In the Unlikely Event... (31 page)

Gitana sniggered. “That has possibilities.”

“You should see what it does with the lesbian sex scenes. It took me forever to get it to understand that I said ‘clitoris,’ not ‘it tore us.’”

“You actually wrote the word ‘clitoris’?” Gitana asked, her face the picture of incredulity—a facial expression not noted on any of the Asberger cards.

“The publisher says I have to get more graphic. Eliza P. Newman told me, in no uncertain terms,” Chase glanced around for a muse to see if they heard her use the clichéd phrase, “that the new trends no longer accept ‘pink folds and nub’ as euphemisms. The writer has to say what the part is. You should see what the voice-activated program does with labia majora and minora.”

“But it sounds so clinical,” Gitana said.

“Believe me—now a sex scene reads like a human physiology textbook. I’m not liking it, but my options are limited, especially when I’ve got the Pink Mafia breathing down my neck.”

“I hope the muses aren’t around—that’s the second clichéd phrase you’ve used in this conversation.”

“I know. My protagonist in the mystery novel has an aunt who only talks in clichés, which is amusing in a book as a character trait, but I think it’s rubbing off on me.”

Bud came into the writing studio wearing oversized blue jeans and a white hoodie. She looked like a gangster rapper. She had her camera bag slung over her shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“Is this your new look?” Chase asked.

“I’m trying to get into my role of hip, cutting edge, indie filmmaker. Is it working?” Bud said, yanking up her pants.

Chase winced. “I don’t know.”

“Ready for what?” Gitana asked. “It’s Saturday. I thought you wanted to go to a movie.”

“We have to do something more extreme first. You can wait in the car. We just need ten minutes.”

“I told Addison we’d pick her up, run by Urgent Care and then on to the movie,” Bud said.

“Great,” Chase said, shutting down the computer.

“I love what you’ve done with the décor,” Bud said.

“Why thank you,” Chase said. “I call it ‘Wondrous in White.’”

“Are you sure you want to see this movie?” Bud asked, patting Annie’s and Jane’s heads as they stared at the paper-covered furniture in apparent confusion.

“Of course, it’s all part of the plan,” Chase said.

“What plan?” Gitana said.

“The multiple risk-taking plan,” Chase said.

“Why are we going to Urgent Care?” Gitana said as they headed for the house. “Is Addison sick?”

“No, we’re going to intentionally expose ourselves to germs so we—I say we, because Addison, Bud and myself are all suffering from a certain phobia—so we’re facing it together.”

In the house, while Gitana gathered her bag, Chase prepared her and Bud’s cocktail. As it bubbled and gurgled, they studied it. “Maybe we should risk catching something,” Bud said, eyeing the milky, fizzing drink.

“We are still taking the risk, but hedging our bets.” Chase looked around, thinking that was her third cliché infraction and she had not heard a peep out of her muses. Or was it her fourth? What were they up to?

“We’re exposing ourselves, but with an amped-up immune system,” Bud said.

“Exactly.”

“Ick, what’s that?” Gitana said, coming back into the kitchen and pointing at the two glasses.

“Our protection,” Chase replied.

Chase plugged her nose and gulped down the drink. Bud frowned, pinched her nose and did the same. “See, it’s not that bad,” Chase said.

“No, it’s horrible,” Bud said.

“It smells awful,” Gitana said.

“It’s full of vitamins,” Chase said, rinsing out the glasses so the foamy stuff wouldn’t stick to them forever.

“We better get going,” Bud said, giving Chase the eye so Gitana couldn’t see.

“Right,” Chase said. The less Gitana knew of their plans the simpler it would be. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask about the movie until it was too late to do anything about it. They could count on Gitana’s decorum. She’d never get up in the middle of a movie because she didn’t like it—that would be rude.

On the way down the road, Gitana said, “Is going to see a movie part of the risk-taking experience?”

Chase glanced in the rearview mirror at Bud.

“It’s more like taking a risk in that she is having a new experience. Chase hasn’t been to a movie theater since seeing
The Mummy
in 2000,” Bud said.

“Has it been that long?” Gitana said.

Chase nodded. “I checked out the prices. We’re going to be in for sticker shock.”

“I suppose. I’m still trying to wrap my head around not having been in a movie theater in eleven years. Why did we stop going?”

“I have a phobia about sitting in a dark public space with lots of other people I don’t know, and then there’s the finger juice issue,” Chase said.

Chase pulled onto the county road, thinking how nice it was to have the road paved. Her internal organs did feel better not being jostled every time she left the house. That was one of the qualities she loved about Bud—she was a fixer. It was a wonderful attribute, being able to recognize a problem and work toward a viable solution. Instead of complaining about something or ignoring it, Bud took a problem by the horns and wrestled it to a satisfactory conclusion. Was that five clichés or six?

“Finger juice?” Gitana asked with the look of someone who didn’t really want an answer.

“It’s the oil that comes off your fingers, like when a book has been read over and over and the pages have this film on them,” Bud said. “That’s finger juice, and it pretty much covers everything on the planet.”

“So what makes a movie theater any different?” Gitana asked.

“Butter,” Chase replied.

