"Bad Juju" Part 14

"Bad Juju" Part 14

If solely existing as Abigaille Irving was one thing, then living alongside her family was entirely another. It was that evening that Ace had the pleasure of meeting Abigaille's father. Wearing the same white suit as the one in the portrait, the man bustled about on the wide veranda, waiting impatiently for dinner. Ace sashayed out into the evening air, wearing a white linen dress with seemingly endless layers of crinoline. Guildy shuffled out behind him in that same maroon bodice-frock.

"Abigaille!" Mr. Irving's voice boomed. He opened his arms for an embrace. Ace didn't exactly rush over. Guildy gave him a slight nudge against the pale, exposed shoulderblades, sending him drifting over to the man with the same urgency as a paper boat on a pond. Mr. Irving clasped Ace to his chest, sending a shiver through Ace's corset-straightened spine. "I do hate t'pressure you, darlin', but have you made a decision, yet?" Before Ace could speak, Guildy chimed in.

"She has, Mr. Irving. She has confided in me, zat yes, she does accept ze proposal." Ace wanted desperately to be released from Mr. Irving's grasp. He wriggled slightly, but found his attempts to be nothing more than cute, girlish twitches. Mr. Irving heartily thrust Ace outward.

"Oh, she has? Well, that's wonderful! Just wonderful!" Mr. Irving laughed brightly. The fact he upheld a historical stereotype by being the spitting-image of Colonel Sanders was quite noticeable. "A married woman you shall be! And more cottonfields for your old Father!" He let out another clear, booming laugh. Ace felt a small pang of sickness in his stomach. This man was such a kind, loving father. He wondered if Mr. Mudd was this sweet to Mindy when her rotten, no-good boyfriend wasn't around.

"Mistuh Irving! Dinner's about to be served!" Called a large black woman with a cloth wrapped around her head. Mr. Irving rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Ace had barely known the guy for 5 minutes, but it was already apparent that the man loved three things: cotton, food, and his daughter.

"Abigaille, why don't you sit next to Hiram, tonight?" Mr. Irving suggested warmly. "An' heck, why don't you have a seat at the table tonight, as well, Hildegard?"

"S'ank you zo kindly, Mr. Irving," Guildy curtsied, his buxom figure seeming to sink a few inches through the ground under his skirt.

"Dad- I mean, Father," Ace's female voice whistled as crickets started to chirp in the green leaves of the cotton plants, "I'll be inside in just a moment."

"Alright, darlin', but don't be too long. Can't keep everyone waitin'!" Mr. Irving swung open a white-paned french door and clopped inside before closing it behind him. He was whistling some unidentifiable tune that could still be heard even after the door was shut. Ace paused for a long while before turning to Guildy.

"Well, are we done? Can we go, now?"

"You muzn't be impatient, Ace. Zere iz ztill much to be done," Guildy scooted over and started to run his fingers through Ace's curls, fluffing them. He straightened the cornflower-blue satin ribbon that kept them coralled.

"I accepted the goddamn proposal! Now let's go!" Guildy placed his hands (which looked entirely unchanged) on Ace's shoulders and spun him about. Ace stared at his "new" reflection, bisected multiple times by the panes of the french doors. Abigaille was a beautiful girl, no one could deny it. She had strawberry-blonde hair, but dark black eyelashes that lent her a doe-eyed quality. Her lips were small and naturally in a Cupid's Bow. Her frame was slender and still very young-looking. Ace had to admit that he couldn't wait to undress, that evening.

"No. Zis is not ze fork in ze road. Zat comes later."

"How much later, Guildy? I can't wait much longer. I gotta' get home."

"Not much longer, but avhile yet," Guildy gave Ace another nudge in the shoulderblades. "Go inzide."

Ace sighed and begrudgingly obliged. He entered the dining room to find a large table, hewn in dark wood and covered with a white linen tablecloth. On the tablecloth were place-settings comprised of delicate China and elegant polished silverware. At least a dozen people sat on either side of the table. Two empty spaces remained, one next to Mrs. Irving, who looked stunning in her evening dress and pearl earrings, and one next to Hiram, who sat there grinning confidently with his napkin already in his lap. All faces were turned toward Ace and Guildy. Ace took a rattly breath, finding it difficult in his stiff evening corset. He moved slowly to sit down, attempting to disguise any signs of manliness. He landed there, next to Hiram, whose foolish grin kept on sparkling. Guildy sat directly across from Ace, comfortingly enough. Ace would have found this to be even more impossible than it already was without him less than three feet away, at all times.