Chase Banter [02] Marching to a Different Accordion

by Bennett, Saxon

  “What’s the other problem?” Gitana inquired as if the first one weren’t big enough.

  “The seating arrangements. P.H. insists on being seated next to Chase.”

  “Hmm,” Gitana said. “What does Donna say about all this?”

  “She told me that I’d better fix this whole thing and make it look good for Chase so that Myra won’t make her return to New York for a further torture session and if I don’t she’ll personally remove my clitoris with a meat cleaver.”

  “I don’t consider that a good choice of cutlery for such a procedure,” Chase said, trying to imagine it.

  “Donna used to be so mild-mannered,” Gitana mused.

  “What am I going to do?” Lacey moaned.

  Chase, out of compassion, made another turn around the block.

  “Honey, how long in terms of hours did Addison’s strep throat take to incubate?”

  Chase, ever the cataloger along with Addison who was simply fascinated by viruses, had been taking notes. “Addison is fairly certain after her first exposure, when she’d shaken hands with the opposing team’s debate leader, about seven hours and thirteen minutes with full blown symptoms in twelve.”

  Gitana glanced at the illuminated clock on the dash. “Perfect.” She plucked her phone from her bag and dialed.

  During the course of the conversation, Chase caught the gist and smiled with gleeful savagery. She glanced over at Gitana, who smiled sweetly.

  “Where are we going?” Lacey said as if she feared she was being abducted.

  “We’re going to get Addison,” Chase said as she turned onto Juan Tabo and made for the freeway.

  “Because why?” Lacey said.

  “Because she wants to meet P.H. Kinjera and get her autograph. You wouldn’t happen to have one of her books?” Chase said.

  “I do in my purse, which is back at the house because I wasn’t aware I was going on a trip.”

  “This is going to solve your problem,” Gitana said.

  Lacey perked up. “It is? But how?”

  “Addison is going to give P.H. a case of strep throat,” Chase said, getting off the freeway.

  Lacey appeared to be thinking—at least Chase gave her the benefit of the doubt that when she was quiet she was thinking. “Isn’t that kind of mean?”

  “I wouldn’t call it mean. I’d call it unethical and vindictive,” Chase replied as she turned into Tanoan and pulled up in Addison’s drive.

  “But she could get everyone sick,” Lacey said as Chase honked the horn.

  “We’ll take precautions. We’ll have her meet P.H. on the back patio because although Addison is precocious, she is also extremely shy,” Gitana said.

  Addison exited the house wearing gloves, a top-to-toe plastic suit made out of what appeared to be raincoat material with matching Wellington boots and a face mask. She had her enormous backpack, which she swung in the backseat next to Lacey. “Don’t worry. I am completely isolated. You won’t get it.”

  “Thanks for doing this,” Chase said.

  “Anything to help a friend. Besides this is a great science project,” Addison said, her voice muffled by the mask.

  “And what a hands-on experience. Did you bring the other thing?” Chase asked.

  Addison dug around in her backpack and pulled out a used pickle jar full of a yellow viscous substance. “It’s right here.”

  Lacey leaned away in horror. “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s sputum. I’ve been saving it until I’m better so I can look at it under a microscope. I’ve got one ordered, but it hasn’t arrived yet. I’m keeping my specimens in the fridge until then. This is only one sample. I have more,” she said as if she thought they might be concerned that she was sacrificing her project for them.

  “Did you know that the flu virus viewed through a microscope resembles a spiral ham stuck with cloves?” Chase added. She exited the freeway and headed for Four Hills.

  “We’ve been studying viruses together,” Addison said.

  “Great,” Lacey said, inching farther away from her.

  “I thought I’d dip the pen into the sample just prior to the interview so the virus will be at its peak performance level,” Addison said.

  “Perfect. Chase, who is so popular with P.H., can go in and get her and then we can execute our plan,” Gitana said.

  “You’re starting to sound as bad as them,” Lacey said.

  “If you mess with me and mine there will be retribution,” Gitana said.

