Heavenly Heirs

by Fox Brison

  The doors began beeping as we reached the platform, but we managed to jump in before they swished to a close. We weaved through the carriages, bumping and swaying like we’d already had a few, before finally finding two seats together and we collapsed, giggling like two schoolgirls. I was beginning to look forward to the night and willed the tube to hurry along.

  “I’m going to have to give up the cigs,” Jessie laughed as she struggled to catch her breath. “Mrs J and Ruth alright?” She asked as the train rattled through dark tunnels, the odd spark lighting their sooty walls briefly, before the darkness once again snuffed it out.

  “Yeah, they’re watching Brave with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of Malteasers, Badger curled up between them. Thanks for this, Jessie.”

  “For what?”

  “For dragging me out, I think it’s just what I needed.”

  “We should do it more often. You’re a fantastic mother to Ruth, Rache, but you are more than that. Lou wouldn’t have wanted you to give up your own life, you know that. You need to start thinking about yourself more.”

  “I know, I know,” I agreed. “I will. I promise.” It was an easy promise to make, but deep inside I wondered if it would be an easy promise to keep. Most vows were said in the heat of the moment, with good intentions to see them through, but life generally got in the way of honouring them.

  We arrived at the Angel at just before eight o’clock, Jessie complaining about how uncool it was to get anywhere before nine thirty at the earliest, but I knew once we were inside and she had her first pint in hand she’d stop bitching, so I ignored it. I gave my coat over to the cloakroom attendant and tucked the ticket safely away in my purse. I turned when Jessie’s wolf whistle practically burst my eardrum. “Christ, for someone apparently not on the pull,” her eyes raked me up and down in an appreciative manner, “you’ll be beating them off with a stick.” I hit her arm but I have to admit, I was feeling particularly good tonight.

  I loved the quiet ambience of the Angel before it was ruined by women seeking their ideal mate, or at least their ideal playmate. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it turned into a cattle market, but, well, it kinda did. Unfortunately us lesbians suffered when it came to hostelries explicitly catering to our needs, and usually we were relegated to a ladies night in one of the male gay bars dotting Soho, so the Angel was a rarity.

  And the women came in droves because of it.

  What was refreshing about the Angel was the lack of chrome, glass and neon. The music, an eclectic mix of pop, golden oldies and indie, was kept at a level so you weren’t hoarse for the next week after flirting with the woman sitting next to you. Not that I flirted much, I wasn’t very good at it and had discovered the mere mention of Ruth was as much of a turn off as nasal hair and gangrene.

  The parquet flooring throughout was highly polished, and a four deep chequer board tile, mirroring the long gentle curve of the dark wooden bar, meandered underneath several tall stools waiting patiently for warm bottoms to take their place on the crimson velvet tops. It was, I guess in my mind, a good old fashioned boozer, the type that was abundant in this area of the city for years before theme pubs and wine bars became the norm. It also catered to the more discerning clientele, or rather, the more mature clientele of which I now considered myself to be. At twenty-seven I was long from my dotage, but being a single mum added years of experience and wisdom.

  The landlord had attempted to decorate for Christmas, so there was mistletoe, tinsel garlands and white LED lights underlining the shelves holding bottles of coloured liquids and small shot glasses. The small dance floor in the back had glittery streamers strewn above it and a few sprigs of plastic holly decorated the DJ’s booth. It was… half-hearted at best, as if she only did it because people expected it, not because her spirit was filled with Christmas cheer. Not that it would bother any of her customers. They were here for an altogether different type of eye candy.

  I found a table with a good vantage point where I could indulge my favourite pastime, people watching, whilst Jessie went for the drinks. Ms Hottie’s overly generous tips from the last couple of days were practically financing our night. I honestly couldn’t work the woman out and believe me, I was spending an inordinate amount of time trying. Yes she wore Prada, but she was more ice queen than devil.

  Jessie took a long draught of her beer. I knew she was gearing up for something and I only hoped it wasn’t another push towards Tori. “I’m thinkin’ of doin’ a night class at the tech.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. Although Jessie and I spent hours together at the café, sometimes it was good to connect outside of work and I hadn’t realised until now how much I missed it. “What in?”

