Chase Banter [02] Marching to a Different Accordion (20 page)

“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.

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.

A camerawoman clapped her on the back. “That’s the spirit!”

Isabel smiled wanly at her. “I don’t know, but I might take my vacation and help her set up the library if she does get the thing up and running.”

“Are you serious?”

“Chase, has it ever occurred to you that lesbians are about nature’s best chance to see what a world run by women would really look like? Think about it—a straight woman’s body and mind are tied to men, so no matter how incredible a woman may be she is still held hostage by her reproductive organs and her place on the planet in relation to men. Lesbians are not part of that equation. You all just have to stop being the parlor mice. Lacey seems to want to build the house for you.”

Chase bit her lip. “I think I just want to go back to Kansas.”

“Just remember, Dorothy wasn’t the same Dorothy when she got back.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Chase said as she felt a tug at her T-shirt. She looked down to find Bud, who smiled up at her.

“Gitana put the suit back in the dressing area. She hopes you’re not panicking, but she’s got to run back to the house because P.H. needs some Imodium. I think that dose of hot pepper paste I put in her fry bread may have done it, but I did feel she deserved it. Besides what you did was worse,” Bud said.

“You were responsible for that?” Isabel said. “I thought you were upstairs in bed.”

“And miss the party? I spied,” Bud replied, not looking in the least penitent.

“Inadvertently, it seems we’ve become a family of poisoners,” Chase said.

“The political intrigue begins,” Isabel said.

“Speaking of poisoners,” Chase said, pointing at Lacey helping Ellen to a chair and pulling a Gatorade and a packet of Lay’s potato chips from her enormous purse.

“Does she have an icebox in there?” Bud inquired.

“She could have,” Chase said.

“Ellen looks ghastly, but I suppose a sour stomach is better than a broken heart,” Isabel mused.

Donna came rushing in and gave Isabel a peck on the cheek and said, “Hi, honey. Everything okay?” She scanned the crowd to see if anyone was watching. Two of the camerawomen noticed them and Donna took Isabel’s hand and gave them a proprietary glance. One of them gave Donna the thumbs-up sign. She leaned over and whispered in Isabel’s ear, “I hope you don’t mind, but we can’t have it leak out that you’re straight, especially if the Pink Mafia shows up, which with Chase as one of the panelists I’m sure they will.”

“The Pink Mafia?” Isabel said, her brows furrowing.

 “It’s the watchdog organization that sees to it that we don’t stray too far from our lesbian roots. They don’t like turncoats. They didn’t like it when Chase went mainstream and she received an ultimatum to come up with a new lesbian novel,” Donna explained.

“What would they do if she hadn’t?” Isabel asked, staring at Chase. “Break her fingers or something?”

“Cut out her clitoris I think is more their style,” Donna said.

Isabel winced.

“Can I go watch them set up the camera gear? I won’t get in the way.” Bud looked up at Chase imploringly.

“God, that look kills me,” Chase said. “All right, but be careful and try not to be too precocious. It freaks people out.”

“I’ll dumb down,” Bud promised and she trotted off toward the two women.

“Why do you want her to do that?” Isabel asked.

“Because I don’t want the Mensa people getting a hold of her.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not group people. I better go change. I see Lacey coming my way,” Chase said.

“Honey,” Isabel said, referring to Donna, “Why don’t the two of us go over my notes and you can see if they come across as authentically,” Isabel lowered her voice and said, “gay.”

Chase rolled her eyes. “This is just fucking absurd. Why can’t everyone just be themselves? We got rid of a lecher and brought in a librarian. That seems like a really good trade-off to me.”

“Shush. The walls have ears and we don’t want to blow it now. Maybe when we all get to heaven and everyone gets along and we have civil rights and we don’t have to wait for straight people to decide whether we can get married or not, then everyone can just be themselves,” Donna said.

“I never did understand that part. How does you all getting married have anything to do with straight couples? Will there be a shortage of wedding cakes and preachers?” Isabel said.

“I think they’re afraid we’ll do it better,” Donna said.

Chase shook her head and made for the dressing room. This getting-her-lezzie thing back was starting to grate on her nerves. She hadn’t realized before that sharing your life and your sheets with another woman was so complicated. Her suit was hanging on the hook by the door, the door with the gold star on it to indicate that the panelists were indeed important. It didn’t appear to matter that it was the restroom at large as well. Someone was retching up what seemed like her large intestine in the handicap stall. Chase, not one for nursing others, felt enough compassion for her fellow creature to check on her, especially since she had a pretty good idea who it was. “Ellen, is that you?”

A nasty retch and then a feeble voice said, “Yes.”

“Having a hard time? Is there anything I can do?” Chase had no idea what she could do except be empathetic.