Chapter #42The Secrets of The Strausslers by: imaj   The little movie theater is exactly what you were hoping for. It really is like a proper one, with a wide screen taking up one side of the small room. There are three rows of five seats, each of which is far plusher and more comfortable that the real ones would be. You slip into the middle of the back row, sinking into the seat cushions and giggle girlishly.
“Come here you,” you smirk at Jon in the half-dark of the room.
“I have to put a film on first,” he tells you. “What do you want to see?”
“Put on something I’d like,” you reply opaquely. Not that Monique’s taste in films appeals to you, but you know that light romantic comedies she favours bore Jon even more. There is an angle there for you to utilise
“Huh,” shrugs Jon. He goes into the little side room that houses the projector nonetheless. Lights flicker inside and after a few minutes a film starts on the screen. Loudspeakers fill the room with music.
Jon comes back out from the projection room, sitting himself next to you. You gently sigh Monique’s content when he wraps and arm over your shoulders. “I could get Consuela to make us some popcorn if you want.”
You definitely don’t want. The last thing you need is someone interrupting you in the middle of getting a mask of Jon. However, you need a plausible enough lie… “No,” you tell Jon. “I don’t like people making noise when I’m watching a film,” you explain, wrinkling your nose.
“”Like talking,” asks Jon wryly.
“Like talking,” you confirm with a giggle.
“Like you’re doing now,” he adds with mock seriousness.
“I was gonna stop,” you protest. “There’s something else I want to do.” Jon makes a noncommittal grunting sound and you pull his face close to yours. The kiss is slow and wary, as Monique is still hesitant about such things. It warms you up though, sending pleasant tingles through your body.
“That is better,” admits Jon as the kiss ends. He puts and arm around you again and you lay your head on his broad chest as the film starts up.
You sink into Monique’s personality, letting it rule your reactions. The film is dull, but with Monique’s thoughts running through your head you laugh and cry as the melodrama plays out. Every so often another gentle squeeze from Jon attracts you attention and you gaze up at him and dimple.
About an hour in, you look up and note that Jon’s attention is finally flagging. You have your purse in your lap, of course. A blank mask lies within, and you slide the hand furthest from Jon inside to find it. He doesn’t seem to notice the movement as you gently pull the mask free.
You need a distraction first. That’s easy though. Holding the mask hidden at your side, you climb over your seat and on top of Jon. His sleepy eyes brighten as you lean forward and kiss him. But the kiss hides the movement of your hand, the one holding the mask. It takes less than a second to place the mirrored concave oval on Jon’s face as your lips part. His body slackens beneath you.
With the deed done, you climb off Jon’s sleeping body and settle back into your seat. Now all you need to do is wait. Several minutes later, the mask pops back out of Jon’s face, the tell-tale glow of the lettering within alerting you to its presence. You snatch the mask before it can fall to the floor, slipping it back inside your purse to conceal it.
It takes a few minutes more before Jon shows signs of waking up. You shake him gently by the shoulder. “Jon,” you say softly. “Jon.”
“Thifsigle,” he moans. “Mo...nique?”
“I can’t believe you fell asleep,” you say, feigning schock.
“I’m… I’m sorry songbird,” he says, wakefulness slowly coming to him, his eyes narrowing warily. “I guess this isn’t my kind of film.” You pout at him. It must look adorable, for his expression melts in an instant. “It doesn’t matter though, not as long as I’m watching it with you.”
“Aw Jon,” you dimple. “You say the sweetest things.”
His arm falls around you one more time and you snuggle in close to him. You keep all traces of what you have just done from the Monique persona within you and concentrate on how he makes her feel. It is almost as if you purr as he rubs at your shoulder. You climb back on top of him again, but this time you make the kiss last longer. Monique’s feelings are like a cloak: Something to wrap yourself and hide in. You let Monique guide your reaction as his touch wanders your body. He never doubts your identity for a second.
You don’t really see much of the second half of the film.
