by Yuriko Hime
Two hours later, Lynx approached me with a backpack on, jeans hung low on her waist, grey t-shirt tied on one side, and sunglasses covering her blue green eyes. I was used to seeing beautiful people, but not quite like this. Her flawlessness was coming from somewhere other than her face. "How did you get my number?" I snapped. Beautiful my arse. She woke me at six. Talk about inhumane.
Lynx tossed me her backpack, ignoring my inquiries. "Bring that," she said. I stomped after her, groaning. "Do you think they have organic Gerber in that store?" I was so startled with her question that I stopped whining. "It has to be blueberries," she murmured to herself. "She prefers that over the apples and spinach. Maybe they have it there." I had a feeling that she forgot that I was supposed to be there as she went on her way. Not to be outdone, I matched her step for step until we reached a store that sold baby goods. "Excuse me," Lynx said to a staff who was arranging a shelf. "Do you have blueberry Gerber's?"
The girl gaped at us, one hand to the shelf, the other on her waist. "Well?" I said impatiently. "Do you?"
She snapped to attention. "Y-yes. I'll get it for you." She abandoned the shelf to get our order.
I turned to Lynx. "You're proving to be a good stalker. My number is supposed to be secret, you know. Daddy pays a lot to give us our privacy."
The staff was back before Lynx had a chance to answer. "Here it is," she said, waving her find. "I hope your baby likes it. How old is she, or he?"
Lynx snaked an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to her. "My wife is still pregnant," she claimed. "It doesn't show, but we're excited to prepare for our first child. Do you think she'll be pretty?" My eyes widened when she placed a hand over my belly. They were warm and soft like freshly baked bread. Memories of our strange encounter on the spa resurfaced. I've tried to get rid of the thought, locked it in a box, even. But I couldn't run away from it when she started to rub my stomach lovingly. My rational thoughts slipped away.
I had a vague recollection of the staff nodding. "Both of you are picture perfect," she said. "Your baby will grow up the same. Mind if I ask if your wife underwent IVF?"
"She did," Lynx said. "We wanted our children to look like us, so after Scotland delivers the baby and made a recovery, we'll plan for my turn." She hasn't stopped rubbing. I was losing track of the conversation because of it, my knees a useless jelly beneath my body. "We still have other things to buy," Lynx informed. "We'll be grateful if you punch our order so we can go on our way. The wife needs to rest."
"Oops, sorry," the staff said. She went behind the counter and worked on the machine while I stood there, my soul slowly flying away from my body. It was Lynx who brought me back to my senses outside by taking the backpack and putting the Gerber in.
I caught the first rays of sunshine when I turned my head. The whole market glowed with it, including Lynx's hair. While hers were orange, I could tell that mine was golden because it was in the beginnings of summer. People had started to arrive too. Chatter was all over the place; on the stall on the left as a mother bargained for a watermelon; from a kid on the right, asking his dad to buy him sweets; from sellers announcing their best deals to early market-goers.
In the midst of it all, I seized Lynx by the arm. "Just to make things clear between us, I'm not lesbian, okay?" My voice was off. Way off. "I'm not coming on to you by asking you to the party. It's for the research," I said.
Lynx removed her sunglasses and hooked it on her shirt. "I understand," she said. "People have limits, Scotland. I don't want to push you off the edge. You have to do that yourself." She looked around the shopping district. "I wonder what they sell there." She hurried to another direction before I could ask her what limits she was referring to.
But you knew me. I was miss unshakeable. Inside the shop I was back to asking her questions. "Who's the Gerber for?" I said. "Do you have a baby brother or sister?" She ignored me for the most part, picking items for inspection, then later putting it down when she wasn't interested.
We've come to a store that sold a variety of things. They had utensils on one section, toys on the other, rugs on the far corner, and piles of laundry detergents that made the air smell like summer breeze. Lynx, I recon, didn't have anything particular in mind. She breezed past the shelves like the usual shopper, checking until she found something.
