Chapter Forty-Two: Nobody Has to Know

Beetle led his enemy out to the dance floor, feeling the soft skin of her hand against his own, and reminding himself that this didn't mean his plans were thwarted. If there was anything he excelled at, it was being a top-tier, womanizing asshat, and that fit perfectly into his plans. The music was still fast and blaring, so he was curious just what she'd do with him.

"So, how do you want me to do this? I'm sure you don't want me grinding on you like those girls." Lydia sniggered, looking a little embarrassed. If she wasn't his target of destruction, he'd consider that sort of cute.

"I dunno, Babe. Surprise me." he shrugged, turning on his charming act for the hell of it. Why not? It was only a matter of time before she'd be left high and dry, and he'd be in Aruba drinking a beer and slapping a few sun-kissed asses anyway.

"Haha...Okay." Lydia shrugged awkwardly, eyeing those around her, many of whom were practically dry humping on the dance floor. He watched her a moment, as she began to move to the music, obviously holding back due to her well-placed reservations concerning him.

He started to move as well, though he purposely didn't hold back because he was feeling really damned bold for some reason. It was probably the booze, he reasoned.

"I didn't know you had those moves, BJ." she smiled, starting to let go a bit more. "I saw you dancing with those girls. You're pretty good."

"Eh, what can I say. I'm practically a pussy magnet, Babe." he leered, pulling her into him a bit, which obviously surprised her.

"Are you sure you want to dance with me like this?" Lydia asked him, her face twisted in confusion due to his insanely mixed signals. He'd confused his enemy, so that was obviously a plus in his eyes.

"Why not? Yer a chick, I'm an extremely handsome guy..." he grinned, purposely bullshitting and causing her to laugh.

"Did you talk to Trixy this way?" she asked him blatantly, though he found himself enjoying it all too much to be pissed at her for bringing that witch up again.

"All the time, Babe. Why?" he asked, his eyes drifting down her black gown due to the way she was moving.

"I have no idea why she'd not like this." Lydia chuckled, and somehow, he knew that she wasn't lying or being sarcastic about it.

He shrugged, pulling Deetz even tighter against him and wondering if she was uncomfortable yet. However, she showed very little apprehension about it, so he didn't stop. "Beats the hell outta me."

"Me too, BJ." she said, before pausing. "So, does this mean you still hate me? Or?"

Of course, he still hated her. Right? Maybe he didn't really feel it, but he had a mission, and he'd definitely follow through with it, so that constituted hate in his eyes. "Did I ever say I hated ya?" he asked, hoping to throw her off.

"I'm not sure, but you sure seem to. I hope that changes, BJ." she stated the same thing she parroted over and over for days on end. It may have been said enough to make him want to pull his own arm off and beat himself in the dick with it, but it was pretty satisfying to have a young, smart, really hot chick so torn up over him.

"You said ya don't wanna be alone, right?" he asked her, trying to throw her for another loop.

"Yeah..." Lydia nodded apprehensively, and from her body language alone, he could tell that she didn't really know what to think. "Just what are you saying? I'm lost."

"I'm sayin' ya got me, Deetz. Have I ever left ya hangin' before?" he asked, watching intensely as the flickering lights of the club hit her in such a way that it felt like he was back in the past, trying to coerce her into marriage again. It was pretty damned cathartic, really.

"Well..." Lydia's face wrinkled up, probably in remembrance of all the times he'd been a mean, nasty cunt and actively left her. "Maybe?" she answered in the typical Deetz fashion, which was as diplomatically and sugarcoated as possible.

"Okay, well forget all that shit. I'm here now, ain't I?" he raised his brows, grabbing her by the hips and staring into her eyes, watching her every move.

"Well, yeah. Technically you are. So, what are you wanting from me?" Lydia finally blurted out, obviously trying to turn the tables on him.

"Hey, you said it yerself, little miss ass-kisser. Ya said I always come through. I always save yer ass, right?" he asked, deflecting her question because there was no way in hell he was actually going to tell her any of that.

Lydia paused a moment. "Yeah. You do. Now what do you want?" she asked again, not letting the question go, which he should have expected by now. The booze was throwing him off his game a bit. It actually left him enough slack in his brain to ponder on the matter. Would it be nice to be stuck with someone like Deetz the rest of his existence? Sure, if it wasn't for the one blaring fuckup she'd done years ago, and it was far too huge to stuff down and ignore. Of course, when did the truth ever stop him from telling a lie? It wasn't like he actually had a moral compass anyway, right?

"You said ya wanted to make the most of this, right?" Beetle replied vaguely, hoping whatever wishful thinking was occurring in that head of hers would fill in the blanks.

"Of course." Lydia shrugged, starting to smile a bit again. "Is that what you want?"

"Sure, why not?" he said, spinning her around and pulling her into himself, just to try and charm her a bit more. "Whaddaya say, Deetz? You game?"

