Chapter 14
Monty led her back to the RV she shared with Elvis and Lyza.
A few others had trickled away from the bonfire, seeking quiet or a place to chat.
Chicot settled under the small awning on a camp bench outside, waiting for Monty to get a bottle of something while she listened to mosquitoes get zapped by a small light hanging at the corner of the overhang.
Their camper was larger than Chicot and Elijah’s.
By Chicot’s guess, it probably had a real bedroom inside, unlike theirs.
“Ice?” Monty’s head poked out of the door, and Chicot just nodded at her.
She came back shortly, pressing a cool glass to the back of Chicot’s neck and chuckling when she shivered.
The drink was bitter and sweet, some cherry flavor too, but mostly she tasted the bourbon.
A hum came out of her as she licked the cool liquor from her lips, Monty’s eyes lingering on her as she did.
“Old-fashioned?” Chicot asked. Monty smirked, her head bobbing once.
“Elvis and Lyza got real into them, and now Lyza can’t drink.” Monty sat beside Chicot, her weight naturally causing Chicot to sink toward her. Not that either of them really minded as they relaxed among the buzz of AC units and looked at the dark sky while they talked.
“It’s good,” Chicot said. “You make them well.”
“Thanks,” Monty said. They talked about drinks for a while longer, discussing cocktails they liked, Chicot sharing the ridiculous beer-mosas her and Elijah sometimes made, Monty laughing as she made dramatic retching noises.
They sipped their concoctions, Monty’s arm slowly drifting around Chicot’s shoulders as it started to finally, truly cool off, the two of them scooting close to each other for warmth.
“Hey, uh,” Monty said after a while. “Can I talk to you about something?”
Chicot perked up, turning to face Monty better. It meant she had to pull away, holding her now empty glass. “Of course.”
“So.” Monty rubbed her neck. “Could we … maybe keep this to ourselves for now? As best we can.”
Chicot bounced her leg, sipping the sweetened water from the bottom of her glass as she looked straight ahead.
She was having flashbacks to the cheerleader she’d slept with a few times in high school, who’d always wanted to hide that they were seeing each other and had strung Chicot along for months.
But this probably was nothing like that, and when she looked at Monty, she seemed as nervous as Chicot felt.
“I just,” Monty continued. “I’m worried that if we tell Lyza, she’ll get very … Well, she’ll …”
Chicot’s muscles relaxed. She didn’t even realize how tight her body had been. The camp bench shifted under her as she turned to Monty, her lips quirking up.
“Meddle?” Chicot asked. Monty groaned and pressed her hands to her face.
“Yes.” Monty pressed her lips together when Chicot barked out a laugh.
“She can’t help herself, can she?” Chicot asked. Monty glowered, shaking her head.
“She cannot.” Monty sighed and set her head in her hand, looking at Chicot.
“Yeah, we can keep it to ourselves,” Chicot said. She tapped her finger on the rim of her glass, meeting Monty’s eyes as she thought about Brewhilda’s comment at the bonfire. It might be good to keep it out of the public eye as much as they could, lest they want to deal with faire-wide gossip.
“Can I ask you something?” Chicot tapped her nail against the edge of her glass, looking at the ice as it rattled.
“Yeah, of course.” Monty smiled, her head tilting to one side.
“Um, Brewhilda said that she was your ex.” Chicot paused, watching as Monty’s eyes grew wide. She shifted, her shoulders pulling tight for a moment, and she nodded. They stared at each other, Monty’s mouth hanging open as she took another look at Chicot.
“Sorry, that wasn’t what I was expecting you to ask.” Monty chuckled awkwardly. “But yeah, she and I dated a few years ago while we were at Albion and Georgia. It fell apart, and then I’d stupidly go back to sleep with her sometimes. I decided at the end of last year, no more of that, though.”
Chicot bobbed her head and bit her lip. “Was she the one who told you that you didn’t look good in feminine clothes?”
“Sort of?” Monty twirled a lock of her hair in her fingers. “I mean, yes, she did. She had this thing about only dating butches when she dates women and always made comments if I so much as wore a skirt. But I was a tomboy as a kid so I … I already had things about it.”
“I had a feeling, based on something she said,” Chicot explained. “And well, I know it’s not worth much, but I do really think she’s wrong.”
Monty snorted, smiling. “Thanks.”
They met each other’s eyes, Chicot’s heart racing slightly.
