by Ronica Black
“No,” Johnnie said. “Silence.”
“Skittles?” she asked with a smile.
“No, thanks.” Johnnie wiggled her bag of Gummy Life Savers.
Monica watched her curiously. “Those any good?”
Johnnie looked at her like she was crazy. “Um, yeah. Where have you been?”
Monica laughed. “I guess I’m not in the loop.”
“Not in the loop? You’re on a different planet.” Johnnie handed over a few and watched with amusement as she ate them.
“Mm, yeah okay, I’ve been on a different planet.”
“Told you.”
“It’s not my fault. I don’t do sugar.”
“Suuure,” Johnnie said. She chewed on the chewy burst of flavor and pushed away the memories that were trying to come. She and Jolene had often lived off Thirst Busters and snack goods from convenience stores. The big foam cups kept drinks cooler in the hot months, and if you found a nice manager, they’d let you refill for free. Some even gave them expired goods like chips and crackers. For as many bad people as there were in the world, there were just as many good. And learning that had surprised her.
“You okay?” Monica asked.
“Hmm?” Johnnie turned and found her looking at her softly. “Yeah, just memories is all.”
“Did Gail bring you here or something?”
“No.” Johnnie laughed. “This would so not be a Gail thing.”
“Why? She doesn’t like Gummy Life Savers?”
“No, she just isn’t romantic. Or thoughtful.”
“Ah.”
“She doesn’t like to sit still.”
“God, I love sitting still,” Monica said. “It’s so nice.”
They both stared out the windshield. “With your job I can imagine.”
“Mm, yes.”
“What are you thinking?” Johnnie asked.
Monica laughed. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Try me.”
She sighed. “I’m thinking about the Zodiac killer and how this probably isn’t very safe.”
Johnnie laughed and blushed profusely. “I actually thought about that too.”
“No way.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you think about that?” Monica asked.
Johnnie shrugged. “Because I worry about crazy shit like that.”
“I do too, but I’m a cop. What’s your excuse?” She was laughing hard too.
“I’m just crazy.”
“Did you scope the place like I did when we pulled in?”
Johnnie nodded, mouth full of soda.
“And I’ve been checking the mirrors.”
Monica cracked up.
Johnnie wanted to tell her why. That when you live on the streets you become obsessive about people and their behavior and actions. You have to anticipate anything and everything. It was probably very similar to how Monica felt while on the job.
“I’m a bit of a crime buff,” Johnnie said.
Monica looked intrigued. “Really? Who woulda thought?”
Johnnie shrugged. “I’m full of surprises.” She looked at her seriously. “What do you know about me, Monica?”
Monica wrung her hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. That you’re kind, compassionate, talented. I know you have an anxiety disorder, and it’s sometimes hard for you to get out.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
This time she shrugged. “No. Should it?”
“It’s an issue for a lot of people. They think I’m crazy with a house stacked full of newspapers and cats.”
“I think that would be a hoarder,” she said with a laugh.
“Yes, but they tend to loop us all together when assuming.”
“I see.” She chewed on some Skittles and then reached for Johnnie’s hand. “I know a lot about you, Johnnie. And you’re okay by me.”
Johnnie got lost in her eyes for a moment. She felt something stirring in the pit of her stomach. She’d spent weeks feeling so aroused, so turned on by the woman, it was a miracle she could walk upright without climaxing in her jeans. Even so, she recognized the desire for release for what it was. And she remembered she’d made a vow to harness that energy and put it to good use.
“I’d better get home,” she said softly.
Monica leaned in, inches from her. “Okay.” Gently, she placed a soft, warm kiss on her lips. Johnnie returned it, too curious not to. When they pulled apart she felt lightheaded. Her mouth tasted like what she’d imagine colors to taste like.
“I just wanted to give you something to think about tonight.” Monica brushed her cheek with the backs of her fingers. Then she straightened, adjusted her seat, and started the engine. Johnnie fixed her seat and refastened her seat belt. They drove to her house in silence, though Monica often reached over and squeezed her hand with a sincere smile.
