Someone else on the kitchen end must have found it amusing as well because Lacey said, “No, I don’t care if they are soy hotdogs. I want politically correct food—like those blue tortilla chips and the hubris stuff they put on Jew bread.”
Dr. Robicheck stared at Lacey.
“I know, right,” Chase said. “Lacey, it’s not hubris, it’s hummus and pita bread is Greek, not Jewish.”
Lacey waved an impatient hand. “They know what I mean.”
Chase smiled at Dr. Robicheck, who was lifting a projector out of one of the AV tubs.
“Whatever you do make it look homey,” Lacey instructed and clicked off.
Chase dug cords out of the tub. “Why do you want homey?” To Chase, one did homey things at home and outy things outside the home.
“Because potlucks are like a lesbian community staple, bringing back the time when folk singers ate tofu pigs in a blanket, and people read lesbian poetry, and there were no factions. Just a bunch of women who enjoyed being around other women,” Lacey said.
“How do you know all this? You weren’t even around in the Our Bodies, Ourselves period,” Chase said.
“I’ve seen pictures and aside from the unfashionable hair and clothes the women looked happy.”
“Did you get the rest of the electrical cords?” Dr. Robicheck called from the back.
“Yes, I’m on my way,” Chase said, and she hurried up the aisle.
Bud and Addison returned out of breath. Both had flushed faces and broad smiles.
“I think it’s going to work. The show will start in thirty minutes. We ran into Gloria, and she’s rustling up some of the hard-cores.”
“Who are the hard-cores?” Dr. Robicheck asked, adjusting the LCD 1080 video projector lens so the circle of light hit dead center on the screen below. Chase was impressed with Dr. Robicheck’s confidence with the AV equipment.
“Hard-cores are the women who are pissed off about everything and everyone. I think it started with Eve,” Lacey said.
“Who’s Eve?” Dr. Robicheck asked.
“You know, Adam and Eve. They think that the world would’ve been perfect if there had been an Eve and Eve in a garden of Eden of their own making with a purposeful lack of fruit trees,” Chase said.
Dr. Robicheck furrowed her brow, and Chase thought she looked alarmed. She patted Dr. Robicheck’s shoulder. “Do you see why we need you?”
“This is a daunting task,” she said.
“I think if we just ease them into peace, love and understanding, they might get used to it,” Chase said.
Lacey came racing back. “I’ve got the potluck finger food thing going, and the dishwasher also knows all of Phranc’s songs.”
“Who is Phranc?” Chase said.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Bud said.
“Why not?” Lacey said.
“Because Phranc is associated with Queercore. You might be stirring up the very sentiment you’re trying to smooth over,” Bud said.
“Who is Phranc and what is Queercore?” Chase asked, concerned that her six-year-old knew more about lesbian dynamics than she did until she remembered the reason was because she didn’t like most lesbians. Was she a lesbophobic lesbian?
“It’s this group that rejects the lesbian and gay agendas. They see them as oppressive, and they’re into DIY art,” Bud said, loading the DVD into the LCD 1080 video projector.
Lacey dialed her phone. “No music,” she yelled into the phone. “I don’t care if it’s already been arranged. Cancel it.”
“Good call,” Bud said.
Gloria came rushing in. “No folk music, please. We want to avoid Queercore issues all together.”
“Were you just in the kitchen?” Lacey said.
“Yes, and I hid the guitar after I removed all the strings,” Gloria said, pulling a bandana from her back pocket and wiping her face. “Do you have any idea what you almost started?”
“I just thought potluck and folk music would be nice,” Lacey said and pouted.
“Should we see if Gitana can come?” Chase asked. “I mean, this is Bud’s big film debut. It’s a very special moment.”
“Oh, she doesn’t need to see it. She already experienced it,” Bud said. “Besides she’s up to her eyeballs in orchids.”
Chase wasn’t convinced. She took several photos of Bud checking the AV equipment with her BlackBerry and sent them to Gitana.
“This isn’t technically my debut. It’s more like a focus group. I’m only showing two clips.”
