Chapter 15: The Truth
Beetle clicked the button on his remote a couple of times, before realizing that all of his usually glorious nudie flicks no longer held his attention. He cursed to himself, before flinging said remote in the floor, wondering just when the hell Deetz was gonna get out of his room and tell him all the gory details of her death. Boredom was not something that sat well with Beetlejuice. No siree.
He sighed, standing and adjusting his battered nether regions, all the while wondering just why the hell Lydia found him even remotely tolerable. One probably shouldn't question a presumably good thing, but question he did. Even more, he questioned his own sanity for being such a pussy-whipped bastard. Hell, he'd just literally gotten his gonads crunched like he'd been laying with his legs splayed apart on the stage of a River Dance concert, for god's sake! And it was all for her! Lydia Deetz: liar, deal-breaker, and former enemy. Now, the horror to end all horrors had happened. He actually liked Lydia Deetz. No, this wasn't shake her hand, good to meet ya like. No. This was like-like.
Even more, the damnable misery of it all was that he found himself not quite so determined to get out of the Neitherworld anymore. That was a problem - a huge fucking problem.
"Ugh..." Beetle grumbled, hobbling carefully to the fridge in hopes of finding an ice pack or something for his aching manhood, while feeling completely at a crossroads. He'd spent centuries looking to get out of that devil's ass crack called the afterlife, and had finally found a solid chance of getting out, only to have Lydia Deetz make him want to stay. Damn.
Unsuccessful in his search to find relief for his testicles, he simply grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and placed it against the horrific injury, wincing. Beetle instantly regretted simply poofing away from that snot-colored secretary. If he was going to end up with a groin the texture of hamburger meat, he should've at least thrown a few dollar bills at her before he left - ya know, really drive the point home.
Feeling damnably bored, miserably confused, and most likely neutered, he simply (and very, very carefully) seated himself at the kitchen table, nearly howling as he sat. A bottle of whiskey appeared on the table (since the beer was obviously needed for another purpose). He grabbed it and began guzzling immediately, when he heard the door to his room quietly creak open.
Beetle froze, somehow feeling strangely tense that Lydia may now know the truth about her death, whatever that may be. Since when did he actually feel nervous for anyone else? He rolled his eyes, internally berating himself for being such a pansy.
He grew completely silent and still, listening to each muffled patter of her light footsteps on the carpet. When she came into view, his face fell slack in a bout of confusion. She just stood there, looking equally as baffled as himself.
"So?" Beetle blurted out, finally lowering his bottle of whiskey.
"Well, I tried to read it. I flipped through all two hundred and fifty pages." she began, the hesitation clear in her voice.
"And?!" Beetlejuice questioned with a glare that clearly said spit it out.
"It's no use, BJ. It's all encrypted. It just looks like blurry lines to me, and that's bad, but..." she trailed off, her face wincing up in a look that said I need something, but I'm afraid you'll be pissed about it.
"But what?!" Beetle growled, growing very impatient and shooting her another glare that said I'm always pissed, so just go ahead and tell me, damnit!
Lydia sighed, rolling her eyes, while Beetle wondered if he thought the last thing or said it out loud. Whatever, he shrugged.
"I really wanted to find out for myself, but maybe you can read it for me. As long as I find out, it doesn't matter who reads this. It shouldn't be encrypted or under a weird spell or anything for you." she admitted, stepping up to him and gently laying the papers on his table.
He eyed them, grunting in displeasure. The only thing worse than an injured sausage, was having to read a shit ton of legal papers while simultaneously experiencing said injured sausage. Fuck.
His eyes moved back to Lydia, who seated herself and was now giving him the most endearing sad puppy dog face he'd ever seen. She sighed, before speaking again. "Look, BJ, I know this is annoying for you. I'm sorry. I'd read it myself if I was capable..."
"Ugh, Deetz..." he grumbled, exasperated. There she went doing all that sweet, nicey-nice shit again. Of course he was gonna do it, and he was pretty sure that she knew she had him right where she wanted him, which was apparently stuck right up her ass, ready and waiting to do anything she wanted.
He quickly snatched the file with much frustration, his eyes briefly glancing at her expression, which was one of pure gratitude. Unfortunately, he was whipped harder than even he believed, for he caught himself grinning like he'd just eaten a big ole' pile of shit due to her cute little smile. He quickly scowled again, burying his nose in the file and diverting his attention away from his own dumbass feelings. Yep, definitely don't need those right now.
Alas, the papers were clearly visible to him, though by the time he'd spent about a half a day reading them, he'd wished he hadn't...
Beetle quietly crept into the living room, his face slack and his eyes fixated on Lydia, who was sleeping peacefully on his old sofa. Long ago, she'd stepped out of the kitchen in an attempt to not irritate him any further. Apparently, she'd grown tired and fallen asleep during her wait.
He sighed, seating himself in his recliner as he pulled a large cigar out of the air and began to take a long drag on it. He'd found out a lot of shit, and it wasn't pleasant by any means. His newfound discovery had actually provoked a long-forgotten emotion from him, and that feeling was one of sympathy.
He could've woken her and told her everything, but he decided to just wait. He simply didn't have the heart to give her the news while she slept so peacefully.