Chapter 13 #2
Monty agreed quickly, the two of them folding right into the performers.
Several of them commented on Monty’s outfit as they made their way to the coolers, Chicot noticed.
There was a lot of, “You look so cute tonight,” and, “Wow, Monty, you clean up well for such a scoundrel of a pirate,” and even, “Awe, you look so cute in that dress,” from some of the older ladies.
This seemed to disarm Monty, absently toying with the ends of her hair as she mumbled some sort of thank you.
When Monty seemed to think the commenters weren’t looking, Chicot noticed that she would smile to herself, picking up her skirt and swishing it.
“Is this, um …” Chicot searched for the words as Monty paused her swishing, looking owlish, as she’d been caught in the act.
“Is this new for you?” Chicot asked. “Dressing more femme?”
She didn’t have a better word for it, but the word did make Monty instantly smile. She drew back then, receding slightly from Chicot in a way that made Chicot want to chase her, even though neither of them had really moved.
“Yes.” Monty nodded. “I tended to wear more masculine, baggy clothes before. I think they’re trying to be encouraging. They’ve been like this all season.”
Chicot blinked, looking down at her baggy pants. Monty’s eyes grew wide.
“Not that it’s—”
“Don’t worry.” Chicot chuckled. “I know that’s not what you meant.”
Monty relaxed, her palm still up as she waved her hand over Chicot’s outfit. “Yes, and it looks nice on you.”
“Thank you.” Chicot looked Monty in the eyes, something akin to chivalry coming over her.
It was a strange form of wanting to be someone who made Monty feel good about herself that she couldn’t find another name for.
If she had to give it a gesture, it would be the placing of the hand on the small of someone’s back while guiding them along.
“And your clothes look good on you too, you know. It’s cute, very flowy and pretty. ”
“You’re such a flirt for someone who doesn’t answer my texts.” Monty huffed in jest, her smile relaxed as she said it. Chicot flushed, heat like the afternoon sun coming to her all at once.
“I, well—” She rubbed her head, not sure what to do now that she’d been confronted directly.
Monty thinking Chicot was ignoring her was what she’d been hoping to avoid with the entire conversation about texting.
“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to say something, but I don’t think you have the correct contact info for Elijah. ”
Monty blinked. “I didn’t think about it, but I guess you don’t remember that either.”
“Remember what?” Chicot frowned. Monty’s smile was soft and her fingers were playing with the edge of her jacket.
“You told me that you didn’t have a phone while you were drunk,” Monty said. “And that I probably had Elijah’s number wrong.”
“Oh.” Chicot tried to recall the memory, when nothing came, a chuckle fell out of her. “God, I said all sorts of things that night that I don’t remember, huh?”
“You did,” Monty said, leaning toward Chicot. “But it was endearing, don’t worry.”
Chicot’s eyes caught Monty’s at the last second, a sudden switch in them.
Behind the pupils wide from the darkness and droop of her lids, Chicot could see something hungry.
It wasn’t carnal, not yet, but it could be.
A shiver ran down Chicot’s spine as her eyes darted to Monty’s soft, pink lips.
She wet her own, leaning closer without thinking.
They were in the middle of a whole bunch of people, they couldn’t do anything, so why was Monty baiting her?
Lyza and Elvis were in Milwaukee for a doctor’s appointment, but it ran late so they decided not to drive back.
The words replayed in Chicot’s head as Monty looked down at her.
It was almost as if Monty were hoping that Chicot would remember that, and when she did, Monty pulled away, sipping her beer.
She had the RV to herself, and Chicot realized this might be Monty’s way of inviting her home with her.
She sipped her beer, hiding behind it for a moment in hopes that she could collect her thoughts.
Her attention was still fully on Monty, even if she tried to pretend it wasn’t.
The rest of this bonfire was going to feel like hours.
“You know, that same night …” Monty’s lips were in a catlike smirk. “You invited me into your RV for a night cap.”
“Did I?” Chicot tried to act cool, her eyes on the fire instead of Monty, but her pulse thrummed in her ears and her cheeks warmed.
She hoped no one else could hear their conversion.
They were near the center of the group, but no one was really paying them any mind as Chicot’s eyes darted around them.
Most importantly, Elijah was definitely too far away to hear, which Chicot was grateful for since he was the only one who would immediately know her intentions.
“You did; tried to give me whiskey.” Monty leaned toward Chicot, her smile growing. “I met Duchess.”