“Do they have titles?” Chase asked.
“Yes, the first one is called Dog Days, and the second is called Rearview.”
Chase looked at Dr. Robicheck to see her response to the titles. They sounded innocuous, but Chase was not an underestimator. She would have inquired more had the auditorium not begun to fill with people.
Lacey hugged Chase and Dr. Robicheck and then knocked Addison’s and Bud’s heads together like two of those clacker balls that Chase had played with as a child. Now those were unsafe toys. “You guys are like mini-geniuses,” Lacey said.
Bud scowled. Chase knew she hated the diminutive in any form. “I think she meant it as a compliment,” Chase whispered. Bud rolled her eyes.
“Are you all set?” Lacey asked, her eyes beaming with delight. “If you build it they will come,” she said, spreading her arms wide. “I’m going down to the stage. Flick the lights or something to let me know when you’re ready. I will do a short intro and then we’ll get started.”
Chase thought it was that particular movie slogan that got Lacey in this mess in the first place. Maybe the Club Med for lesbians wasn’t such a bad idea.
Donna and Isabel came in holding hands. Donna looked radiant. Chase smiled at them but refrained from making any of the inane remarks the long-coupled often say to the newly-in-love. She knew Donna was still in the early stages of doubtful love, and since it had taken her twenty-seven years to go on a date, Chase didn’t want to be responsible for messing anything up.
“Now, what’s this about a movie?” Donna said, letting go of Isabel’s hand and peering down at the projector where Bud was making final adjustments.
“Ugh, I will need you to sign this release form,” Bud said, handing Donna a sheet of paper.
“What’s this for?” Donna said.
“You’re in one of the short films.”
“I am?” Donna inquired. Her face flushed.
Chase stared at Bud. “Who else is in the film?”
“You and Gitana, but since we’re family, I don’t see that it’s necessary for you to sign off. You can if you want to,” Bud said, reaching in to get another form.
“No, I trust you.”
“I bet you look great in the film,” Isabel said, squeezing Donna around the waist.
“Is this your docudrama series?” Donna asked. She still didn’t look convinced about signing the release.
“Yes, but it’s the funny stuff,” Bud said. “I’m using the audience as a target group. If I can get these people to laugh I know I have a chance in the Short Lesbian Film contest in February.”
“That’s great, Bud,” Isabel said. “We need filmmakers like you.”
Chase studied Isabel, trying to decide if she looked more lesbian than she did before. She still dressed the same kind of femme chic. Today she wore dark brown Capri pants and a black rayon blouse. Her hair was the same to-the-shoulder-cut put up in a messy bun. She hadn’t gone for the Phranc flattop. Chase had Googled Phranc and Queercore on her BlackBerry in the interim.
Isabel caught Chase staring at her. “What are you looking at? Do you think I look more lesbian now?”
Chase blushed. “I was…just.” She couldn’t lie. “No, you look exactly the same except maybe happier.”
Isabel touched her arm. “I am happier.”
“I just hope hanging out with all these pissed-off lesbians won’t color your perspective on the nation as a whole.” She looked around to
see people filing in.
“Chase, I have been hanging around with them. Yes, I will admit they can be a difficult group to handle, but Donna is wonderful, and so are you and Gitana—I have good role models.”
Bud was whispering to Donna, who was biting her lip. “Oh, Bud, I don’t know—that was pretty embarrassing.”
“But it was so funny,” Bud said, looking earnest. “And you were smashing—standing up to the police officer like that and then regaining your composure. It’s just the kind of scene that these women need—something that says yes, you can fight the establishment, but you can do it with humor.”
“What’s wrong?” Isabel said.
“She wants to do the ‘Incident,’” Donna said, looking grim.
“Oh,” Isabel said.
“What’s that?” Chase asked.
“That little run-in with the police officer over the stuff in the trunk,” Donna said.
“That’s one of the movies? I haven’t seen this episode,” Chase said. Then it occurred to her that she hadn’t seen any of Bud’s film clips and it further occurred to her that this could have dire consequences.
