by Fiona Zedde
“You’re such an idiot,” Dez muttered.
She was afraid her friend was right. Letting loose another unavoidable sigh, she awkwardly patted Crystal’s hand. “Get some rest, okay.”
“Okay.” Her reply was soft, already threaded with sleep.
Once her eyes closed, Sage stood up and felt Dez begin to follow her out. The house itself was silent though a low light blazed in the living room. From habit, she took the path through the comfortable room where she’d spent too many years with her friends, and followed the well-worn path to the double doors leading outside and to the pool. Once she opened the door with a soft click, the sound of quiet conversation flowed toward her.
They were by the pool. Claudia and Rémi sat shoulder to shoulder on the edge of the pool, their bare legs dangling in the water as they spoke, low-voiced. Rémi’s half-boots lay discarded nearby, her slacks rolled up to the knees. Sage hesitated, as always, a little thrown by their intimacy. But Dez only came up from behind her, dropped into one of the lounge chairs, sprawled on her back and toed off her shoes.
“What the fuck, Sage?” The look Dez gave her should have incinerated her where she stood. But she ignored her friend and took one of the chairs on the opposite side of the pool.
“Did she manage to fall asleep?” Claudia asked, her voice threaded with concern.
“She did,” Sage answered. “Thank you for the pills.”
Although she’d stopped referring to her as “Mrs. Nichols” or “Mrs. N” a few years before, she’d never gotten out of the habit of paying the most careful respect to Claudia Nichols. Not only was she not “Mrs” anything, she was fully Rémi’s woman now and had very little to do with the man who Dez and her twin called father.
“You’re welcome.” Claudia gave her a comforting smile although Sage didn’t know why when it was Crystal who needed soothing, not her.
“You look twitchy, man.” Rémi tipped slightly sideways, resting her cheek momentarily against Claudia’s, and arched an eyebrow at Sage. “You okay.”
“I’m cool.”
A disbelieving grunt came from Dez’s direction even though her eyes focused on her phone, thumbs flying on its surface as she texted somebody. Probably her wife. Claudia’s low voice said something Sage couldn’t hear and Rémi responded with a stroking hand down her girlfriend’s back. Sage chewed the inside of her lip and looked away.
For so long, she’d thought that she and Phil had what her friends were missing out on. Perfect companionship. But with that notion completely fucked out of the water, it hurt to be in the house where so much love obviously lived.
A sharp ache radiated from under Sage’s breastbone. “I should go,” she muttered, stumbling to her feet and fully intending to leave and get a cab back to Shadows and Vine where she’d left her car.
“Go and do what, leave your jail bait here?” Rémi looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Nope.”
“Yeah, that’s not smart, Sage.”
Fuck smart. She didn’t sign up for any of this. Not the pain, certainly not for some child to…to… Shit. Make a mistake that could easily have made at that age.
“Fine. You’re right. Let me just figure out what to do and then—”
The patio doors slid open and Phil spilled through them, tall and narrow-eyed on her queen purple stilettos. “What’s going on?”
“What are you doing here?” Sage stood up, heart suddenly hammering in chest.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Phil left the door open and moved closer, her high heels clacking on the concrete.
Sage was just about to tell her to shut the door the way she’d found it when Nuria came up behind her and took in the scene with a single sweep of her thoroughly unamused gaze. They were together? She came back to the conversation just in time to hear Phil ask Dez the same question she’d asked of Sage.
Dez slid her phone back in her pants pocket. “You saw my text. The girl is passed out in the guest bedroom now.”
Was everybody ganging up on her now? “You told her about this?” Sage stared at them both.
“What?” Dez looked bored of their conversation already. “Was I supposed to keep this stupidness a secret? From Phil? Naw, man.”
From the corner of her eye, Sage saw Nuria slid off her shoes and join Rémi and Claudia at the pool’s edge. She kissed both women on the cheek then sat down, feet in the water to watch it all like it was a telenovela.
“First of all, I thought we all had plans to go to Shadows and Vine together.” Phil used a single finger to indicate everyone on the patio. “And second—”
“But you weren’t there, you and Nuria were someplace else.”
“Jealous, honey?” Nuria looked amused.
“Right.” But it wasn’t too far off. Although she didn’t know who she was more…possessive of. Nuria who was supposed to be her best friend but was cozying up with Phil probably talking bisexuality together. Or Phil, who she still thought of, despite all the bullshit, as her better-than-a-best-friend. Someone she shared everything with, including all the fucked up shit about herself.
“If you want to know what we talked about, all you have to do is ask.” Phil stood over her, a hip cocked in challenge. Her posture was combative but her eyes were soft, a melancholy cloud obscuring their usual vivacity. But she’d be a self-deluding fool if she didn’t know what that look was about or why it was even on Phil’s face in the first place. “But wait, that’s right, you don’t really want to know everything about me. Just the things that you find acceptable.”
“Girls, please.” Claudia’s voice cut through the warm night. But other than settling her gaze on them both, she did nothing else. Said, nothing else.
But Rémi didn’t have any such reluctance. “You two get your shit together. That girl in there needs help, no matter how or why that came about. Deal with her, take her back where she belongs and deal with your shit. This has gone on for far too long.”