  “Veterinary nurse.” I proceeded to spit my drink everywhere. Thankfully it was vodka tonic not red wine. “What the hell, Rache?” Her stool scraped back as she quickly jumped up to avoid the spray flying in her direction. “It’s not that fuckin’ surprising, I did okay at school I’ll have you know.”

  “It’s not that,” I gasped, “you’ll never guess who’s just walked in!”

  “Who?” Jessie made to spin round but I quickly grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t make it too obvious,” I hissed. “It’s Ms Hottie.”

  I reached into my bag and gave Jessie my compact which she used as a rear view mirror. “Mmm, that tiny blonde one is gorgeous, I think I could fit her in my pocket. Please god make my day and let her name be Polly. Love the nose ring… amethyst. Ms Hottie has an even hotter, and by the looks of it, cooler, friend. The older one ain’t too bad either.” I raised my eyebrows; the woman was sixty-five if she was a day. “What? If it’s good enough for Sarah P, it’s good enough for me.”

  “She reminds me of someone…” I said, wrinkling my forehead as I tried to remember, “God, it’s on the tip… who is it… Mrs Hastings, that’s it. She was still at St Ursula’s when you went, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember her. She was very fond of punishing minor infractions. I bet she was a domme in her spare time. She probably had whips and chains in her handbag.”

  “Jessie!” I laughed, picturing the ultra-conservative Mrs Hastings in a leather cat suit and handcuffs. Ms Hottie must have sensed us gawking, because she turned and caught my eye. Even in casual clothes she was classy. She was wearing grey, super skinny jeans which made her long legs look like they went on forever, and an asymmetric top that brought out the tawny flecks in her eyes. Her auburn hair was loose and I hadn’t realised until I saw it caressing her shoulder blades, just how long and wavy it was. Not curly, like mine, no, but it owned several gentle kinks which were like waves lapping the shore on a summer’s day. As she started to make her way towards us I began to feel light-headed.

  “She’s coming over,” I said, a little giddily as I grabbed Jessie’s hand.

  “Rache?” she whispered, clearly amused, “Calm down. She won’t bite unless you really want her to.”

  “I’m not stalking you, honest,” Ms Hottie said with that awkward blush of hers, which was totally sweet. “My friend, Hannah,” she pointed at the smaller of the two women, “has been dying to check this place out. Can I buy you both a drink?”

  I now knew her friend’s name, but was still no further forward on uncovering hers. It was a little weird and the longer it went on, the weirder it became. But who am I kidding? Once her research was finished I couldn’t imagine her visiting Eli’s Café twice a day for a coffee and pastry. And as for making the Angel her local? As if. Not even if she does like me a little. Yeah I needed to get over myself. Large tips and a coincidental meeting did not a full blown love affair make.

  Full blown love… Where on earth did that come from?

  “No, we’re good,” I answered quickly before Jessie could take her arm off.

  “Maybe later?” She appeared disappointed by my refusal, but I could have been projecting my own feelings onto her.

  “Definitely later,” Jessie butted in and I saw her secretly eyeing up Hannah who was wat
ching from the bar. Great. If Jessie went into full flirt mode I’d end up third wheeling for the rest of the night.

  “That would be fab. I’m Devon by the way.”

  Devon. I liked the way her name rolled off my tongue and caressed my mind. Devon…

  Much better than Ms Hottie.

  And with a nod and a smile she returned to her friends just as Tori, Jessie’s gym buddy, entered. I turned and scowled, glad Devon had left. “I didn’t know she was coming, Rache, honest,” Jessie held her hands up in surrender and pleaded her innocence.

  And for once I believed her.

  ***

  Less than an hour later I was sorely regretting my choice of attire. Since she joined us Tori had yet to meet my eyes.

  My good mood had evaporated swifter than my third vodka tonic.

  I wanted to grab Tori’s head, lift it up and say, ‘hey my eyes are not down there.’ I was even more pissed off by her almost proprietary hand which kept finding my knee.