She beamed, and though she was an evil creature of hatred, she really was probably the hottest chick in the whole club. She was probably the nicest, too. And the sweetest. Probably the smartest. Probably looked bangin' in her birthday suit. "Eh...herm..." he turned his head away from her for a brief moment, trying to stay on track due to drowning in an ocean of booze and weird infatuation.

"See? I told you. You're a good guy, after all." Lydia chuckled, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him, giving him the warmest embrace he'd ever felt, as the strobe lights fell dim, and the music began to fade out.

"OKAY, WE'RE FEELING THE LOVE TONIGHT! THIS ONE GOES OUT TO ALL OUR LOVERS OUT THERE!" the DJ's voice blared over the speakers, as the music began to slow down.

"Shall we?" he stepped back, holding his mossy hand out for her to take. He couldn't even lie to himself about this. He was eating it up, and loving every moment of it, enemy or not.

"Sure, BJ." Lydia nodded, smiling, as she took it, and leaned into him. He felt her against him, her head now laying against his shoulder. Damn, it did feel nice to have someone actually not care to touch his dead, gross ass. No snarky Trixy-like comments, no dramatic dragging him along to show she could get anyone, and Lydia really could get anyone, she just didn't know or believe it. Sure, she may have just begun to grow a set, but it wasn't quick enough to see past her own demise. Deetz was just unsure enough to fall into his grasp, and it was awesome as hell.

He danced with her along to some sappy breather love song, her hair smelling sweet and his undead senses feeling every beat of her heart. It would speed up every time he spoke, and that told him everything he needed to know. It was so exhilarating he was actually a little freaked out by this point, but he shrugged it off. It was probably all the excitement over bringing her down, which was ultimately the next step.

He found himself, against his better judgement, running a hand through her long, silky hair and squeezing her extra tight, somehow wishing Trixy had been this way. Then maybe shit wouldn't have been so intolerable back on the other side of death, and maybe he wouldn't give so much of a fuck about getting out because he was lonely, and he wouldn't have to seek vengeance and be a big dick about everything. But then again, that's just what he'd set out to do, and he had to do it.

...

He sat with Lydia on a sleek, red lounge sofa, watching her knock back her presumably hundredth beer, her eyes nearly rolling back from intoxication as she watched people begin to file out of the club, leaving the crowd thinner and thinner. He decided to drag his date-slash-nemesis off the floor once she began tripping over herself more than actually standing. Not that he could say much, his ass wasn't too far behind.

"I had a blast, BJ! You're so fun to party with!" she slurred, attempting to straighten her crooked veil, only to fuck it up more. It was pretty damned adorable, and he didn't give a fuck if he thought it was. He'd worry about his plans of mass destruction later when his brain actually functioned again.

"Yer not so bad yerself." A lop-sided grin fell across his features, as he slid over a bit closer to her like big, giant pervert. Oh well, he'd worry about that shit later.

"We should do this again next week. Maybe we could hang with some of my actual friends. They'd get a real kick out of you." she laughed, touching his arm affectionately.

"You got those?" he teased her, not missing a chance to be a bit of a dick, as he stared at where her hand currently was.

"Yes, I do have some real ones, BJ. Not many, but I do." she replied, feigning offense as she finished her final beer.

"Sure, Babe. What they don't know won't hurt 'em." he laughed darkly, pushing aside the fact that there might not be a next time. He was currently enjoying the moment, and he chose not to give a shit otherwise.

"We'd better get out of here. They're shutting the club down." Lydia sighed, eyeing the other patrons as they walked by.

"Eh, guess yer right." he nodded, scratching his side as he stood, nearly falling over. He tried pulling her up, but she nearly took them both down.

"Okay, this could be a problem." Lydia slurred, reaching down under the table and into her black boot.

"The hell're ya doin'?" Beetlejuice eyed her warily, as she whipped out a wad of cash.

"C'mon, BJ. We're getting a taxi." she grinned.

...

Beetle gazed drunkenly out the car window, watching rain splash on the streets as unknown people walked all about, umbrellas in tow. His weary eyes stared up at the tall skyscrapers, as a crooked grin crawled across his lips. He turned back to see a completely oblivious, passed out Lydia, head leaning against the car door. Her little veil was practically falling off her face. He grinned a bit wider, snaking his hand over and placing it atop of hers.

Nobody had to know. His plan could still come to fruition. He could still finish what he'd set out to do. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy this. It would all be over soon, anyway, he told himself, ignoring the strange sensation of loneliness that seemed to create. He slid his thumb up under her wrist, feeling her pulse. Her heart beat slow and steady, and if his dried-up turd of a heart could beat, he was sure it would fall right in line with hers.

"Heh...Yer a fuckin' mess." he muttered under his breath, eyeing her and pretending that's who his comment was aimed toward. In reality, it probably suited him more.