  “That sounds like Old Testament doctrine,” Chase said as she pulled into the driveway of Stella’s house.

  “Now, Lacey, try and look natural and relaxed when you go in, like everything is supra-normal and you just went out to get some air. Get the book and bring it out to the alcove patio. Addison will de-suit herself and contaminate the pen,” Gitana said.

  “We could still get it,” Lacey said.

  “We won’t. In the open air and without close contact for such a short period of time the virus does not have a conducive environment for contamination. P.H. touching the pen on the other hand…” Chase replied.

  “Studying viruses is weird,” Lacey said, getting out of the car.

  “But it certainly comes in handy. Now, act natural and hurry up,” Chase said.

  Gitana and Addison crept around the side of the house. They would use the side patio that had more privacy and was usually vacant because it was hidden. Chase left them at the corner of the house and slipped inside.

  Chase found P.H. having an animated conversation with Lily. “I still consider your combining of, pardon my language, fuck and cunt to create “funting” as a way to describe lesbian sex disarming and rude,” Lily said, pursing her lips at P.H. like she wanted to rid her mouth of a foul taste.

  “If I may borrow P.H. for a moment. I have a fan who would really like you to autograph her copy of your latest book,” Chase said, smiling at P.H. and giving her her best come-hither look. She hoped she didn’t get jumped on the way to the patio. She’d have to move fast.

  “Please do,” Lily said.

  “And where is this fan of yours?” P.H. inquired as Chase led her toward the patio.

  “She’s outside. Addison is very shy,” Chase said.

  Once outside, they met Gitana and Addison. “Ms. Kinjera, I’m so glad to meet you. I’ve been a fan of yours since your first book, The Funting Factor. I think it’s very important that women create a language of their own.” Addison thrust out the copy of P.H.’s latest book If Not Now Then When.

  “How old are you?” P.H. said, peering down at Addison who was impeccably dressed in what Chase would have called literary fashion—cream-colored trousers, a hunter green oxford shirt with a pale green ascot and a tweed blazer. She looked like a midget English professor.

  “Eleven,” Addison said, handing her the pen.

  P.H. looked perplexed but opened up the book. “What would you like the inscription to be?”

  “‘To Addison, with love and affection’ will be fine.”

  “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?” P.H. said.

  Addison touched P.H.’s leg. “I hope that we’ll get to be great friends,” she said.

  P.H. jumped back and hurriedly signed the book. “Maybe when you’re a little older,” she said, handing Addison her book. “Look, it was nice meeting you, but I really need to get back inside.” She bailed quickly, which was fortuitous as they all burst out laughing.

  “Okay, where did you get the little suit?” Chase said.

  “From the drama department. We’re doing a play one of the kids wrote, it’s pretty stupid, kind of a combination of Mrs. Dalloway meets Harriet Vane from the Dorothy Sayers book Strong Poison.”

  “That doesn’t sound half bad,” Chase said.

  “It’s overly dramatic without interludes of rest so the audience has no time to regain its emotions.”

  “What part do you play?” Gitana asked.

  “I’m Harriet Vane.”


  “That’s a pretty big part,” Chase said.

  “I’m the only other person besides the so-called playwright who has ever read a Dorothy Sayers novel.”

  “I thought the hand on the leg was pretty good too,” Chase said.

  “That was for you,” Addison said.

  “How’d you know?” Chase said.

  “I didn’t, but I saw her make a move for your bum as you came through the door. I can guess the rest—the old kitchen island move.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, we better get you home before your mom sees you,” Chase said.

  Addison dressed and they were off.

  As Chase got back on the freeway she said, “I hope it works.”

  “It will. The dose I gave her was from the immediate onset. She’ll be sick by morning.”

  “We better keep her away from Ellen. We can’t have two of them getting sick,” Gitana said.

  “Don’t worry, Lacey is busy getting Ellen snockered. She’ll put her to bed before P.H. gets her claws into her,” Chase said.

