Chapter 10: Going Out
As soon as Lydia appeared in the Roadhouse, she began to storm away from the maniac she'd married.
"Hey! Where ya goin?!" he fumed, storming right in behind her. "Listen, Dollface, ya can't get away from me, so ya may as well not even try!"
Lydia went into her room, slamming the door in his face, which of course, wouldn't hinder his plans to stalk her through their house. "I need some space!" she shouted, just to let it out, because she knew her plea would fall on his grungy deaf ears.
"Ya had yer space playin' book club with Jerrymonger." he formed in a green fog beside her.
"No, I didn't, BJ! You had to follow me and be a jerk to him! You are supposed to be nice, remember?" she promptly reminded him, shaking her finger in his face to drive the point home.
"It ain't nothin' to do with me bein' nice to you! That's not you, Babe! That's a fat tub of lard that I don't like ya bein' around!" he spat, getting in her face and making her feel terrible.
"You know, for someone who claims to care about me, you sure don't act like it." she spoke, her voice trembling a bit from frustration and something else she didn't have the energy to acknowledge.
"Bullshit! I act that way cause I do give a rat's ass! I gotta be careful. If you go blabberin' to all yer friends about our little situation, there's a chance you'll tell too much. If you spill the beans, we're done for." he growled, his tone low and threatening.
She'd already spilled the beans and that was a gigantic problem for another day, but for now, she was troubled, confused, exhausted, and now deeply curious to what exactly he meant by done for.
"So, we go to prison? Is that it?" she raised a brow, her curiosity pulling her from their heated argument.
"Yep, potentially." he answered shortly.
"And just what does that mean?" she pushed on, feeling very strange about the way he answered her.
"It won't end well, Lydia. I ain't gettin' caught again. You can forget it. The stakes are too high fer me. I'd get a thousand years if I got lucky, but I doubt I'd get lucky. You might get twenty, tops." he muttered, seeming to not want to talk about it any further.
However, her naturally curious streak wouldn't sit with that. "So what will you do about that?"
"There's only two choices we got right now. We give in and do the real marriage thing and not blab about it, or bad shit happens." he grumbled, looking at the floor. "Don't make me do bad shit, Lydia."
A strange, hot electric ran through her. It was alarming and, quite frankly, terrifying. It was coming from him, and it was not pleasant in the least. Making it all the more disconcerting, was the fact that she'd already fucked up before she'd even realized it.
"You, uh, haven't told anybody, have you?" he asked nervously, his eyes looking her over. Holy shit, he was dead serious, and she was more than fucked!
She silently shook her head, knowing the anxiety in her voice would possibly give her away.
"Well, just don't do it. It won't end well, Babe." he warned. What the hell was up with all these warnings? Even he was warning her about himself! Boy, she really screwed herself over this time, and she could only blame herself. How could she be so damned careless about something so huge and damnable?
"And don't go touchin' on that Butterball. It's gross as fuck..." he muttered, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and taking a drag. Lydia could've sworn she'd seen his hand faintly tremble as he brought it up to his lips. This was bad. Really, really bad.
"Okay. I won't." she shrugged, trying not to burst into tears that very moment. "That was stupid." she went along with what he was saying, though her self-loathing was directed at a secret matter he didn't know about. She sighed and walked out of her room, head hanging down.
All of a sudden, she felt like that depressed, angsty teenage girl all over again, with a chip on her shoulder and an insane poltergeist crumbling her world apart. Just when it seemed everything could be falling into place, just as quickly, it was falling away from beneath her. Life sucked, and the afterlife sucked even more. Sure, she still had her family in Winter Rivers, but she wouldn't even be able to see them if she was locked away. To boot it all, Beetlejuice wasn't telling her just how bad things could get, and that meant something even more terrible was in store.
She opened the front door, propping herself against the Roadhouse and juicing a bottle of vodka in her hand. She shrugged, taking a drink. Why shouldn't she? Things were fixing to get really awful, and just how awful, she had yet to find out. She may as well enjoy herself before the inevitable.
"What the fuck are ya doin?" Beetle popped his head out the door, grabbing her booze away.
Lydia seethed, narrowing her eyes on him. "Since when did you start caring how much I drank? If I'm not mistaken, you used to encourage it."
"Yeah, well...I'm tryin' to watch out fer ya...and me..." he added, knocking back her bottle to take a drink himself. Little did he know, he was far too late.
Feeling too terrible to stew on her gargantuan dilemma, Lydia decided to switch topics and force it from her mind. "You shouldn't be such an ass to Gerald." she stated, deciding to scold him. "He hasn't done anything to you."
"Oh, shit. Here we go with obese Poindexter again...Look, I told ya why I don't want ya talkin' to the guy. Besides, the fucker could get ideas."
"What ideas?" Lydia glared.
"Ones that would land him in his second grave." Beetle glared back.
Lydia's face twisted into confusion. "So you're jealous? Of Gerald?"
"Woah, woah, now, Babe! The B-man doesn't get jealous, especially when it comes to chubby little fuckers with high cholesterol and plant fetishes!" he snapped, curling up his nose in disgust. "I don't know what the fuck you see in him."
Lydia smirked. This would almost be amusing, if she didn't have the black shadow imminent doom now following shortly behind her. "He's nice, BJ."
