by Fiona Zedde
They sidled up to the glorified bar to taste the selection of whiskeys from Scotland and other places in the world. By the time they left the whiskey station, each with a tumbler of something smoky and delicious in their hands and the flavor of two of three whiskeys they’d tried still slick on their tongues, Sage felt good.
From her pocket, her cell phone buzzed with a phone call.
“Where are you?”
“Near the front of the theater.” Rémi’s voice, laced with annoyance, came loudly through the phone. “There’s some guy near me dressed like Jack Sparrow.”
Sage craned her neck and looked toward the front, caught sight of gold teeth and long dreadlocks on a white guy. “I think I see who you’re talking about.” She turned to Phil. “Raise your hand, babe, so Rémi can see you.” She was well aware that her modest height—aka being short as fuck—made it nearly impossible for anyone who knew to spot her in this crowd of high heels and six foot plus leading men and wanna-be movie stars.
Phil raised her hand, using her bright yellow handbag to draw even more attention, then did one better with a piercing whistle. The sound came back to her through the phone.
“You hear that?”
Rémi laughed. “I think everybody did. I see you. Heading that way now.”
A few moments later, she emerged from the crowd, pretty and elegant in simple slacks and a blazer, her girlfriend’s hand tucked into the crook of her elbow.
“Hey, girls!” Claudia waved at them, a queenly movement of her hand that made Sage smile.
Like Rémi, she wore pants, but hers were slim-fitting black capris, elegant and classic, that hugged the lines of her hips, thighs, and legs. A high collared blouse in rose-red reflected the color of her lips.
“This place is packed.” Rémi tucked her phone in the inside pocket of her jacket and tugged a smiling Claudia out of the way of a passing trio of starlets waving their claw-like manicures around.
“Tell me about it,” Sage muttered. “I didn’t think people in Miami were into movie premieres this much.”
“Maybe not, but we love our movie stars.” Phil cheek-kissed Rémi and hugged Claudia, her body a little on the stiff side even after two years of trying to get used to her and Rémi together.
Sage knew Phil was still having a hard time adjusting to dealing with Claudia Nichols as a peer. Or at least someone Sage and the rest of the other women hung out with when they were doing “couple-y things.”
“There are plenty of them out tonight,” Claudia said.
She looked around appreciatively, eyes bouncing from one beautiful face and form to another before landing back on Rémi. Sage imagined her thinking that no one at this party was as gorgeous as her lover.
“This movie is a great project,” Phil said. “I was really surprised to hear that the book was optioned by such a big studio. It has the potential of being the trans Brokeback Mountain.”
“I’m not sure if that’s necessarily a good thing,” Claudia said with a soft laugh.
“You know what I mean. At least have the conversation about and experiences of LGBT people be the focus of a movie, and not in a stereotypical way either.”
“I guess we’ll see once we get in there.”
A flash of curled dreadlocks and pale green caught Sage’s eye. Nuria waving them over. She nudged Rémi. “I think Hollywood’s latest power agent wants us to join her.”
They slipped through the scented and richly dressed crowd until they were at Nuria’s side.
“Hey, loves!” She slipped one arm around Rémi and the other around Claudia. “You know my client, Collette.” She introduced them again to Collette Victor, already a star in France and a rising talent in America. “And meet Zachary and Zoe Baxter.” She tilted her head toward a man and woman, obviously siblings, both with ink-black hair down to the middle of their backs and model high cheekbones. “The stars of the movie.”
“A pleasure.” Phil extended her hand to the male Baxter before Sage or any of the others did, her smile small but genuine. “I’m really looking forward to the movie.”
Introductions went around in a circle.
They were interesting enough as people, but it wasn’t long before Sage was bored. Being a member of them, the idle rich were never that interesting to her, but Phil stayed close to both siblings, asking questions about the movie and how they’d gotten their roles. After a quick touch at the bottom of Phil’s spine to let her girlfriend know she was wandering off, Sage left to find more interesting things to do.
