The Lonely Hearts Club

by Radclyffe

  “Just a minute,” Bren said, and quickly left the room.

  “What did I miss?” Candace asked immediately.

  “Last night while you were…doing whatever you were doing at the bar—”

  “Okay, okay. I got that you didn’t approve of me getting a little action.”

  “If I disapproved of you getting a little action, we would have stopped speaking years ago.”

  “When are you going to forgive me for that?” Candace said quietly.

  Liz stopped short. “I have.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Liz hesitated. Hadn’t she?

  *

  “Okay,” Bren said, walking into the room with her hands behind her back. On the ride home from the Blue Diamond, she had realized she was going to have to explain more than just a date to her friends. Even if she never saw Jae again, Liz had seen them together, and she’d hinted earlier that she suspected Bren was hiding something. Her secret life hadn’t seemed quite so important before, not when she could keep her writing tucked away in a separate corner of her world. But last night, something unexpected had happened. The boundaries had rippled, then cracked, and one reality had bled into another. She held out a book to each of them. “Here.”

  Both Liz and Candace looked surprised as they took the offering.

  “Oh my God,” Candace exclaimed. “It’s the newest Melanie Richards. It’s not supposed to be out until next month. How did you get this?”

  “Mine’s signed to me,” Liz said as she flipped through the pages.

  “Mine too!” Candace jumped down from her stool and threw her arms around Bren. “Thank you. Thank you! Aren’t you supposed to be the one getting presents on your birthday? Did you go to a signing? Did you meet her? What was she like? Is she hot?”

  “I didn’t go to a signing,” Bren replied, thinking that her publicist would be delighted if she finally decided to come out of the virtual closet. She pushed that thought away, not quite ready to have her life that integrated. “These are author’s copies.”

  “Author’s copies.” Candace nodded knowingly. “That’s how you got them early. Did you buy them on her website? I’ve never seen anything about that on there.”

  “Candace,” Liz said quietly, turning the book over and over in her hands. “Author’s copies are what they give to the author before the book comes out.”

  “Well I know that. I just said—” Candace stopped abruptly and frowned, her gaze dancing between Liz and Bren. “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m Melanie Richards,” Bren said.

  “No,” Liz and Candace said.

  Bren nodded.

  “That’s amazing,” Liz said, half laughing.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Candace exploded. She dropped her book on the counter and made a grab for Bren, who jumped backward with both arms out in front of herself.

  “No! No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Bren ran into the living room with Candace close behind.

  “Not half as sorry as you’re going to be when I catch you,” Candace screamed, chasing Bren around the sofa. Bren jumped onto the seat and then over the back to escape.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Candace ran around the end of the sofa and tore after Bren.

  “It just happened!” Bren raced into the kitchen and grabbed a chair, holding it up in front of her. “No tickling.”

  “I’m not going to tickle you. I’m going to strangle you,” Candace growled, shifting from side to side and trying to reach around the chair.

  “Candace,” Liz called, “if you kill her, we won’t know what happens to Jae.”

  “I’ll make her tell me before I kill her,” Candace swore, but she was starting to laugh.

  “Please, please,” Bren gasped, tiring from evading Candace and holding up the chair. “It won’t do any good to torture me. I don’t know what’s going to happen to her!”

  Candace stopped dead. “What do you mean you don’t know? Are you the author or not?”

  Bren put the chair down gratefully. “Yes. Yes, but I don’t write that way. I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen until I write it.”

  “Well then what good does it do having a best friend who’s Melanie Richards?” Candace sagged onto her stool with a pout.

  “None,” Bren said quickly. “So it really doesn’t matter that you didn’t know.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Liz asked. “Didn’t you trust us?”

  The room was suddenly completely quiet, and Bren struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t hurt the two people she loved the most in the world.

  “Even when we were all in school together, you both always seemed so clear about who you were and what you wanted,” Bren said. “I was never sure. I’m still not sure.”

  Candace snorted. “You think I am?”

  “Look at me,” Liz said ruefully.

  “Well, I guess it seemed to me that I was the only one who didn’t understand what I felt. Not until I started writing. By the time I realized what a big part of my life my writing had become, I was just used to keeping it a secret.”

  “Years! You’ve been writing these books for years and you didn’t tell us,” Candace screamed.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I love your books,” Liz said, wrapping her arms around Bren. “And I love you. I’m sorry if I made you feel you couldn’t tell me something.”

  Bren blinked back tears. “No. It wasn’t you.” She looked at Candace over Liz’s shoulder. “Or you either. It was me. It just took me a long time to figure out that I was more me in my books than anywhere else.”

  “So,” Candace said contemplatively. “Are you telling us that you’re Jae?”

  Bren smiled, feeling the pieces of her world, of herself, slide effortlessly together. “No, I’m Jae’s Mistress.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Did you find the aspirin?” Reilly asked when she walked into her apartment and saw Parker slumped in one corner of the sofa, her face pasty except for the lingering bruises. Parker’s hair was wet and she was wearing the T-shirt and shorts Reilly had left on the coffee table for her, so she’d managed to find the shower.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Parker said, her voice raspy.