"I know," I said to her. "You're a nanny, and that's what you need the Gerber for." Lynx had so many jobs; the taxi, cinema, spa, and restaurant. Why did she do them? What was her story? I gave her a once over. Her clothes were always nice. She didn't look like she shopped in the department or thrift stores. Maybe she had to get all kinds of jobs to support her social climbing ways. But then again. . . My eyes narrowed. She didn't peg me as the type of person who cared about that. Her vibe was different.
She was browsing through figurines when I went to her side. "So what's your real job?" I said, trying to sound casual. "What brought you here? Are you in college or what?"
Instead of explaining, she took a snow globe from the shelf and started shaking it. The white flecks of dust twirled on the small town inside, a man-made hurricane. Just as quickly as it materialized, the hurricane vanished, leaving the town peaceful and neglected. It was easy to imagine Lynx like that, sprouting in a place like this, disappearing when it no longer suited her. My curiosity of her grew.
"She'd like this," Lynx murmured at the snow globe. "She loves looking at pretty things."
"Who?"
A muscle on her jaw twitched. "Are you genuinely curious, or you're just snooping so you can use it to get even with me?" She was quick to catch on. Color me impressed.
"A bit of both," I admitted. "So far, all I know about you are your weird jobs, the place you hangout in, which is the Midnight Cafe, the fact that you like writing notes, you're multilingual, and your love for that silver ring." I gestured to her finger. "I figured it was a lynx like your name."
"And?" she said.
I shifted my weight. "To add that all up, maybe, just maybe, you are a well-traveled person. Other than that, you can be a paid spy by my father's competitor who's out to destroy our empire through me." I crossed my arms. "If that's the case then bring it on."
Lynx traced her fingers on the ring. "Or I can be a bit of both too," she said. Her blue green eyes focused on me. Under the fluorescent, it appeared like lightning has struck upon her, and what was supposed to kill her had instead been locked inside her soul, making her eyes like bolts of lightning. "I got everything I need for today," she murmured, putting her back to me. "You can leave."
That was it? She wasn't going to give me answers? "What about the party?" I said.
She glanced at me over her shoulder. "I'll pick you up tomorrow."
Chapter 11
The return calls I've made to Lynx were automatically diverted to her voice mail. I was supposed to ask how she'd pick me up since I haven't told her anything about my address, but at six o'clock, someone was ringing the doorbell. "That must be her," Lulu said. She'd been browsing on her laptop, keeping me company in the living room. The screen was full of disturbing imagery that I didn't want to elaborate. She put the laptop on the sofa and peeked behind the curtains. "Invite her in. I want to see who you've been obsessing about for weeks." What was she talking about? I wasn't obsessed with Lynx.
I jumped up and grabbed my bag from the table. "Ha-ha. That's so not true," I denied. "Don't wait for me. I might be home late." Lynx was nowhere to be found outside. The street was bare of people, though a taxi sat idly on the street. My suspicions were confirmed when I opened the passenger door and slid inside. She was on the driver's seat. "First my number, now my house. Your stalking power is exceptional," I said. "What's next, you're going to kidnap me?"
"I don't need to," she said. "You entered the car by choice." She made a good argument, but I wasn't going to admit it. I took a moment to check her while she advanced the car away from the house. Lynx was wearing a jean jacket over a white shirt, capped by black jeans, all of which were not f
rom a thrift shop or an outlet store.
My mother, a big fan of anything that had to do with fashion and couture, ensured that Casper and I would grow up well-versed with the subject. At nine, we've attended fashion shows in Milan and New York. At twelve, we were introduced to big names in the industry. More or less, I knew what made a good cloth or stitching, and Lynx was wearing them. An untrained eye would protest over this, saying all clothes generally looked the same. I digress.
"All evidences are pointing that you're a hired spy," I said to her. "If I wasn't convinced before, I am now. What exactly did daddy's competition ask you to do? Take a picture of me naked? Catch me in an embarrassing act to humiliate our family? Give me the juicy tidbits, please. I'm always down for a good laugh."
She glanced sideways at me. "If I were a spy, why did you come? I could be taking you to a secret hideout to rape, and as you said yourself, take naked pictures of you."