The lights flashed, announcing the imminent start of the movie, and interrupted a forgettable conversation Sage was having with a closeted Hollywood starlet with a plunging neckline and memorable tits. Would it be worth it to invite her to the hotel across the street for a quick fuck? Probably not. Pretty tits were a dime a pair in this town.
“Maybe we could role-play or something,” the starlet said with a lick of her bright red lips. “I’m real good at that.”
Uh huh…
The warning lights flashed again, and Sage looked around for her friends, much preferring to sit with Phil and her girls than chase after some woman who may or may not drop to her knees for Sage later.
It wasn’t much of a decision.
“I guess it’s that time,” she said with faked regret and pulled away from the woman who had her cleavage practically on Sage’s shoulder.
The starlet bit her lip. Then, after a sharp breath of decision, slipped her card into Sage’s front pocket, fingers stroking a hip during the transfer. “I’m at the Ritz in Coconut Grove.” Then the woman was gone.
Always good to have options.
Sage made her way through the crowd, most of the people moving toward the arched entranceway into the screening room. She skimmed the crowd, looking for that flash of yellow, that explosion of hair that belonged to Phil. But she saw Rémi first, leaning against a column, hands in her pockets as she talked with Claudia. A smile played around her mouth as she listened to whatever her woman as saying, then she laughed, fingers floating up to coast along Claudia’s jawline then back to her pockets as if she couldn’t help but touch. Despite how they’d began—in secret and at the risk to the long-standing friendship Rémi had with Dez—they were beautiful to look at, sometimes painful with their obvious love and lust for each other.
“Hey, you guys see Phil or Nuria?”
“Nuria’s probably going to be babysitting her client, but I already have the seats she reserved for us.” Rémi pulled out a set of tickets and passed a pair to Sage. “We have them all in a row. I sent a pic of the tickets to everyone earlier today.” Rémi had gotten the tickets from Nuria a few days before but hadn’t gotten the chance to give them out in person.
“Cool. I’ll just wait a few more minutes here for Phil then I’ll come in.”
“All right.” Rémi slipped her arm around Claudia. “See you in there.”
Sage went to look for Phil. Just as she was about to give up and head into the screening room, a familiar shade of yellow moved into her field of vision. Phil walked with Zoe Baxter, their steps in sync, their bodies brushing in places and in a ways Sage was more than familiar with. She opened her mouth to call out to her girlfriend. But something made her pause.
Phil was in game mode. That zone where she was flirting with the intention to fuck. And it looked like she was going to score if the way the other woman leaned into Phil was any clue.
Something distracted Zoe Baxter and made her turn toward Sage. And Sage drew in a sharp breath. Phil wasn’t flirting with Zoe, she was flirting with Zachary, the brother. The bottom dropped out of her stomach and she swallowed hard.
Maybe she hadn’t seen what she thought. But another look at Phil with the man only confirmed what she already knew. Her girlfriend’s eyes, her lips parted in a predatory smile, ate up the trim figure of the man in his dark suit. She touched his arm to bring his attention back to her, fingers lingering against the black material of his suit jacket, then her neck
tilting back to laugh at something he said.
Was this some kind of joke?
The lights flashed again, a glowing red this time, and Sage made a split decision, whirling around to go into the theater instead of waiting on Phil. She navigated her way into the theater and to their row of seats. By the time she got one of the empty chairs, Dez and Victoria were already there, sitting next to Rémi and Claudia. Nuria sat just in front of them with her client, occasionally looking over her shoulder and making comments to their friends that sounded garbled to Sage’s ears.
A hand squeezed her shoulder. “You okay, baby?” Phil sat in the chair next to her that had just been empty.
Sage nodded, not quite able to use her vocal cords. Her skin flushed with heat then cold, and she shivered. Was she over-reacting? With a faintly worried smile, Phil touched her thigh then, after peering into Sage’s face to search for whatever she didn’t find, settled back in the velvet-lined seats.