“Butter?” Gitana asked, turning to look at Bud.

Bud shrugged.

Chase pulled up in the drive at Addison’s house. Bud got out and went to the door. Chase was adamant about going to the door when picking up people. One did not sit in the drive and honk.

Gitana reached over and took Chase’s hand. “I am really proud of you for stretching your horizons.”

“Even if it’s in my own unique way?”

“I wouldn’t have you do it any other way.” She kissed her cheek and then stuck her tongue in Chase’s ear. “I like the new stuff in the bedroom too.”

“I didn’t realize we redecorated,” Chase said.

Gitana ran her hand up the inside of Chase’s thigh.

“Oh, that new stuff,” Chase said. She remembered how they got each other so worked up in the foreplay department that when they got to Phyllis it was like fire in her veins. She would have gone on had she not been interrupted.

Bud knocked on the driver’s side window. Chase rolled it down.

“We have a situation,” Bud said. She opened the back door and pulled her Panasonic TM900 3MOS camcorder out of her backpack.

“What’s wrong?” Chase said.

“You need to come in and talk to her.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Chase said, hopping out of the car before Gitana could inquire further.

“What is it?” Chase said as they approached the house.

“You’ll see.”

“That’s starting to be a habit with you,” Chase said.

“I know, but to use a cliché, a picture is worth a thousand words.”

They both looked around. “I don’t know where Divine Vulva and Commercial Endeavor have gone,” Chase said. She was getting concerned. Had they taken a vacation and not told her?

“Writers’ retreat?” Bud suggested.

“I don’t think so. Muses aren’t group kind of entities.”

Addison was sitting on her bed, dressed in a biohazard suit.

“Can I film?” Bud asked.

Addison waved her begloved hand. “By all means. This might be funny one day.”

“Where’d you get that?” Chase was impressed.

“Online,” Addison said, taking off the helmet with attached facemask. Her face had red marks from the mask.

“It’s definitely a step up from the homemade one you used to have,” Chase said.

“The germs have gotten worse.  I felt that I needed to upgrade my equipment.”

Chase sat down next to her on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Addison said, removing her gloves.

“Why not?” Chase said.

Bud sat down on the bed after having set the camcorder on Addison’s dresser so that it faced them and could film the event. She took Addison’s hand.

“Germs and my fear of them are such a part of me that I don’t know that I can get past it.”

“Did you drink the immune booster?” Chase said.

“Yes.”

“The way I see is that we are taking a risk, but with a built-in safety device—it’s a managed risk. It’s not like we won’t wash our hands when we’re done,” Chase said.

“Actually, minimum exposure to germs is beneficial toward building a healthy immune system,” Bud said.

“We’ve been too clean?” Addison said, taking off the yellow bio suit jacket. She flapped the left sleeve, trying to get it off.

“Exactly, so not only are we overcoming a fear, but we’re improving our chances of surviving an epidemic by building antibodies,” Bud said.

“All right,” Addison said, standing up and almost landing face-first on the bed as she tripped getting out of the biohazard pants. She sat back down on the bed and finished removing them.

“It’s easier if you take your boots off first,” Bud said.

“Let’s do our chant,” Chase said after she helped pull off Addison’s boots.

They stood in a circle and clasped hands. In unison they said, “We are safe, sane and successful people.”

“Let’s go,” Chase said.

Once everyone was in the car, Gitana said, “Is everything all right?”

“Now it is,” Bud said.

Addison looked out the window. “I had a meltdown.”

“About going to Urgent Care?” Gitana said.

“I couldn’t get past my biohazard suit,” Addison said, her voice low.

Gitana reached back and patted Addison’s knee. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. How do I expect to travel? To live a normal life if I can’t get over finger juice and germ susceptibility.”

“You’re into the finger juice too?” Gitana asked.

“I’m okay with it if I don’t think about it because if I did think about it I wouldn’t leave my room,” Addison said.

Chase kept her eyes on the traffic light at Tramway. Gitana glared at her. Chase knew what it was about. “I didn’t do it. She came that way. I admit to coloring Bud’s opinion on the world. I will own that.”

“I have come to terms with my germ phobia,” Bud said.

“And that’s what I want to do,” Addison said. “I can’t spend the rest of my life hiding my antibacterial gel and fearing a handshake and doorknobs, not to mention public restrooms.”

They all shivered at that one—even Gitana.

“Bud, how did you come to terms with your phobia?” Gitana asked.

Chase glanced at Bud in the rearview mirror. She was interested as well. If Bud the fixer could do it, Chase and Addison could find a way.

“Well, it’s a matter of perspective. Bacteria is part of us and the world and it does have a beneficial side and as I know I am covered with it and so is the world. I am one with the world, so I embrace my bacteria,” Bud said.

“That sounds like pseudo-science combined with religious overtones,” Chase said.

“Whatever it takes,” Gitana said, pinching Chase.

“I suppose,” Chase said. She did refrain from rolling her eyes—it seemed more like denial than a cure.

Chase pulled into the strip mall where Urgent Care was located next to a Mexican bakery and a taxidermist shop, in which two large stuffed black bears snuffled at a stuffed salmon. She parked and no one made any move to get out of the car.