by Lynn Ames
Fran turned to give her a brief but troubled smile, and Ren saw instantly the mark of tears. In that same instant, Ren’s friendly surprise gave way to concern, and the clerk returned.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said with a properly apologetic shrug, “but the first available space won’t be until tomorrow, after one in the afternoon.”
“That will be fine,” Fran answered as she reached into her bag for her wallet. A second later she pulled her credit card and slid it across the counter.
“That’s unnecessary,” Ren interrupted, covering Fran’s hand with her own. “I’ve extra space…you’re welcome to share it.”
Fran shook her head. “Ren…I appreciate that, but I really can’t. I—”
“No, nothing like that,” Ren quickly interrupted while the clerk coughed politely and attempted to make himself unobtrusive. She quickly curled her fingers about Fran’s, then let go. “Where will you sleep?” she asked simply. “You can’t stay down here.” She pointedly stared at Fran’s lack of luggage. “And you’ll need your things, too.”
Fran gazed about the lobby. “Shit,” she exclaimed quietly.
“Why don’t you join me for a cup?” Ren suggested, hoisting her own into view. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” she added hastily, reading the objection in Fran’s reddened eyes. “Just think a bit…and then I can help you move your things if you’d like.”
The clerk coughed loudly. “Shall I hold this for you, then, while you think on it?”
“Yes, yes. Please do,” Fran answered, still clutching her card.
“Come,” Ren said again and offered her hand. “Take the moment.”
Fran rubbed her temple. “All right, yeah. Sure.” She dropped her card back into her bag as she followed Ren the few feet to the sitting area, and just as carelessly dropped herself onto the thick seat, then buried her face in her hands.
Ren considered from where she still stood before her. “Will you be all right for a moment? You still take your coffee the same way?”
“Ren, don’t. It’s…I’m okay,” Fran lifted her face to answer. “Things…they’re just…they’re complex right now.”
“I’ll be right back with that cup,” Ren told her, then took hurried steps to the café. As she ordered at the counter, she realized she didn’t really know what Fran’s sleeping arrangements were. But something has happened, something that’s upset her and if I can’t literally offer her a place to rest, then at least I can do so metaphorically.
Besides, tomorrow was bound to be a big day: she had meetings in the morning with her team, with Fran’s, and then later they would all meet with the other investors. She already met the drunken man who had strange ideas about what this venture was about, and Ren wanted to come to an agreement with her team as well as Fran’s about how best to cut him and his company out of it. Also, she wanted Fran to be at her best, for all of their sakes, especially her own.
She handed over a few bills to the cashier and accepted the cup placed on the counter. Ren took careful steps back toward the lounge area and, in an action born of very necessary habit, quickly surveyed the area.
The main lobby was quiet, though not completely devoid of people, as yet another couple walked through on their way to the elevator. It arrived just as her gaze landed on it, and she was only mildly surprised to see Cray, in a half open shirt over jeans and bare feet, step from its open doors. Ren didn’t stop to think about why she found that only mildly surprising but followed the direction of Samantha’s gaze, expecting to find it on Fran.
Nina’s back was to Ren, but she too, had bare feet and wore what was more than likely a hotel robe that hit the carpeted floor as she knelt before Fran. Their heads touched as they spoke, and from the tremble that ran down Nina’s back and into the fingers that reached for, then caught, Fran’s face, Ren knew that she cried. That did surprise her, so much so that she halted sharply, causing the cup in her hand to tilt dangerously.
She muttered a curse as she righted the cup, then strode forward again. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good for any of them, not if there were so many tears involved, not if it had people running about in the middle of the night for reasons other than jet lag. This has got to stop, Ren resolved grimly as she walked.
She was close enough to hear the broken words Nina spoke. “Please…I knowwe have to talk—we will—I promise. Just…please don’t leave.”