Chicot turned from embarrassment to fear. She looked at Monty with wide eyes, trying to recall that night. She still really only remembered getting into Monty’s car and the way they’d been singing along to something during the ride.
“You really don’t remember any of that, huh?” Monty asked. Chicot shook her head, pressing her lips together.
“Please don’t tell anyone about our cat.” Chicot held her beer can with both hands, trembling ever so slightly. Monty twitched, holding up a palm as she shook her head quickly.
“I won’t,” she laughed, looking away from Chicot briefly. “I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I just didn’t think it was fair that I hadn’t told you what happened. And that you tried to convince me to get into bed with you.”
Chicot’s arms went slack, but then her jaw dropped open. She couldn’t believe she had propositioned Monty that directly. A series of jumbled thoughts ran through her head that only got more frantic as Monty smiled.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Monty nudged Chicot with her elbow. It was gentle, but it felt like it could knock Chicot over. Maybe Chicot had just already been off balance.
Monty leaned down toward her then, talking more softly. “I probably would have taken the offer if you hadn’t been so drunk when you made it.”
“I— That’s good to know.” Chicot’s ears were on fire, and Monty’s cool breath so close to her neck was not helping.
However, she couldn’t stop the giddy smile that spread across her face as her chest started to feel fluttery.
This seemed to also amuse Monty, a chuckle coming out of her as she pulled away.
She wanted to grab Monty right there and then.
To drag her away from the party and spend the rest of the night in her bed so they could lose themselves to whatever pleasure they wanted.
Monty knocked back the rest of her beer and gently ran her fingers up Chicot’s arm as she said she was going to get another.
Chicot didn’t react quickly enough, and then she was standing in the crowd of performers alone, blinking.
Her chest felt fluttery still, a lightness that wasn’t matched by her limbs.
They had started to feel so incredibly heavy when she wasn’t paying attention, holding her can of beer at her side.
Sure, her crush liked her back. They were mutually interested in each other, but after Albion closed for the season, Chicot didn’t even know where she was going to go.
Her thoughts spiraled. Chicot wasn’t sure if she could handle a fling.
She didn’t know if that was what Monty wanted.
Still, they both knew that they might not see each other after Albion.
After all, if this didn’t work out for Chicot and Elijah, they’d end up back at a gas station or doing kids’ birthday parties.
Before Chicot could panic and run back to her RV, someone set their arm on her shoulder, leaning their weight on her.
Chicot expected Elijah, but she startled when she saw icy blue eyes and black hair.
The woman had a White Claw in hand, her teeth gleaming in the light of the fire, but Chicot couldn’t immediately place her.
She was bad at this. This woman was probably some performer Sunnie or Lyza had introduced her to and Chicot couldn’t even keep track of her name.
“So, is that why you got so offended when I said the obvious about Lyza?” The woman’s perfume smelled overly sweet as she leaned into Chicot.
Her mind raced, trying to place who had said something about Lyza, and then it hit Chicot all too late when she realized that this was Brewhilda of all people holding onto her.
She should have known. Chicot might struggle with faces, but Brewhilda, even out of costume, oozed mean-girl energy.
“Do you have a crush on her little sister?” Brewhilda asked. “C’mon, it’s okay to tell me if you’re pining after her.”
Chicot didn’t know how Brewhilda wanted to use this against her, but she wasn’t about to let her. She pulled away from her, frowning as she took a swig of her beer.
“Lyza’s my friend,” Chicot said. “You don’t get to say shitty things about my friends.”
“I think I get to say whatever I want when they took my time slot and then you took my stage away from me entirely.” Brewhilda pointed at Chicot with her White Claw, crossing her arms as she shrugged.
“We didn’t take anything from you,” Chicot said. “It’s embarrassing that you keep blaming us for your problems.”
“That’s not how everyone else sees it,” Brewhilda practically spat the words.
Chicot’s eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Elijah, Monty, Sunnie, anyone to save her from this situation.
All she found was a few unfamiliar faces and the backs of many people’s heads as they watched the fire.
Chicot could walk away, of course, but something about that felt like letting Brewhilda win.
“It’s only going to look worse,” Brewhilda continued, “if you start dating my ex.”
Chicot’s nose scrunched. “Your ex?”
“Yeah.” Brewhilda smirked, her eyebrows flicking as she licked her lips. “You know, Monty. Who has suddenly decided she needs to be some sort of pastel cottagecore poser.”
