“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?”
“It’s called creamer,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“Whatever. She knows what I mean.” She brushed her hand in a wave of annoyance.
“The coffee has a ton of milk in it,” Chase said, snatching the cup back, thinking best friend, acid reflux and a muse who morphed into a barista were equal pains in the ass. “Maybe you should get a job at Starbucks, and then you could make coffee anyway you like and impose your desires on other people instead of me.”
“Very funny. You know I don’t have a Social Security card.”
“Oh my God,” Commercial Endeavor said, feigning horror. “You’re an illegal alien.”
“Chase?” Lacey said, breaking the connection.
“I’m talking to my muses. They don’t want to stop the writing class.”
“Oh, well, carry on talking to them. Don’t mind me.” Lacey faded into the background again.
“You know, for an ingrate she does have manners sometimes,” Divine Vulva said, taking another sip of Chase’s coffee and making a point of wincing.
“Well, then, don’t drink it,” Chase said.
“But I’m tired,” Divine Vulva whined. “I need a pick-me-up.”
“I’d hardly call you overworked,” Chase said.
“It’s my P.M. aerobics sessions,” Divine Vulva said.
“Aerobics? Where th
e hell do you take aerobics?”
Divine Vulva lowered her eyes demurely and glanced over at Commercial Endeavor, who blushed. “In the bedroom,” she replied.
“I wish you guys wouldn’t do that.” Chase was still in denial about her two muses having a tumultuously passionate relationship. “What if you break up?”
“You’ll be a casuality of divorce and treated accordingly,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“But that’s not going to happen,” Divine Vulva said, running her hand up Commercial Endeavor’s inner thigh. “Now back to the writer’s class gig. I want to do it and since it has been previously noted I do not have a Social Security card, you will have to be the primary job holder. However, you can be the figurehead and get all the credit, but I want to run the show,” Divine Vulva said, whipping a clipboard out of nowhere. “Now, let’s draw up a syllabus and get serious about this thing.”
Chase glanced at Commercial Endeavor, who looked just as puzzled as Chase felt. “Syllabus?” Chase said.
“Yes, your problem is that you’ve been pissing in the wind. It’s time you organize and actually teach these people the craft of writing. Leave the imagination part to us—you teach them how to do it.”
Commercial Endeavor nodded. “And while we are at it, what about my blog idea?”
“Give an inch, take a mile,” Chase said.
Both Divine Vulva and Commercial Endeavor visibly cringed. One of the best ways to get at your muse, Chase thought, was to use a cliché. “But I will give it my best shot. I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket because I am definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed.”
“Stop it!” Divine Vulva yelled, putting her hands over her ears and looking at Commercial Endeavor. “Make her stop.”
Commercial Endeavor tried to appear unruffled, but Chase smirked at her efforts. She said, “Please refrain. We get the point. You’re feeling railroaded into this, but it is a good idea and I think you could do it. All you really need is a proper attitude adjustment.”
“Like what?”
“Negotiate,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“For what? What could Lacey give me that I want or can’t live without?”
“Peace, love and revolution, as Lucinda Williams says at the end of her concerts,” Divine Vulva said.
“That sounds rather oxymoronic,” Commercial Endeavor pointed out.
Chase contemplated this and drew no conclusions.
“It means freedom. You start telling Lacey exactly how you feel about things. It will give you a sense of peace through empowerment. You love Lacey, but you need to change your relationship. She bosses you around and you don’t like it,” Divine Vulva said. She cocked her head in Lacey’s direction. Lacey was scrolling through her BlackBerry and muttering to herself.
“Do you believe any of the crap she just said?” Chase asked of Commercial Endeavor.
“Actually, aside from the histrionics and bloated sentimentality, she does have a point,” Commercial Endeavor said.
Divine Vulva blew on her knuckles and rubbed them on her chest.
Chase smiled sardonically. “Gesture can also be a cliché.”
Divine Vulva immediately stopped doing it.
“The look on your face closely resembled someone caught with their pants down.” Chase blanched. Holy shit, she was trapped in cliché-ville.
Commercial Endeavor stared at her. “I hope this isn’t going to be an ongoing problem.”
Chase hoped so too.
Lacey broke in. “Have you all come to some sort of a consensus?”
Chase blinked and then stared at Lacey. “Not yet, I’ll be right back.”
“You’ve got her attention. Now bargain for what you want,” Divine Vulva said.
“But I don’t know what I want,” Chase said. She looked at Commercial Endeavor, who seemed to sense that she was Chase’s rock.
“You want more time and space and to use another cliché…” Commercial Endeavor said.
They all shuddered.
“To stop being at her beck and call,” Commercial Endeavor finished.
This was true, Chase thought. Lacey told her what to do and she did it.
“You need to dictate your terms of engagement,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“So what do I tell her?”
