A/N: Hey, hey, everybody – look a new chapter! Sort of anyway? It's kind of short and stuff, but something is better than nothing? This story has recently gotten some really lovely reviews, so much so that I've been waffling about whether or not to post this for days, because it's awfully hard for me as an author to say, 'yes, this chapter was great and no one will hate it for reasons.' I am a crazy person intimidated by my own press. But I got this much written and it seemed a shame not to share, even if some of my kind readers will want to throw shoes at my head afterwards…
PREVIOUSLY:
A knock on the door presaged it creaking open. Someone was saying, "Hello? We're here for our appointment…?"
Heidi said, "Can't you see I've got company?" and went out in the corridor to deal with the newly arrived couple. From the muffled sounds that made it through the door, there was an explosive argument as she tried to shoo them away and they battled desperately to avoid getting stuck in line for another century. Someone's ancestors were compared to geraniums.
Lydia could only hear Beetlejuice's rough voice growling, "So you think you've got me under thrall?"
AND NOW ON WITH THE STORY!
Chapter Nine:
Forcefully peeling her eyes away from Beetlejuice's piercing stare, Lydia stumbled to her feet. She had to catch her balance leaning against the wall as the building shook, smoke billowing under the door and shrieks filling the hallway outside as the argument over appointment times escalated. Normally she would have shrugged off the disorientation easily, but she already felt like the floor of reality had been yanked out from under her feet. She wanted to get away – knew that she couldn't outrun the truth.
"Are you?" she burst out, slumped against the wall. "Is that what all this has been about?" She threw out her arms in a sweeping gesture that managed to indicate 'all this' was on a level with life, the universe, and everything rather than just the kitschy contents of the small office.
Sardonically, Beetlejuice slowly peeled his arms away from the chair and laboriously lit a cigarette by hand with affected nonchalance. "You think you're that good, babes?" He then blew smoke at her face.
The coughing and hacking that ensued on her part broke through some of the hysteria. Finally, swallowing dryly and hating any vulnerability that asking again showed, she demanded, "Have I enthralled you?"
He sneered and hauled her towards him by the skirt, the only thing he could reach at this angle. She heard a loud rip as she fell awkwardly into his clutches but it didn't register until she felt his clammy hand maneuvering her bare thigh over the armrest. The other hand holding the cig between two fingers grasped the back of her neck to hold her in place. Her eyes wide and her heart thundering in abject terror that he might slide one hand a little too far and discover her hideous underwear, she had about a millisecond to worry that the other hand would set her hair on fire before his lips sealed around hers.
It was not a kiss.
It was a ravishment. He sucked the air out of her lungs and then he started working on her soul. Lightning flashed and her heart stuttered before static shocks crawled from her mouth to her toes, rustling like ancient books flapping their pages over her skin. Her vision had gone black and sparks fizzled behind her eyes by the time he let her lips go, and as if that had been the signal she then passed out.
Swimming towards consciousness, Lydia noticed the sea of stars seemed to dance in a rhythm that she vaguely recognized as someone talking. It was all nonsense: swear, cuss, inventive way of shaming a goat with an octopus, worse swearing, not dead you could have died! Also she might have heard, "My stupid little dumbass sugar baby candy bottom," but it seemed unlikely.
When she came to with a start, he'd managed to stand and pin her against the wall. The look of abject relief on his face was replaced so quickly with fury that she wasn't quite sure she had seen it. Her ribs ached and her lips felt raw but on the whole she felt surprisingly energetic.
He grabbed her chin and shook her head lightly. "Ya really don't know nothin', do ya Lyds?" he gritted out. "Two way street here – sign of a complete amateur. Only I can drain you like a goddamned shot while you're still sipping on a Big Gulp."
She knew he had to be, in fact, transcendently angry because he didn't bother to emphasize the innuendo even though their relative positions presented what would normally be overwhelming temptation. She shoved him away and he actually let her, taking a step back to loom over her with his hands planted on the wall hemming her in. Any hope that it wasn't really true died a gasping death, and her heart broke…just a little. Only a tiny crack, not even worth mentioning, she'd never thought he lo-liked her or anything silly like that…had she?
"It wasn't," Lydia began haltingly. "I never intended – I didn't mean to!"
"Oh, well, you didn't MEAN to," Beetlejuice began in a voice that was entirely too calm and descended into venom-dipped daggers made of scorpion tails territory. "That makes it all a-okay!"
"Then we'll just call the whole thing off!" she retorted desperately.