Brewhilda stuck her tongue out, making a “bleh” noise as she rolled her eyes. Chicot crushed her can without realizing she’d been squeezing it. Brewhilda squeaked as beer splattered on her, the rest running down Chicot’s hand.
“What is your goal here?” Chicot asked. “Because all you’re succeeding in is making sure that I take every. Single. Stage and time slot you have at every Renaissance faire in the country.”
“As if you could,” Brewhilda hissed, shaking her arm off to try and get the beer off it. “You and your stupid little clown act is a dime a dozen. They just didn’t have one this year because the last jester retired.”
“Elijah and I can.” Chicot leaned toward her, dripping, broken can at her side as Brewhilda balled her hand into a fist. “Where are you going next? Pennsylvania? Georgia? Whichever it is, we’ll take your spot.”
At this rate, more people were looking at them, some of them mumbling.
She could just barely see Sunnie’s bandana over Brewhilda’s shoulder, and he was pushing his way through the crowd toward them.
Chicot didn’t move. She set her jaw and straightened her shoulders, goading her to do something.
Brewhilda’s hand opened back up, and for a moment, Chicot thought she might have her eyes clawed out by Brewhilda’s matte black, coffin-shaped nails.
Sunnie had his hand on her shoulder before she could thankfully.
“Brewhilda! I didn’t realize you were here.” Sunnie grinned, putting himself between them. “Nathan is looking for you.”
Brewhilda narrowed her eyes, chewing on her lip as she tapped a nail on her can. She lifted her chin, looking toward the crowd.
“I’ll go find him,” Brewhilda said and turned on her heel. Once she disappeared into the crowd, Sunnie whistled, looking down at Chicot.
“What’d she say?” He carefully extracted the crushed, dribbling can from her hand. “You looked ready to kill her.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Chicot sighed. She glanced around the crowd again, and Elijah was making his way over, but she still didn’t see Monty. That was probably for the best.
“If you almost killed her over it, it does.” Sunnie raised an eyebrow at her. Chicot pressed her lips together. She knew he was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. She scratched her neck as Elijah joined them.
“What’s going on?” Elijah looked between Chicot and Sunnie rapidly.
“Nothing, just—” Chicot jerked her head in the direction Brewhilda went. “I may have told Brewhilda we’d steal her time slots and stages at every ren faire in the country.”
Elijah blinked at Chicot slowly and then snorted, clapping a hand on her shoulder. Chicot nearly fell over, bending slightly when he grabbed onto her and shook her. Sunnie snorted, a bark of laughter escaping him.
“And we will.” Elijah wrapped an arm around Chicot now, squeezing her in a half hug. “Look at you, standing up for yourself.”
“Is that what I did?” Chicot asked. Sunnie ruffled her hair quickly.
“Sure sounds like it,” he said. “You certain didn’t say anything uncouth?”
“I don’t think I did.” Chicot’s chest collapsed, her smile growing as Elijah shook her more and Sunnie grabbed her other shoulder, joining in on it.
Her eyes caught Monty’s as she stepped between the people in the crowd, a beer in her hand as her skirt fluttered behind her.
Chicot’s breath left her, Elijah still shaking her as a smile spread across Monty’s face, her head tilting to one side.
She chuckled as she approached them, her hand rising to her lips to wipe away a drop of her drink, the cuff of her jacket covering the very bottom of her hand.
“Why are you treating Chicot like a hacky sack?” Monty asked. Elijah and Sunnie stilled, Sunnie setting an arm on Chicot’s shoulder as he shrugged.
“She deserved it,” Elijah said. Monty snorted, shaking her head as she grew closer.
“Did you?” she asked Chicot. Her lips were pursed, cheeks rounded in amusement as she stepped close to Chicot again.
“Probably.” Chicot leaned closer Monty in return. Elijah let go of Chicot then, turning so he could pat her shoulder one more time and then making some quick excuse so he could vacate. Sunnie seemed to take this as some sort of cue, promptly doing the same so that Monty and Chicot were alone again.
“Hey, uh—” Chicot looked around, her eyes lingering on Brewhilda for just a moment. “Would you still be interested in that night cap? Maybe a chance to have more privacy?”
Monty’s voice went up in pitch. “I’d like that.”
Chicot licked her lips as she stepped around Monty, looking back at her. “Shall we then?”
Monty bobbed her head, quickly turning to follow Chicot away from the group, back to the RV park.