nightstand. Chase snatched her up. Good God, now they were leaving sex toys lying about.

Chase supposed Phyllis should be washed off with soapy water and then dried and stored in a dark airtight location, but she wasn’t certain. She’d have to research the proper care of dildos after she finished rototilling the garden. She put Phyllis in what seemed an obvious place, too obvious, Chase thought as she nestled her in with the sports bras. She was about to move it and then realized Bud already knew about it so there was no point in moving it. She wondered why of all the choices in Donna’s Dildo Store, as Gitana referred to it, Bud picked this one. It was purple, a favorite color of Bud’s, and six inches long. Bud would know the average length of a penis. Color and anatomical precision were most likely the reasons behind her choice, Chase decided.

Bud and Gitana were going into town to visit Gitana’s mother, Jacinda. They would attend Mass while Chase worked in the garden. Chase changed into her dark green coveralls and mentally prepared herself for using this particular piece of garden equipment. She always dismantled the garden at this time of year by pulling up the soaker hoses, spreading horse manure and then tilling the soil so it could rest and feed all winter. She was never excited about using the rototiller because she feared bodily harm. What if it got away from her and then turned savage, churning her feet into something that resembled a cube steak? She banned the image from her mind with the “good thoughts” mantra that she’d learned from her self-improvement guide. Don’t manifest negative energy with negative thoughts
,
she reminded herself.

She came downstairs to kiss Gitana and Bud goodbye. They were both dressed nicely for church—Gitana in a light blue sundress and Bud in a khaki linen trouser suit. “You two look fab.” Chase made an effort not to think lascivious thoughts. Gitana, in a dress, often had this effect on her.

Gitana raised her eyebrows in a blatantly sexual manner. “Why thank you.”

“We’ll say a prayer for your salvation,” Bud said.

“Give Jacinda my love,” Chase said, ignoring the salvation comment.

“I made excuses for you. I told Jacinda you’d rather cut off a limb than recite a rosary,” Bud said.

“Bud!” Gitana reprimanded.

“But you will say a prayer so I don’t cut my foot off,” Chase said.

“Chase!” Gitana said, looking from her wife to her
daughter.

They were going to church at Bud’s request because it was October 4th, the feast day of Saint Francis of Assisi, and it was customary for the church to bless animals in homage to him. Bud was fascinated by rituals, as she’d been reading
The Golden Bough
by James George Frazer. Jacinda was ecstatic they were going.

Chase looked down at the dogs. They were going to be blessed because, as Bud pointed out, it was their day. Annie and Jane were dressed in the garb of friars, rough-woven cloth with rope belts. Jane was pulling on Annie’s belt in an effort to get her to play tug-of-war. “Are you sure you want to take them to church?”

“It’ll be fine,” Bud said, straightening Annie’s belt and giving Jane the command to sit.

“It’s just that dogs don’t usually go to church. Won’t there be other animals there as well?” Chase inquired, trying to imagine the cacophony. Then she smiled. “Are you bringing your video camera?”

“I hadn’t planned on it. But maybe…” Bud got the same glimmer in her eye. “It might be a good idea.”

“You can use it as a comic interlude in your docudrama—I mean if something amusing does happen.”

“Well, get it quick then or we’ll be late,” Gitana said.

Bud ran upstairs and got her TM900. Chase kissed Gitana. Bud returned and hugged her thigh. Chase couldn’t wait until Bud was tall enough so these spontaneous hugs would be higher up on her body, but then she remembered from her extensive reading that when Bud was taller she wouldn’t be interested in hugs.

“Okay, remember we’re taking the dogs to the Three Dog Bakery when we’re done so it’ll be after twelve when we get back,” Gitana said.

“Are you telling me this so I can make sure my other girlfriend will be gone by the time you return?” Chase teased.

“No, I’m telling you this so you know that if you cut your leg off you’ll bleed to death by the time we get back.”

“I have several contingency plans.”

“I’m sure you do,” Gitana said.

Chase was pulling the rototiller out of the garden shed when a black-gloved hand clapped itself over her mouth. She tried to scream, well, she did scream but nothing came out.

“Shh! It’s just me. You have to promise not to run away. You have to promise to listen,” Lacey said.

She had Chase wrapped in a wrestling hold. There was nothing to do but comply.

“Agreed?” Lacey said.

Chase nodded and Lacey released her. She turned around to discover Lacey dressed all in black like a Ninja Turtle, including a face mask that she removed with much ceremony as if her job of being tough girl with a mission had been accomplished much to her satisfaction.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

“I am attempting to communicate with the uncooperative enemy.” Lacey removed her black leather gloves. It may have been the first week of October, but it was still warm. Chase wondered how long the black cable-knit sweater was going to remain on.

“How’d you get here?” Chase asked, noting the lack of an automobile in the drive.

“I hiked in. I couldn’t risk you seeing me.” She whipped out a hip flask of water from her tool belt and guzzled it.

“You’re insane,” Chase said.

