“Did you actually miss the long line of women desperate to make your acquaintance, be seen on your arm, contending to be your wife? According to Toronto Magazine, you’re one of the city’s top ten most eligible bachelorettes.”
“What?”
“Oh, did I not show you the article? They called me a few months back and asked a few questions. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Oh Mom, really?”
“Darling, as long as you’re single, I will do my motherly duty and make sure you’re represented in the best light to all the best women out there.”
Kara had allowed her mother to act as her personal publicist because as a socialite and a member of Toronto’s elite, she had the connections and interest. Interest was a relative word; her enthusiasm was mind-boggling.
“Frankly, I’d forgotten all about it. I was at the Granite Club having lunch with Mrs. Kelly and she pulled out the article. She actually thought you’d be interested in courting one of her grandchildren.”
She groaned at the idea. “Eww! I had the worst crush on Casey when I was a teenager. The thought of dating one of her daughters just feels…wrong.”
Her mother laughed. Taking her hand, she retrieved their drinks and led her daughter to the outdoor sofa in front of the fireplace. Kara never bothered with the thing. It’d been a gift from her mother, and she’d come to understand it was something her mother enjoyed, so she flipped on the gas and pressed the starter button, watching as flames jumped from the fake wood and embers. She sat quietly while her mother settled in, fussing with the blanket she kept nearby. Kara said softly, “We can go inside you know.”
“What, and miss a moment of our wonderful summer! Frankly, I’m not certain I’ve dried out from that horrid wet winter we suffered through and no changing the subject. I want to know right now, how do you feel about Madeleine?”
“Mom…” Kara fussed in her seat, trying to find a way to explain the mishmash of feelings, not to mention the tears that had hounded her all weekend. “I… She… Mom,” she uttered, and closed her eyes, pushing out a hot breath, “I thought it was real. I thought she…”
Her mother reached over, taking her hand again, giving it a firm shake and hanging on. “It was interesting to hear her version of events. She was honest and admitted it was just a job in the beginning. As a matter fact, it was a job she had no intention or interest in accepting but her manager talked her into it, and as she had already decided she was leaving Las Vegas, not to mention a huge incentive bonus your siblings threw in, she decided to take the job. Well, decided is a strong term. She admitted she more or less just gave into her manager’s insistence. The thing is, I’m not sure you can understand what it’s like to be a woman with few or no choices and no money.
“I don’t know if I ever told you, but your grandparents did not want your father to marry me. They thought a nice trophy wife from some presentable family was much more suitable and advantageous for his career. I do honestly believe his marrying me was his one act of rebellion. Your father’s family represents much of the last of Toronto’s Victorian elite. Your grandmother once told me I was a nice girl from Leaside, but certainly not suitable wife material. She suggested I go marry some banker and move to Scarborough. Can you imagine?
“The irony is, if she’d left us alone and stopped trying to push us apart, I probably would have clued into what kind of man your father was before we were married.”
Kara grumbled, “Maybe you could remind your sister of that the next time she tries to set me up with some perfectly suitable young man.”
Her mother snorted her derision. “And what type of young man does your senile old aunt think would be perfectly suitable for you? Don’t answer that. I know exactly what she thinks, and I’m going to tell you this, young lady. Every woman deserves a mature, satisfying, respectful, intimate relationship. The days of giving up any of that for appearance’s sake are over. And frankly, I’m worried. You’ve been without those things for far too long. And don’t mention that previous idiot girlfriend of yours. That was not a mature, satisfying and respectful, intimate relationship. If you want to be embarrassed, that was more akin to prostitution than anything that happened between you and Madeleine.”
