Chapter #31A Rain Delay by: Seuzz   "Go ahead and take Maria's mask," you tell Noah after he's begun to roll his eyes impatiently. He lunges for it, but neither he nor anyone else has made any move toward putting the masks on.
"So what are we doing for clothes?" you ask when it dawns on you that that's the reason no one is changing.
"Going shopping for some," Brownie says. "I told you."
"I mean, what are we wearing when we go shopping for clothes?"
Half the guys turn to stare at Marc, who breaks out in a weak, embarrassed grin. Chris says, "Garner was s'posed to bring us some of his sister's things to wear."
"They were still home when I got the call to come out!" Marc exclaims. "I couldn't get into their room to—"
"So when the fuck are we supposed to get them?" Noah demands.
"I'm waiting to get an all-clear from Cindy."
"Oh, Jesus!" Brownie explodes. "She's even blonder than you are, dumb ass! Why don't you call her now and ask if she's been by your place yet? They're probably long gone and she forgot to text."
Marc breaks out his cell and taps into it. Brownie nudges you to pick a mask, but you delay to watch Marc, who is vibrating in place as he waits for an answer.
But it's another thirty minutes—during which everyone gets antsy and annoyed—before he's able to announce, "Okay, she says they just left. So I'll run home and— You guys know it's not gonna be anything fancy, right?" he says. "Just t-shirts and shorts, probably."
Everyone groans at him, and he turns to run off. But he pauses long enough to pick up the mask of Jessica that he accidentally brought along.
And that's what moves you to follow him. "I'm going to go with Marc," you shout at the others, and spring away after him. Someone shouts after you, but you ignore it and concentrate on catching up to Marc. The rain starts coming down harder, which makes the run even more miserable.
It's a hard run, for Marc's a soccer player and is in great shape, while you're neither. Even after he slows to let you catch up, you're soon gasping for breath as you run alongside him.
"So," you pant, "you're gonna sneak—into your sisters'—bedroom—to get some clothes?"
"That's the plan."
"Wouldn't it be better—if you got, like—Jessica herself—to go do it?" This is your way of circling into your request, rather than blatantly stating it.
"No! 'Cos Jessica's not there, and she wouldn't be giving me any of her or Eva's clothes anyway!"
"What I mean is—maybe I could go in—using Jessica's gear—to get the clothes?" That phantom stitch is starting to come back, and it's real this time.
Marc skids to a hard stop, and turns an astonished expression on you. "What'd you say?" he asks.
The sound of rain pattering on the sidewalk fills the sudden silence.
"It was just an idea!" you stammer. "To get inside their bedrooms. To get some better clothes, you know, for the guys."
"I wasn't going to do that!" Marc exclaims. "I was just gonna raid the laundry hamper, pull out some dirty workout clothes."
"Oh. Well in that case—"
But Marc, hands on his hips, is frowning hard at you. "Is that who you want to go out into town as? My sister?"
"Look, never mind, I was just—"
"Jesus! Fuck! I know I asked you to help me out that one time. But I wasn't along with you, You have any idea how fucking weird it would be for me—"
"I take it back!"
"—to go out crossdressing, or whatever it is we're doing, with you—"
"I said I take it back! I was just thinking, like—"
"I don't know what you were thinking." Marc gives you a final glare, then turns to trot off toward his house again. You watch him go, then turn and walk slowly back the way you came.
But Brownie finds you before you're back at the park. You're soaked to the skin when you look up to see his truck prowling toward you, and he pulls over to let you in.
"Jesus, man, you look like a drowned ferret," he tells you. "Garner wants to talk to you." He tosses his cell at you. It seems to weigh as much as a brick as you lift it to your ear.
"Okay, it turns out I do need your help," Marc says in a clipped voice when you get on the line. "Brownie's gonna drop you off half a block from my place. Run here, and come in through the garage. Door'll be up." He hangs up.
"What's going on?" you ask Brownie.
"Fuck if I know. What did he say?"
"Nothing. 'Cept that you should drop me off half a block from his place."