“You can’t tell everybody what to do, Rémi. This isn’t your fucking playroom.”
Rémi’s green-flecked eyes turned ice cold. She looked at Nuria. “Deal with your friend.”
Water splashed up as she took her feet out of the pool then stood up, reaching for Claudia’s hand to help her to stand up. Moments later, the couple disappeared into the house, the slide and snap of the glass doors a final and loud sound in the silence.
“I’m going to check on this little girl,” Phil said before she too left and went inside the house.
“How the hell do you manage to upset Rémi of all people?” Dez rolled her eyes then, getting to her feet with a grunt, dragged her phone back out to send what Sage assumed to be another text. “I’m heading home. Let me know if you need any help with this mess. Phil said her people wanted to kick your ass the other night. You know if they want to throw down, Rémi and I got your back.”
Yeah, she knew that. But this situation felt even more ridiculous than usual.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll deal with all this. It’s no big deal.”
“Okay.” Dez dragged out the word, filling it with all kinds of doubt. “You know how to reach me. I’m heading back home to the wife.”
But in a split second, her look turned from annoyed to infatuated with the mention of Victoria. Hardly “the wife,” and definitely the love of her life who’d pulled Dez from her whoring, self-destructive ways and given her the balance that none of them had even known she was looking for, least of all her.
“Cool,” Dez said. “I’ll call you later.”
Then Sage was alone on the deck with Nuria, the pool sparkling turquoise and still rippling from the passage of Rémi and Claudia’s feet. With the distance of feet separating them, Sage felt far indeed apart from her best friend. They hadn’t been able to truly connect since that disastrous evening of Phil’s revelation when Sage had proved herself to be even more of an asshole than she ever thought.
Sage cleared her throat. “So…” The awkwardness got even wor
se.
“So what?” Nuria gave her an unsympathetic look. “You want to ask what me and Phil talked about?”
“No. Not really. I can guess.”
Nuria’s low laugh wasn’t the least bit amused. “I’m sure you’d be wrong though. Not everything revolves around you, honey-bunch.”
“I wasn’t thinking you all were talking about me!” she protested. “About the whole bi thing, sure.”
“Which you’d turn into a whole thing about you. Poor betrayed, strictly clitly stud who wants nothing to do with real dicks and balls. Especially if they’ve been in her girlfriend’s mouth.”
Sage swore she nearly gagged. “Fuck! Stop. That’s—”
“Gross?”
“Hell yes. But also unnecessary as fuck. I don’t want to hear about any of that shit.”
“From what Phil says, you don’t want to hear about a lot of things. Have you always been such an asshole and I just never noticed it?”
Nuria’s words had her stumbling back.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sage asked.
“If you need me to decipher that then I really can’t help you.” Nuria looked at her watch. “Anyway, let me get out of here. A little birdie told me you’ll have your hands real full in the next few.” Then she too was gone.
The loneliness of the evening pressed down on Sage. All her friends disappeared into the house and leaving her to her own twisting guilt. Then do something about it. That damn voice again. But what the hell could she do? It wasn’t as if she could turn the clock back and make Phil not bisexual anymore. Even if she could pinpoint exactly when that change happened.
I’d never marry a bi bitch. That’s just fucking nasty.
Was that what she’d become? Just another shitty stereotype of a narrow-minded stud? Marty’s words stabbed her memory again, and her own reaction, not one strong enough to defend the women she loved against damn near strangers.
God, she was such a coward.
Moonlight shimmered over the pool’s surface. Her rippling reflection. The water looked cool and inviting. At the very least it offered a moment’s distraction from her thoughts, from everything. She imagined jumping into the water, boots and all, having the heaviness cover her mouth, her eyes, block out everything but the steady sound of her own heart beating. The tap of her boots against the concrete warned that she had moved closer to the edge. Her image wavered. The compact body, dark clothes, the misery eddying across her face.
“God…” This was not a good combination. She turned away from the water, hand reaching for her phone.
Phil stood in the open doorway leading to the house. She simply watched Sage’s face, her own blank. Finally, she spoke. “I’m leaving.”
“Okay.”
She stood in the doorway for a moment longer, lips slightly parted like she had more to say. But then she just turned her back to Sage and went back into the house.
Silence again. The lure of the pool, the oblivion of the water. But no way. Sage took out her phone and called a cab. She’d just go back to the club, get her car then come back to pick up Crystal and take the girl back to her place. Hopefully, the coming of the morning would bring her back to her senses, her and Sage both.
But things didn’t go quite as planned. When she came back with her car to get Crystal, the girl was already gone, taken someplace by Phil Rémi told her from the doorway, her growling voice betraying that she hadn’t completely forgiven Sage for that crack about the playroom.
The surprise of it stayed with Sage long after she left Rémi and Claudia’s house and arrived back to her own, found her way through the dark and into the guest room. She was too exhausted to stay up and worry. Sleep came quickly and thoroughly, sweeping away whatever lingering guilt and sadness that had nearly pushed her, fully clothed, into the pool.