Kara wanted to argue, but she was right. Dropping ten grand a month to keep your girlfriend happy was not a relationship. It was a business arrangement. In a way that was what Doug and Joanne’s agreement had been with Madeleine. “If it wasn’t… If sex wasn’t part of the package…”
“Sweetheart, I know you’re uncomfortable talking about this, but you really needn’t be embarrassed. This company they hired really does this fantasy date thing as a business, and no it wasn’t supposed to end in sex. Although of course it can, it wasn’t what your sister was trying to do. She and Douglas truly believed getting you out, making sure you had fun would get you ready to face the board. They thought it was a good idea. Besides, having fun, having a date, it’s something you haven’t done in a long time. They knew there was very little chance they could drag you out twenty-four seven so when they found out about this company, they checked it out. Frankly, so did I. They’re legit and so was the contract. Yes, the dates were scripted as in they’d already decided where you would be going and what you would be doing. That would be no different than having me arrange a date for you or something like that. Is this really any different than Harjitt keeping your social calendar or scheduling dinner dates for you?”
“Mom, having my personal assistant schedule a dinner meeting is not the same as plotting to get me laid.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. And that’s not what happened. Honestly, you’re being pig-headed, constantly returning to the same point. You can damn well take my word for it, neither your siblings or Madeleine had any intention this would become intimate. Human reasoning aside, sometimes these things just, well, must I explain the birds and the bees to you?”
“You think this was the real thing? Come on, Mom! Scripted dates! Costumes! They even played the whole ‘I’m straight but I’m attracted to you’ thing. Talk about aiming for the heart?”
“I’m surprised you raised this point.”
“Why? Why, Mom? You read the PFLAG blogs. Don’t they ever talk about the kryptonite effect straight women have on lesbians?”
“Kryptonite? I’ll be sure to tell Madeleine that, but first I want you to know something. I didn’t know Madeleine was straight until your sister told me. Frankly, that sent up all sorts of warning bells for me too. It was one of the first things I called Madeleine on. Now you need to hear this. She was frank and honest with me. I believe she’s telling the truth. You were and are the first woman in her life.”
Kara didn’t believe her. At least she didn’t want to think about it. Doing so would undermine everything she had convinced herself about Madeleine. If she had been honest about being straight, had she been honest about her feelings? What had happened to them, between them felt so real; so deeply perfectly divine in sensation and desire. Could it have been real? “How do I tell where the act stops and the real woman starts? Because frankly, Mom, I can’t tell the difference. We did things, we said things, then she was gone. She followed the script from beginning to end, so how do I know the middle wasn’t all made up too?”
Her mother gave her hand a squeeze to match the consoling smile. “Sweetheart, all I can say is that woman is just as messed up as you are. Even if you’re never interested in hearing another word from her, you should know she’s in pain too. She’s confused, and very bluntly, admitted she wasn’t prepared to meet someone like you.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” She didn’t mean it as agreement.
Still holding her hand, her mother shook off the blanket and stood. “It’s getting chilly, and I have plans tomorrow. The yacht club is hosting a regatta next weekend, and I have tons and tons to do.”
Kara followed her mother to the patio entry intent on seeing her next door to her own condo. She might have her own keys and was free to
use them whenever she chose, but she never failed to see her out. It was an old-fashioned formality her mother appreciated. Her mother halted so abruptly, Kara almost knocked her over. “Whoa.”
“I just thought of something. You said she followed the script at the beginning and the end, but that’s not true. The script called for her to give you a good night peck at your door Friday night then leave. Nothing more. You weren’t supposed to see her again. She broke from the script then and the next day. What she did follow was the contract. Oh sweetheart…” Her mother’s hand was back on her face. “Your sister-in-law drafted that contract. It included a nondisclosure agreement and that NDA stipulated she could not attempt to contact you at any time once the board meeting convened. Kara, she couldn’t contact you. Not then and not now. If you want to hear Madeleine’s side of things or at least let her apologize, you’ll need to contact her.”
With that said, she turned to leave only to stop once more. “Darling, if you want to sort out your feelings for that girl, you are going to have to pick up the phone and call her.”
Kara stood frozen in place, watching as her mother marched down the stairs, disappearing out the loft’s front door. So her mother wanted her to call Madeleine. What the hell was wrong with the world? She had just been played. Played like the fool her father constantly warned she was. Was it real? It felt real. But it wasn’t. And that was the point. What the hell was her mother thinking? Turning to look back out over the summer city night, she couldn’t imagine which prospect was worse. What would her father say and do when he found out—and he always found out—or the fact that her mother seemed to be delighted by the entire prospect. “This is what I get for buying her all those romantic comedies. That’s it, Mom, no more Pretty Woman binge-watching for you.”
* * *
Madeleine woke in her teenage-years bedroom. It was strange how foreign and comforting her bed felt, incongruous yet altogether reassuring. The incongruity came from being alone with no room for anyone else in the single bed. That was new. Not the being alone part, but the wanting to not be alone. Who was she kidding? She rolled on her side, hugging her pillow to her chest. In all the relationships she’d ever had, she had never experienced this level of longing. It was more than that; if she was honest with herself, there was a certain amount of grieving. Could it be possible? Could she be grieving the loss of Kara’s company? There was no denying the longing, the constant warning that her heart might at any moment implode and all because a woman she barely knew was gone from her life. Five days. That’s all it took. Five days to turn her life upside down.
She swung her feet from under the covers and sat up, still clinging to the pillow pressed against her chest. What was it about the woman? It was so hard to pinpoint. Pinpoint the aspects that made the difference. What was it about this one? That she was a woman, yes, that was different. But it wasn’t the deciding factor, and it wasn’t like she was gaga from the moment they met. If anything, she’d initially felt like hitting her over the head. She’d seemed stubborn, driven, and one-dimensional even. But sitting in the restaurant overlooking Lake Mead, she’d had her first glimpse of Kara’s generosity of spirit. The way she would literally step outside herself to examine every situation from a new perspective. More than that, maybe it was the way she wanted to know, genuinely wanted to know, about her. Not just what she believed in but what she felt.
It was an interesting phenomenon that working in Las Vegas within an industry filled with women but controlled by men, words like “feelings” were taboo. No serious performer wanted to risk having a reputation for being emotional. As if men were never emotional. From her own experience, they were ten times worse than women. She and Kara had debated that too. Discussing how society’s perception was influenced by the media, and especially how advertisers influenced people, especially the young. And they discussed her ideas, perceptions, and influences growing up. Sitting here now, she could honestly say she was truly relieved she hadn’t made up a lot in the discussions. She always stuck to the script when it came to her background story of being a sales rep for a convention company, but she used her own life and experience when discussing everything else. If anything, speaking the truth provided some relief. She could stand up and say she hadn’t been a complete fraud. God knows it hadn’t felt fake, talking to her, touching her…
Until that moment she hadn’t realized her fingers had migrated to her lips, quietly, sensuously tracing the pout of her bottom lip. Yes, it felt like a pout. She felt pouty and emotional, but mostly she felt alone. That too was new. Being with Kara had opened an unknown part of her. A part she had no idea existed but now that she did, she was beginning to understand how much that secret part wanted out, wanted to live, wanted to celebrate, wanted Kara.
I want her.
Chapter Fourteen
Kara collapsed in her chair. She had just spent a grueling six hours taking a select group of interns and junior account reps through her social media plan. She had dumped a lot on them but judging by their enthusiasm, not to mention the escalating volume in the room, they agreed. It actually didn’t matter if they agreed or not. The important part was to get them working. Their enthusiasm was the bonus that would drive their success. Now all she needed to do was make sure no one got in their way. Of course, she would be sure they received the obligatory endless supply of pizza and pop. She almost laughed to consider how much less that would cost than all the business lunches the senior reps charged to their expense accounts. There was a time when meetings like that garnered new business and you could still schmooze prospective accounts, but it wasn’t like the old days. Corporations were much more savvy about getting their products out. Most would accept the five-star dinner, but they still demanded to see the analytics in the morning. This was the type of customer support her father didn’t understand. He still believed his personal reputation was all the client needed. Analytics be damned—and, for her father, they were. “The numbers don’t lie, Father,” she’d told and told him. “You can charm them all you like. But when the campaign fails, and it will because we haven’t got the numbers, how will you feel when you’re forced to drop the Mr. Charming act and explain why we couldn’t deliver as promised?”
“You mean you couldn’t deliver as promised. My job is to please them. It’s your goddamn job to create campaigns that deliver!” And he would stomp out of her office. Looking around the room now she realized not much had changed. Except now she was in charge. Lucille Ball had a sign on her desk when she ran Desilu Studios: “The Buck Stops Here!” Kara would follow that mantra too. No more blaming the old man for overpromising when they didn’t deliver. No excuses. It was now all up to her. Perfect! Leave me in charge. I can’t even tell the difference between a setup and… and what the hell did I think was happening? I’m not the golden girl of the family or even Daddy’s sunshine. I’m the black sheep and the ugly duckling. Who the hell would ever go for someone like me? You know exactly who. The kind of woman who can look past your ugly mug and short ass and see the money your family has. No one is ever just attracted to me. Why the hell would some straight, hot as hell, stunning green-eyed, redheaded, beautiful, kind, and gorgeous woman be interested in me?
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
* * *
Madeleine cleared the dishes from the dining room table. When she returned her father had already topped up her wineglass, and her mother signaled for her to sit down.
“Your dad says it’s time to talk. He also told me I’m not allowed to be bossy and tell you what to do. Goodness gracious, Maddie, when have I ever been bossy with you?”
“Mom…”
While her dad was dressed as always in his perpetual workwear, her mom, just home from the hospital, was still sporting her nurses’ scrubs. While the pants were the customary blue, the top featured happy faces with crutches, bandaged brows or cartoon wheelchairs. She was tall like Madeleine but thinner, almost caffeine thin. With her bleached blond hair tied in a loose bun, she seeme
d older than her early fifties and far more serious. “I can’t help it if I just want the best for you kids! I never expected much from your sister but you…” She stopped suddenly, seemingly aware of her tone. “I was wrong about you leaving school. I’ll admit it. I didn’t understand it until I ran into Marybeth. Her dad was in the hospital for a bypass, she came by on my break and took me for coffee.”
Marybeth had grown up three doors down and followed Madeleine through grade school, high school, and to the University of Wisconsin. In truth, Madeleine had long forgotten about her neighbor. Compared to the tall, statuesque Madeleine, Marybeth was a squeaky little mouse. “How is Marybeth? Please tell me she’s not like my sister and shacked up with some jackass?”
“Unlike your sister Sonja, Marybeth was born with some common sense. She finished school, got married and they adopted two lovely twin baby girls. Ah, you should see them. They’re like perfect little China dolls!”
“Mother! That’s racist.”
“What is? Why can’t I call them Chinese? That’s where they came from!”
Clearly confused, her father filled her in, “You remember the Darning girl, the one was always helping her dad at his garage? Well anyway, long story short, she and Marybeth got married a few years back. Drove up to Canada. ’Course, you can do it here now too and adopt. Could have saved them the trip to Thunder Bay.”
“Wait, what?” Madeleine stammered. “Marybeth and April Darning? They’re married, as in gay marriage, and they have kids?”
Her mother waved her off, impatiently rolling her eyes. “Now you sound like your sister. I can’t believe you’d be shocked in this day and age. Goodness knows Marybeth was never going to find a husband and that Darning girl, well let’s just say she’s a better provider and parent than that thing your sister married.”
Madeleine sat silently. Finally, picking up her glass of wine, turning it slowly, she raised it. “Here’s to Marybeth’s happiness. And to a happy family which I can’t believe you’re okay with, Mom. What changed?”
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