Brownie drops you off as instructed, and you jog the rest of the way. Marc is inside the garage with the door up, and he lowers it after you're inside. He's frowning as he yanks open the sliding door of the family minivan, and pushes you into it. But he doesn't climb in after.
"Okay, here's the deal," he says as he thrusts a pile of stinking clothes at you, along with a mask and metal band. Your eyes widen as you take them. "This is all I was able to get out of the laundry room. The rest of it, I dunno, I don't wear girls' clothes and I don't know what works with what. So I need you to get into the girls' bedroom and get clothes enough for all of us. Just simple stuff. Shirts and shorts. Skip the bras and panties, okay?"
"Why can't you go in and get them?"
"Because," Marc says, and his frown is deep and fierce, "Eva is up there. She was supposed to go off with Jessica, with Cindy and the rest of them, but I got here and found she'd stayed behind. God damn it. She's not going anyplace either, so if we're gonna do our thing someone needs to get into their closet and dresser. And since Jessica's the only one who can."
Your eyes pop. "And you're okay with, um—?"
His eyes blaze.
"No fucking way I'm putting that thing on," he snarls, "and no fucking way I'm letting any of those cocksuckers back at the park put it on either. Which means you're volunteered! Besides." He jams a hard finger into your shoulder. "You've done it before, so it's already spoiled."
Jesus, you think. Thanks a fucking lot for the endorsement.
"Get on it," Marc growls, and he slides the door shut on you with a bang.
* * * * *
The garage is empty when you climb out of the minivan again, in Jessica's body. A grimy stink rises off the cotton shorts and t-shirt Marc gave you, but somehow that makes it more wonderful, which makes you feel even more guilty. You're wearing neither underwear nor brassiere, so it's like wearing hardly anything at all over Jessica's strong, toned body. You give one of your boobs a quick squeeze as you adjust yourself and look around.
Okay, this is going to be fucking awkward, you think as you walk quickly over to the door leading into the laundry room. I don't have any idea what Jessica and Eva were supposed to be doing, or how come Eva stayed behind, and I got no good excuse for coming back in these clothes. You pause in the laundry room long enough to glance around and confirm that there's nothing else for you to put on. So what the hell am I supposed to tell Eva when I see her?
Someone's vacuuming in the living room as you pass through the house, and you peep in long enough to see that it's Jessica's mom. Her back is to you, though, and no one else catches sight of you before you're scampering upstairs. You wonder vaguely where Marc got off to, and get your answer when you hear country-western music drifting out from behind his closed bedroom door. Looks like the cocksucker's hiding until you've got the stuff and are done being Jessica.
But the girls' bedroom door is open. You stare at it, lick your lips, then square your shoulders and march in.
Eva is slouching on the bed with her cell phone. She's in sweat pants, a t-shirt, and a flannel top, and she does a double-take as you come in. You ignore her and march over to the walk-in closet, where you start flipping through tops.
Eva says nothing, though, even after you've crossed over to your dresser. (None of the tops in the closet were suitable, you decided. Everything was too fancy.) She only watches with her mouth hanging open as you pull out half-a-dozen t-shirts, and some shorts.
Almost you escape, congratulating yourself on your good luck. But as you're gathering up the clothes in a great armful, Eva says, "So, do you want to talk about it?"
You nearly choke. "Talk about what?" You don't meet her eyes.
"Whatever it is that's got you pissed off."
"What makes you think I'm pissed off?"
You're at the bedroom door before she replies. "Jesus, Jessica, it was only Will Prescott."
You stumble in the doorway and almost drop the things. You freeze there, on the threshold of escape, then turn to look back at her. "What about Will Prescott?" you ask. Your throat is numb.
Eva stares back with a frown. Then she rolls her eyes. "Nothing, I guess," she mutters.
"No," you insist against your better judgement. "What about Will?"
Eva gives you a look. "I'm sexting him," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Your eye falls to the cell phone she's holding. The fuck? you wonder. Is she texting with ... me? With Laurent, who's pretending to be me?  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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