Someone made an announcement and introduced the film. The film started. The credits rolled. But Sage didn’t see or register any of it.
When the house lights came back up, she blinked into the sudden brightness. Applause erupted around her and the crowd stood up, clapping still for what had apparently been a film worthy of such a reaction. Sage didn’t remember a single that happened on the screen.
Nuria turned to them. “I’ll meet you guys at the after-party. I have to wrap up a few things here first.” Her client muttered something and Nuria patted the girl’s back, her hand wandering lower than strictly necessary.
“Let’s wait until most of these people get out of here,” Dez said, peering around at the crowd swarming toward all the exits. She kept her hands on Claudia’s hips.
Awareness of the things around her was coming back to Sage. With the sounds of the movie being over, the lights, her friends moving around, a sense of normalcy was reasserting itself. These were the same people she’d always known. Phil was the same woman she’d always known. They loved each other. What she thought she saw earlier didn’t make sense. Maybe she’d just been too tense over her parents’ planned visit.
“Sure. That’s a good idea,” she co-signed Rémi’s suggestion.
“Where is the after-party?”
“It’s here,” Nuria said. “Just in a bigger ballroom than the one they had us in from earlier.”
Soon enough, the flow of people slowed down enough for them to leave the auditorium and head for the ballroom. Sage was more than aware of Phil just in front of her, even had enough presence of mind to grip the hand Phil extended behind her for Sage to take. The slender hand was warm and dry. The grip firm.
Whatever she thought she saw earlier, she obviously made it up.
The ballroom was massive. Much bigger than the one they’d all been corralled into earlier with food and liquor stations along each wall, waiters in more festive clothes, dance music flowing from an open door from which flashing strobe lights beckoned. It was just the kind of place Sage would’ve normally been into. Liquor and gorgeous women. Hype music and the space to enjoy it all without feeling cramped.
“I’m going to dance,” Dez said, then she whispered something in Victoria’s ear that made her wife giggle.
“I want to dance too,” Phil said. “This music is on point.” She turned to follow Dez and Victoria to the dance floor, but Sage grabbed her hand.
“Hey.” She didn’t even know what she was going to say.
Were you seriously thinking about fucking that guy? That wasn’t a question she thought she’d ever ask her girlfriend.
Years ago, when Dez had a fling with a bisexual boy from college, Phil nearly lost her shit. Talking about how Dez was straight now and wondering if she’d ever been a dyke at all. She’d calmed down since those first volatile days, especially once everyone understood her anger was from being unceremoniously friend-dumped by Dez, no goodbye, no “I need time to sort myself,” no nothing. They’d all been hurt and got it out of their systems in various ways. Especially after Dez came back and shared how she’d felt about her boyfriend, and what she now felt for her wife.
“What’s up, baby?” Phil spun into her arms with a smile, casually towering over Sage in that way they’d both become used to, an easy pose that pressed Sage’s face into Phil’s throat, or put her breasts at a convenient height. She raked her nails down Sage’s back.
“What was that back there?” Sage asked.
“Back where?” A frown settled between Phil’s eyes.
Maybe this wasn’t the place for a conversation.
“Phillida.”
They both turned at the sound of the masculine voice, Sage tensing with the suspicion she knew exactly who had just called her girlfriend’s name. She wasn’t wrong.
Zachary Baxter moved through the crowd toward them, then paused to accept what Sage assumed were congratulations on making a good movie. The tuxedoed man who’d stopped Zachary looked happy as fuck to be talking to the actor, but Zachary kept looking over the man’s shoulder at Phil. Phil who pulled slightly back from Sage, leaving aside the intimate caress to drape a casual hand across Sage’s shoulders. It felt like a slap in the face. She clenched her teeth.
“Back there, with him,” Sage said.
“What—?!” But they’d been together too long for that pretend confusion to work.