*****
It is dark outside when you re-emerge from the theater in the basement. One movie segued into another, although in truth you did not watch that one much either. The afternoon make out session didn’t progress much beyond kissing and touching. That was more than enough for Monique though, and certainly more than enough for you. You let her glowing happiness shine through as Jon guides you up the stair, a comforting hand holding your waist.
“Oh no,” you wail as you look out the windows and into the darkness. “Mom and Dad are going to be mad.”
“You could stay for dinner,” says Jon hopefully. “Phone your folks and say you’re going to eat with us.”
You bite your lip nervously. Monique’s mind tells you that it is a very tempting offer, one that she would be sorely pressed to refuse. On the other hand though, you have what you came for. The mask could be in Patterson’s hands by this evening. Surely that would impress him? “I really should go,” you tell Jon.
“Are you sure,” he pleads. You nod though, and he continues guiding you through the vastness of the Straussler home until you reach the hall at the entrance. You aren’t alone when you arrive.
Jon’s parents are back from wherever they have been. Jon hesitates as he sees them, pulling you back a little till you both stand in one of the doorways of the hall. You look at him in puzzlement. His expression seems sad, but he says nothing.
There is shouting from the hall and you look back inside. Natalie Straussler pulls herself away from her husband, stumbling as she does so. There is a crack as one of her stiletto heels breaks and she falls to one knee. Her dress rides up and she yelps in pain. Only then do you see that her makeup has run, as if she has been crying. She struggles to loosen her shoes, taking them off awkwardly before lifting herself to her feet, all while Curt Straussler does nothing but stare impassively.
“Fuck you Curt,” shouts Jon’s mom shrilly. She throws one shoe at Curt Straussler. He doesn’t flinch as it bounces of his chest. “Fuck you,” she adds as she launches the second shoe half-heartedly. It falls short of Curt. Then she turns about and flounces up the stairs. The effect is ruined as she stumbles on the stairs and ends up clinging to the banister to help stay upright.
You look up to Jon, opening your mouth to ask what is going on. He places one finger over your lips to shush you.
“Come on out Jonathan,” calls Curt Straussler from within the hall. Jon grimaces. You feel his grasp on your waist tighten as you walk into the Hall together. “I’m sorry you had to see that Monique,” he tells you, his voice tinged with only the barest of hints of sadness.
“I’m sorry too Mr Straussler,” you reply, not really sure what to say. Monique’s own family isn’t like this at all and the scene has left her personality confused.
“Perhaps it’s best if you go home,” adds Jon’s dad, his eyes seem cold and dead. You nod meekly. “It’s dark out, you’ll be able to manage home in your car?”
“Yes Mr Straussler,” you answer quickly, keen to get out of the house as fast as possible. “I mean, on my moped,” you say after a moments thought.
“Ah, of course, sorry,” says Curt Straussler. He smiles at you, but it is an odd smile: Like someone who had seen a picture of a smile once and tried to copy it without understanding the intent behind it. He walks over to you, still smiling that non-smile.
Jon’s grasp weakens as his father approaches, until you feel his hand slip away entirely. You feel for Jon’s hand as Curt Straussler closes, clasping it in your own. It feels cold and clammy.
“Well,” says Curt. He’s standing in front of you now. He places one hand firmly on your shoulder. “Well…”
“You’re hurting me,” you whine, suddenly very, very afraid.
Curt Straussler moves quickly, his other hand pulling something metallic from his pocket. He presses the foreign object against your forehead. An odd, reverberating sound fills the room, leaving you feeling strangely dizzy.
The room seems to shrink, but it isn’t shrinking you realise. It is you that is growing. Monique’s clothes rip and tear as your own lanky body seems to emerge from them somehow. Too late you realise that the mask of Monique Travers is falling away from your face, the glow of the inside of the mask disappearing out of reach.
“What the…” you begin to say. It is your own voice that you hear, not the girlish one that you have used for the last day or so. The dizziness increases. The room slowly starts to wobble and then spin.
Everything fades into darkness.
You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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