Chapter 13
Chicot still had her now watery iced coffee when she got back to the RV, along with her paper bag of clothes carefully cradled in one arm, as she pushed the door open. Elijah took one look at her when she got in and tilted his head to the side.
“Out with Monty?” Elijah asked. Chicot felt a cool drop of sweat run down her back as she set her bag by the sink. She needed to wash everything before she wore any of it anyway.
“Maybe.” Chicot dumped the remains of her coffee into the sink and then put the plastic cup in their tiny recycling bin.
“A little summer romance developing?” Elijah asked. Chicot should have known better. She should have lied, even if she also knew he wouldn’t have believed her.
“A summer friendship is developing,” Chicot clarified. “Anyway, what have you been up to all day?”
“Friendship, sure, that’s why you’re always looking like you could die happy when she catches you in her arms during practice.” Elijah sang the last several words of his sentence, emphasizing it with a few strums of his lute. Chicot’s cheeks burned.
“Elijah,” she said. “No more.”
Elijah laughed, still strumming until he very suddenly cut it off by grabbing the neck in his hand, stifling all the strings. He then set it aside, getting up to stretch, which caused Duchess, who had been asleep on the bed behind him, to do the same.
“I got a new audiobook from the library,” Elijah said. Chicot raised a brow at him.
“Something we can listen to together?” Chicot asked.
Elijah laughed, nodding. They’d had an experience accidentally early into their audiobook addiction where Elijah had borrowed a mostly normal romance book about two girls in a magic school.
However, there was one incredibly long, graphic sex scene that had left them both awkward, slightly horny, and uncomfortably sharing the bed in the back of the RV.
They’d gotten the hammock the next day in hopes of avoiding a similar situation in the future.
About five minutes after they’d turned it off, Elijah had broken the ice by saying he really hadn’t known that would happen, and they’d devolved into laughter.
“It’s a fantasy book, no romantic subplot. Don’t worry, I checked.” Elijah held up his phone, showing Chicot the cover. She didn’t recognize it, but it was over twenty hours long, and frankly, they needed something to fill the time while they hid from the sun.
“Sounds great,” Chicot praised. “We can start it after I shower.”
Elijah agreed quickly, and Chicot gathered some clothes.
She took a short, cold shower so she could rinse out her hair and only briefly let her thoughts wander to places they shouldn’t.
Chicot was just happy it was Monty’s slick skin under her fingers in Ken’s pool that distracted her, rather than anything else in the world.
It was only then that Chicot remembered she’d meant to talk to Monty about the texting thing that her buzz fully died.
The whole situation had completely slipped her mind while they were shopping.
She’d been too busy flirting to remember important things.
Granted, it seemed like Monty was also flirting with Chicot, so she didn’t really stand a chance.
She turned off the shower shortly after that, reaching around the door to grab her towel.
Once she was dry, she pulled her underwear before she stepped out to put her shorts on.
They had to do this all the time since the bathroom was so small, so they’d gotten used to it.
It was simple not to look while the other person was getting out.
However, it gave Duchess access to their wet legs, and she always made her way over to lick them after they were done and trying to get their shirts on in the tiny galley kitchen that took up the majority of the RV.
They listened to the audiobook while they made dinner, and then Chicot washed her thrift haul and her many sports bras in the sink of their small kitchen.
She pulled a clothing rack from under the bed, setting her damp towel from her shower under it and then hanging her bras near the back of the cab to dry.
They’d have to move it to leave, but it worked for now.
Usually when they were out, they’d put it on the counter.
Once she was done, she lay on the bed, her hair now dry as she listened to the story, and Elijah took his turn to do some sink laundry.
He was washing his leotards. Handwashing allowed them to get much more wear out of their pieces and prevented them from needing to take the dry-clean only parts to the laundry too often.
The weekend came fast after that, and Chicot did not anticipate just how brutal the extra day would be.
It did, however, mean they got an extra four shows to earn tips, and Chicot got another four from The Pirates Three.
