Chapter 11: Regrets

Lydia stood in awe, gazing at the big, luxurious casino spread out before her. Classy jazz music filled the air and so did the scent of something akin to perfume and champagne. There were slot machines in droves, roulette tables, black jack, and anything else a person could think of. Ghosts filled the place, each celebrating and laughing amongst each other. The place was unlike any other that Beetle had taken her to. It was beautiful, swanky, and most importantly, it didn't smell like hot crotch. She could only figure that it was Beetles penchant for mischief that led her to his previous, less-than-desirable destinations. It was as if he were truly trying this time. It was too bad she'd more than likely doomed them both by now. Maybe things would have been alright, had she not been such an angsty nut case about the whole ordeal, she thought regretfully.

"BJ, it's beautiful..." she made sure to tell him, partly from the massive guilt forming inside of her. He did need to be aknowledged, she felt. He was trying, no matter how much he messed up continuously.

"Glad ya like it, Babe." he grinned, placing his hand on the small of her back, and not one bit lower. Geeze, he really was trying. He was behaving himself. Beetlejuice. Behaving. Now she was feeling worse than ever. "So, what'll it be?"

She inhaled deeply, hoping nothing would go awry. "Um...Those slot machines look really nice. How about those?"

"Good choice. I've won like a shit-ton of dough on those things." he cackled, leading her along.

She seated herself in front of a dazzling, colorful machine with a pull-handle. Beetle plopped down beside her, pulling a freakishly large bag of gold coins from his pocket, causing Lydia to smirk.

"After you, Dollface." he raised a brow, gesturing for her to grab the first coin.

This would have been a really great time, if she hadn't ruined things, she thought with much remorse. "Thanks." she forced herself to smile and take a coin.

Beetle grabbed a coin, popped it in, and pulled the handle, cackling like a madman. "Alright, Lady Luck, shake those tits at me!" Beetle exclaimed, rubbing his hands together greedily, as he watched the slots spin wildly. He then paused, turning back to Lydia. "Uh, just a figure a speech, Mrs. Juice." he corrected himself.

Lydia laughed at him, noting how that was almost endearing. "It's all good, BJ." she remarked, trying to enjoy the peace while she had it.

Then something happened. She somehow began to get her hopes up. Maybe she was just being too paranoid. Maybe Fran was the only person who'd heard her confession. Maybe she wouldn't tell, and just maybe nothing would happen. Perhaps Lydia could grow to trust Beetlejuice, and just maybe things wouldn't be as bad as she'd expected for once. Maybe.

Finally, she allowed herself to relax, if only but a moment. She wasn't particularly good at gambling like Beetlejuice was, but she was enjoying herself. The only problem she had during the night, wasn't exactly a problem. He wouldn't let her leave his sight. If she wanted to play black jack, there he was on her tail. If she wanted to watch the poker table, he was right along with her, trying his best to squeeze into the game and cheat (which he did many times over). Lydia figured it was actually helpful to have him within a three foot radius due to the fact that it seemed to keep the other ghosts away.

It was sometime later, however, after the two had meandered up to the bar that her troubles had begun.

Lydia seated herself, as a tall thin man with a top hat, mustache, and a sword through his side came to serve them.

"What will you two be having tonight?" the man asked, with a kind and professional tone. "May I suggest the house special. It's a wonderful drink for the price. Very strong. One glass will last you the night."

Before Lydia could so much as open her mouth, Beetle intervened. "Er...How's about somethin' a little weaker. Like, the weakest thing ya got. We'll take two of those." he said, clearing his throat and glancing toward Lydia's way.

"Yeah, that's probably a good call." she leaned in and told him. Lydia found herself quite pleased that he was behaving so well.

"Can't be too careful. Would'nt want some batshit crazy stuff to happen..." he muttered quietly to her.

When the bartender brought them two fizzy drinks in champagne glasses, she thought nothing of turning it up and taking a big gulp out of habit. And that very habit caused Beetle to gently grab her by the wrist and bring the glass right back to the table.

Lydia turned to him, seeing how serious he appeared. "Slowly, Babe."

"Oh, yeah. Right." she chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed that Beetlejuice of all people was chastising her drinking habits. In an attempt to keep things nice and easy, she tried to start a little conversation. "I've got to admit, you're pretty good at winning money. Aside from the cheating, that is."

"What cheatin'?" he asked, trying to be slick about his obvious trickery.

Lydia shot him a disbelieving look. "Sure." she grinned.

"The B-man doesn't cheat. He improvises." he corrected, sipping his fizzy drink.

"You do actually have a lot of cash, BJ. Like, how does that work? Do you just poof it out of thin air, or..." she asked, genuinely curious about how he always seemed to have money, whether he wanted to pay with it or not.

