Chapter 5: So Cunning You Could Brush Your Teeth With It, and Other Stories.

But first an author's note. In reply to FluteAngel21, it is indeed unlike witty Jack to consider hygiene. However, one notes that Jack is also a fan of decadence and vanity, which, technically, a rebraiding of one's dreadlocks could be construed as. After all, after a few years, one's dreads can definitely get worn out.

On with the show.

Rosa called me closer. I don't like her cunning plans, especially when they involve me or people I love. Did I say people I love? I mean…transdimensional refugees.

"Okay," she whispers. "These people are essentially ghosts. Norry's technically dead, and Jack's abuse of the Fountain of Youth probably cursed him something good. So, what's the point in not messing around with them a little bit?" Again with the fang-smile.

"What are you suggesting, Plain-Jane?" I rasped, probably guessing correctly the answer in mind.

"I suggest breaking…" her voice lowered, "the fourth rule."

Yep. Called it. "So what sordid game do you have in mind? Seven minutes? Spin the bottle? A variation on key parties? You're a band-bus girlie, you must be cooking something up in your twisted little head."

"It's like you don't know me at all, accusing me of such doings on that bus. But you're right. Not about the bus. About the sordid planning. I do indeed have a twisted plan. It is, indeed, a variation of the standard key party. What kind of sleeping arrangements do we have here, anyway?"

"We've got Pam's room, my room, and the living room. Now, out with it."

"I've stolen a charm from Jack's bandanna, and you can get a coin from Norry. I'll put them in a coffee mug and on top of the fridge, and then you'll draw one out. You share the room with the owner of the coin."

"Sordid."

"Cunning!"

"I'll do it, but whatever happens is on you."

I asked James for the coin, which he readily provided, sacked out on the couch. It was a tarnished doubloon, drawn from a silk purse that he still kept on him. With that in hand, I came to the kitchen to fill the mug with that coin, hoping to feel its foreign grooves on my fingers when I drew it out again. We decided not to draw for a while, the night being still young. What to do, though?

"How about a sing-along?" Rosa suggested. James and I winced. Oh well. Their funeral.

"What song will I be torturing people with this evening?" I mocked.

"Come on, Carmencita, your voice isn't as bad as, say, some choir members and all of the drumline."

"That really inspires me with confidence. What song?"

" How Can I Live Without You."

"Hang on," James interjected. "I don't know that one!"

"You'll catch on," I giggled.

"Fine then…" He seemed uneasy with the idea.

"Shall we begin?" Rosa announced. "You can still come and give me coffee in the mornin'," we sang. Jack joined in. "You can still come and give me a chicken fried steak." James was quite amused with the silly song. "You can live your life with whomever you please to as long as someone takes good care of me. You know I don't mind." James chimed in. "How can I live without you, if it means I've got to get a job? How can I live without you, if it means I've got to get a job?"

We were glowing. The song continued. It was as if we were drunk, and I don't know if we were or not. It was, after all, Rosa who poured the next round of drinks, and I probably can't trust her in my kitchen. So perhaps I had been a little inebriated by the time the sky was lavender and navy blue through the window to the west of us. So perhaps I was a little into my tumbler when a coin tumbled into my lap. I didn't recognize it. Crap. Not good. That is not James's doubloon. Oh well. She wanted Jack's coin and I don't expect Rosa to go through with a game that's not going her way.

"Gentlemen, as you are all aware, (hic!) the sleeping arrangements are quite (hic!) limited. Now, Jack, you'll notice you're missing a coin from your newly done hairstyle."

"Thought it felt odd…" he muttered.

"James, Carmen borrowed a coin from you. This is where they both come into play. I simply won't (hic) have the two of you sleeping in a room together. The likelihood (here she sort of stumbled.) that one of you will kill the other in their sleep is much too high (hic) for my liking. So. James and Jack, go find your coins. You will be spending the night with the owner of said coinage."

Okay. Really. Not good. I don't think I won that round of roulette. Oh well. I'm sure there's an exit provision somewhere.

No?

I'll have to make one.

"How about I make this more interesting. The living room is a sort of neutral territory. So. People who sleep in the living room, on account of the inability to stomach…a night with their roomie, have to clean the house tomorrow. Got that?"

Rosa's fang-sneer twisted into something like disgust. "Got that times twenty."

Jack leered at me. Or maybe it was a smile. His teeth sort of creeped me out. "Well then. It seems I will be enjoying the company of another person of an independent nature. We could talk of philosophy, or if you prefer we could just…" From there it was a lot of 'blah blah blah.'

We would be sleeping in my room. The one with the brick walls, the floor mattress, miniature window, and beaucoup blankets and pillows. The one with the Jack Sparrow velour pillow. Crap. That would elicit some incredible awkwardness.

He hadn't seen it when I got there. He was already lying on my bed, arms behind his head. Rather dashingly, I admit. This is not boding well for Madame Self-Control. The first thing I did was sit down on my bed. The second thing I did is quite unclear, given that it was a bit of a tie between getting kissed roughly, being attacked indecently, and slugging a dimensional refugee in the jaw.

"Now let's get one thing straight, Captain Sparrow, if there's one thing I want you to know, it's that the rules still apply here and you don't have permission to do that. I was hoping you were going to let me sleep in peace."

"Then perhaps," he said aggressively, "you can explain to me this strange embroidered pillow. That's a picture of me, isn't it? I found it on your bed, which means that you're sleeping with it. Explain that!"

Crap. Crap Fricky McCrap. "Got it from a friend."

"People who get awkward things from friends toss them out later if they don't like them. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you kinda like the velour effigy. Ergo, me."

"Fine. I do."

"Well, then, we are in agreement, Carmen. Shall we commence to breaking ground rules or what?"

"Hello! Independent personality, remember?" Tonight sucks. It really does. I should feed Rosa's mellophone to the wood chipper when I get back to school.

"If you're so damn independent, why don't you go sleep in the living room, on your own?"

"Yeah! Why not?!"

Mission accomplished. I took the afghan and the pillow from last night, and made my place on the sofa. Beat that, Rosa.