When she counted out the phone fund the Tuesday after, it was almost enough for an older iPhone, which meant they could probably ask Monty to drive them to an electronics store later that week.
That day, they were just happy to enjoy hiding in the RV and listening to their book while their bodies recovered.
After the sun went down, they made their way to the bonfire, which was being held in the field behind all the RVs.
Chicot caked herself and Elijah in DEET lotion, wondering if she should work woodsman soap into her skincare routine if they were going to keep spending time out in these fields.
She was just happy it was cool enough by the time they went out for the fire to justify wearing pants, so she was able to put on a pair of old, straight-leg black jeans that gathered nicely around her waist when she belted it.
Elijah convinced her to wear a tight black crop top just so she wouldn’t get hot, and she tied a hoodie around her waist for later.
Elijah was in a pair of tight gray jeans and a T-shirt that hung oversized on his frame.
It made him look wider than he was, eliminating the carefully cultivated “Dorito shape” he was always working toward.
Chicot once asked what that meant, and he’d told her broad shoulders and a slutty little waist. She had not asked more.
Now, she had to wonder if he was changing that goal.
That was probably a good sign. Elijah had always obsessed over his fitness and eating habits.
It worried Chicot frequently, but he assured her it was fine.
She just had to believe him and watch for signs of that changing.
When they walked up to the group already gathering around several fire pits that had been dragged from the dog park into the field, it was Sunnie who greeted them first, his red bandana still around his head, making him easy for Chicot to recognize.
He drew them in, keeping Chicot and Elijah close to him at first. This also meant they were introduced to a slew of performers they had briefly met, sure, but Chicot could barely remember.
Even as Sunnie recited names and Chicot looked at their faces, she had a hard time remembering who was who afterwards.
Sunnie held them in his space and entertained them with stories. Long enough that it took Chicot a good while to realize that Monty, Lyza, and Elvis were not there yet. Elijah waved it off when she commented on it, stating something about them being fashionably late.
Chicot chewed on her lip, looking in the direction of the dog park over her shoulder, wondering after Monty, of course, but also Lyza.
If Chicot had learned anything about pregnancy before her siblings were born, it was that a lot could happen to complicate it, and Lyza wasn’t very far along.
Chicot drew in a slow breath. Lyza was not her mother and she wasn’t going to change drastically and suddenly if something happened to the baby.
She was probably overthinking this anyway, and that was proven to her an hour into the bonfire when Monty appeared in a flowy dress with a jean jacket on over it, slowly approaching the group of performers.
She detached herself from Sunnie and Elijah, which they didn’t really seem to notice since they were singing sea shanties, and made her way over.
Chicot felt slightly faint as she closed the distance between them, getting to Monty before she reached the bonfire, but Monty just sort of smiled at her, a quirk to her brow.
“Hey,” Monty said. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Chicot hadn’t even realized how strange this probably looked. She had no reason to be so worried over Monty or Lyza or the pregnancy. Just because she knew about it, didn’t mean she had to fret over it. She had enough to fret over on her own.
“You sure?” Monty tilted her head to one side, slowing her pace as they approached the group around the now raging fires. They were all contained to their pits, but they were quite large.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” Chicot shook her head, trying not to look as nervous as she obviously was. “I just … you were really late and don’t have Elvis and Lyza with you.”
“Oh.” Monty’s expression softened, her eyes on Chicot. “They were in Milwaukee for a doctor’s appointment, but it ran late so they decided not to drive back. And I had to convince myself to come.”
“Convince yourself?” Chicot asked. Monty wrapped her arms around her middle, holding onto her elbows as she looked at her toes.
“I wasn’t sure if you and Elijah would be here,” she said. “And I didn’t want to see Brewhilda again.”
A slow smile crept on Chicot’s lips. “Well, I am here, and if Brewhilda shows up, we can make the best of it. If you need an out, I can pretend to be sick for you.”
Monty’s eyes slowly rose to Chicot’s face. “Yeah, okay.”
“C’mon,” Chicot said. “Let’s get you a drink.”