Jetta's Chronicle

Chapter Nine

Back in Los Angeles, Jetta's three bandmates, oblivious to the events across the country were seated in the main lounge of the
big Gabor estate, each engrossed in their own tasks.

In the corner, beneath the glow of an electric lamp, Stormer sat with her accoustic guitar, idly strumming chords as she composed the opening sequence to a new song, and Roxy was perched on a stool at the coffee table, carefully exploring what had gone wrong with the Misfits' van carburettor, oblivious to the fact that the table and the carpet she was happily soiling were worth more than six or seven like vans. On the couch, carefully re-painting her nails in a vibrant pink colour, the final member of the group and the band's leader, Phyllis "Pizzazz" Gabor was half-heartedly watching a review on television of a recent film award ceremony. Finally, bored with the nasal tones of the presenter, she jabbed the off button on the handset with her big toe, flexing her neatly painted fingers to examine her work.

"You know, you guys are so boring sometimes." She decided finally. "We should go out tonight...I heard there was another
new club opening in the middle of LA, we should drop by and see what's going on."

"We don't have a van." Roxy lifted the piece of machinery to illustrate her point. "Yet. And if you don't shut up, Pizzazz, we
won't have one, either, because I'll be inserting this in you! You've been whining about being bored for the last hour and it's
giving me a headache!"

Pizzazz bristled at the weary tone of her bandmate's words.

"I hope you're gonna clean up the mess you're making." She snapped. "Did noone ever teach you, Roxy, that a mansion house
oak table is not the place to take apart gearboxes or whatever that is."

"It s a carburettor, not a gearbox. I thought that was obvious." Roxy responded. "Besides, I'm fixing the van, aren't I? Damn
thing won't go ten feet until I'm done with this, and it's not like you can't afford new carpet or table polish."

"Could buy a new van, too." Pizzazz snapped back. Roxy shrugged.

"Yeah, but what's the challenge in that? This one's fixable." She retorted. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were actually
missing big nose's company."

"Missing Jetta?" Pizzazz snorted. "As if. If she wants to go on vacation with her flunkie, well, that's her deal, isn't it? She'll come
home and find a pile of tax forms waiting for her, and then she can lump it. I don't need Jetta here to have a good time!"

Stormer raised her eyes from her guitar, casting the singer a thoughtful look. It had been this way ever since she had got back from Washington DC. Jetta was the closest thing Pizzazz had to a best friend, and she knew that, whatever the singer's denials, Roxy had hit the nail on the head.

"My brother ain't anyone's flunkie." Roxy waved her screwdriver at Pizzazz  to emphasise her point, sending specks of car oil
everywhere as she did so. "God only knows what he sees in Jetta, but he's not her slave, Pizzazz. He's a Pelligrini, and he can think for himself."

"And we all know what he's thinking with." Pizzazz muttered, petulance edging her tone.

"Don't push it." Roxy grimaced. "That's a conversation we're just not going to have, all right?"

"Well, like it matters! I don't care where she is or what she's doing with him!" Pizzazz snapped back.

She examined her nails again, then pouted.

"I hate this colour."

"Maybe we could take my car?" Stormer suggested quietly. "If people want to go out, I mean."

"Why didn't you say so before?" Pizzazz glared at her.

"Well, it's out of gas, but if Roxy..."

"I'll empty the van's tank." Roxy got to her feet, leaving the piece of machinery on the table. "Anything for a quiet life."

"Finally, some action." Pizzazz flexed her fingers for a final time, and shrugged. "Hm, guess it'll do for now." She smirked. "Jetta
don't know what she's missing. The Misfits are gonna rock Los Angeles tonight!"
 
 

In Las Vegas, nothing could be further from Jetta's mind than the Misfits. With the rings selected and paid for and with the night
well upon them, the couple had arrived at the wedding chapel, and Jetta stopped, staring up at the building.

"I can't believe I'm gettin' bloody 'itched." she remarked. "An' in leather, an' all!"

She laughed, fingering her jacket. "Your Ma will go out of 'er bleedin' mind when she finds out we did this, you know."

"No, I don't think she'll mind too much." Justin remarked. "After all, I did say that you weren't a fan of big fancy occasions. I
think when I told her we were going on vacation to Las Vegas she might have guessed what was coming." He glanced at her.
"If you want to change, we can go back to the hotel, you know."

"Nah. I kinda like the idea of flountin' the system an' gettin' married in this getup." Jetta told him. "I'm a Misfit, ain't I? Who
wants to be glam an' borin' when you can be stylish an' different? I'm gonna set a trend for the brides of the future, me!"

"If you say so." Justin kissed her on the cheek. "Come on, shall we go in?"

"I suppose that would make sense." Jetta teased him, as he pushed open the door. "Woah - is there a queue?"

"Yeah, I thought there might be." Justin owned. "It's not that long, mind you."

"Queuing to get married." Jetta smirked. "Oh God, this whole bloody thing is a laugh. I'm 'ere with a 24 carat ring, wearin' me
best leather jacket an' boots an' queuin' to get 'itched! Don't you see the funny side? I'm lookin' for a ticket machine, you know,
like they 'ave at grocery stores?"

Justin grinned.