"What? !" he shouted, straightening abruptly. "You-"
He was interrupted by the office door opening and Heidi strolling back in shaking a snow globe. The hallway behind her was empty. "So sorry about that," she said, "I think a little vacation will cool their heads." The snow globe was set on a shelf running around the room just under the ceiling among a clutter of other similar knickknacks. Inside two tiny figures were frozen in a pose of cringing horror, glitter snow piling up around their heads. Behind them was a sign emblazoned with a cheery, 'Aspen skiing' and a diabolically grinning snowman mascot.
Lydia edged around Beetlejuice towards the door. "Um, if you need to do your job-"
"No, no! Family comes first," Heidi protested, nudging them back into their chairs by the elbows. "Besides, what's the Administration going to do? Give me even more community service? I only put up with it as it is because I like playing matchmaker."
Glancing from the snow globe to her grandmother, Lydia made an intuitive leap. "So being a counselor is a p-"
"Punishment? Correct," Heidi said, sitting down herself.
"What did you do in the first place?"
"Pffft." Heidi waved away her concern. "Honestly, nothing much. But apparently they frown on famous people taking a little stroll topside. How was I supposed to know Elvis was still so popular?"
Startled, Beetlejuice's knotted brow twitched and his pinched frown unfurled. "That was you?" he snorted.
"I heard about how they tried to pin it on you at first. Made a historic precedent – only time you ever got off the hook by actually being innocent of the crime and not on a technicality, wasn't it?" Heidi propped her chin on her fist and smiled.
His lips quirked back in a smirk that was nearly as nasty as that smile. "Nah. Me and the Chief got our regular poker 'n' beer night. I just make him change out of those ridiculously shiny jumpsuits. He can fit a whole deck of cards up each sleeve." He demonstrated by tweaking his cuff links, unleashing an avalanche of playing cards from at least ten different decks including Tarot. Lydia recognized the Fool as it fluttered by.
"Hm." Heidi attempted to look severe at him but a twinkle in her eyes gave away her amusement. She turned to Lydia. "Darling, it's been lovely chatting but my grandmotherly intuition tells me you didn't come here just to catch up."
"Well, no…" Lydia trailed off sneaking a glance at Beetlejuice from the corner of her eye. He was sitting there with his hands laced together in his lap looking calm and, and chipper, of all things. Lydia was deeply disturbed by this. He had something up his sleeve, and it sure as hell wasn't cards.
"Don't tell me…?" Heidi clapped her hands gleefully. "You want help planning your wedding!"
That was, in fact, the reason they had made an appointment in the first place, and by the time Lydia had rallied herself and found a way to gently (in order to spare her grandmother's feelings and also because no one wants to be a snow globe figurine) explain that they changed their mind, Heidi was on a roll.
"Oh, of course I'll help, you don't even have to ask! There's so much to do! Now, first things first, have you two set a date yet?"
"No," Lydia said at the same time Beetlejuice said, "Yes." As she shot a surprised look at him he put an arm around her shoulders and squished her to his side, taking her hand in his. "We were thinking today," he explained to Heidi conspiratorially as Lydia tried to pry herself free, "But pookie here's feeling embarrassed about how eager she is for the honeymoon, know what I mean?"
Cringing, Lydia hardly had time to say, "I –"
"Oh, no, that won't do at all." Heidi tsked. "There would be no time for anyone to respond to the invitations! I'm sure all of Lydia's cousins and their families, and my brothers and sisters, not to mention the Deetz side of the family, oh, and Pa will certainly want to be there, and then there's-" The list went on. And on and on.
By the time they escaped her grandmother's wedding-mad clutches, Lydia and Beetlejuice had been subjected to a rigorous interrogation about every single person they had ever met in their entire lives and/or existences who might possibly be invited. The most auspicious dates for weddings had been debated with the intensity of a life and death battle (Beetlejuice had set his tent staunchly in the camp of the nearest star alignment, which happened to be only two weeks away, and had won the day by sheer grit and determination and also by pouting about the alignment involving his namesake). They had been grilled about color choices (Lydia had been highly disgruntled that Heidi wouldn't let her get away with choosing "black and a different black" but she was mollified when Beetlejuice's choice of "maroon and powder blue" was vetoed also). They'd been given the third degree over flowers, put on the rack over the style of invitations, gone through the wringer picking a location, and told to come back tomorrow after they had perused a stack of magazines and brochures that towered over both of them.
Laden down with their homework they waded to the door through shin-deep playing cards. As soon as the door shut behind them Lydia heard the slippery sound of hundreds of glossy pages being hurled to the floor, shortly followed by the sight of Beetlejuice knocking her own vision-obstructing stack out of her hands. Once more they were in the beige confines of her dorm room – although Beetlejuice looked an awful lot like he wanted to paint the walls red.