The pain that wove between them was a living thing, an open wound that bled freely and visibly. It built a wall around them that halted Ren once more, and she felt the pain reach through to her own heart, an echoed repeat of days long gone.
“Leave them,” Cray said urgently into her ear, catching up to her just a few feet before the perimeter. She pulled gently on Ren’s arm.
“This…this is unacceptable,” Ren said indignantly as she followed Cray. Together they found a table and had a moment’s silent negotiation as to which would get the seat with the view of the lobby. Ren conceded the claim. Why does that always happen between us? she wondered fleetingly, but in truth, she knew why. Ren passed the cup to Cray, then angled her own chair for a better view.
Cray signaled the lone waitress for another cup for Ren, which was quickly deposited and they both sipped in quiet.
Ren’s gaze kept shifting back and forth from Cray to the two seated not more than twenty feet away. Why is she just sitting here? Ren wondered. Why doesn’t she do something, say something? The calm stillness from Cray baffled her completely. Earlier, Cray very clearly had shown her feelings for both Nina and Fran, who were now experiencing some sort of emotional connection that easily rivaled what Ren had seen before. “How can you stand it? How can anyof you stand it?” Ren finally broke into the silence as she watched Cray brood into her cup.
“Stand what?”
“That,” Ren answered, “them…the whole thing. Where is your pride? Possession? Something? Anything?”
Cray’s eyes looked steadily and unblinkingly at her. “What would you have me do? Yell? Beat my chest? Glower and threaten? I don’t feel those things, nor the need to do them. Pride and possession have no place in love.”
Ren returned her gaze to the scene before them as she thought about what she’d heard and what she’d witnessed earlier. She understood jealousy, rivalry, respect, had seen them all at play in various guises throughout the night. She understood power and its subtle increases when coupled with restraint. She understood friendship and undying loyalty, but this—
“I don’t understand any of you,” Ren said quietly as she watched Nina take Fran’s hands in her own and stand. When Fran followed, Nina held Fran to her, heedless of the fall of her robe that revealed a glance of very pale bare skin.
Ren glanced at Cray who gave her a wry grin, then said, “Is this one of those cultural things, like first names versus surnames?”
Ren shook her head and, despite herself, grinned in return. “You tosser. That was an easy accident…you know that. And no,” she continued, “it’s not cultural.” Ren held her fingers up in quotes. “I grew up in the UK until I was twelve or so, so it’s not some great East-West mind divide.”
Are we actually joking? Ren wondered. Have we ever done this before? This, she decided, is the result of too many odd and discordant things jammed into one day. Or—Ren narrowed her eyes in thought—it’s Cray’s way of distracting us both.
She turned serious again, and faced Cray. Eyes the color of a summer storm, Ren decided, not knowing that her own could be described similarly. “You love her,” Ren said quietly, indicating Fran with a nod of her chin where she stood still wrapped in Nina’s arms, the return embrace so close they seemed entwined.
“You married her…and then broke her heart! You’rethe reason we were ever together at all, and now…”
Ren took a breath. “And now,” she continued with a slight shake of her head, “you and Nina are together, and yet…” She glanced back again, only to see that Nina and Fran had gone.
&nbs
p; “And yet…perhaps I know something that you don’t,” Cray answered then sipped calmly as Ren stared at the now-empty space.
Returning her attention once more to Cray, she contemplated the woman before her. This time, Ren really looked and saw what she had missed before.
Cray was pale; her eyes held a dark burn over bruise-colored smears. The way she angled her head, held the nearly-empty mug. This was more than jet lag combined with over-confused emotions and nerves. This was something other, this was—
“Samantha,” Ren said quietly, carefully addressing Cray by her given name for the first time ever, “what’s really going on? What don’t I know?” A chill raced across her shoulders when Samantha’s gaze rose once more from the depths of her cup to meet hers.
Those eyes gleamed with the emotions they held in check, and the shine of them seemed to cut with their intent. Ren found herself leaning forward.