Bud smiled at Chase with the look of a smooth-talking car salesman contemplating the location and possible pain level of the sucker punch. Chase watched her. “Tell me this isn’t going to become a debacle.”
Bud said with apparent confidence, “It’s good, all good—no worries.”
Whenever someone said, “no worries,” Chase was instantly on guard and prepared to worry.
Lacey went on stage and tapped the microphone and instead of saying “testing, testing,” she said, “Vulva, vulva.”
“There’s room in the projection center for all of us,” Addison said.
“We’ve set up chairs. It’ll be kind of like a semiprivate screening,” Bud said.
“Vulva, Vulva, that’s absurd,” Chase muttered.
“She’s trying to appease the masses and ‘testing, testing’ annoys the Animal Rights Lesbians because it speaks of lab rats,” Donna said, as they moved up the aisle past the groups of people taking their seats. “And it sounds too much like testes, testes.”
Chase caught Dr. Robicheck rolling her eyes.
“There’s a lot of people here,” Isabel said.
“More than I’ve seen in quite a while,” Donna observed.
“Interest in Lesbian Cultural Seminars is at an all-time low,” Isabel informed them.
“Maybe Cyndi Lauper was right. Girls just want to have fun,” Chase said. She saw Bud and Addison exchange another knowing look again. What were they up to?
“Now, would anyone like something to drink?” Addison said, reaching toward the ice chest she and Bud had wrestled up there.
Donna, Isabel and Chase smiled at each other with adult recognition of pre-adult planning.
“We have green tea, water, grape juice and Corona with an optional lime,” Addison said.
“Beer all around,” Bud said.
“I think they’re going to need it,” Addison said quietly.
“Where did you two get beer?” Chase said, envisioning them standing outside a liquor store persuading a grown-up to make an illegal purchase for them.
“Our fridge,” Bud said.
“Oh, right. Yes, I would like a beer,” Chase said. “With lime.”
Bud flicked the lights.
Lacey tapped the mike to get everyone’s attention.
Bud fretted. “I hope she doesn’t piss them off before I get to show my stuff.”
“She won’t. This place needs an attitude adjustment and they,” Addison pointed down at the audience, “know it.”
Lacey said, “Tonight, it is my pleasure to introduce to you someone very dear to my heart. She is talented in so many ways.”
“Wow, how do you rate?” Addison said to Bud.
“She’s just sucking up because we saved her ass,” Bud said.
Chase stared at her. “That sounded downright thugess,” she said.
Bud smiled angelically.
Lacey continued. “I want to introduce you to her latest talent—filmmaking. We decided it was time to experience some levity, so with no further ado, I present two short films directed by Bud…” Lacey didn’t get to finish because everyone clapped.
“Wow, one-name status,” Chase said. “Just like Cher, Madonna and Radclyffe.”
They expected Lacey to move on to a speech about the purpose of lesbian film and how important it was to the community, but to their surprise, she turned off the mike and left the podium.
“Let’s get this party started,” Bud said, turning to the projector.
Chase patted Bud’s shoulder. “No matter what happens, I love you.” They bumped knuckles in solidarity.
Bud turned on the video projector. The first scene showed Bud explaining what they were doing. “Today, we,” she pointed at the dogs, “are going to Church of the Blessed Virgin in honor of Saint Francis of Assisi so Annie and Jane can be blessed.”
Chase entered the room and looked at the dogs dressed in brown frocks. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
The audience murmured—perhaps in assent.
“That line was my inspiration,” Bud whispered in Chase’s ear so she wouldn’t disturb the others in the screening room.
“I’m here to serve,” Chase whispered back.
Jane pulled at Annie’s Friar Tuck burlap ensemble. A tug-of-war ensued with Annie tugging to keep her frock and Jane ripping it off. Gitana came in the room and with Chase’s help got the dogs apart and redressed.
“Good luck,” Chase said, waving at the camera.
“I have a feeling we’re going to need it,” Gitana said, giving Chase a quick peck on the cheek.
There was a collective “Aw…” from the audience.