  “Want to try something to eat?”

  “Cyanide?”

  Reilly laughed. “How about a toasted bagel and…I might have milk.”

  Parker groaned. “Coffee. I haven’t drunk milk since I was twelve.”

  “I’ll put something together.”

  “Need any help?”

  “No,” Reilly said as she crossed the small, spartan living room to her galley kitchen. “I don’t think you’re up for it just yet.”

  “Thanks,” Parker called weakly.

  The narrow kitchen was a little small for two to work in, and Reilly didn’t want company at the moment, anyway. She was still trying to sort out her feelings about running into Julia at Liz’s apartment. Julia seemed so confident and so much at home, and her proprietary air toward Liz rankled. Not that Reilly had any right to feel that way. And besides, maybe having Julia there was just what Liz wanted. And needed.

  Sighing, she sliced bagels and put them in the toaster oven. Then she pushed the on button on the coffeemaker and pulled cups out of the cabinet above the Formica counter.

  “Something I did?” Parker said from behind her.

  Reilly turned. “Come again?”

  “You’re banging the cabinet doors hard enough to shake the building.”

  “Oh.” Reilly ran her hands through her hair and let out a breath. “Sorry. Probably doesn’t make your head feel too good.”

  “Can’t make it any worse.” Parker pulled over a wooden stool that Reilly kept tucked under the counter and sat down with her back propped against the wall. “I don’t remember much of the ride home. And I have no idea how you got me up here.”

  Reilly grinned. “You walked.”

  “Did I?” Parker looked impressed. “Did I, uh,
manage any other feats of physical prowess?”

  “Other than grabbing my ass?”

  Parker leaned her head back against the wall and groaned. “I was afraid of that. Sorry.”

  “No problem. I haven’t been groped in quite a while.”

  “Please,” Parker pleaded. “Tell me I didn’t act like some frat boy at a pledge party.”

  “You were fine.” Taking pity on her, Reilly poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “Here. You want cream?”

  “This is good. I’ll apologize now for everything I did. Whatever it was.”

  “Nothing to worry about.” Reilly hoisted herself up on the counter and sipped her coffee. “When you weren’t complaining about Candace, you were trying to talk me into bed. But talk was pretty much as far as it went.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You mean you were lying when you said you wanted to—”

  “No,” Parker moaned, holding up a hand. “Don’t tell me.”

  “All right. I’ll just cherish the thought forever.”

  Parker laughed and then moaned again. “Oh, that hurts.”

  “My fault,” Reilly said. “I should’ve kept an eye on how much you had to drink.”

  “Not your responsibility.”

  “Maybe not, but that’s what friends do, right? And besides, I know you’ve been taking pain pills all week. I’m not surprised the alcohol packed a double punch.”

  “Well, you got me home in one piece. And I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” Reilly jumped down when the timer on the toaster oven went off and pulled the bagels out. She buttered both and passed one over to Parker. “I know you don’t want this, but you need it.”

  “Thanks.” Parker traded her coffee cup for the bagel, and Reilly set the empty cup aside.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Parker said, “So if you weren’t pissed off at me this morning, what had you so worked up?”

  Reilly shook her head. “Just tilting at windmills.”

  “Ah. Something to do with a woman.”

  “How did you know?”

  Parker shrugged, balancing her empty plate on her knee. “Are there any other kind of windmills that matter?”

  Reilly chuckled. “I guess not.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “No. Thanks.” Reilly didn’t want to reveal anything about Liz’s personal situation, and what could she say? That she liked Liz, a lot—more than liked her—but they couldn’t have met under more complicated circumstances, for either of them. That she’d followed her impulses and dropped in on Liz only to run into her lover. No, there was nowhere good to take that conversation.

  “You know, as nice as your ass might be,” Parker said, “I was kind of hoping to wake up in Candace’s bed this morning.”

  “Something going on there?” Reilly asked, glad for the change in conversation. Talking with Parker kept her from imagining what Liz and Julia might be doing.

  “Not really,” Parker replied with studied casualness. “We’ve had a couple of pleasant…encounters. But she’s a free agent.”

  “I sort of got the sense that you liked an open field, too.”

  “Yeah, well. When you’re working eighty hours a week, it’s tough to do much more than grab a few hours of fun wherever and whenever you can get it. It’s simpler not to make too much out of it.”

  Reilly nodded. She understood the working part, and how easy it was to use that as an excuse not to reach out, not to connect to anyone. She hadn’t meant to connect with Liz. It had happened so effortlessly she hadn’t even noticed. She wasn’t even sure when it had happened. She could see herself lying flat on her back in the hospital lobby with Liz leaning over her, amusement and concern in her warm green eyes, and she remembered feeling pulled in and never wanting to leave.

  “Did you ever find yourself stopping,” Reilly mused, “in the middle of a sentence, or maybe in the middle of a kiss, and realizing that it wasn’t enough. The words, the kiss, whatever it was you were doing—it wasn’t enough to get you as close as you wanted to get?”

  Parker stared at her. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know exactly what you mean, and it scares the hell out of me.”

  “Me too,” Reilly said.