I stared at the window, to the lighted establishments that flashed past as our car rolled by. At this hour people would be lining up on the theatre with friends, eating out, or going to the bowling alley. At least that's what most normal people did. Casper, Lulu, and I would either be at home where everything was within arm's reach, or traveling to get away. It wasn't a lonely life. We were constantly meeting people. It's just that you learned to gauge whether those people wanted real friendship or daddy's connections.
I couldn't say which was which with Lynx so far. She hasn't given me a reason to feel unsafe. When I was with her, it was natural. She could be a spy, but she wouldn't hurt me either. I was always testing the waters, and maybe with her I was doing the same.
"Don't worry," I assured. "I can defend myself perfectly fine from any man or woman. If you're going to touch me without my permission, you're going to end up as a paraplegic. Then again. . ." I planted a hand on her right leg and smiled naughtily. "Maybe I'll let you do what you want for a night. You're attracted to women, no? I myself have an acquired taste for anything delicious." My hand slid to her inner thigh. There were things I didn't know about her, but you could usually understand how people ticked based on how they reacted to temptation.
Our car lurched to a stop on a back alley. I raised my brow quizzically at her. "Sit on my lap," she instructed. The dangerous gleam on her eyes called to me. Challenge accepted. I removed my seatbelt and crawled to her, careful not to touch the gear stick. Once on top of Lynx, nothing could prevent me from whiffing her scent. She was woody and outdoorsy, like she'd been taking a hike in the forest and brought back the smell with her clothes. It was appealing and disengaging, tugging at my senses. How could anyone smell so good and look the part too?
"You're letting me do what I want?" she said, cocking her head. "But I'm a stranger."
I hitched my black dress up, all the way to my knees. "So introduce yourself to me." I wasn't expecting her to do it, but I shivered when she slipped her hand inside my dress. She didn't just stop there. She also traced the line on my stomach, a bonus from training hard from whatever sport I was invested in. "Do you like what you're feeling?" I whispered. Her mouth parted as she continued gliding up, teasing on the outline my bra. Goosebumps exploded on my arms. I hope she didn't notice.
Lynx chuckled under her breath. "I haven't eaten a human for so long," she said. It could be a line from a movie somewhere. I couldn't be too sure. My mind was someplace else, to the way her fingers traveled on my skin. It burned everything it touched. I arched my front to her till she was looking directly at my chest.
A loud honk almost made me hit my head on the car ceiling. A truck had pulled beside us while we were occupied. Lynx's hand made their way out of my dress just when the truck driver rolled his window down. "Perverts!" he yelled. He flipped us with his finger. "You'll both go to hell." Though surprised by his sudden appearance, I laughed and blew a kiss to the poor guy. His veins were showing all the way to our car.
I stared back at Lynx when the driver sped away. The danger in her eyes were gone. "Playtime's over." I unhooked a leg from her and scrambled back to my seat. "You shouldn't get your hopes up. I'm a tease, not a slut. If you're really a spy, you can go tell your employer to screw himself because our family is untouchable."
She restarted the car. "Will do." That neither confirmed nor denied that she was a spy, only that she was teasing me too.
We arrived at The Cove after thirty minutes. It was a club on the first floor that doubled as a small bed and breakfast on the second floor. Weird set-up, yet it worked in the establishment's favor when people were too drunk to go home. Dance music was blasting from a speaker when we came in, and the LED lights changed directions every now and then, creating a hypnotic illusion. All eyes were on us.
"Lynx!" a Latina woman with a glass of cocktail on her hand greeted. She was one of those frequent clubgoer types, with her confident stride and her screw-me-now heels, a term coined by Lulu and me for those killer heels that we both hated wearing except for special occasions. Very special in fact that after wearing it once, I had my personal help sell it to e-bay so she'd get the extra cash.
The woman, let's hide her in the name of Brittany Shaw from 982 North Dakota, came to us with not only her screw-me-now heels, but a come hither smile too. "Who's your friend?" she asked Lynx while looking me up and down. Rather than honoring her pissing contest, I stared at the new environment. Lesbians. Lesbians everywhere. I wanted to skip merrily to every single one of them for an interview.