"It is kinda amusing, I'll give you that." He replied. "But maybe we should keep it down, huh? Or they might refuse to let us in."

"No, they won't." Jetta told him confidently. "They'll want our money and that's what it boils down to. Ain't it? They sure aren't in this for the kudos of playin' cupid."

"Jetta, are you drunk?" Anxiety flooded Justin's gaze and he took his girlfriend by the shoulders, meeting her eyes with his own.
"You're starting to sound tipsy."

"I ain't drunk, Justin, I only 'ad two glasses of wine." Jetta told him derisively, pushing him away.  "I'm not actin' tipsy, either. I just find it funny that I'm in a queue to get married, that's all. Feel like I should be orderin' a pound of cheese an' some 'am at the same time."

"Okay, I believe you." Justin sighed. "I'm sorry. Just it occured to me..and I didn't want to take advantage of you if you were. I want you to marry me in your right mind, or not at all."

"Well, I ain't drunk. Promise." Jetta assured him. "I can handle my alcohol, an' I'm thinkin' fine."

"Good." Justin put his arm around her shoulders. "Is kinda nice in here, though. You think?"

"It's okay, I guess."

"You think the folks back home will survive our news?"

"Well, I'm lookin' forward to the shock on the faces of the others when I drop the bomb." Jetta responded. "Their expressions will be priceless."

"I'm sure they will. I'm sure Pizzazz's shrieks will be heard a mile off." Justin agreed. He paused, then, "Jetta, you really are sure
about this, aren't you?"

"Do I look like I'm 'avin' second thoughts to you?" Jetta demanded.

"No, you don't." Justin admitted, a note of relief touching his voice. "It's just...oh, nothing. I guess I can't believe you said yes
first time round. That's all. I think I was expecting more of a fight."

"You know, I think I expected to give more of one." Jetta looked surprised. Then she shrugged. "Well, things work out weird
sometimes. I wouldn't 'ave liked the trappin's and lace and all that crap that Stormer is always bleatin' about 'avin if she ever
gets married. I think because it's down to earth an' no-nonsense...I can 'andle it easier."

"I suppose you're right." Justin nodded. "I have to admit, I don't think a big fancy wedding do was really me, either. There's
something of a buzz in being impulsive and secretive about this, doing it and then dropping the news on the world. Don't you
think?"

"I guess there is." Jetta agreed. "You do realise, mate, that I want an engagement ring too. Even though I only said yes what, an
hour ago? When we get back to Los Angeles, I want licence to choose the classiest engagement rock I can find - okay?"

Justin laughed.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were only in this for the jewellery." he teased her. Jetta shrugged.

"Perk of gettin' married." She responded lightly. "This place is another example of 'ow LA an' Las Vegas are different, mind
you. I don't remember any weddin' chapels quite like this in Los Angeles." She looked sheepish. "Though I weren't really
lookin' for 'em."

"You said earlier that Misfits don't date, Jetta - what do they think about getting married?" Justin asked. Jetta looked thoughtful.
Then she shrugged.

"I'm gonna break the mould." She said flippantly. "I'm a Misfit, I don't care what anyone thinks of me."

"Well, I'm glad about that." Justin told her. Then he glanced up, and grinned. "I think it's our turn. Come on, Jetta...ready to
play man and wife?"

Jetta pursed her lips, then she nodded.

"In for a penny, in for a pound." She agreed. "Let's do it."

She led the way into the small chapel, and, as the door closed behind her, a strange sensation came over her. Glancing across
at Justin, she bit her lip. Suddenly, there in the chapel, the emotion of it all had hit her, and instead of finding it funny, she felt
excited and happy, as if this was something which she had tried to put off, but that was inevitable in the end. Seeing her
expression, Justin squeezed her hand reassuringly and she felt comforted by his grip. Whatever happened now, she told herself,
it would happen to them together. For a girl who had spent her life more or less alone, it was a warming thought, as she came
to terms with the idea that from now on everything would be different.

She softly repeated the vows as they were given to her, her usual fight and sarcastic nature quelled by the magnitude of the
occasion. Meeting Justin's gaze, she saw only love reflected there, and despite herself she swallowed hard. Whatever she had
done in her life, she mused, she must have done one thing right at least, to deserve someone to believe in her so wholeheartedly.
As the ring was gently slipped onto her fourth finger, a slight smile touched her lips. She wasn't Sheila Burns any more, but
Sheila Pelligrini - she had finally left her family behind her. Things seemed to pass in a blurry haze, as the ceremony was
completed and a wedding photograph taken, to seal the occasion.

"What are you thinking?" Justin murmured, as they signed their names in the register, Jetta self consciously adopting her new
identity alongside her old.

"About 'ow Pizzazz is gonna do 'er nut." She responded. Justin laughed, and gently he kissed her.

"Well, there's no going back now." He told her playfully. "How about we go back to the hotel, Mrs Pelligrini, and order the
biggest bottle of champagne they have to offer?"

"Now that sounds like an idea!" Jetta exclaimed, and, before she knew what she was doing she had flung her arms around him,
kissing him properly and taking him off guard. "What are we waiting for! Let's go!"

~*^*~JETTA'S CHRONICLE~*^*~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen