Page 62 of Chubs

“Haven’t you ever seen a group of friends and family before?” Lottie questions with her own haughty look.

“I can’t believe we’re forced to sit in this room with the likes of these types of people,” one of the women whispers to the other. Her whisper was just loud enough that I know it was intended to be heard.

“It’s ridiculous, really. I’m more afraid of what we’ll catch out here than whatever Brittany has,” counters the other while looking with disdain at everyone waiting in the room.

“Look at that one. She has sores all over her face, for God’s sake,” the first woman states while pointing openly at a young woman across the room.

“Point at another person in this room, and the surgeon will be removing that finger, along with that stick, from your ass, bitch,” Lola hisses while leaning toward their chairs.

“People have no manners these days,” Lottie says loudly with a dramatic sigh.

“Oh shit,” Freddy mumbles.

Candy snorts loudly then laughs outright.

“You might be older than the hills, but you cannot talk to me like that,” the first woman replies while pulling her high-quality coat closer around her body.

“Can. Did. Will again,” Lola answers calmly.

“You obviously do not know who we are,” the second woman declares. “So, because of that, we’ll ignore your behavior.”

“That’s enough, ladies,” Livi states while looking at the women.

Neither takes a heartbeat of time to consider Livi’s words before continuing with their comments.

“I’m going to assume that you’re the one under arrest,” the second lady says while looking pointedly at Lola. Turning to look at James, she asks, “It’s her, isn’t it? No class in itself should be a crime.”

“I’m not under arrest. Yet,” Lola says calmly, but I start to get nervous when she reaches into her purse. I relax when she only pulls out her phone, though.

Things settle for a few minutes, then Terry, Lars’s caretaker, walks through the door, sees our group, and walks toward us. His outfit is what should be considered a crime, and I ignore Tessie’s laugh as he jingles his way across the E.R. waiting room and leans his head against James’ arm, then strokes it. James just shakes his head and grins at the usual ridiculous behavior of all that is Terry.

Terry’s outfit does raise some questions, though. He’s in complete cowboy gear, from his 10-gallon hat to the glittered spurs on his boots. Cowboy-type clothing is normal in Denver, but Terry has taken bedazzling to a new height. No joke, his belt buckle is the size of a dinner plate and could be used to signal the space station.

“Looking good, Terry,” Tessie states while waving a hand up and down his body length.

“Just came from the community theater center, and here you thought I’d gone shopping lately,” Terry states with a knowing look. “What do we know so far?”

“What we know is that one’s one of those types,” one of the women stage whispers while the other one nods in agreement.

“What type would that be, ma’am?” Taja asks with false sweetness, but I can hear the anger in her voice.

“A fag through and through,” the other woman states boldly.

The air in the room goes electric and completely silent before Lottie speaks.

“Shut your whore mouth! Right the hell now! One more word out of your uneducated, biased pig face, and I promise you the beatdown you just begged for!”

The women’s faces show their shock at Lottie’s rage but not as much as Terry’s does.

Livi quickly steps between the women and our group and speaks quietly with them. She gets them on their feet and ushers them to chairs on the other side of the room. I lay a hand on Lottie’s arm in hopes of avoiding said beatdown and toss out a silent prayer for the club members to arrive soon.

Terry strides up to Lottie, bends down, and drops a kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, but she’s not worth your time. I’ve learned to ignore people like that and their comments. But why would you defend me when you give me so much hell your own damn self?”

“Because you’re ours to torment. You’re family. Besides, she believes her bullshit and thinks she’s the better person. We know she isn’t,” Lola answers while Lottie nods in agreement.

“We couldn’t care less that you’re gay. Only your clothing choices offend us,” Lola adds.

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