Chapter #23Oh, the Drama! by: Seuzz   "Charles, wait up," you call, hurrying after him. "Can we talk?"
"Don't let Drea throw you," he says kindly. "She takes getting used to."
"If you say so. But did I do something wrong?"
"No, that's just her being her." He leans against the car. "Don't let her intimidate you. She's not as cool on the inside as she pretends to be on the outside."
"There's something else," you say. He waits. you reach past to open the passenger door to his car. "About her and ... me."
It's dark, but you can see the amused expression on his face. "There's lots of places I can be, but no place I have to go. I can talk for a bit." He goes around to the driver's side as you get into his car.
"So, you're wondering if this is something you really want to do, right?" he says with quiet confidence after you're both settled. "You're a cheerleader--or were--and you're supposed to have one of the jocks for a boyfriend. What's up with you and Richards, if I may ask."
"I don't know what's going on with us," you confess, choosing not to mention the forced break up. "I thought I liked being with him. I mean, I do. But ... I don't know how happy he is with me."
"He's got jockstrap itch," he sniffs. You fumble in your bag for the mask as he talks. "Gordon's got Chelsea, so he thinks he's supposed to have a cheerleader. But Patterson plays the field, so he thinks maybe he should do that too. No offense, but you're not in Chelsea's league, so he's not sure if he should take you as his girl or treat you like--"
"Can I show you something? Sorry, I shouldn't interrupt."
"No, it's okay. I'm being bitchy, and Drea would tell me to shut up if she were here. What's that?" You've got the mask out.
"It's-- Well, let me show you." You lean toward him, the mask poised. He pulls back. "Just hold still. It's kind of a magic trick." He stiffens as you press the mask toward him, and at the last minute he tries to block it going onto his face, but it's too late. He slumps in his seat.
It's too dark to take a chance on golemizing the mask in the car, so you pull open your clothes so you won't tear them and pull Eva's mask off. It takes a moment to adjust your eyes to the darkness again--you're not even sure you're awake--and push her mask onto Hartlein after his mask drops into his lap. Eva's replacement quickly stirs, and you hush her into silence while you seal up Hartlein's mask with the portable kit. You settle back and try to relax as you put it on.
Again, the dark of sleep only lightens a little when you wake, and you have the vivid impression that Hartlein is close. Instinctively you twist to look around, then realize that he is only inside you--because you are inside him. You snicker softly to yourself as you pat the flat bra.
"Okay, Eva, you can get out of those clothes," you tell her. "You're stretching my shirt all out of shape." It takes a certain amount of work in the close quarters, but inside five minutes you have his "rodent shirt" and shorts and shoes on. "Drea's gonna be wondering what we're up to if she looks out her window, so you better beat it," you tell her as she is still buttoning her blouse.
"Any messages to pass on?"
"No," you sigh. "I'll call Caleb myself. He's not gonna be happy, but he can suck me off." She opens the car door and you push her out as you scoot over behind the wheel. "Don't cause him any problems, okay? Work with him, do what he asks. I'll be in touch."
After she's gone you look back at Andrea's house. You toy briefly with going back inside to talk to her, but there's not much point. You take out your new cell phone.
"Is this the divine Chelsea Cooper," you chirp when she picks up. "Chuckie Hartlein here. I'm looking for Caleb Johannson. Be a dear and put him on."
"What makes you think that loser is with me?" she says.
"Who do you think you're talking to, Chelsea," you retort. "I know everything, and I mean everything. I know you've had him inside you. I bet he's still there, Caleb."
There's a pause. "Will?" she says. "What the fuck?"
"Yeah, Drea didn't trust herself to be alone with me. I couldn't get to her, so I had to settle for Hartlein instead. Which is fine, it'll all work out."
"They may both be gay, but they're not equivalent," Caleb snorts.
"Keep your panties on, Chels. Right now I'm not that interested in seeing you outside them. I'm just calling to tell you where I am and that I'll hook up with you tomorrow."
"You're not coming over now? What, you have a date you're late for?"