  I’d been watching Devon all night and she was clearly a hit with the full spectrum of the lesbian rainbow, from the femmes to bull dykes and every shade in between. I really wished I’d taken her up on her offer of a drink. Granted she could be slightly haughty, but anything would’ve been better than desperately trying to avoid Octopussy and her ninety seven hands. Every time I surreptitiously moved one, another took its place. Noticing my annoyance, Jessie flicked her head towards the bar.

  “Jessie, if you don’t swap places with me I’m gonna have to use my pepper spray.” I grimaced as I felt Tori’s eyes raking up and down my body. “I’ll be arrested for GBH, you’ll have to put the café up as collateral for bail, my baby will have to come and visit me in jail, and I’ll end up some butch’s bitch-”

  “I’m sorry,” Jessie held her hands up “I’ll-”

  “Good evening, again,” Ms Hottie’s interruption ‘arrested’ my rant. I didn’t realise just how close in proximity we were; if I had, I would’ve been less, well, dramatic, shall we say. “These are my friends Jane,” Jessie’s Holland Taylor look alike, “and Hannah.” Jessie’s Polly Pocket. I flushed. Assigning nicknames was a terrible habit Jessie and I had gotten into at the café. I was still thinking of Devon as Ms Hottie!

  “Rachel,” Jessie pointed to me, “and I’m Jessie.” She winked towards Hannah who raised her eyebrows in recognition of the less than subtle come on. Honestly, a caveman and club would have been more understated.

  “Now that we’ve been formally introduced, may I buy you that drink?” Devon asked

  “Oh-”

  “That would be nice, thanks,” Jessie was not to be denied this time. The blonde, Hannah, had definitely caught her eye, and possibly Jane too; I don’t think Jessie had a type except female and breathing.

  “Yes… thanks.” I agreed a little hesitantly.

  As soon as our drinks were served, Jessie cornered Hannah and Jane leaving Devon and I to our own devices. And as much as I hate to think it never mind say it, after a slightly awkward start to the conversation Ms Hottie made my blood sing rather than the usual boil that resulted when she cut me with her pomposity.

  “How can you not like Kiss Me?” She seemed shocked... no… appalled.

  “I do like it, but I prefer films with a bit of humour like But I’m a Cheerleader or Out at the Wedding.”

  “But hello? You have seen Frida, right?”

  “Oh I see, we’re talking about eye candy here, not content.” I was teasing and was rewarded for my efforts with ‘the look.’ I wonder what she looks like after making love? I mused. Shit. How many drinks have I had? Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts. “What would I know anyway? The only thing I watch these days is Sponge Bob. Ruth loves him.” Now all I have to do is sit back and watch her run for the hills. But she didn’t run anywhere, in fact, she displayed a pleasant interest.

  “So apart from working and your daughter, what else do you enjoy? Ultimate Wrestling perhaps?” I looked a little incredulous. “You avoided the grappling holds put on you by Octopussy over there like a pro.”

  OMG. We had given Tori the same name! Great minds thinking alike? More like fools seldom differing.

  Although in other and so much better news, it appeared Devon had been keeping an eye to me too. Good to know. Very good to know. “Oh yeah, I’ll be trying out next spring. Watch out for the Wrestling Waitress, all the way from Seven Sisters, London.” Devon chuckled, and making her laugh made me feel seven feet tall. I know I belaboured the point with Jessie, that hooking up with someone was the last thing on my mind, and one night stands definitely weren’t my style, but if Devon invited me back to her place?

  I’d go like a shot – and probably come like one too.

  Things were going great, beyond great and I was feeling brave. There was something that I’d been dying to ask ever since she ordered her first black coffee. “Devon?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you wear coloured contacts lenses?” She turned sharply and her shoulders tensed. “Hey,” I touched her arm, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

  “No, it’s fine. I used to wear c…contacts. My eyes can freak people out, you know? It was becoming a problem at work so I was advised to wear blue contacts. However, I got an eye infection and now the contacts irritate the conjunctiva when I wear them.”

