by Amber Scott
“Where is this place?” Millie checked her reflection in the visor mirror. “Is it much further?”
“We’re close.” Brooke checked the address from her planner. It was a familiar neighborhood. “Two more minutes, tops.”
If Millie was already fidgety, Brooke could just imagine the slice of hell two hours from now would be. She spotted the house and parked. “Speak now or forever hold all complaints.”
“I’m not bored!” Millie blinked. “I won’t be, either. You’ll see. We’ll have fun.”
She sounded about as convinced as Brooke felt. “Look Millie, I don’t really know how to ask you this. It’s really none of my business.” She paused. Millie’s worry for Brooke had to stem from her own relationship problems. “Is something going on with you and AJ?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I know it’s none of my business and I hate to pry,” Brooke said. “But you’ve been a little bit…clingy the last two days and I noticed AJ slept in his office all night. Is everything okay with you two?”
Millie blanched. “Yes, silly. Things are great with us. He didn’t sleep in his office. He worked late. And I’m not clingy.”
Brooke got out of the car. Her borrowed hot pink outfit hugged all the wrong places. “Uh, yeah, you are.”
Millie winced from across the car roof. “I was worried about you, okay?”
“Well, don’t be. I’m fine.” Voice too high. Hot flash. “I’m great. The Jason water has long passed under the bridge.” And the Elliott river would, too. Soon. “Whatever happened in that hallway is fine with me.”
“You’re right. I’m being overprotective.”
They walked up the sidewalk. A neon orange poster board flapped in the wind: ‘Moving Sale’. At least something was brighter than the ‘Juicy’ emblazoned on her ass. Millie had suggested the getup last night, to help Brooke “loosen up”. Anything was better than Nancy’s shirt, right? Wrong.
“If you’d seen your face when you told me about Jason, well, you’d be worried too. And, I think that guy Elliott was trying to pull something.”
Hearing Elliott’s name sent an unwelcome thrill down her belly. Brooke shook her hands out at her sides. “Well, I give you permission to stop. Now, if you please.”
Millie laughed. “Okay. Okay. I will. No more static cling. Swear.”
“No more about guys either, alright?”
“Only if you swear you’ll come to me if you need me.”
“I will, alright?” Millie’s concern was so sincere and unexpected, Brooke almost stopped walking. To do what? Reassure her more? Brooke would only end up lying. A bit late to be breaking open and spilling her guts about Elliott. Particularly, since she had no plans to see him again. “Good. Now, keep your eyes peeled for Elvis.”
Brooke wasn’t actually looking for anything Elvis. But it would keep Millie busy. The sale’s contents took up part of the driveway and the garage. The homeowner had coffee and a cooler set up and tall heat lamps. If the large home didn’t speak value, the setup did. Brooke engrossed herself in the product, hardly aware of Millie at her side. Must be a move now sale. Divorce? Could be. Sudden bills? Maybe.
Her mind blissfully lapsed into business as usual. Until Millie spoke.
“My mom fell for a guy half her age once. He broke her heart.”
Brooke ground her teeth and picked through a box of albums. How had Millie picked up on her Elliott turmoil? She’d hardly said a word about him. Millie didn’t even know the guy had spent an evening in Brooke’s bed. “Oh? Are you and your mother close?”
Millie snorted. “As close as possible, I suppose. Boarding schools and cross country custody don’t make for many intimate talks about boys and bras.”
Brooke smiled tightly. She moved to another box of miscellaneous items. A period brooch or two would be nice. Maybe a locket.
“She always warned me. Older men have already sewn their oats. Young men break your heart. They can’t help it. They’re looking for a mother, not a wife.”
Brooke almost choked. “A mother?”
“That’s what she says.” Millie threw her hands up, all innocence. “One thing my mother knows well, that’s men. She’s a complete cougar.”
Was Millie trying to say Brooke was old enough to be Elliott’s mother? No. She doesn’t know about Elliott. So, she was just being insensitive, dense. Outright stupid. Not insulting, right? Clearly, Brooke hadn’t hidden her attraction or reaction to Elliott as well as she’d originally thought.
Brooke moved to some framed prints. She crossed her fingers for a Vargas pin-up girl. No luck. All watercolors. An artist she didn’t recognize.