“That you’ll teach the writing class and that’s it, no board meetings, no pep rallies, no day-to-day operations. The Institute is her problem—not yours. She doesn’t need you there. She just wants you there because she doubts herself,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“I don’t think it’ll work,” Chase said.
“Give it a whirl,” Commercial Endeavor said, but Chase noted the lack of conviction in her tone.
“No! Give it your all,” Divine Vulva said, punching Chase in the shoulder.
“Ouch.”
“Pussy,” Divine Vulva said.
Chase rubbed her arm. She wasn’t convinced.
“I’ll put money on it,” Divine Vulva said.
“You don’t have any legal tender,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“I have other things.” She whispered something in Commercial Endeavor’s ear that made her blush.
“What do I get if you lose?” Chase said. Sometimes this camaraderie between her muses felt like an us-them dichotomy, especially since they had started sleeping together. She didn’t think a romance was good idea, but she didn’t want to pull a Romeo and Juliet parental intervention. Besides, it would only fuel Divine Vulva’s histrionics.
“I promise you one really good idea,” Divine Vulva said, stealing another sip of Chase’s coffee.
“Do you want your own cup?” Chase asked.
“Would you mind?” Divine Vulva said.
“Stop that! People already think she’s weird without pouring coffee for her imaginary friends,” Commercial Endeavor said, giving Divine Vulva a can’t-you-behave-yourself look.
“Well, then she will just have to share,” Divine Vulva said, pointing at Chase’s cup. “It’s not like I have germs.”
“Oh, all right. Forget I said anything.”
“I already have.”
“Now about this wager—aren’t you supposed to be handing over your ideas as part of your job description?” Chase said.
“Well…” Divine Vulva hedged.
“And if you win the wager what do I give you?”
“My own coffee cup, which I will drink from discreetly.”
“You’re not going to give up.”
“Nope.” She popped the “p.”
“She’s got to win first,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“You want what I got,” Divine Vulva said, swinging her neck around. She winked at Commercial Endeavor, who blushed from either sheer embarrassment or lust. Chase hoped it was the former.
“So go ahead and present your demands,” Divine Vulva said, assuming the Warrior Pose, which she pointed in Lacey’s direction.
“Since when have you taken up yoga?” Chase said.
“Since I decided I need to be more flexible.”
Lacey must have sensed Chase had finished her discussion or she’d grown impatient. “Well?”
Chase took a deep breath and said, “I will teach the writing class…”
“See, I told you. It wasn’t that bad,” Lacey interrupted.
“But nothing else.”
Lacey’s face on the Asberger chart went from happy (card number fourteen) to surprise (card number twenty-eight) to mad (card number seven). “You can’t desert me like this!” She looked around the room as if trying to locate another chair in which to handcuff Chase.
“Need I remind you that I am on my turf, and yes, I can desert you, which technically I am not doing because I didn’t sign up for lifelong fealty.”
Lacey sensed she’d gone too far. “Chase…please. I really do need you.” She looked piteous.
Chase got up and went to sit next to Lacey on the cracked leather couch. She took her hand. “You’re my best
friend…”
Divine Vulva whispered in her ear, “Make this good.” Chase swatted her away. “I will always be there for you—I just can’t be part of the day-to-day. It’s not me. The Institute is a reflection of you and who you’ve become…”
“Oh, I know. The Institute has made me into the amazing lesbian that I am, and I want the same thing to happen to you.” Lacey’s eyes gleamed with joy. Her zeal was frightening.
“Well…” Chase started.
Commercial Endeavor poked her in the ribs. “Don’t go down without a fight.”
“Do you want to lose the bet?” Chase hissed.
Commercial Endeavor didn’t look at her.
For such a business hard-ass, Commercial Endeavor was incredibly sentimental when it came to love. Of course, she had started her career out as a romance writer muse before she hired on with Chase as a mystery writer consultant.
“It’s kind of a win-win sort of bet,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“What is it?”
“I can’t say,” Commercial Endeavor said.
“Why not?” Chase said.
“Well…”
“You’re getting as bad as me with the ‘wells,’” Chase muttered.
“Where do you think I get it from?” Commercial Endeavor said snappishly.
“So now you’re blaming me for your linguistic banalities.”
“Well…”
“Will you two stop it?” Divine Vulva said.
They glanced sheepishly at each other and simultaneously said, “I’m sorry.”
“Now, back to the negotiations,” Divine Vulva said.
Lacey had resumed her diatribe. “I know how important the Institute is to you—despite,” there was a pregnant pause, “your behavior of late.”
“Maybe I could phase out of it slowly,” Chase suggested.
Divine Vulva and Commercial Endeavor both buried their heads in their hands. “Can we say C-A-V-E?” Divine Vulva said.
“Well…” Chase said. Oh shit, was she ever going to stop saying that word?
Lacey poured them both more coffee and handed Chase the milk.
“Chase, can’t you give it another try for me?” Lacey’s voice filled with her best rendition of plaintive.
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