“See, I told you lesbians are suckers for animals and good love affairs,” Bud said.
The dogs followed Gitana to the Land Rover. Annie jumped in the backseat, but not before Jane pulled the rope belt of Annie’s frock and it came off. Jane panted. It looked like she was smirking.
“Damn it, Jane,” Gitana said, dressing Annie again and shutting the rear door.
The audience chuckled.
Chase gripped Bud’s arm. “You made them laugh.”
“Vaudeville gets them every time,” Bud replied.
In the car as they headed down the road, Gitana laid out the rules. “I don’t want excessive barking or butt sniffing, beyond what is polite.” Gitana turned to Annie while she stopped at the stop sign. “That applies to human crotches as well—no TSA cavity sniffing, I mean it.” She pointed at Annie who was looking out the window. “And Jane, you are strictly forbidden to bite any dogs, period. I don’t care if you’re provoked.”
Chase laughed. Jane was notorious for doing a play bow to lure in an unsuspecting dog and making a surgical strike when they came within range. She usually went for an ear or a front leg—she had been known to get a chunk of ass.
Jane smirked at the camera. The audience laughed.
“She’s such a ham,” Addison said.
When they got to the church, Gitana started in again. “I want you to remember this is a church.”
Jane panted and Annie did not make eye contact. They got out of the Land Rover.
“Okay, now you are on your best behavior, remember,” Gitana said, as the dogs pulled at their leashes.
There was complete pandemonium at the church door. A monk directed traffic.
“Dogs over here.” He pointed to the right door. “And cats over here,” he said, pointing to the left door.
The camera panned to a parrot sitting atop a short man dressed in all green with an orange beanie, a girl clutching an enormous iguana to her chest like a baby doll, and a boy holding the leash of an armadillo.
“Where did that kid get an armadillo?” Donna said. She appeared truly impressed, as if the child had better procurement skills than her own.
“A rescue case from Oklahoma. The rest of its f
amily was plowed over on Highway 62 outside of Muskogee,” Bud said.
Annie and Jane sniffed the armadillo, which seemed snooty, paying them no mind. Jane went to bite the armadillo’s armored tail, but Gitana yanked the leash just before Jane was about to bite down.
The monk saw the exchange. “All right, now those of you with unusual pets come forward, and we will bless them first as a safety precaution.” He waved them forward.
The next scene showed Annie and Jane sitting in a pew next to Gitana. They appeared to attentively watch the service. The priest held up an enormous black-and-white, floppy-eared rabbit.
Gitana glared at the dogs. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned them. Jane licked her lips.
“It’s a church for God’s sake,” Gitana said. They paid her no mind.
The priest was blessing the rabbit when a Boston terrier got loose and walked up to the priest. The dog sniffed the priest’s robe and clamped onto the priest’s leg in a death grip of copulation. The priest tried to ignore him, shaking his leg in an attempt to dislodge the dog, but the dog was giving it his all. He kept looking side to side as if to say, “Hey, hey look at me, I’m humping the big guy.”
The audience roared with laughter. Chase looked at Bud. “They like it.”
“I knew they would. Everyone, including an angry lesbian, is a sucker for animal antics. It gets better.”
Addison passed Donna and Isabel a packet of Kleenex because they were laughing so hard tears were running down their faces. “Oh, my God, Bud,” Isabel gasped.
What happened next was really the cat’s fault. During the blessing, the cat shrieked and madly clawed out at the priest. In terror, the priest dropped the cat, who went scampering down the aisle to be followed by a slew of dogs chasing it. Annie and Jane took advantage of the chaos. They made their way up front. Gitana tried to grab their leashes but lost hold in the tide of animals and people trying to gain control of their pets. In a sea of fur, two brown frocks made their way to the altar. The first thing Jane did when they got there was bite the Boston terrier in the ass as it had resumed humping the priest. The long-eared rabbit came into view.
Gitana gasped, “Oh, my God, no, not the bunny—this is going to be like Thomas à Becket. Don’t they realize this is a church?”
In the Unlikely Event... Page 19