"Nah, Mrs. Juice, the B-man can do a lot of things, but he can't make money. The Neitherworld has all the rights to that shit. Impossible to make it appear at all. Believe me, I tried. That landed me six months right there. Fucking cops." he explained.

Lydia's brow scrunched in confusion. "Then how do you make money?"

"Can't go into the details, but lets say I gotta pension. I'm set fer life, Babe, and you are too, now that yer with me." he said, circling his finger around the top of the champagne glass.

"Pension? So..." Lydia continued, wanting to pull more information from him.

"Ah, I was a government worker. For a while, anyway, until I kinda broke free and did the freelance bio-exorcist gig." he grunted, seeming not too pleased with the memories of it all.

Lydia thought a moment, before asking, "Oh, what did you do?"

Beetle scowled. "Fucking civil servant, what else?"

"Oh." she paused, remembering just how civil servants were supposed to become civil servants. "BJ, did you kill yourself?" she asked in a whisper, her curiosity overtaking the fact that this really wasn't the place to be asking such dark questions.

"Huh? Fuck no!" he snapped at her, causing her to jump in her seat. Seeming to realize his mistake, he calmed down. "I know that's technically how that shit's supposed to work, but they lumped me in with those suicidal fuckers on a technicality."

"What's that?" Lydia asked, though he seemed to be growing more irritable with the topic. Quickly noting his change in demeanor, she tried to take a page from his book, and retract the question. "My bad, BJ. I probably shouldn't be prodding you with all those questions. You don't have to tell me all that. I just get curious sometimes. " she explained. It was the least she could do, given how he himself was trying for her.

He paused a moment, his green eyes searching her face. "Eh, I'll tell ya. Everybody's heard the story a thousand times anyway by now. I jumped off a cliff, fell in the river and drowned. But it weren't no suicide. I was runnin' from the law, and I thought I could make it. Did not, obviously. Then shit got twisted, papers got mixed up, and they lumped me in with the suicides. Fuckers. Then, bam! Sentenced to life as a civil servant, working under that bag of wrinkles that you know as your lovely case worker."

"Wow. I had no idea..." Lydia leaned in, her chin resting on her fist, eager to hear more. "So how'd you get out of it?"

"Let's just say that the ole' B-man did a little research of his own. Hell, Neither World government shit is so inadequate, it ain't hard to find some loopholes here and there. Since they fucked me over, I bent them over and retuned the favor." he laughed darkly to himself. "Then I found a little 'extra paper work', and gained some kick-ass powers. I mean, I ended up cursed and all that shit, but I said what the hell. Minimal regrets." he shrugged.

So he acted like a stupid dick, but he was actually very intelligent. It certainly made sense to Lydia, and as fucked up as it was, it seemed kind of awesome to her that he was like that. "Why were you running from the law?" she continued, now too intrigued to hold back.

"Heh. Stole a fuckin' horse. After I stole a goat...some chickens...raided a wine cellar..." he faded off, seeming to contemplate those decisions.

"So, you were a thief?" she asked, wanting to know more.

"Not a thief, the thief. Became quasi-famous in multiple towns in Europe. Earned the nickname 'Pigsticker LaRou'. That's what I became famous for."

Ew, that didn't sound good at all. "You had sex with a pig?" Lydia's face wrinkled in disgust and confusion.

"What? No, I didn't fuck a pig! Picksticker! I killed a pig. Stuck it in the face. With a pitchfork. " he exclaimed a bit too loudly, even doing the pitchfork-stabby motions with his arms. Lydia noticed a healthy dose of side-eye from the bartender as a result.

"Oh. Wait, why'd you do that again?" Lydia asked, completely confused.

"Cuz I was poor as shit, Babe! I didn't just stab some random pig in the face for the hell of it! Me an' my old man dragged it off and butchered its ass. We left the head though, with that pitchfork stuck in its face. Kinda glad I did, now that I think about it." he grinned. "Didn't fuck it, though. Fucked some pig-like women, but not the actual pig." he emphasized again, just to drive the point home that he hadn't had any inapproprate human-swine relations.

"So you lived with your father? What was he like?" she inquired.

"What is this, therapy?!" he finally snapped, clearly feeling weirded out by her barrage of questions.

"Okay, I'll stop. It's just sort of fascinating to picture you alive. I mean, you're from a completely different world. What has it been, like six hundred years or so?" she continued, after clearly stating the opposite.

"You callin' me old, Juice?" he huffed.

"It's just neat, that's all." she reiterated. "Not an insult."