One stood out. A beach scene. Windy looking. A small sailboat in the distance. She’d like to be on that boat. Quiet and alone. She turned the frame over. Ten dollars. Pricy. Even for this neighborhood. She glanced around for the resident host.
Millie sidled up, hand to chin. Brooke turned away. She could almost smell Millie’s first complaint coming. She shouldn’t have let her come.
“Brooke Munkle, is that you?” a high voice chirped.
Brooke twisted in the direction of the familiar sound. Slick, straight, near black hair and matching eyeliner, Debbie Johnson-Hines’ unmistakable trademarks. Great.
“Who’s that?” Millie asked.
Debbie sent them a high-speed wave from her perch under a heat lamp. The dreaded ‘come over’ signal followed. “Oh, just the biggest gossip this side of the Truckee River,” Brooke mumbled.
Brooke could kiss troll toes over having Millie there with her. She strolled to the heat lamp. “Debbie, hello. What a surprise. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m just great? How are you? You look wonderful,” Debbie cooed. “Doesn’t a new look do wonders for a girl? Why, you’re all brand new, hun.”
“Oh, thanks.” She resisted fidgeting with her hair, or explaining she preferred a nice heather gray turtleneck any day, and introduced Millie instead.
Millie took over the conversation, answering Debbie’s less than subtle questions and asking a few of her own. Meanwhile, Brooke self-talked herself off of panic’s ledge. Debbie couldn’t hurt her, remember? Not here, not today. Fifteen months ago, sure. Fresh blood. But, now, Brooke had her life together. She had even begun dating. Sort of.
As had Jason. If secretly hooking up in a hallway could be called dating. Who had it been? One of his cousin’s wives? Worse, a sister-in-law? Her stomach sickened a tad thinking about it, which was all Millie’s fault. She kept bringing it up. Or Debbie’s fault, for making her face the past.
Maybe she had heard wrong. Or maybe Mille should let it go. Good intentions got old faster than pancakes in the rain.
Millie handled Debbie like a pro, all fashion and weather and celebrity gossip. So well, in fact, that Brooke didn’t have to talk at all. Until Millie left to refill their coffee cups. Brooke forced a smile and stood her ground. One more minute of Debbie’s chit chat and she’d excuse herself to shop for her new—and did she mention wildly successful?—business, Memory Lane.
“Brooke, sweetie,” Debbie said, her tone conspiratorial. “Let me be the first to say, congratulations.”
Brooke shook her head. “Congratulations? For what?”
“Well, hun, you know how quickly news travels around this city. Biggest Little City? More like smallest little city, if you ask me,” Debbie said, then twittered. “Sue Hildenbrand told me that a little birdie told her--and she didn’t have any specifics so I chalked it up to vicious rumor--all about your…new life.”
Brooke felt like there was a question in there somewhere but she had no idea how to answer it. So, she didn’t.
“You know how divorce is,” Debbie said, leaning in. “I don’t need to tell you how catty those women can be. People talk even when they don’t know a thing. I have to say, good for you.”
What in the smallest little world was Debbie talking about?
“Um, yeah, it is a pretty small town,” Brooke said. “People assume a lot.
I can’t seem to go anywhere without bumping into some old friend with some false judgement.” She prayed her stabs at subtle insult would penetrate Debbie’s silicone armor. Alas, no luck. “I’ve certainly seen new levels of catty. Helps weed out the fakes, though.”
She kicked herself. Too obvious?
“Well, you don’t have to tell me. I’ve heard it all. This, though, I have got to tell you, I called Sue a liar.” Debbie sipped from her steaming styrofoam. “A liar. Right to her face.”
Millie sent Brooke a thumb’s up from the coffee spigot at the bottom of the long drive. Why oh why had she picked now for a refill? “Well, like you said, Debbie. People can be ugly about divorce. Even when it isn’t their own.”
Debbie’s best friend since high school had missed her calling as a tabloid journalist. What could Sue Hildenbrand have told Debbie? About Memory Lane? Something about who Jason was having a secret affair with? (God, not his sister-in-law. Let it be Connie instead. She and Bruce had been on again off again for years. How could Jason be so careless?)