  “Why on earth would you wear blue lenses? I think your eyes are stunning.” So that came out of nowhere. We both stared at each other, lost for words. Shit, I had really put my foot in it, and the easy conversation we’d been sharing suddenly stopped. “Do you want to dance?” I blurted out.

  “Yes!” she almost shouted the answer in relief. She took my hand and led me to the tiny dancefloor where about a dozen women were crammed gyrating to Lady Gaga, which suddenly changed to Adele’s cover of Make You Feel My Love.

  Oh now this isn’t awkward at all, our first dance is to one of the most romantic poems written by Bob Dylan. I caught Jessie slinking along the edge of the dance floor and scowled at her. “Explains everything,” I muttered.

  “Sorry?” Devon looked a little out of her element.

  “Nothing. Erm… we can go back if you want.” I said it softly, not really wanting her to answer. If she said no, I’d be gutted, yes and I think I might pee my pants.

  Devon continued onto the dancefloor, and I went with her. We stood for a heartbeat before my arms looped around her neck as her hands carefully travelled down my sides to come to a rest on my waist. We moved slowly to the husky tones of the song, my fingertips brushing the soft hair resting on her collar, her hands gripping a little tighter. There was nothing between us and I swear I could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

  Or maybe that was mine.

  Time slowed to a stop as we moved in perfect synchronicity and I became totally caught up in the moment. The bar blurred to a long exposure picture, neon trails behind the women walking in slow motion around the room. My lips were just about to taste hers when Jessie held my phone over Devon’s shoulder and I saw a flashing picture of Mrs Jessop.

  Give me a break, please. Just one little break.

  I grimaced and excused myself. Finger in my ear, I could barely hear Mrs Jessop. Damn. Ruth had an upset stomach and couldn’t settle. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go,” I said apologetically.

  “Is there a problem?” Ms Hottie leaned in closer so that I would hear her over the din, just about kissing my ear with her plump, soft lips. I’m sure she did it on purpose because the bar wasn’t that loud. Still the shivery tingle really hit the spot.

  “Yes, sort of. My daughter’s poorly and wants her mum. Jess, do you have my cloakroom ticket, I can’t find it.”

  Jessie dragged herself away from Hannah and Jane who she’d commandeered for the past hour. “Yeah, here it is, Wassup?”

  “Ruth’s ill, I’m heading out.”

  “Do you want me to see you home?” Devon asked.

  “No, it’s only two stops on the tube, but thanks anyway.�
�� There was a good chance I would jump her bones as soon as we were alone, and I really needed to get home to Ruth.

  “Yes, but what about when you get off the tube? It’s not exactly the b… best neighbourhood,” she argued.

  I bristled. I think I may have just been saved by the bell, or rather by Jingle Bells, the ringtone Ruth downloaded for Christmas. Anyway, who was I kidding? Devon wasn’t just a class above, she was Ivy League and I was night school at community college. We had absolutely nothing in common, well nothing except we liked the same plays and artists, and I was not about to become someone’s bit of rough, I had too much self-respect for that. “Devon, it may not be the best neighbourhood, as you put it, but it’s my neighbourhood. And granted, it’s not the Docklands or Knightsbridge, but it’s home.” I pulled on my coat and left, ignoring her stuttered apologies.

  Jessie walked me out. “You sure you don’t want me to come?” she asked.

  “No, I’m fine, Jessie, stay and enjoy yourself, I think Hannah might like you. Besides you know I’ll have my own private escort the minute I step foot off the train.” Ted the Tinker was my knight in a dirty jumper. He’d always look out for Ruth and I if we went out for the day and returned home when it was dark. To some people it might have seemed a bit creepy, but it gave him a purpose and I didn’t mind that at all.

  So maybe my neighbourhood wasn’t the best, nor the safest, still I wasn’t going to let some jumped up yuppie tell me that, now was I? That cutting tone she used to good effect, the hint of arrogance. Yeah I’ll admit at times it was damned sexy, but for the most part it was damned annoying.

  See me home after looking down her perfect aquiline nose at me?

  No way. I may not have had much but I damned sure had one thing.

  I had my pride.

  Chapter 13

  Devon

  Friday, 9th December, 2016