When they reached Johnnie’s loft, Johnnie turned to her and held her forearm. She liked the strength she felt there. It caused more stirring. “I think I have a sugar high,” she said.
Monica laughed. “I know I do.”
“Thanks for tonight,” Johnnie said. “For, you know, getting me out of there.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“You’re really a great person, Monica.”
“You sound surprised.”
“No, just aware.”
Monica smiled. “Go on in,” she said. “Flash your lights when you’re in safe.”
Johnnie leaned in and kissed her cheek. They parted slowly, breathing heavy. “Night.”
“Good night.”
Johnnie closed the door behind her and hurried up to her loft. When she got inside, she flashed her kitchen light and smiled. She checked her phone, absolutely sure she would find that Gail had tried to call. But to her surprise she found only a text from Eddie, wishing her a good night with a hashtag party girl followed by a smiley face.
She plugged the phone in to charge and turned when she heard a knock on her door. She grinned, despite herself, knowing it was Monica. She couldn’t deny that there had been a little chemistry between them.
She pulled open the heavy door and froze.
“Hey, baby,” Gail said, leaning against the frame. She sank her hands into her loose jeans, showing off a red G-string riding her hips. Johnnie couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Johnnie blinked quickly, and her hand gripped the door so tight it hurt. And then, without rational thought or hesitation, she stepped aside and let her in, closing the door behind them.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Elaine tossed and turned, the bamboo sheets cool against her bare skin. She stared up at her ceiling fan, mesmerized by the shadows of the blades. She turned on her side and hugged her body pillow, the one she’d slept with since she’d lost Barb. She hugged it close with her knee propped up on it and arm pulling it tight. When she’d first lost Barb, she’d put one of her nightshirts on it and inhaled her scent every night. But eventually, the scent had faded and she was left with just a pillow. The smell of the closet had diminished as well, and it was useless to clear out the shoes and lie inside the closet with the door closed. The soothing high of doing so had long since vanished, mixing with the fresh air of the house.
If she somehow could’ve bottled it. Bottled Barb. But how do you capture a soul, an aura, a truly free spirit? Sure she had her perfume, and often times that still hit her with a quick kick to the gut as she walked past someone who wore it. But it wasn’t Barb. It was only a piece. She wanted the perfume mingled with Barb’s moist skin, the scent of her hair at the base of her neck, the taste of the impression just above her collarbone first thing in the morning. She missed how she heated when she slept, like a human radiator all wrapped up in her covers. Elaine had often awakened cold and coverless only to find that Barb had wrapped them all around herself, cocoon like. She’d never tried to get them back or to wake her. She’d simply risen and r
etrieved more, loving the sound of Barb’s steady breath more soothing to her than worrying about the stolen covers. Barb slept like the dead, and she was the only one Elaine had ever been with who fell asleep as soon as she hit the pillow.
Barb had no worries or racing thoughts keeping her awake at night. Barb lived hard and fearless, free and happy. She didn’t believe in drama, and she simply walked away from it when faced with it. She’d take Elaine by the hand and say, “Let’s blow this pop stand, El.” And off they’d go, leaving a person standing there mouth agape. Elaine recalled leaving more than one party and even moving because Barb didn’t like the drama. And as the years went by, they’d had to deal with less and less. It had become more and more common for two women to live together. Men, for the most part, left them alone. And even if they didn’t, Barb set it right and Elaine felt good, safe.
Elaine turned again and saw that it was after eleven. She was going on day three with very little sleep. Insomnia wasn’t new to her, but it had been a while since it had reared its ugly head. She rose and slipped into her robe. She made her way down the hallway without needing light. In the kitchen she made a cup of Chai tea and settled into the sofa in the living room. She lit the candle on the table next to her and turned on the stereo. She decided to let the iPod choose on its own, and when Led Zeppelin came on she laughed and then choked up with tears. She could still see Barb dancing in the kitchen, headphones on, using the mop handle as a microphone. Barb loved to jam out and clean, jam out and drink, or jam out and get it on. She loved music and loved to dance. She’d always catch Elaine watching her, and she’d grin and pull her in and hold her as she moved.