“Well, divorce is ugly, but I will say, she is not,” Debbie nodded her head toward Millie. “I’d pay good money for curves like that.”
Brooke bit her lip, unsure how to respond, but still wanting to jab. “Millie? Um, yes, she’s been a real lifesaver. Funny thing is I’ve only known her a few months and I’m closer to her than any of my other girlfriends, ever. Not even girlfriends from college.”
“College? Really?” Debbie’s eyes widened. “She’s really special to you. Wow, Brooke. That is just wonderful. Really, really wonderful.” Debbie patted Brooke’s arm, but also seemed ready to laugh.
She got the feeling they weren’t talking about quite the same thing, exactly.
“I guess I owe Sue an apology,” Debbie added, rocking back on her heels.
Millie returned, handed a cup to Brooke. “This stuff has to be imported. I haven’t had coffee this good since Havana.”
“Havana?” Debbie said, her eyes twinkling at Millie. “As in Cuba?”
“Mmmm. Hmmm. In another life, Debbie, I sampled the world’s best coffee, wine, food, everything.” She took a lingering sip. “This, though, this is Heaven in a fur coat.”
Debbie slowly nodded. Thoughtfully. “Isn’t that interesting? Travel the whole world and where do you end up finding love, but in Reno, NV, of all places.”
Millie’s head did a Scooby Doo, rhat rid rhe ray?
Brooke swallowed. “Um, Debbie, if you don’t mind me asking, what precisely did Sue say to you…exactly?”
So help her, if Sue Hildenbrand was spreading ugly lies that she—.
“That you’re a lesbian, of course.” Debbie turned to Millie. “Is lesbian the right word? I’m sorry. I just had no idea, hun. I mean I never would have guessed and don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for you. First chance I get, I’m straightening Sue out. She made you sound like some awful, bull dikish—.”
“What?!” Brooke’s ears buzzed. She hadn’t heard right. She couldn’t have. “Bull d-d-d?”
“Bad word choice? Bull dike isn’t very nice, I know. I’m so, so sorry. I mean, about my word choice, I’m sorry. Not about your, um…gayness?”
Brooke’s tongue stuck to the back of her mouth. She couldn’t speak. Millie looked ready to laugh her ass off. No help at all. “You—I—Sue thinks I’m gay?” Brooke sputtered. “You think Millie and I are—are lovers?”
Debbie leaned forward. “Well, aren’t you?”
Millie burst. A high-pitched donkey-esque guffaw shot out of her. If everyone within a block hadn’t been listening in before, they were now. Brooke could have smacked Millie if not for how absurdly contagious her laughter was. Tears rolled down Millie’s cheeks. Brooke struggled to keep her composure. A lesbian!
“No,” Brooke said, feeling a giggle bubble up. Resentment burned the back of her tongue and, insane as it was, laughter threatened right behind it. “We are not lovers. Tell Sue Hildenbrand, she is wrong.”
“Wait a minute,” Millie said and covered her mouth, but another chortle hee-hawed out anyway. “You and me? That’s a riot!” Her laughter died down. “Debbie, Brooke doesn’t have time to be a lesbian. No with all the delicious men trying to get in her bed.”
It was Debbie’s turn for a loss for words. They were definitely drawing attention now. Brooke, for once, couldn’t care less, though.
“I’m not hot enough to bag a chick like Brooke, anyways.” Millie’s voice was near menacing. “Debbie, women like you need a hobby. Outside of making up lies and spreading rumors about each other. At your age, I’d bet something like knitting or scrapbooking would really help with all that emptiness inside.”
Brooke prepared for a hot coffee in the face. She couldn’t stop Millie, though.
“If we had time right now, which we don’t, Brooke here might share some of the very interesting tidbits Sue has told about you, Debbie. Even I’ve heard it all. But then, you two are so close, you can ask her yourself about what your husband has been up to.”
Brooke yanked Millie’s sleeve and forced her to walk away before fists flew and the police were called. Worse, before she turned Brooke into the city slut with another colorful lie.
She’d known Debbie more than seven years and not once had she seen her flushed purple and speechless. She didn’t know whether to be irritated or delighted enough to kiss Millie right on the mouth, lezbo rumors or not.
