Chase Banter [02] Marching to a Different Accordion Read Free Page B

squish-faced bastards out of my vagina—it’s like a Saint Bernard trying to get out a cat door. It’s not pretty.”
    Chase winced, having been banished from the delivery room because she was so stressed out before the whole thing got started that now she could only imagine the pain and agony that Gitana had gone through as Bud came out the cat door.
    “That’s right, little missy,” she said, pointing the gnarled finger at Chase. “It’s not pretty, remember that.”
    “So how are they trying to kill you?” Chase said.
    “With medication.”
    “Medication?” Chase said.
    “For my rheumatoid arthritis. I’ve been like this for years. I take care of myself. I don’t want their pills. That is what killed my friend—the only friend I had,” she looked over at Alma, “Except for you.”
    Alma touched her arm. “And I am your friend.”
    “I wouldn’t mind being one,” Chase said, surprising even herself with her forwardness. It wasn’t just curiosity or her endless search for fodder, it was something more. Mrs. Givens was honest.
    Mrs. Givens smiled at her. She did only have about four teeth, but Chase didn’t care. “Come for tea on Friday and bring that little urchin of yours. Alma told me about you being a parent and I like to frighten little children.”
    Chase laughed. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll scare this one. I think you will fascinate her with your stories.”
    “All right then, it seems the rest of your artistic miscreants are arriving—go and write something subversive that’ll piss off the Republicans. Tell that spiky-haired one that her web stories make the good people apoplectic and I heartily enjoy the stories.”
    Jasmine and Delia, two more members of the writing group, stood in the driveway waiting for them. Chase practically skipped over to Alma’s house.
    “That was very nice of you,” Alma said. “You will show?”
    “Of course. I’d cancel anything to have tea with her and I promise I shan’t ever write anything bad about her. In fact, I might try to keep her out of my stories out of respect.”
    “Oh, don’t do that. She’d be pleased if she were in one.”
    “Really?” Chase was delighted.
    Delia and Jasmine watched them as they came over and Mrs. Givens slowly made her way back to her front door.
    “Who’s she?” Jasmine asked, eyeing Mrs. Givens.
    Chase thought she saw something like greed in her countenance. Jasmine’s lesbian detective series, thanks to Chase’s intervention with the publisher, had come along nicely. She was now one of Sappho Sisters’ best selling authors. “She’s mine.”
    Jasmine pouted. “She’s so perfect. Can’t I just use part of her?”
    Alma frowned at them and then smiled. “I’m sure Mrs. Givens would be quite pleased to have you both over for tea. However, I do not approve of the two of you acting like she is some kind of prize to be apportioned out and stuck in a manuscript.” She opened the front door and they went inside.
    Chase smelt coffee. Bo had been busy in their absence. “You’re correct. It’s downright shameful,” Chase said, looking contrite for all of five seconds. “What are you going to do with her?” she inquired of Jasmine.
    “Oh, I have the perfect spot for her. I needed someone like her, but I couldn’t get the character right until now. And you?” Jasmine asked.
    “Future reference. I’m taking Bud over for tea.”
    Jasmine flounced down on Alma’s distressed, greatly distressed from years of use, brown leather couch. “I wish I could go.”
    Jasmine had picked up the art of flouncing from Lacey, her “life partner” as they called themselves, who also happened to be Chase’s best friend. She now knew three flouncers, she realized, as Bo came in and flounced down next to her. He was a good-looking guy with his cleft chin and aquiline nose.
    “I think she’s really creepy,” Delia said.
    Alma smacked her with the manuscript copy that Delia had been passing out. “That’s not