“Come on, darling. Shake what your momma gave ya.”
Elaine wiped her tears and laughed. She could almost see her now. Hear her. Feel her. God, what she wouldn’t give to hold her close and move to the music. What she wouldn’t give to see her dancing with the broom or sashaying down the hallway.
Elaine thumbed up the volume as Steppenwolf came on, and she laughed and cried as she remembered being awakened on more than one Saturday morning to the loud music. Of course she’d groaned and called out and buried her head under the pillows, but Barb always found her, crawling under the covers and nibbling and tickling her awake. She’d tug her from bed and lead her down the hallway to a hot cup of coffee and homemade pancakes.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she’d say. “Don’t waste it in dreamland.”
Elaine sipped her tea as the words replayed in her mind. “Don’t waste it in dreamland.”
She closed her eyes, so tired. But her mind wouldn’t let her rest. No, it wanted to torture her with the past. Replay image after image of Barb. But the worst part, the very worst, was that Barb’s face was becoming less defined. No matter how hard she focused, she couldn’t see her face as it had been in life. So she clung to the photo, stared at it for hours, trying desperately to imprint it in her mind for all eternity. But it didn’t seem to help. Her memories were firm, yes, but Barb’s face, her smile, were becoming smudged.
She traced Barb’s photo with her fingertip. It was black-and-white, the only kind of photo Elaine ever took. Barb was on the beach, turning to look back at her, wind whipping at her hair. Her light shone from her eyes, radiated from her smile. Elaine could feel her heat, her passion for life; she could feel it coming up through the glass of the frame.
How could she be gone but still feel so close?
Elaine touched her face and then jerked as she heard a soft knock from her door.
She wiped her eyes, placed the photo on the couch, and approached the door. As she touched the handle, her eyes drifted closed, and she wished silently for Johnnie to be on the other end. She longed to be held in her arms. To fall asleep and dream peacefully like she used to do with Barb.
She checked the peephole and sighed. She unbolted the door and opened it. Kyle stood just beyond the security screen.
“I thought you might be up,” she said. “Thought you might want some company.”
Elaine tightened her robe, considering her options. She knew she’d be up for hours, no doubt crying over Barb. And when she wasn’t thinking about Barb, she was thinking about Johnnie.
“Come in.” She unlocked the outer door and allowed her entry. Kyle was in cargo shorts and a T-shirt. Her cologne was strong but tantalizing. Her damp hair suggested a fresh shower.
Elaine closed and locked the door. She motioned for Kyle to sit next to her on the couch. Kyle studied her closely, and Elaine felt slightly uncomfortable. She rubbed the back of her neck with nerves. She wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable. Perhaps this was a mistake.
“How have you been?” Kyle asked.
Elaine sipped her tea and straightened her spine. “Fine and you?”
“Good. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Elaine gripped her tea mug. “I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. You know there will never be anything between us.”
Kyle shifted. “Sure, I know that. But it doesn’t mean I can’t think about it.”
Elaine met her gaze. “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
Kyle nodded and rested her hand on her cheek as she leaned against the armrest.
“I get it.”
“Then why did you come?”
She laughed a little. “Why did you let me in?”
Elaine set her mug down. “I can’t sleep.”
“Maybe I can help.”
Elaine smiled at her confidence. “I don’t think so.”
“Then what did you have in mind?”
Elaine stood, realizing it was a mistake to let her in, lead her on. “I think I can sleep after all.”
She felt lightheaded and steadied herself on the couch. Kyle stood and came to her side.
“Are you okay?” Her eyes showed concern, and from the look on her face, Elaine knew she must look really bad.
“I just need to lie down I think.” But her knees went weak, and Kyle caught her.