Tomorrow. Everything would look better tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
She woke up to voices.
Low and soft. Two different tones rolling together in a harmony in the house she wasn’t used to being separate from. Before falling into bed, she’d left the door open, certain there as no one in the house but her. Obviously, she’d been wrong.
Groaning quietly, Sage rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, the weight of her body pressing down into the sheets, her entire being feeling heavier than before, heavier than she remembered ever being in her life. Okay. She was ready for this to be over now.
She’d been fortunate. Her parents weren’t poor. They never let her starve. She’d had the very best of friends who continued to stand by her through every fuckery and bad decision. But now, even with the uncertainty of her life with Phil and knowing now of the wasted years she could have had with her parents, she knew now that she’d had in damn good.
Laughter rang out through the house and slipped down the hallway and into the room she’d exiled herself in. She squinted at the watch still on her wrist. It was almost two in the afternoon. Past time for her to get up.
After shoving herself back into last night’s clothes, she stumbled down the hallway, scrubbing a hand over her hair then rubbing her eyes. It was Phil’s voice. She easily recognized the ringing bell of her laughter, the way it tapered off into giggles then a low and amused sigh. At the entrance to the living room, she nearly tripped over feet.
Wearing loose sleep pants and a tank top over bra-less breasts, Phil sat on the massive couch next to Crystal. A tray holding two small plates of food—breakfast made by Phil most likely—sat on the ottoman drawn close to their knees, and the smell of bacon and made-from-scratch biscuits trailed through the room from the kitchen.
Crystal looked almost happy, draped in one of Sage’s faded button-down shirts she’d rolled up at the elbows. Her feet were bare, her hair in the usual ponytail as she sat curled up in the couch and talking with Phil.
They didn’t notice her.
“What’s up with your family? They’re a little nuts, don’t you think?” Phil asked Crystal.
“They’re just overprotective. I’m the youngest and…” She shrugged like that explained everything.
Phil held a piece of bacon between two fingers. “They need to pump the brakes on that before somebody gets hurt.” The bacon crunched loudly between her teeth.
“They wouldn’t hurt anybody, especially not your girlfriend,” Crystal said with a roll of her eyes. “Sage is your girlfriend, right?”
Phil made a doubtful noise. “Oh, okay.” She slowly finished chewing the bacon in her mouth. “No, Sage isn’t mine. Not anymore.”
The pain from her words hit Sage sharp and low. This was her fault, but still…
Crystal pushed forward. “But you used to be?”
How did she know…? But before Sage could finish the thought, her eyes caught the Billboard Award trophy on its pedestal, the black and white portrait of her and Phil done barely two years before, Phil in a glittering evening dress, high-necked and obviously couture, sitting in the foreground, smoke rising from the cigar she held close to her unsmiling lips.
In the photo, Sage stood in the background wearing an A shirt, tattooed shoulders sleek with muscle, suspenders drooping down her thighs her arrogant face in profile. It was a portrait Phil had taken down when Sage’s parents had come to visit. Even before they left town, she’d brought it back and put it where it belonged. Sage supposed that was only fair.
“Yes, we used to be.” Phil plucked a piece of bacon from one of the two plates, bit into it while looking away from Crystal. In that quick movement, she noticed Sage. “Are you just going to lurk in the corner all morning or join us for breakfast?”
Her tone, joking and friendly, caught Sage off guard. Just last night, she looked like she wanted to rip Sage apart with her bare hands.
“I’m not sure,” she said. But she slowly made her way into the living room anyway. “Is there coffee?”
“What’s your nose telling you?”
Sage narrowed her eyes at Phil. So this was ho
w it was going to be?
Scowling, she took a detour to the kitchen for coffee. The kitchen was an organized mess. A platter of bacon and eggs, carefully layered on top of paper towels that soaked up any remaining oil lay covered with a glass cake dome sat on the spotless kitchen island next to a basket of still warm biscuits.
Coffee waited, still fresh and smelling like a normal weekend afternoon in their house. Because she didn’t eat pork, she knew the bacon was beef, because she didn’t do white flour, the biscuits were wheat, and because flavored coffee was the devil, the Ethiopian Yirgacheffe was plain.
But when she grabbed the almond milk to pour into her mug, she found the hazelnut cream was dead center in the fridge. It always drove her crazy when Phil didn’t put the condiments back in their proper compartment, the single thing in her life she was obsessively neat about. But she left it right where it was before closing the fridge.
When she got back into the living room, they were still sitting close, but Crystal had the tray on her lap and was devouring the sandwich she’d made from the biscuit, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Phil was doing most of the talking, but the young girl was nodding, making affirmative noises through her over-stuffed mouth.
“And it works for us,” Phil was saying. “Or at least it did until recently.”
Crystal muttered something that was obviously meant to be a question, but Sage didn’t understand a word.
Apparently, Phil didn’t either. “What did you say, honey?” Patiently nibbling on a sliver of bacon, she waited until Crystal swallowed her latest bite of the sandwich.
“What happened to change things?” Crystal asked.
Phil shrugged, then she looked up, pinning Sage with her eyes. “Things just happened.”