  *

  “Oh no,” Candace said when Liz came down from the second floor, having changed into the clothes she had worn the night before. “You’re not going anywhere yet. I want the details about Bren’s mystery woman.”

  “I told you,” Bren said, “I don’t have any details. Nothing happened.”

  “That’s not what Liz said.”

  “Me?” Liz exclaimed. “I didn’t say anything.” She shot Bren a sly look. “Although I did get an eyeful.”

  “See!” Candace put her hands on her hips. “There is something I don’t know.” She pointed her finger at Bren. “You. Tell.”

  “All right,” Bren said, examining Liz with concern. “Are you okay? You’re a little pale.”

  “I think last night is catching up to me,” Liz said ruefully. “I can’t party like I used to.”

  “Come on,” Candace said, taking Liz’s hand. “Let’s sit outside on the deck. It’s shady out there. Bren, bring her something to drink.”

  “I’m okay,” Liz protested, but she allowed Candace to lead her outside. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and she did feel more tired than usual, but she was beginning to accept that she wasn’t going to feel like herself again for six months. She settled down into the Adirondack deck chair and put her feet on the small wooden stool that went with it. Bren handed her a glass of sparkling water. “Thanks.”

  Candace perched on a stool next to Liz’s feet and put one hand casually on Liz’s ankle. Then she fixed Bren with a stern glare. “Tell.”

  Bren leaned against the wood railing and studied her hands, trying to think of how to explain to her friends what she hadn’t been able to explain to herself. Sometimes, when she was wordless like this, she found it hard to believe she was actually a professional writer. She sighed. “She emailed me about my books.”

  “So did thousands of other readers,” Candace pointed out. “I know. I have your website bookmarked, you sneaky bitch. I read your blogs. I can’t believe I didn’t know it was you.”

  Bren tried not to grin.

  “If you laugh, I’m pushing you over that railing,” Candace threatened.

  “Okay. Okay. I won’t laugh,” Bren said, laughing. “And I do get a lot of email—you’re right.”

  “But something about her was different,” Liz suggested.

  “Yes. She recognized what I was doing with Jae—the direction I was taking her character. She knew it almost before I did.”

  “I could’ve told you that Jae was looking for a dominant lover,” Candace said, smiling smugly. “Us take charge girls are kind of popular.”

  Bren regarded Candace with interest. “Is that how you see yourself? A femme top?”

  Candace ran her fingers absently up and down Liz’s lower leg, her expression contemplative. “I never thought about it quite that way, but I know I like to be in charge in bed—most of the time. So what do you think? Do I qualify?”

  “There aren’t any absolutes, you know,” Bren said. “No clearly definable sexual types. All you have to do is look at a roomful of lesbians to tell how different we all are. But there are some similarities, some common desires, that distinguish us as well.”

  Liz tilted her head back and watched the deep blue sky, filled with white fluffy clouds, revolve slowly overhead. The air was hot and still. They had spent countless lazy afternoons, the three of them, just like this—sitting around debating sexual politics or philosophy or a hundred other things. It had never occurred to her that someday they might be discussing their own lives in the same way. “You always were the deep thinker.”

  Bren chuckled. “God, there’s not much thinking that goes into what attract
s us to someone, and what satisfies us in bed. Wherever those urges come from, I think they’re far deeper than anything we can tease out in a discussion.”

  “Let’s get back to the sex,” Candace said. “So Jae wants a woman to control her. I already told you I knew that.”

  “It’s more about how she wants to be controlled,” Bren said. “She wants to be controlled in every way—physically, emotionally, sexually. She wants to give up all of her control.”

  Candace studied Bren for a long moment. “Is that in the next book?”

  “Yes,” Bren said.

  “When?”

  “As soon as I get the damn thing written,” Bren exclaimed, exasperated and amused.

  “Candace, honey,” Liz murmured, “you’re doing that avoidance thing again.”

  “What avoidance thing?” Candace asked archly.

  “Where you talk about sex when you’re nervous about something else.”

  “I do not,” Candace stated adamantly.

  “Yes you do,” Bren and Liz affirmed.

  Candace pursed her lips and fell silent.

  “So Jae—what’s her real name, by the way,” Liz asked.

  “I don’t know,” Bren replied. “She told me it’s Jae, and that’s how I??ve been thinking of her.”

  “Kinky,” Candace interjected.

  Liz swatted Candace on the shoulder. “Shut up. Okay, so Jae recognized where you’re going with your character and that made her stand out in your mind. What else?”

  Bren averted her gaze and immediately knew they would pick up that now she was avoiding the answer. Before they could both call her on it, she sighed and said, “She understood that I wanted to be the one controlling her. Jae that is.”

  “Oooo, Brenda Louise, you are so bad,” Candace sighed.

  “And you thought we wouldn’t approve?” Liz asked. “That’s why you didn’t tell us?”

  “No!” Bren shook her head. “No. I didn’t quite get it myself until I started writing it in my books. And then I realized what I wanted and well, that’s it, really.”

  “And…that’s what she wants to give you?” Liz asked, clearly thinking out loud.

  Bren smiled. “Yes, that’s it exactly. That’s what she wants to give me.”