“You’re not okay.” She sat her down on the couch. She retrieved her phone and dialed. “I’m calling nine one one.”
“No, no.” Elaine tried to smile and she touched her arm. “No need to worry.”
“Too late,” Kyle said, reporting the situation to the operator.
Elaine blinked and tried to focus, but stared off into oblivion. Her mouth went slack, her muscles melted, and she couldn’t make out the words Kyle was saying.
“Johnnie,” Elaine said, fighting to hold her head up. “Call Johnnie. I want Johnnie.”
She fell back against the couch, saw Barb’s perfect face above her, smiled, and let the blackness take her.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“You look good, babe, really good,” Gail said, crossing her legs on the sofa across from Johnnie. She had on short khakis and a see-through threadbare tank. Her skin was golden brown and moist looking. She’d been somewhere recently. Johnnie knew it was probably Mexico, maybe Central America. Gail did love to travel. And she loved to show off her fluent Spanish.
“You look…tan.” She wasn’t going to tell her she looked good, even if she thought it. She wasn’t going to give in. The only reason she’d let her in was because she said she’d had no place to crash for the night, which wasn’t unusual for Gail, vagabond that she was. And Johnnie couldn’t put anyone on the street. Not anyone. Gail, of course, knew this, and she’d played it to her cause many a time. But this time would be different. She could hear Eddie in her ear and now Monica.
“I’m seeing someone,” she blurted out.
Gail looked amused, even smiled a little. “Really?”
“Yes.” Johnnie sat straighter, trying to better play the part.
“Would that be Monica? The one I heard drive away in that obnoxious Charger?”
Johnnie did her best to hide her surprise. “No.”
“Then who?”
“You don’t know her.”
She grew exc
ited, knowing she was lying about dating her practitioner, but it felt good to say it out loud.
“Does she have a name?”
Johnnie smiled. “Not one you need to know.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Johnnie. You don’t date.”
“I do now.”
She looked upset, and Johnnie knew it was wrong, but she felt like she’d scored a little victory.
She rose. “You can have the couch.” She tossed her a pillow and brought over a blanket. And I assume you have somewhere to go tomorrow?”
Gail fingered the blanket as if it held memories of sadness. “I actually don’t. Not yet.”
Johnnie sighed. How long could she hold out? Gail could play the guilt strings of her heart so damn well. Johnnie always felt for her. Fell for her. Despite what she did to her.
But Johnnie knew what she wanted now. And it wasn’t Gail and her games. Even if her practitioner was a relationship based on arousal, performance, and inner awakening, it still had changed her view on love, on what was out there. It gave her hope.
“Does she know about your past, this new love?”
Johnnie stopped, considered squaring off with her, but then changed her mind. It wasn’t worth it.
“Does she make you come like I do? Do you scream her name?”
Johnnie made her way to her bed. She sat and removed her shoes and then slid off her shirt and bra and unbuckled the brown belt to her worn jeans. She was sliding out of them when she felt soft hands on her back. She flinched at first but then relaxed. Gail always knew just how to touch her. She was massaging her now, and Johnnie nearly groaned. Her body took over and melted in her hands.
“She doesn’t touch you like this, does she?”
Johnnie’s eyes drifted closed. She stepped from her jeans and fell to the bed. Gail was nude behind her, very small bikini line showing. She crawled atop her. “I know you missed me.” She took Johnnie’s hands and placed them on her tiny breasts. The thick nipples were erect, teasing Johnnie’s palms.
Johnnie felt herself grow wet with desire. She could make Gail come, slip her fingers up deep inside, and let her ride them until she fell over after a few orgasms. Then she could hold her down and suck her pink flesh until she begged her to stop, yanking at her hair, scratching at her shoulders. Then she could turn her over, bite her on the ass, and fuck her from behind, lick her spine, twist her hand so her knuckles hit her G-spot just right, and cause her to whip her head back and scream until she went hoarse.