  “We’re bad,” Gitana said.

  “What happened to Old Testament judgment?” Chase said, pulling into Tanoan.

  “Ellen didn’t do anything,” Gitana said.

  “We’re protecting Ellen from a lecherous viper as well as a contagious disease. Getting her drunk and passed out is the only way I can think of keeping her safe. She’ll thank us when she doesn’t have strep in the morning. Stella will fix her up with her world famous hangover elixir. Don’t worry,” Chase said, squeezing Gitana’s hand.

  They pulled into Addison’s drive. “You were fabulous,” Chase said.

  “I wish I could be there tomorrow,” Addison said, through her mask. “But that wouldn’t be socially responsible.”

  “I wish you could too.”

  “At least there’s the webcam,” Addison said brightly. She was looking feverish.

  “Are you all right? We didn’t make you sicker, did we?” Chase said, alarmed.

  “No. I’m fine. I just need to lie down. Call me tomorrow?”

  “Of course. I’m going to need a pep talk,” Chase said.

  Chapter Nineteen—Revolution

  Revolutions are not made: they come. A revolution is as natural a growth as an oak.

  It comes out of the past. Its foundations are laid far back.—Wendell Phillips

  By eight thirty the next morning, P.H. Kinjera was isolated in the east wing and Stella’s personal physician had diagnosed her malady as strep throat. She was to remain in bed and anyone who came in contact with her was to wear a mask.

  “What are we going to do?” Donna said, wringing her hands outside the sick room. “We’re short a panelist, Ellen has a horrible hangover and Delia refuses to give up her place as the intro speaker.”

  “Oh, I think it will all work out,” Chase said, leaning against the wall.

  Lacey came running up the stairs. “It’s all set.” She kissed Chase on both cheeks. “You are so marvelous, you and Gitana.”

  “Yes, my brilliantly conniving partner,” Chase said.

  “What are you talking about? Myra’s going to kill me if this snafus.”

  “It won’t. Isabel is taking P.H.’s place. She’s going to plug the library and gay books angle and she’s funny and articulate so her being straight will be overlooked if anyone finds out. We’re going low-key on that,” Lacey said, looking pointedly at both of them.

  “I’m not going to out her,” Chase said.

  “Me neither. I’ll pretend to be her girlfriend if need be,” Donna said.

  Lacey put her forefinger to her lips. “That might not be a bad idea. You don’t have to lip lock or anything, but you could look kind of chummy.” She addressed Chase, “Do you think Isabel would mind?”

  “I don’t think so. I have a feeling she’d find the whole thing rather amusing.”

  “Perfect. The Ellen question also has been decided. Ellen, it seems, is a little under the weather so she’s given up her bid to be the intro speaker. Delia has conceded to mention some of Ellen’s key points. How is that for managerial skills?”

  “You are truly amazing,” Donna said, looking at Lacey with newfound awe. “Maybe you could help me with Myra.”

  “You could pretend to quit and Lacey could take over and give Myra such a time of it that she’d be begging to take you back,” Chase said mockingly.

  Lacey and Donna looked at her and then at each other. “That’s brilliant,” Donna said.

  “I think we could pull it off. You could say that you’ve found a replacement and that you need some time to reflect on the direction your life is taking,” Lacey said, rubbing her hands together like some evil cartoon genius.

  “I was just kidding,” Chase said.

  “We’re not,” Donna said, flipping on her heels and heading for the front door.

  “We’d better get down to the Community Center and see how the film crew is doing,” Lacey said. She suddenly noticed Chase’s outfit of khaki shorts and a T-shirt that had a kernel of corn blown up to the size of a dessert plate. “What does that mean?” she said, pointing at the corn.

  “I have no idea, but I thought it was funny. It was only a dollar at Thrift Town.”

  Lacey peered at her. “Where is the suit?”

  “What suit?” Chase said as she bounced out the front door and toward Lacey’s car.