“Are you telling me you don’t want to fuck him?” Sage kept her voice low, but she could feel her temper bubbling up under her breastbone, a threatened implosion.
By then Zachary had escaped his well-wisher and was only steps away from them.
“Sage!” Phil leaned close and dropped her voice.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’d suggest you mind your own fucking business,” Sage snapped.
Phil put a hand on her shoulder. “Baby, don’t make a scene.” Her voice was low compared to Sage’s nearly full-throated shout.
Sage temperature surged higher. After all the public fights they’d had over the years, now Phil wanted to be discreet, now that this asshole was involved? Movie star or not, fuck him!
“We’re fine, Zachary.” Phil turned a pleading look to the actor before she gave her full attention to Sage. Attention she damn well deserved. But Zachary didn’t move off. He wasn’t the important part of this though.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” The anger surged in her hot enough to scorch away the last of her common sense. “Are you trying to fuck him?”
Faces toward them, a flurry of whispers started around them. Fuck. But despite knowing she was seriously fucking up, knowing that there were cameras around, that there were at the place where Nuria was doing her damn job, Sage was livid and wanted Phil to know it.
Phil stepped away, misery all over her face. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly looking cold in her summer yellow. “I’m not right now, but I want to.” The words were quiet. A low whisper that Sage wanted to pretend she never heard.
“Fuck!” She took a deep breath, then another. “I need—”
Strong hands clasped her shoulders from behind. She growled and spun around, or at least tried to.
“Calm down, Sage.” Rémi’s voice rumbled in her ear. “You need to take this someplace else. Someplace private.”
Rémi squeezed her shoulders again, an edge of command to the touch that no one else could have managed with Sage. Dez cut through the staring crowd with her wife and mother following close by. More strangers crowded around them in a not-so-subtle attempt to see what was going on, some lifting their cell phones to capture Sage’s stupidity.
Zachary Baxter watched Sage like she was a rabid dog needing to be put down, worry for Phil all over his stupidly pretty face. As if she would hurt her own damn girlfriend.
Dez slipped close, looped her arm around Phil’s waist. She jerked her head toward the door. “We should head out.” She exchanged a look with Rémi and they both turned toward the entrance of the theater, somehow corralling Sage and Phil between t
hem. Sage’s vision blurred at the edges, aware of the people watching them with their excited whispers and not so low laughter.
They made it to the front of the theater and one of their cars was already there, Rémi’s big SUV, with Claudia moving into the driver’s seat and the valet stepping back with a curious glance at their growing party.
“Get in,” Rémi ordered.
Phil was just behind her. She could smell the perfume she had put on before they left, a light and flowery scent they’d gotten together on their last trip to Milan. The scent was now overly sweet and the thought of being trapped with it, with Phil, in the car for any length of time was unbearable.
Sage shook her head and stopped in the open door of the black SUV. “I can’t.”
“Just for now,” Rémi said. “After we leave this circus behind, you can do whatever you want. People are looking and if you stay, they’ll probably follow you around with a camera or something equally stupid. I’m not sure you want that.”
“She doesn’t want to be in the car with me,” Phil said from just behind her. “Take her and I’ll get our car.”
Even in the middle of turning Sage’s world upside down, knowing that Phil could read her mind eased some of the tension from her shoulders. She got into the SUV, and felt Phil step back. Her scent faded away.
“Okay,” Dez said.
After a whispered conversation with Victoria, she climbed into the backseat with Sage and closed the door, leaving Victoria standing with a stunned-looking Phil on the sidewalk.
After Rémi got into the front passenger seat of the SUV, they pulled off.
“What the fuck is going on with you two?” Rémi asked. “Is this more of the same shit?”
Her head thudded back against the leather seat. God, she wished things were the same. “No…Phillida…” More words failed her. Any other words stuttered behind the lump in her throat. What was going on? What was she going to do?
“I’ll drive home and you all can take the car,” Claudia said quietly.