Suzie’s House 235: Mortification

Fran looked from face to face, waiting for the revelation to take hold. Any minute now they’d realize what a stupid thing they’d done, tying up a future star like herself. They’d untie her from the chair, and give her Kurt Cobain’s guitar, and head out to Memphis with her for her big debut.

Only, they didn’t. They sat there like they thought she was nuts.

Fran screamed in frustration, throwing herself against the rope until the chair they’d tied her to threatened to turn over.

“What are you doing? Let me go!”

Those two B*tchs looked at one another the way they had been since they caught her climbing through the window. At first Fran had thought maybe it was sympathy, like they were kindred spirits to her and would understand if she just told them what she knew. Now she knew they were mocking her. All this time, they were mocking. It made her so mad she could spit acid.

The doorbell rang. That woman who was always hovering over Gene like a mother hen said, “That must be them,” and ran to answer it. She probably meant the police, though it hadn’t been nearly as long as they’d said it would be.

Fran looked down at the half-hitch knots in the rope. There was no way she’d get loose before the cops came. She needed a plan. But of course as soon as she thought that, it was obvious what the plan was. She’d lie.

A second later the cops were there – a man and a woman in blue uniform.

“Isn’t Agent Banks here,” the woman was saying.

“No. He’s been re-assigned,” Gene’s surrogate mother said.

That should have warned Fran her plan wouldn’t work, but she forged ahead.

“Officer, thank G*d! These people have kidnapped me.”

“What?!”

The entire room burst into a wonderful kind of chaos. When rooms got this noisy, there was always a luck break in store. She drank it in, waiting for them to muster their arguments. With enough luck, she would get out of here, not only Scott free, but with the guitar too.

Wouldn’t that be the perfect revenge against Courtney? You know the b*tch turned around and sold it at the lowest pawn shop she could come by just so Fran couldn’t have it. Like she ever really had any reason to be jealous.

Finally the noise in the room died down, and the man in uniform turned his attention to her. “Can you tell us what exactly happened?”

“I was just walking down the street with my guitar when they ran out and grabbed me.”

“Why would they do that?” The cop looked bored and irritated. Never a good sign in a cop.

“I don’t know. Ask them,” Fran shot back.

“She climbed through the window,” Tracy bellowed, pointing at the window. “She’s trying to steal the guitar.” Again with the pointing business.

“Yeah,” the older copy of Tracy said. “We caught her at it when we went out the back door. A full moon in the full moon. Hilarious!”

“Hey, you’re Marvin Sutter’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” the female cop asked. “We work with him now and then.”

“Yeah. He lives here, but he’s out on a job right now.” The maxi-Tracy said.

Fran’s heart sank. If they were friends of cops, she had no chance at all.

“You can dust for her fingerprints in the windowsill, if you’d like, but I’ll bet we can find a line across her guts where Tracy pinned her with the window.” She reached down and shifted the ropes, then lifted the hem of Fran’s shirt over Fran’s vocal objections. “Yep. It’s kind of hard to see, but if you look close, there’s a line.”

The woman cop bent over. “Yep. That’s evidence. Did anyone witness the purported attack on you?”

It took Fran a minute to realize the question was directed toward her. She shook her head. Drawing this out any longer would only make it worse.

They cuffed her, but that was better than being tied up. She couldn’t wait to get out of here. Nothing was worth this. Not even the cursed guitar.

“I wasn’t mooning,” Fran snarled as they dragged her out. “My pants were up.”

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