Lynx looped a surprisingly comfortable arm round my waist. I subconsciously leaned to her. Who should I go to first, that lonely woman sipping her margarita, or that couple who were talking intimately in the corner? So many possibilities. "She's my girlfriend," Lynx said. I snapped my head back to them, and apparently, it wasn't only me and Brittany who heard it but almost everyone in the nearby vicinity who've been keeping an ear on us. Conversations stopped while the music went on in the background.
Brittany's jaw clenched. "That's sudden," she said. "I didn't know you were dating anyone. From what I've heard, you were still recovering from, you know." She squeezed the glass.
"You heard wrong," Lynx said.
I faked a smile to both of them. "Can I speak to you for one second, darling?" I steered Lynx outside, from the onlooker's malicious stares. They'd be talking about us soon as we were gone. "What's the big idea?" I said, breathing in the warm night air.
Lynx shrugged. "I haven't attended one of these parties in years," she said. "The Midnight Cafe is different. They're more of a family. You should have realized by now that bringing you with me here would only mean that we're a couple. It's the price to pay for your research."
I wagged a finger at her. "I'm seriously pissed at you right now. You've made it harder for me to communicate with the subjects. Most of them are going to hate me because they'd think I stole you. They might even refuse an interview."
"Isn't that what you're good at, persuasion?" she said. "I'm confident with your abilities to mingle with the crowd despite the challenges. Good luck." She was hiding a smile behind her poker face. I could sense it. Lynx was on to something. "Find me after you've gathered your precious data. I'll be at the bar." She tapped my shoulder once, then went on her way.
Lynx wasn't at the bar when I came in after fixing my lipstick. All I was seeing were the gazes of the people, following me as if I was a different kind of specie they've never encountered before. Look all you want, girls. It was nothing new to me.
Unzipping my purse, I took out the recorder. "The lesbian scene is not different from what you may think." I approached the bar. "People are talking, grabbing drinks, having fun. The ambiance is relaxed despite Lynx's negative ministrations. I'll make a dialogue right now so we won't waste time. Excuse me miss," I said to a woman with a stylish pixie hair, sipping on her margarita. "Can I do a quick interview?"
She looked behind her. When she found no one there, the woman pointed to herself. "Me?"
"Yes, you." I sat on a bar stool. "This is for a stud
y I'm making about lesbians. If you don't mind me asking, how long have you known that you're one?"
She shifted in her seat like a cornered mouse. "I'm actually bisexual," she squeaked. "This is a lesbian party, I know, but I'm friends with some of them."
I nodded. "Hey, I'm not judging. I went here for my own reasons too." I directed the recorder to her. "As a bisexual, how do you find your sisters? Are you so different that sometimes you feel like you're out of place? Don't be shy now. This is for research."
Her lower lip twitched. "There's not much difference," she said.
"Really? How come?"
She looked unwilling to be interviewed at first, a bit shy like Joe, very reserved. But then a strange look crossed on her face. "Well fudge it," she gave up. "Might as well be honest. Sometimes I'm annoyed that lesbians don't want to date us. It's so ridiculous." She slammed her glass on the counter, spilling some liquid. "Just because we like men too doesn't mean we'll run off with them while in a relationship with women. It's called respect, and we have it. Most bisexuals even lean towards women. I don't get where the animosity is coming from. My message to lesbians is this. Love us. Date us bisexuals. We can lap you as well as any lesbians can."
I pushed the stop button with a promise to edit the last bit. Or maybe not. As you've seen in this book, reader, I've included it for transparency. Don't you just love me? "Such powerful message," I said to my subject. "Atta girl!"
"Thank you. I've been meaning to say that for quite some time. Cheers!" She downed the rest of her drink.
My next set of interviewees didn't give interesting answers like her. Most of them mumbled a yes or no and didn't care to expound. Some of them wanted to snoop with my pretend relationship more. Tired of such treatment, I went in search of Lynx, planning to ask her what time she'd take me home or if we were going to an after party. Sometimes they had those.