Being Butch Green || ✓

Chapter 14 - Pirates Don't Sail, They Ride

"Crap! I have to get out of here! Now!"

I turned to Henry waiting for him to show me a back way out of here. He stroked Jerry, contemplating, but not moving fast enough for the growing fear building up inside me.

"Now!"

"Why?"

I rolled my eyes, trying not to show my fear. "He'll kill me! He'll kill all of us if he finds me! I know that imbecile of a man!"

"Hmm."

"Including Jerry," I added, knowing I'd hit the sweet spot when he placed a protective hand over the small mammal and gasped. "I need to get out of here!"

"Not my Jerry," he whispered.

"Yes, your Jerry." I smirked, the home run in front of me. "Jerry will be a very dead Jerry if you don't find me a way out of here."

He nodded as he came to his senses quicker than I expected. "We must disguise you," he said turning to Boris. "Go start the ritual."

"Ritual?" Confused, Henry grabbed my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction to the hoard of hippy bogans filing out of the room like water. "What ritual?"

He said nothing as he stopped beside a gigantic wooden chest and patted the pockets of his pants. If we didn't get out of here soon, I was a very dead kid. Jack wasn't the type of man that liked to be left feeling betrayed, and I went and left him to the wolves. How the heck he managed to get free from the police, especially after the stunt he pulled, baffled me. I thought he'd be halfway to jail by now, but apparently not. The snake was standing right here in this hippy bar barely meters away from me, stuck in a swarm of bikies. And he was here for revenge.

I gazed down at the deep burgundy colour of the box, carvings of magnificent little ships all over it. A large golden lock was stuck fast to the front of it, barring anyone who didn't have the key from reaching its contents.

I frowned at it. "You aren't planning on stuffing me in there, are you?"

"Stay here," he demanded as he rushed over to the shelf where the harmonicas were just a moment ago. He fumbled around on his tippy toes.

"I get claustrophobia!" I shrieked after him, watching as his fingers closed around a small shiny object. The noise outside the room became a cluster of incoherent chanting as Henry hurried back and knelt beside the chest. Unlocking it, he threw the lock aside and thrust the lid open on its hinges.

"You've got to be kidding me?"

I scoffed, my face contorting into disgust. I stared down into the chest. Below me lay a colourful assortment of pirate costumes. Why Henry felt the need to lock away a bundle of pirate's costumes was beyond my comprehension. At least I wasn't being stuffed in there.

"If you want to live, then no, I'm not kidding. And personally, I'd prefer it if my Jerry survived," he squeaked, offended at my unwillingness to fulfil the request I'd so desperately asked for.

"I am not playing dress-ups!" I stated firmly.

"Too late," he said grabbing my shirt and pulling it over my head.

"I feel violated!" I screeched, wriggling unsuccessfully away from him. "This is child sex abuse!"

"Oh, shut up!" he squeaked, shoving a pirate shirt into my hands. "And put the goddamn costume on!"

I grumbled as he then shoved a vest and a pair of flannelled baggy pants into my hands.

"Well, don't watch!" I yelled, motioning for him to turn around.