“You don’t know how much I never wanted that—any of it—to break with her, to hurt her, but it kept her safe.” Samantha’s voice was low and harsh, a vehement whisper of a growl. “You don’t know why she broke off with Nina. You don’t know howshe lived, you don’t know why she did it, and you don’t know—” She turned her head away, the words seemingly caught in her throat as she breathed around them.
The coffee sat neglected on the table and the waitress who approached hesitated when once again Samantha faced Ren. The visage that confronted Ren made the chill that had raced across her shoulders earlier grab a firm hold. Samantha’s face was stone, stone broken only by the flow of a single tear down her cheek. She made no move to brush it away, and she made no sound. She barely breathed.
Samantha’s broken stoicism turned chill to fear in Ren. But Ren was no stranger to fear, so she embraced it and let it flow through her while tears continued to silently fall from Samantha’s eyes.
Ren took a deep breath and let it out in a controlled flow as she reached out and lightly rested her fingertips on Samantha’s fist where it lay on the table. Her decision made, she said the only thing she could.
“How can I help?”
***
It was the last thing I expected, especially at six in the morning, eastern standard, which meant it was three a.m. in California. The timing didn’t bother me, either; I’d already been up for an hour, and that was a habit everyone was aware of. It was just that I thought the first discussion I would have with any of them might be about how the initial events had gone, a joke about some of the people they were dealing with, and even though I winced to think of it, maybe even a complaint about the sleeping arrangements.
I definitely did not expect a request for the itinerary over the next six months, any copies that could be obtained from the home label of their HR policies and benefits, and a double-check of their passports. And especially not at that hour.
“No problema, Sam,” I promised, and began to tally the items I needed, and the number of calls I’d have to make as I quickly jotted down the essentials. It definitely seemed like today was going to be one of thosedays. “I’ll get that all together and to you. Bear will have it when he gets there at”—I took a quick second to dredge up his itinerary and calculate—“uh, four in the afternoon, your time. If you think of anything else while he’s traveling, I’ll have it faxed or overnighted.”
Her voice was rough as she thanked me again. Damn, but she needed to sleep. There were two more nights of full performances and I knew how important they were.
“It’s all right—don’t worry about it. Just make sure you both get some rest so you can knock ‘em dead later,” I told her through her apology for the hour and the thanks. “Oh, and keep me posted on how the deal’s going,” I reminded her before we clicked off.
I took a quick gulp of the coffee I’d poured while balancing the phone and a pencil, then dialed Bear.
“Is it a new label yet?” he asked. From his tone, I guessed he was halfway through his first cup of caffeine.
“Good morning to you too, and I don’t know yet. I think we’re still in labor. But dude, Samantha just called and I need you to get to the office as soon as you possibly can. There’s a bunch of stuff Sam asked for that’s got to go with you. I’ll explain when you get there, and I’ll get you to the airport on time.”
A muffled crash followed by a not-quite-as-muffled curse sounded in my ear. “I’ll see you in twenty. Everything okay?” he asked, his voice and mind now definitely wide awake. “What’s going on? Do you think—”
“I’ve no idea,” I interrupted, as anxious as he was and impatient to get started, “but something big’s on the move.”
I offered to bring more coffee, he promised to help me make phone calls, and I knew in between, we’d both speculate a little about what we did know and worry a lot more about what we didn’t.
As I swept my keys off the table and grabbed my jacket where it hung by the door, I wondered what I’d helped set in motion and sincerely hoped it hadn’t been a mistake.
***
“Thank you, Isamu,” Samantha said to the slender man who accompanied her and saw her securely into the elevator when she left Ren’s room. He nodded silently as the doors closed, and she pressed the button for her floor.
This can work, this can work well, Samantha reflected as the car rose through the building. She was tired, but for the first time since she and Nina had walked into Fran’s apartment those weeks ago, she felt calm. There was a plan, there were possibilities, there was hope, and she had Ren to thank for opening that door.
