(Continued from Chelsea – 9)
They sat in a charged silence with the turn signal blinking to allow a silver Volvo station wagon to enter then followed it down the drive. “We’re just arriving”, he said glancing into the rear view to catch Gennie’s eye. “We don’t know what happened…let anyone who wants to tell, tell.”
“Duke and Beth?” Gennie asked from the back.
“No. They know. Everyone else though…”
Gennie sighed loudly-a tad too loudly.
“Jesus Christ Geneva!”, Chelsea hissed turning in her seat. “Would you drop the fucking ‘tude!” The magic word to bust Gennie’s attitude always is her proper name spoken in anger. She puddled against the door.
“I’m sorry”, she said. “Sorry. I was just so…I’m just so…scared…”
“Scared”, sniffed Chelsea. “Scared…” She turned in the seat and without warning, slithered over the back rest. He had no desire to interfere but looking over in time to get a glimpse of Chelsea’s butt peeking out of the large tear in the seat of her jeans awakened desires he did have.
Gennie could barely get out a weak “Hey!” and throw up her arms before Chelsea was on her. “Do not be afraid and do not be a baby!” Chelsea said sternly grabbing her wrists and pushing them down to her sides. This lanky blonde was surprising strong. “Do you think we’re going to let anything happen to you?”
“Shut up!” Chelsea whispered. In the rear view he could mostly on see the back of Chelsea’s head but saw Gennie’s eyes roll back and close as Chelsea closed her mouth over hers. Gennie had no choice then but to shut up, there being two tongues in her mouth and all. She did relax, at least for the moment, as Chelsea released her arms and wrapped her in a hug. He pulled his eyes back to the road. Whatever the women did together back at the house, they did it out of his sight. Being a witness to this small coupling further scattered his concentration.
One would have thought that gunplay, an explosion, a cavalry charge of ATV’s and SUV’s scattering and subsequently rounding up a band of armed brigands might have put a damper on the party. In truth, some of the more timid souls had left at the first chance, but not too many timid souls come to this party anyway. The stream of vehicles coming down the driveway far and away outnumbered those going up.
After all that had happened it might have seemed easy to forget the plans for their entrance, but Chelsea was still on point. Once parked, she went to the trunk and pulled out the two staffs she had fashioned with the nooses on the ends. “Are we still going to do this?” Gennie asked.
In answer Chelsea looped the noose over her head and pulled it tight.
“Yes, we’re still going to do this.”
They entered the bonfire’s circle of light opposite the smoking hulk of the motorcycle which had become a prop. The girls lurched, twitched and growled at the menagerie of beasts and ghouls that turned at their entrance.
“Walkers in the house!” croaked a three-eyed raven; “Ah Zombies!” cried a vampire with improbably large breasts spilling over her red corset. Gennie was happy she hadn’t done the vampire thing. There were cops, soldiers, Captain America made it as did Bat Girl-who might have been Bat Man in drag. Some costumes were less elaborate than others, and others wore no costumes at all-it was a good mix.
While he was scanning the crowd, a five-foot kitten hopped their way and sniffed at his feet. He paused to allow for the act and when she turned from his feet to Gennie he saw the fur chaps she wore were backless and her furry tail protruded directly out of her bottom, no doubt plugged firmly in place. She rose on her haunches to sniff Gennie’s butt.
“Scat!” he said pantomiming a kick that gently poked at the kitten’s dimpled white bum. She hissed and scampered off.