Chapter 6

" . . . And so that's how we got into Juno's office without a number," Barbara was explaining to Miss Argentina, the secretary.

"It really was an accident," Adam offered.

Miss Argentina narrowed her eyes vindictively. "An accident? Likely story. You people just try to make my life miserable, don't you? But listen to me now. THIS time, there will be no accidents. Here's your number, take it and sit down."

"7" Adam read. "Not too bad. We'll get in and out of this one pretty quick, Barbara. Barbara?" he said, looking for his wife, who was not responding.

"Adam, look at the number display," Barbara said, her head in her hands. Adam looked. The counter ticked from twelve to thirteen. Craning his head, Adam glanced at their neighbor's number. 12,345,996.

"It's not fair," Adam said.

--

Lydia hummed quietly to herself, as she meditated. Meditation was not something she normally practiced, but she'd try anything that might help her remember his name. If only he wasn't in the same house with her . . .

"Hiya Lyds! Looking for me?"

Speak of the devil.

Lydia gave up trying to remember his name for the moment, and got up to leave.

"Hey, wait!" he cried, feeling hurt. "I got something for ya!" Lydia paused and looked over her shoulder. "I don't want anything you'd give me!" she said frigidly. He winced. Why did her scorn hurt so much?

"I think you're mistaken, Lyds. I have better taste than you think. And after centuries of dealing with women, I know exactly what they like!" Oops, wrong thing to say. He'd better just shut up and give her the damn gift before she froze solid with that icy look she was giving him.

He whipped a bouquet of red and black roses out from behind his back. Lydia's first instinct was to turn her back and walk off, but the momentary glance she took of the flowers took her breath away. These were no ordinary roses. They had no real stems; in their place were long lengths of silvery barbed wire, each nearly two feet long. Wire mesh, thin enough to be thread, was wrapped around the middle of the 'stems,' bound in the middle, so the loose ends flared out hourglass style, making it possible to hold the bouquet without being cut. And the flowers themselves were beautiful, wide open, turning their dark faces up to her, with no sign of wilting or decay among them. They were macabre, bizarre, and beautiful.

Lydia loved them on first sight, but look at who was giving them to her! "I can't take these," Lydia said firmly.

"You already have," Beetlejuice pointed out. Lydia looked down. It was true, they were now in her hands, and she was cradling one of the roses in her hand.

"This changes nothing," Lydia warned.

Beetlejuice's smile slipped a notch. He stood for a moment, tongue-tied for the first time in his afterlife.

Finally, words returned to him.

"Sure! Sure, just . . . I'll just . . . do something over here," he mumbled, walking aimlessly to another part of the room.

Lydia watched him walking, startled by his strange, random movements, and the way he responded to every bit of motion he saw, a book falling off a chair had him whirling towards it, the dogs barking outside made him flinch and walk faster. She didn't understand why he was so jittery. He had the upper hand, after all.

Beetlejuice watched Lydia from the corner of his eye. She was looking off in the distance, a huge frown on her face. He wanted nothing more than to make her smile, but it seemed that in order to do so, he had to stay away.

She'll understand someday. Maybe not though. Maybe she'll always hate me. Maybe I should just give up. She's even more gorgeous than she was before, though. Should I say it? Tell her? Maybe I'll just show her.

His embarrassment passed, he bounced back over to her, and started playing with her hair, which she did not appreciate. Not even a little.

"Get your dirty claws out of my hair!" Lydia spat. He merely cackled and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and landed a big sloppy kiss on her ear before she managed to get away, and deliver a kick to his shin. On second thought, she should have aimed higher.

Lydia stood glaring and clenching her fists. He wondered if she was upset. "Why won't you just leave me alone?" she finally bellowed. Beetlejuice smiled innocently.

"Because I just adore you," he said, making another smoochie face. He nearly grimaced as he realized how close it was to the truth. That was bad. In his book, you never tell the truth to a woman, because they never want to hear it. This time seemed no exception.

"I don't wanna hear it!" she cried.

Beetlejuice frowned. If she could throw a temper tantrum, then by God, so could he! "Why do you hate me so much!" he bellowed, a pressing question at the moment.

"You tried to marry me!" she cried.

"Most girls would take that as a compliment!" he snapped right back.

"Oh, it didn't matter to you who you married, just so long as I was breathing, had a pulse, and was female, it was fine with you! You would've married DELIA, if it were convenient! If you had really ever thought I was worth something, you would've come when I called!" she shrieked.

Beetlejuice snapped back the retort on the tip of his tongue, and stared at her. "What did you say?" he asked calmly. He was proud of himself; sounding calm when he knew he was about to implode.

Lydia knew she had said too much, but she was too furious to care. "For MONTHS after you came, I tried to call you! And you NEVER CAME BACK!!" she screamed, tears starting to trickle down her cheeks.

Beetlejuice knew two things in that moment. One; that it wasn't hopeless after all. And two. He had a debt to pay with one of the higher ups.

"Lydia, I would've come if I could!" he said desperately. "Somebody was blocking you – blocking me! I can't just not come, it isn't possible. I have to come; it's not my choice. So someone was interfering." And he added privately to himself, I think I know who. Juno, you'll get yours, I'll see to it personally!

Lydia sniffled loudly, and wiped her eyes. Beetlejuice handed her a tissue, surprisingly non-grimy.

"I thought you hated me. I thought you blamed me for getting eaten by a sandworm," Lydia said, twisting the tissue in her hands until it came to pieces.

"I already told you I didn't, Lyds. I wasn't lying."

Lydia felt a general uneasiness settle over her. This wasn't the monster she had begun to think he was twenty-three long years ago. This was a man, grimy and dirty, yes, but still a man. A thought that was somehow even more frightening than portraying him as a heartless fiend.

Beetlejuice leaned forward abruptly, and touched her hair again. When Lydia didn't respond, he sighed, and left the room.

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