She had no doubts as to Stephie’s ability to find what they would need to help make this happen. All Samantha had to do was present these ideas to the women she hoped were safely ensconced in the room they shared. She wondered about them when the doors opened, depositing her on her floor.
She was careful as she stepped over the elevator’s metal edge, not wanting to cut her bare feet, and the carpet scratched at them as she walked down the corridor. She pursed her lips as she deliberated. She highly doubted Fran and Nina had gone beyond a talking stage…or if they even got past anything but the past itself. She paused by the door to pull her key card out of her pocket, then shook her head ruefully as she unlocked the door. The answer’s so simple, Nina, Samantha thought as she walked in, half afraid and half hopeful of what she’d find.
The low light by the bedside was on in exactly the same way it had been when she’d left the room moments behind Nina, and the mirror, that mirror that had caught and captured them all so clearly earlier, now reflected only the low light and the silent still forms on the bed.
Samantha stepped forward quietly and gazed down at the reality before her. Nina was propped up against the headboard; Fran’s head rested just in the hollow of her shoulder. In their sleep they held each other closely, legs and hands entwined, and while Fran’s cheek had found the soft warm skin in the Vof the robe, Nina’s lips rested a breath away from Fran’s brow.
The sweet vulnerability of their repose made Samantha’s breath catch as she filled with the weight and the warmth of how she so very much loved each of them. That love further gentled her eyes, manifested itself as tenderness in her fingertips when she stroked, oh so lightly, through Fran’s hair and touched her lips to Nina’s. Long lashes flickered sleepily open and Nina gave her an equally sleepy smile. “Hey, baby,” she whispered and attempted to adjust.
“Shhh…stay there,” Samantha quieted, then kissed her again. “Go back to sleep. Tomorrow’s a really big day.”
“All right,” Nina returned. “Are you okay?” The gaze she held on Samantha was as smoky as it was tired, and Samantha smiled as she removed her jeans.
“I’m fine—you? Is she?” She eased into bed beside Nina and took a moment to get comfortable, then slipped an arm over Nina’s waist and rested her hand over their interlaced fingers.
“For now, I think.” The look Nina gave her was troubled and sad and as tired as Samantha was. The rigid control she kept herself locked down with had eroded.
Sadness crept back through Samantha, sadness for the rift that had sprung between them and between Nina and Fran, as well as for the dark possibility that loomed in their combined future.
“I love you,” Nina whispered, her voice tight, intense, her eyes full. “You know that, right?” Emotion warmed Nina’s skin, floated over her, was a flow Samantha could feel.
Samantha tightened her hold. Except for when they made love, the rapport between Samantha and Nina had suffered since they’d walked into Fran’s apartment those weeks ago. But for the first time since, the connect was solid and strong.
“I love you,” she whispered back just as intently, her gaze focused on the beautiful blue eyes that swam before hers. “And I neverdoubt that…I never doubt you.” They shared another kiss as the gaps between them reduced to nothing. “You shouldn’t either.”
“I’m…Sam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”
“Don’t apologize. You did the right thing,” Samantha assured her. “We’ll get this all sorted out…I promise.” She kissed Nina once more, sealing her intent. “Please, love…sleep.”
I don’t want to be your reason for holding back, Samantha thought as they snuggled in closer. And I don’t want to push you into anything, especially something you’re not ready for, or that you don’t truly want.
Whatever happened next—even Samantha’s proposal—would hinge on Nina’s decision, and, in the end, it could be Nina’s decision only. But it had become increasingly, even painfully, clear that Nina wasn’t truly aware of all the choices she had. The not knowing was tearing her, tearing all of them, apart. That Fran had decisions to make as well didn’t enter into Samantha’s musings. For a very long time, she and Fran, her Frankie, had been very clear about their feelings for each other, what they would and wouldn’t do about them, as well as what they would do about Fran’s feelings for Nina.