"Don't get bitchy with me, you whore, you're totally outclassed. Yes, I have suddenly acquired a social life, but don't get all steamy thinking about what I'll be getting up to, or I will share details when I see you again."
"Christ, this is a side I never knew you had. You were never this much in character when you were being Eva."
"I knew it would piss you off, so I'm playing it up. But I'm going now, there's a penis party I'm late to. Catch you tomorrow." You turn the phone off and toss it into the passenger seat.
* * * * *
The "penis party" is actually just a small get-together at Tim Gerrard's house, and you doubt there will be anyone there you could remotely hook up with. Nor does the improvised guest roster surprise you with any possibilities--every one of them is straight. But all the faces are friendly and there are cheerful greetings as you bustle in.
Still, your heart does a little flip to see that your ex-, Lisa, and her new boyfriend are in attendance, sitting close to each other on a sofa.
"Who's in charge of the music, your mother?" You cluck your tongue at Tim. "I knew I should have brought my collection along."
"I got copies of most of your stuff," Tim retorts. "Flip through the playlist, find something."
"It'll only be cheap knockoffs. Mine come with pixie dust. Well, let's make the best of it. Dance with me, Brooke," you tell another girl, drawing her to her feet. "That'll make the music sound better than it actually is."
"I thought you'd be with Adrian," Geoff calls as you start to get busy. "Or is he showing up later?"
"I haven't talked to him," you reply over your shoulder. "Lisa, darling, what happened between you and Prescott? You're still dating below your station, and at least he had the grace to act like you were totally out of his league."
"I still see him around," she says. Oh, you're such a liar, you snarl to yourself. "I'm just seeing more of Geoff."
"And just how much of Geoff have you been seeing?" you scoff. "If those pants and shirt sleeves were any longer, Mansfield, you'd be wearing a burqa. I trust you're showing her some skin."
"Stop undressing me with your eyes." His reply is mild, but his movements are stiff as he crosses his legs. "We're just at the hanging out stage."
"I don't remember seeing Lisa and Prescott hanging out at places like these." You twirl and shake your ass. "Maybe you were seeing more ofhim, Lisa, back before you were seeing so little of Mansfield?"
Lisa's upper lip disappears. Geoff is the one who replies, though. "Can you picture Prescott at a party like this?" he laughs.
"Sure I can," you say. "But I'm a creative type and can imagine lots of incredible things. Here, watch this." You break off the dance and leap over to Sean Mitchell, who is sitting on a chair nearby. "Let's show them our ventriloquist act," you say as you perch on his knee. He grins and runs his hand up the back of your shirt. His strong hand feels good as he spreads it between your shoulder blades.
Mitchell may be built like a wrestler, but he's in the drama club and on the staff of the creative writing journal; he's not much of an actor, but the two of you have a good rapport and are pretty good at improvising together, as with this little act you invented off the cuff only a few days ago. You pretend to slump, and then sit up rigidly, twisting your head stiffly around while a rictus plays on your face. "So, what have you been up to, Gabbo?" Sean inquires.
"Giving myself a woody while I was in my box," you chirp in a shrill falsetto.
"That's right, you are anatomically correct," he says in reproving tone. He reaches around in the manner of a ventriloquist to straighten your shirt. "But I've warned you about that kind of fun. You'll get splinters in your hand."
"You're just still sore because I gave you splinters up your ass. "
"No, I know that just means you love me."
"I wish you'd tell that to Gordon Black. I think he's still carrying splinters and a grudge."
"How was your date with the basketball captain?" He sets his cap on your head.
"It was going great, until he turned on the light and discovered it was me and not Jason Lynch."
"You should have just pretended to be a baseball bat."
"I was too big. Maybe if I'd pretended to be a toothpick. That's about Jason's size."
You continue in this vein, with mounting ribaldry; there are appreciative laughs all around. Gordon and his posse aren't popular with this group.
But though you twist your head this way and that, your eye is never far from Lisa. Hartlein isn't close to her, but you're pretty sure you could fuck up her relationship with Geoff if you put Hartlein's mind to it,   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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