Her fingers trembled so she squeezed her glass, Monty’s hand drifting to her jaw.
She leaned forward slightly, carefully pulling Chicot so their lips could brush against each other’s.
Shivers ran from the very tips of Chicot’s fingers to where Monty’s tongue now slid against her bottom lip, fire lighting in her belly.
Monty’s fingers felt cool against the skin of her jaw, slowly moving to her shoulder as Chicot scooted closer.
Chicot lost track of time, her whole world narrowing down to Monty’s lips and tongue, the way her hand drifted to Chicot’s knee, shifting under to pull her closer. It was awkward on the camp bench, the two of them desperately trying to explore each other without enough space to do so.
“Want to go inside?” Monty asked after a while.
Chicot’s mouth went dry, and she nodded as Monty took her hand.
She had no idea where her cocktail glass was, her feet moving her along and into the RV without much thought.
But Monty had both of them, carefully setting them in the sink before she took Chicot’s hand again, pulling her past a ladder that led to a bed above the driving cab, through the kitchen, and into the bedroom at the back of the RV.
Monty’s bedroom had a bed that took up most of it, plush sheets and a quilt in lavender and white spread across it.
In one corner, there was an acoustic guitar on a stand, an Ibanez which, according to Elijah, was the best brand out there.
There were some built-in shelves across from it and a single star-shaped lamp that bathed the room in warm light bright enough to read in, but not obnoxiously so like LEDs could sometimes be.
“One sec,” Monty said and slipped out of the room again. Chicot just nodded, looking around while she was gone.
Chicot’s eyes lingered on one photo of Monty standing with Lyza in full ren faire garb as her body vibrated with anticipation.
They weren’t in their performance costumes, but something that looked like they’d been guests.
They were both soaked through, their matching linen chemises clinging to their skin and nearly see-through, corsets darkened from rain, and their hair stuck to their wet skin around their faces.
She stared at Monty, the bright smile on her pretty, round face and light eyelashes nearly hiding her eyes from view.
Something about the photo looked familiar, but Chicot couldn’t place it exactly.
It felt like she had seen it before, but she didn’t know where.
Maybe it was one they had in the backstage area?
That left her mind entirely when Monty came back.
She set one hand on Chicot’s jaw, drawing her in as Chicot wrapped her arms around her neck.
Monty’s strong hands slipped to the small of Chicot’s back, her world narrowing again as Monty easily scooped her up, sitting her on the edge of the bed as she started to press Chicot back.
She had brought in a harness, and as soon as Chicot’s mind registered it, it blurred, the only image remaining that of Monty wearing a strap.
Chicot nearly jumped out of her skin when there was insistent banging. Monty furrowed her brow, glancing back at her closed bedroom door before she looked at Chicot.
“Chicot!” Elijah’s voice was raised, and he sounded drunk and excited. “Please come out here!”
“Are we hiding this from Elijah too?” Chicot asked. Monty sighed, tossing the harness somewhere into the mess of sheets on her bed.
“We don’t have to.” Monty straightened up, opening the door as Chicot followed, trying to get her shirt on again. Monty, to her credit, looked more amused than anything. Chicot, on the other hand, was annoyed.
Elijah was jumping and waving as Chicot opened the door.
He was plastered, slurring his words and almost calling Chicot by her given name.
Chicot squeaked as he caught her by the waist when she hit the bottom of the stairs, picking her up and twirling her around.
Behind her, Monty laughed, and Chicot started to laugh too, trying to figure out what on earth Elijah was trying to tell her.
“Wait! What?” Chicot laughed as Elijah spun her again. Some people were looking their way, largely seeming annoyed at how loud they were being this late at night. Elijah settled Chicot on the ground, taking her hand and pulling her.
“Actually, we should go to our RV.” Elijah then looked at Monty. “Sorry, I need to take her.”
Monty chuckled. “It’s okay. You kind of seem like you’ll need help getting into bed.”
Chicot looked up at Monty, frowning. She slumped as she looked back at Elijah, tempted to tell him they could talk in the morning.
As she watched Elijah sway on his feet, Chicot groaned.
Monty was right. Elijah probably needed to be taken care of, so Chicot rolled her eyes and nodded, “Sorry. Rain check?”
“Yeah.” Monty waved at her slightly. Elijah had already started to pull Monty along, heading home. She basically had to run to keep up with him as he tugged on her arm. Once they were a good distance away, Chicot grumbled, “You better have a really good reason for this.”