"First time I heard that from someone. Okay, fine. My old man was a thief, too. We got along good until he stole my goat that I stole from the old man a few towns over. Stole the chick I was bangin' too, the old fucker. She was decent lookin' too. Had all her teeth, that one. Plague-free. Not bad to look at if ya ignored the big hairy mole on her neck. Kinda looked like New Jersey..." he wandered off, getting lost in his thoughts, which Lydia found to be quite amusing. He then caught himself actively thinking of another woman in front of her, and that was simply priceless. "Hehe...she didn't mean nothin' to me, I swear it." he chuckled nervously.

"Do I need to be worried?" Lydia teased, just to get a rise out of him.

"Hell, no!" he snorted, slapping the counter as he laughed. "I ain't never banged a pretty woman in mah life! You may think I'm full of shit, but I ain't fucked nothin' but ugly-ass skanks since I was born. HAHAHA!"

As ridiculous as the conversation was, it was amusing as hell. Lydia couldn't help but to be wrapped up in his crazy shenanigans, falling into laughter as well. She had to admit it, he was pretty damned entertaining.

"That's why I told ya it's a freakin' miracle that you slipped that ring on. I ain't never had a woman look half as good as you, and that would be pretty damned good. You, though. You're a whole 'nother level, Babe. I'm about afraid to touch ya, to be honest." he chuckled, though she felt some sincerety in his voice.

Feeling a little embarrassed over his outpouring of compliments, she redirected the conversation. "Well, I'm sure those women had some good qualities too." she stated.

"Heh, that's the thing. They were mean as hell, too!" he chortled. "I ran with a rough crowd. The women would cut yer dick off in a heartbeat. Kinda scary, now that I think about it...Who knew the old ball and chain would be the nice one?" he grinned, nudging her playfully with his elbow. "Ain't it usually the other way around or some shit? I dunno. This is the first time I've been married..." he mused. "And the last!" he added, somehow wanting to make sure that didn't come out weird.

Lydia shrugged, grinning right back. "Good to know I'm tolerable." she teased.

Beetle paused, a sly grin forming on his face. "Yer reeeaaal tolerable, Babe." he drawled, tapping his nails on the counter and giving her a look that made her a little uncomfortable.

"Okay, on that note, I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be back, BJ." Lydia excused herself, partly because the drink had kicked in, and partly because he was staring a hole through her.

"Hurry back, Mrs. Juice." he said, his eyes not moving. Okay, it was a little creepy now. Even as she turned away, it was like they were burning a hole in her back.

As Lydia briskly made her way in and out of the restroom, she felt a tap on the shoulder. She turned to see two very familiar women.

A lady with a pole through her head, who was wearing an equally-gaudy dress to her own, grinned widely, smacking gum between her teeth. "Heya, sweetie. You out here with that bum?" she asked, cutting right to the chase.

"You mean BJ?" Lydia asked, trying not to imply that he was a bum, though they certainly had right to think so.

"Yeah, Mr.B!" a one-armed lady stepped up to her.

"Yeah, he's over at the bar. Why?" Lydia frowned, feeling taken aback by the surprise encounter.

"Is it true? Is he still holding you hostage?" the pole lady chimed in.

"No! Not at all." Lydia replied quickly, realizing that Beetle would probably come looking for her soon, which wouldn't help her case.

"You sure?" the one-armed gal narrowed her eyes. "You can tell us if he's doin' something he shouldn't be. He does that a lot ya know. Things he shouldn't be doin'."

"What does that mean?" Lydia asked, now deeply concerned. Whatever it was, it had to be bad news.

"Okay, I'm gonna tell you this cause your a nice girl. Mr. B ain't no good, honey. Word around town is, he's under investigation." the pole lady chimed in again, seeming equally concerned.

"For what?" Lydia gasped, her eyes growing wide.

The one-armed woman looked around the room warily, before speaking. "Fraud. We heard he's faking bein' married to ya."

"Well, we're really married." Lydia stated bluntly, holding up her hand to show her ring. "It's binding."

"I know, sweetie. I don't know what he told you when he proposed, but we heard he had other plans." she continued.

The pole lady stepped back in at this point. "Yeah, there's a big chance that he's usin' you as a cover up. He was about to get caught jumping planes of existence, then he slapped a ring on your finger so the feds wouldn't think anything was up."

"And how do you know this is true?" Lydia countered, hoping to hear it was just some dumb rumor, even if it was mostly true, save for the ring part.

"Oh, we heard it from the police department. I'm bangin' one of the boys in uniform. Don't tell anybody that, though." the one-armed gal giggled.

"Oh." Lydia's heart dropped. So it really was out in the open. "How long have they been investigating?"

"They've been lookin' into it ever since you all got married, due to suspicious circumstances, but it sort of died down once Mr.B went to the clinker. But I heard they just found a new lead. Just watch out, dear. You ain't his type. Don't let him drag you down with him." Pole lady warned, before freezing in place as her eyes locked on a figure pacing toward them.