  Lacey grabbed her by the shoulders. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You are not going to fuck up my project that I have worked so hard on by appearing in a T-shirt with a piece of corn on it. Now, where is the fucking suit?”

  Chase had backed away in alarm. “Lacey, relax. Gitana has it and will bring it to the Center where I will change into it. I don’t want it to look scruffy by the time this whole,” she refrained from saying pathetic, “affair commences.”

  “Oh, well, that was good thinking. Sorry.” Lacey looked sheepish as they got in the car.

  Once in the car, Chase took Lacey’s hand. “I don’t mean this as a criticism...” That wasn’t exactly the right word. “I mean, I think you’ve done a marvelous job on all of this.”

  Lacey glared at her as she flipped off the driver in front of her for cutting her off as they got on the freeway and then proceeded to have a moment of road rage as she tailgated the offending driver, who quickly sensing the danger got over into the farthest lane available.

  Chase’s elation at beginning to get her lezzie back was suffering a major setback. Lacey was becoming Donald Trump with better hair. Between her, Donna and P.H., it felt like lesbians were going all corporate and that promotion and a ruthless seeking of attention and selling of product were taking over. Did she want to be part of this new aggressive attitude?

  “Now, what were you saying?” Lacey said as she exited the freeway and headed down Lomas to the Community Center.

  “Oh, it was nothing.”

  “You said something about criticism. If you have something to say I want you to say it.” Lacey whipped into the parking lot of the Community Center.

  “We can talk about it later,” Chase said, reaching for the door handle. The lock went down. Chase tried the knob. Lacey had kicked in the child-proof device.

  “Now,” Lacey said. She didn’t exactly look murderous, but Chase felt her heart quicken.

  Chase chose her words carefully, or at least she hoped she had. “I just think that we might all be losing our sense of fun and going kind of corporate. I mean lesbians used to be easy-going, under-the-radar kind of people and now we’re sort of stepping out on stage and suffering a bit of emotional backlash because of it. I’m concerned for the psyche of our people.”

  Lacey was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and looking very pensive. Chase couldn’t remember the last time she saw Lacey this serious except maybe when the iPhone came out with no instruction manual. “I think you’re right.”

  Chase was relieved. Maybe they could get through this, go home and take up
life as usual—maybe sell some more books and call the whole thing good.

  “But…”

  Chase’s head snapped back around.

  “I don’t want ‘our people’ to go back to happy Lesbian Land. I want corporate, but our own corporate, I want center stage, but I want us to create, build and utilize the stage in our own way and I want us all to have emotionally healthy psyches. These are growing pains. I have bigger plans yet and you’re going to help me whether you like it or not. I don’t care if you’re not a group person or that you march to a different accordion, you’re going to be there.” Lacey unlocked the doors and got out.

  “It’s drum.”

  “What?”

  “Marching to a different drum,” Chase corrected.

  “In your case, it’s an accordion.”

  Chase sat wondering if she’d just unlocked Pandora’s box. Lacey opened her door. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

  “Viva the Revolution,” Chase said weakly.

  “That’s right, baby. When this is all over with I want to show you this piece of property I’ve got my eye on out by Galisteo.”

  “You’re moving to the country?” Chase was incredulous. Lacey had never lived more than four blocks from the nearest Starbucks. Galisteo didn’t even have a gas station.

  “No, the Revolution is.”

  Chase was still in a state of shock when Isabel sidled up to her. “How are you holding up?”

  “Lacey wants to start a revolution or something. I thought this was just a book group thing.” She looked around at all the film equipment and people scurrying everywhere.

  “I kind of got the gist of it last night. I brought you a book. I think it might help,” Isabel said, pulling a copy of Erich Fromm’s Marx’s Concept of Man from her bag.

  Chase automatically read the back cover. “What is she thinking of doing, creating the Republic of Lesbekistan?”

  “No, I think it’s more along the lines of an institute aimed at education, arts, culture, finance and political theory so that lesbians are better equipped for the world at large.”

  “Worldwide lesbian domination,” Chase said.