Chapter Thirty-Two: Cat's Out of the Bag
Lydia sat at the bar, watching BJ get a rather zealous lap dance from one of the pretty strippers from earlier. Ruby was the name. She was dark and toned and very exotic, and he was apparently loving every second of it.
"YEAH, BABY! SMACK ME IN THE FACE WITH 'EM!" she heard him yell, as she actually did snort to herself. He was insane, and somehow, she'd found that crazy ghost to be a sort of hero to her. How desperate and lonely had she been? Obviously, she'd been wallowing in the pits of despair to put up with him, but strangely enough, it wasn't bad at all. He was the best thing that ever happened to her, so if she had to help him fight with his even crazier ex and witness a big pair of breasts stare him in the eyes, then she'd do just that. She felt she owed it to him.
"You really don't care that your man's over there gettin' all frisky with Ruby?" Lydia was ripped from her thoughts by the voice of none other than Trixy. "You look awfully happy about it."
Lydia instantly tensed up inside, though she tried her best not to show it. "I let him enjoy himself." she replied, before quickly turning the conversation around. "Don't you let Bill get dances?"
"Hell, no! Bill knows better." Trixy scoffed. "Look, you'd better watch him. Juice lies like a damned dog."
"Oh? What do you mean?" Lydia asked, genuinely curious, as she was prone to be.
"I mean, he'll say he's just gettin' lapdances. Then he'll go behind your back and do the whole shebang! He can't stay away from stripper pussy. Just ask Diamond. No matter how much he fills that pretty little head of yours with bullshit, he'll always be what he is - a dog." Trixy spat, her glittery face scowling deeply.
Was he really to blame? Probably, Lydia reasoned. He did lie very often, obviously. However, Trixy was no better. "To hear it from BJ, you're the one who went astray." Lydia raised a brow, placing a little pressure on her.
"Oh, he did, did he? That's fucking rich! Yeah, I cheated, but don't let him pull the wool over your eyes, Bessy. So, do you care enough to tolerate all that?" Trixy eyed her, seeming to analyze her every move.
She couldn't give things away, so she flipped back to being the interrogator. "When you were with him, did you love him?"
"Love HIM? Oh, please! Why would I love somebody like Juice! He's an asshole!" she laughed hysterically, which was very telling. At least BJ showed a hint of pain when she spoke of them. "What? Do you?!" she cackled, her long, glittery nails clacking on the bar in anticipation of Lydia's answer.
Okay, she had to be somewhat sincere, or Trixy would probably call bullshit. She was a lot like Beetlejuice himself, and so Lydia knew she had to navigate a conversation with her in a similar manner. In other words, avoid a huge fucking blowup. "I do care about him." she said, not eluding to what that actually meant. Of course, she cared. He'd helped her too much for her not to. In her eyes, he was a dear friend, but Trixy wouldn't know THAT part.
"Ew, your gullible. Juicey's not a nice guy. I don't know what shit he's tellin' you, but it must be pretty damned good." Trixy scoffed, before, sliding off her barstool and disappearing once more, a deviant smile on her red lips.
Lydia's eyes skimmed the crowd, noting that her fake boyfriend had actually gone missing, along with his stripper of choice. She stood a moment, narrowing her eyes and finding Trixy, who was now sitting with Bill and a slew of other people at a table. Okay, he wasn't with her. Where the fuck was he? "Ugh, BJ..." she moaned to herself, before turning to the bartender. "Can I have another, please?"
"Comin' right up, gorgeous!" the rough, muscle-bound man said, raising his eyepatch and winking at her with a hollow cavity. Yeah, this night was already fucked.
...
Beetle stood in the bathroom, pulling up his trousers and sighing. "Yer a generous gal, ya know that?" he sniggered at Ruby, who was pulling her sparkly, red skirt back down.
"Yeah, well I needed to make a few extra bucks before my shift was over." she grinned widely, straightening his tie. "I take it Bessy doesn't put out?"
"Eh, not really. What she don't know won't hurt her though, amirite?" he asked, though he secretly reveled smugly in his huge-assed lie. Little Miss "Bessy" didn't give a shit, because they weren't even together.
"I won't tell. I never do, Juicey." she shot him a sly look, as she grabbed the money from his hand. "Just don't tell her about that side chick you were moaning about. It's hard to keep a secret around here."
His brow furrowed. What the hell was Ruby talking about? "Side chick?" he grunted, adjusting the moldy cuffs of his suit.
"Oh, c'mon." she nudged his shoulder. "I didn't die yesterday, Juicey. It's not the first time you slipped up and said another girl's name."
"What? I'm over Trixy!" he crossed his arms, scowling.
"You didn't say Trixy." Ruby shook her head slowly, still smiling.
"Whaddaya mean?" he began to grow pretty damned irritated. What was she on to?
"Who's Lydia?" The words seemed to fall from Ruby's lips in slow motion. No. No way. Never. This was a bad dream. A very fucking bad dream.
"Yer fuckin' with me, right?" he muttered, his face falling slack.
"No. You called me Lydia. At least twice. Like, the first time it was under your breath, but it was kind of loud the second time. She your side chick?" Ruby eyed him curiously, pulling a leather jacket on and picking her large, rhinestone purse off the floor.
"Uh...I... Uh...don't..." he began to stumble over his words, feeling like he'd shit himself, burst into unholy flames, and plummet to hell in about three seconds.
"Don't worry, Juicey. I never tell on a paying client. Just keep paying, though." Ruby winked, before stepping back and leaving him alone as she finished her shift for the night. Alone in his fucked up, twisted misery.
He glared at his reflection in the mirror - the very same mirror he'd just watched himself boink Ruby in front of. "MOTHERFUCKER!" he yelled, smashing his fist into it and shattering it into a zillion pieces.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" he hissed, stomping out of the bathroom, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by Trixy, who stood, propped against the wall, a malicious grin on her face.
"Lydia, huh? Bessy know you're in love with a breather?" Trixy asked, stepping up to him.