"The fuck are you hags doin' out here? Shouldn't you be standin' out on the street by a dumpster or somethin?" Beetlejuice stepped up, with a pissed look on his face.

"No, we're just talkin' to your pretty little wife!" the pole woman grinned mischievously. "Ain't she a little young for you?" she snickered, seeming to delight in provoking him.

"Ain't you got a limp dick to puff on?" he countered, his voice thick with spite.

"No, Mr.B. You ain't a client no more!" the one arm lady cackled, causing him to snarl.

Lydia felt a bit awkward, given that she knew he had been an actual client of theirs, but that didn't stifle the worry she felt about his reaction. She hoped he wouldn't explode in a fit of rage because of an off-handed jab.

"A little fuckin' rude to say that in front of my wife, ain't it?" he growled, holding his hand out for Lydia, who was dumbfounded that he actually saw things that way.

"Don't worry about it, BJ. It's okay." she said, taking his hand and attempting to calm him down.

"Nah, it ain't." he spat, shaking his head. "Fuck you!" he hissed, flipping them both off.

"You already did. Several times! Remember?" the pole lady laughed hysterically, delighting in pissing him off.

"Alright. One more word and I'll rat your asses out to the cops!" Beetle yelled, pointing his finger at them.

"Okay, BJ. Let's go home." Lydia quickly tugged at his arm. This was going way too far.

"Go ahead and try, you gross bastard! It won't do you any good. I'm sleepin' with the sheriff's son. If anyone should be worried about cops right now, it's you, asshole!" One-arm taunted, causing him to look really confused.

"The hell is that s'posed to mean?" he fumed, as Lydia tried to lead him away, though he wouldn't budge. This was escalating so quickly it was maddening.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough..." she said, as the two cackled, disappearing into the restroom to get away from him before he completely blew his top.

"I oughtta ring their scrawny little necks..." he growled, now pulling Lydia through the crowd behind him and out of the casino.

She followed behind him silently, feeling that burning hot sensation in the air around them. It was unnerving to say the least. It wasn't long until they were out under the night sky walking on the sidewalk away from the building. Lydia found it odd that he wasn't juicing them home or even talking for that matter.

He'd let go of her hand long ago, and since walking in stilettos wasn't very easy, she was falling behind. "BJ?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face her. Damn, he looked pissed. "What?"

"These shoes are killing me. Hold on." she muttered, waving her hand and changing them into a nice, comfy pair of sneakers and walking up to him. "Where are we going?"

"The fuck if I know." he shrugged, kicking a rock on the sidewalk. She didn't know if it was the bit about the cops or the antagonizing in general that got to him, but something did. "See why I follow ya everywhere? I leave yer ass alone for five minutes, and those fuckin' harpies start causin' trouble."

"Don't worry, BJ. I don't care what they say." she crossed her arms, feeling a little strange about the whole ordeal.

"Nah, you can't tell me that shit." he shook his head at her, his hands in his pockets. "I don't believe it."

"Well, it was kind of awkward." Lydia shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Sure, it was gross, but that was currently the least of her worries. She was now completely sure she'd screwed him over, so guilt had the upper-hand over everything at the moment.

"Awkward? That all you got?" he wrinkled his face in confusion. "You gotta be kiddin' me..."

Lydia stared at her sneakers, feeling lower by the second. "If it means anything, I think it was thoughtful of you to stand up for me. You did good, BJ."

"Holy shit. Yer not even mad about all that, are ya?" he stepped up to her, placing his finger under her chin and pulling her head up to look at him. "And just what the fuck are ya doin' with me again?" he smirked, seeming a bit amused by her.

She wished she could share the same sentiment, but she was far too inside her own pit of despair. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone came knocking on their door, and she didn't think telling him would do any good. He could try and run away, but that wouldn't be too successful. It was nice to see Beetlejuice like this. He did have a good side, after all, even if she knew it probably wouldn't last when he found out the truth about her.

"I guess we belong together. Sort of." she faintly smiled, noting that his finger was slightly caressing her jawline.

"Pfft. No sort of about it." he blew, pulling his hand away and turning away from her. "Look, I don't like ya hearin' that shit. I'm kind of a nasty fucker, ya know. Or I was. Heh. Told ya I only banged ugly women." he snorted, grinning at her over his shoulder.

"We've all done things we're not proud of, right?" she stood away from him, eyeing his silhouette in the darkness, and thinking of her own massive mistake.

"Don't know." he shrugged. "But I'm pretty sure yer in the clear, Babe."

"No I'm not." she stated, wishing she could go back and change her mind about him so much earlier. He was changing right before her eyes, and despite what everyone was saying, the proof was right in front of her.

"Yeah, whatever." he snorted, clearly not believing her. "You ready to go home, Mrs. Juice?"

"Sure." she mumbled as the two of them vanished in thin air.