If she were a cat, Brooke would be licking clean whiskers. Debbie, dipped in revenge. Tasty.
Chapter Sixteen
“Can you believe that crap?” Millie chuckled.
“I know. Where in the world did Sue come up with such an outright lie?” Brooke said. “You handled her so well, though.”
“So did you.”
“Hardly! I stammered like an idiot.”
“Are you kidding me? She was seething with jealousy even when she thought you were my bitch.”
Brooke checked the clock on her phone and saw a missed call. It was from Elliott. Her stomach flipped over.
Hot men in her bed, Millie had bragged.
Debbie was jealous of Brooke? Incredible. And why? Because Brooke was free to bring men into her bed?
More than that. Brooke was completely free. That single moment with Debbie burst through her. Brooke was free. She could do anything she damn well wanted with her life. Debbie couldn’t.
Just like that, Brooke’s big Elliott decision rolled over on its ass. She had to see him. Buzzing with the high of vengeance, Brooke’s brain began a task list. Drop off Millie, go home, shower, call Elliott. In that order. No exceptions. No matter how much she wanted to change the list to put Elliott in the shower with her.
“I can’t wait to tell AJ. He’s going to love this.”
To think, Brooke had been feeling rather proud of herself for resisting him. To resist as much naughty fun as he promised was surely a mark of strength, wasn’t it? It showed maturity, responsibility. She would not give in to primal needs. She would recognize consequences like heartbreak and gossip and protect herself. She would walk away.
Debbie had probably adored thinking Brooke was gay, struggling to come out of the closet and be accepted. Not divorced, young, fresh and capable. Not free. Even if she was a lesbian, Brooke realized, leaving Jason freed her.
Millie didn’t know how close to the truth she’d struck, either. Elliott was one hot piece of ass and he had been in her bed. But only the once and that was no longer enough. How could she have been ready to never see him again? Over his age, of all things? Why should age matter? He probably wasn’t even interested in her for more than a scorching hot fling.
She’d be a fool to pass him up.
She’d left Jason to start over. To start living her life instead of decorating it. But she wasn’t living now, she was almost living. Pretending to live. If she were really and truly living life for herself, on her terms, she would have begged for a new hairstyle. She’d be shaving her legs more than twice a year. Becau
se someone might end up seeing them naked.
She’d be in bed with Elliott right this second instead of half listening to Millie as she drove her home.
Wasn’t two years starved for sex from her husband part of the problem to begin with? She’d left platonic security to find passion and love. And sex. (With someone besides herself.)
If she were truly living as she’d intended when she’d walked out Jason’s door, she’d be ecstatic to welcome a twenty-something into her bed. She’d be bragging about it instead of hiding the fact from her best friend. She wouldn’t care what anyone thought, let alone what Millie thought.
“Are we ready to go shopping yet?” Millie asked.
She should tell her now. She should wait for a pause in Millie’s non-stop lesbian chatter and just spit it out. She looked over. Millie grinned, kept talking. So what if Millie had more than hinted she thought a guy like that was a giant mistake? “I can’t.”
“I know. You have work.”
A fling with Elliott might be worth risking her friend’s opinion. More importantly, Brooke might be worth it. Jason was living his life, wasn’t he? He might be doing it in secret, but he wasn’t waiting for some imaginary starting gun to blast him into action. In fact, secret or not, good for him.
At least he was finally having sex. Good for Jason. And good for whomever he was having his secret, dirty affair with. Hey, maybe the truth would come out and liven up the next Munkle holiday.
“I didn’t find anything for my web-store back there, is all.” Liar!
“It’s cool. But, can you take me home? You were right, I’m bored.”
Ten minutes later, she pulled up to Millie’s apartment. Then Millie hugged her goodbye and rushed off. Brooke sped home and into the shower in record time.
What would she say to him?
What would he say? What if he said no?
Well, she would have to convince him otherwise, that’s what.
Nina Simone’s velvety voice crooned from the speakers. I need a little sting on my clover…. Brooke shampooed, conditioned, inhaling the sweet citrus scent, for once embracing the images flashing through her. His body, naked, wet. Above her. Below. His eyes seeing into her. Her, not hiding. Staying bare and defenseless. Searing. Wet.