"The fuck's wrong with me?" he griped, motioning to himself. "I'm nice."
It was all Lydia could do not to burst into maniacal laughter. "...I think your nice could use an overhaul."
"Er...Hey, I told ya I'm tryin', Babe! And I wouldn't be this damned nice if it weren't for you! Rome wasn't built in a freakin' day!" he reiterated his point, clearly exasperated.
Seeing Beetle's frustration, Lydia decided to back off, considering this was technically the calm before the storm. "I know, BJ. For what its worth, I do see...miniscule...improvements..." she winced. That was supposed to be a better compliment than it was.
Beetle gave her the best visual representation of fuck off his face could muster. She couldn't help but snort after seeing that.
"Kidding! I'm kidding!" she laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder to butter him up a bit and potentially deflect any possible rage fit he could have.
"Sure thing, Mrs. Juice..." he replied, making sure the tone of his voice showed his blatant disbelief, as his eyes trailed from her hand up her arm and to her face and stopping there a bit too long for her comfort.
That weird, awkward silence fell between them for a brief moment, before he opened his grimy mouth. "Heya, if ya wanna go somewhere, you can just go with me, Babe. You don't need that dorky friend a' yers to have a good time. I can show ya that."
Oh, shit. This could be a potential disaster, Lydia thought, depending on how fast news was spreading. She had to deflect, and quick. "You're not taking me to another strip club, are you?" she asked, trying her best to sound annoyed.
"What?! Hell, no! That was just an attempt to piss in yer cheerios, and it didn't work anyway 'cause you like bein' all benevolent and shit. I think you'll like this." he remarked slyly.
Apparently, he wanted to surprise her, and that gave her just enough room to try and wriggle out of it. "I don't think so..."
"And is there a reason yer turnin' me down? You didn't turn fat boy down!" His eyes narrowed. "There somethin' you ain't tellin' me?"
Shit, she was losing the battle! "Well, how do I know this isn't some lame trick like last time? I'd rather not end up in a room full of naked women for you to ogle at. It's gross." she quickly remarked, trying to regain her footing in their little exchange.
"Fuck! I don't care about naked broads, I told ya! That was a prank. Besides, if I wanted to see a pair of big, floppy tits I'd go to Jerry's place and make him give me a lap dance." he snorted, making sure to take another jab at her poor comrade. "If ya want me to be nice, I'll be freakin' nice, but ya gotta let me do it!"
"...I don't know." Lydia hesitated, running out of ways to potentially not go out without being suspicious.
"Okay, then. What's the deal?" he asked, genuinely curious, and now bordering on suspicion. "There any particular reason we shouldn't go out?" he raised a brow, while swishing the remaining vodka around in the bottle. Okay, he was growing agitated now. Any farther, and he'd push it out of her just like he did about her feelings. He was unfortunately good at interrogating. No doubt, it was from all those years of criminal behavior.
Now, she had to give in. "So no strippers? Seriously?" she asked, pretending to be really concerned about strippers, which she in fact, was not.
"Heheh..." he laughed smugly, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her to his side. "I already told ya, the B-man only has eyes for you, Doll." he said slyly, getting a little too close for her comfort, especially considering that those happy feelings he was experiencing didn't include the fact that she'd potentially fucked them both over. "Has anyone ever told ya yer reeeaaal cute when yer jealous?" he growled in her ear, causing her internally cringe. Sure, he was smitten with her now, but she was pretty sure he wouldn't be so lovey-dovey once the truth came out.
"Here we go, Mrs. Juice..." he grinned, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of a giant building that had a neon sign of a red, twisting rattle snake, with dice for eyes. Lydia looked down at herself, finding that she was wearing a bright red, sequined dress and, of course, stilhettos to match. It was loud, gaudy, and had Beetlejuice written all over it. He must have really liked those damned shoes.
"Snake Eyes, here we come!" Beetle exclaimed from beside her, taking her arm. He was dressed in a cruddy black suit and tie, and his wild hair had been slightly slicked back. Not enough to help the problem, but hey he tried. "So, uh, whaddaya think?" he turned to her, wanting her feedback.
Truthfully, it would have been a good time under different circumstances. Her eyes searched over the crowds of undead partygoers, noting that many were staring back at them. That wasn't unusual, given she was with Beetlejuice, and he was infamous in the Neitherworld. It was simply the fact that she wasn't sure why they were staring and gossiping amongst themselves. Just what had gotten out? Would anyone say something to him? Probably not, she figured, since most were afraid of him. Still, there was a chance, and that terrified her to the core. She swallowed hard, running terrible scenario after terrible scenario through her mind.
"Uh, Babe? Ya like it or not?" Beetle spat impatiently from beside her.
She had to shake it off, and fast if she didn't want him growing suspicious. She cleared her throat and plastered a big, fake smile on her red lips. "Good choice." she nodded. "I'm pleasantly surprised, BJ. You did good."
"Wait till we get inside. You ain't seen nothin' yet." he grinned proudly, while Lydia tried her best to appear normal. As he led her up the sidewalk and through the big, fancy, double doors, she warily glanced at various gawking patrons. As much as she wanted to feel happy, she couldn't shake that terrible sinking feeling inside.