“Well, you wouldn’t answer your phone,” Lacey said, going from commando-tank girl to whiney-pitch-a-fit-tantrum girl.

“I would’ve most likely answered the door,” Chase said in her own defense but without conviction.

“Operative words being ‘most likely,’” Lacey sniffed.

“Well…”

“I figured you would have locked the gate.”

Chase didn’t meet her gaze. She had wanted to lock the gate, but Gitana wouldn’t let her.

Lacey caught it. “See, this was the only way in.”

Chase bit her lip.

“Did you know they’re working on the road?”

“What!” Chase said.

“Yeah, they’re putting those long silver tube-thingies in the ground right now.” Lacey removed the black sweater. She wore a black T-shirt underneath.

“Are you wearing black underwear?”

“Of course.”

“And those long cylinder thingies are culverts. They’re putting culverts in the road as in digging trenches and putting down gravel?” Chase inquired, certain that Lacey knew not of what she spoke. Chase peered around Lacey trying to see down onto the road. Sure enough, there was yellow equipment. Had one of the neighbors finally gotten fed up after all these years and decided to do something about it? Chase was torn between excitement and panic.

Lacey put her arm around Chase’s shoulder. “Let’s not talk about the road right now. We have more important things to discuss.” Lacey looked deep into Chase’s eyes. “You know that I love you, and that I would never do anything to hurt you.”

She would have gone on had Chase not interjected. “You handcuffed me to a chair, and I had to have a mobster pick the lock. Something like that does not fit into my risk management strategy of friendship. You understand that, right? I don’t have a chapter on ‘How not to get cuffed and secure your release courtesy of the Mafia,’” Chase screeched.

“I wondered how you managed to do that. Those handcuffs are specially made and extremely difficult to escape from.”

“Well, it took a professional to get me out.”

“I’m glad to know that, however, I was not overly surprised to discover you were gone. Your critical thinking skills are what I need in my organization.”

Chase frowned. She wasn’t going there. “You want some coffee?”

“Please. I think I need a pick-me-up. This commando gig is harder than it looks,” Lacey said, as they entered the studio. She undid her belt, which appeared to contain every tool Chase had ever seen in the Spyware catalog.

“Nice Maglite,” Chase said, pointing at the flashlight in the holster on the belt.

“I’ll give it to you if you come back to the Institute,” Lacey said, looking hopeful.

“It’ll take more than that,” Chase said, making the coffee and wondering if this diversionary tactic would work. They would have coffee and Lacey would go away in a Panglossian haze of “the best of all possible worlds.”

“I had a feeling it would,” Lacey said as she flounced down on the couch.

Chase got cups and poured milk while Lacey sighed heavily several times.

“So, what’s it going to take?”

Chase didn’t immediately respond.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking.” She poured their coffee and handed Lacey her cup and two packets of Sweet’N Low. “You know this stuff is like the ingredients found in alien spawn.”

Dumping them in her coffee, Lacey said, “Yes, I did know that and I approve. It makes me who I am and the person I will become.”

“The crazed power freak, you mean?”

“I am not a crazed power freak. I am the inspiration, the keeper of the flame, the desire pent up in the breast of each and every lesbian. Are you all right?”

Chase laughed so hard she appeared apoplectic. She gasped, tears running down her face. Having studied the Asberger’s card set of emotions as research for a book, Chase watched as Lacey’s face went from concern (card number seventeen) to anger (number twenty-three) to sad (card number six) in the span of five seconds.

“You know this thing is really important to me,” she said, pouting.

“A little too important. You can’t remake the world. People are who they are, which is not necessarily who you want them to be, and that’s what bothers you. Sovereign nation or not, you can’t go around incarcerating people because they don’t agree with you or they will resign.” Chase poured more milk into her coffee. Her stomach was rebelling. Experiencing acid reflux every time you were around your best friend was not a sign of a healthy relationship.

“I mean it, Chase, the Institute is very important to me and I don’t know why you don’t understand that—why you belittle my efforts. I don’t understand why you are so subversive.”

“Subversive?”

“Yes, you’re not being a good team player,” Lacey said, slurping her coffee and eyeing Chase over the top of the mug.

“How long have you known me?”

Lacey acted like this was a difficult mathematical equation and she needed time to think.

“Let me help you. Since the beginning of time and we were in our nappies. I’ve never been a team player.” Chase leaned back in her office chair.

“Okay, I will grant you that, but what if I created a new position for you and put someone else in charge of the writing class?”

Divine Vulva appeared hands on hips. “Over my dead body,” she said petulantly.

Chase didn’t mention she didn’t have a body to give over to death.

Commercial Endeavor looked up from one of Chase’s writing books on creating plausible dialogue. She wanted to start a blog on writing tips. She had not been successful at persuading Chase to write it, but she wasn’t through trying.

“I thought you hated the writing class,” Chase replied.

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. We owe it to the readers to produce some decent writers,” Divine Vulva said. She took a sip of Chase’s coffee. “Can’t you buy that flavored coffee mix stuff?”