Clichéd Love: A Satirical Romance

by Lynn Galli

  “Had you been on a working ranch before?”

  “Nope. Two of my friends were going and dragged me along.” Norris came across as extremely easygoing. “I figured I could pet some horses and let them get their cowboy on, but it was pretty fun. You ever been?”

  “Can’t say that I have.” A cousin of mine owned a working ranch in Maryland. I’d had enough ranch work in my lifetime. I didn’t need to pay someone for a vacation version of visiting my cousin.

  “We were both drooling over the same guy. A hired model, probably.”

  “We have no proof of that, babe.” Eduardo probably had to insert this every time they told their story.

  “Looked like a hired model. He was a ranch hand, totally unavailable, there to torment our single, desperate eyes.” Norris heaved a heavy sigh.

  I laughed at the dramatics. “But you found each other?”

  “We bonded over our pathetic sexy abs crush,” Eduardo confirmed. Wiry thin, he might never have had sexy abs either.

  “Sweet,” I commented because it rather was. And amusing. “No sexy abs crushes for each other?”

  “Oh, please, I haven’t seen an ab on my cubicle-dwelling stomach in, like, ever,” Norris joked.

  I laughed again. Eduardo didn’t seem to mind missing out on sexy abs in real life. They were one of my favorite couples so far. Get rid of the crush on the same guy, and no one would guess them to be the gay couple in the article that week.

  On my way back to my apartment, I passed Lane’s bar. Eduardo and Norris had me in a great mood, and I wanted to share it with my friends. It felt especially nice without the added pressure of needing to get an interview while I was there.

  Lane’s customary twitch of the lips was much shorter than usual tonight. Not many people were around, Iris included. It could be the reason for Lane’s unconventional greeting, but I didn’t think so.

  “Everything okay?” I asked her after pointing to the soda nozzle.

  She shrugged and poured my favorite for me. Her eyes scanned the interior as if trying to drum up more business. When her glance shot to the back office three times on her sweep, I guessed whatever was bothering her had to do with Charlie. Lane wasn’t easy to get to know. She’d joined us for lunch a couple of times, a movie once, and to a Mariner’s game, but otherwise, our interactions were confined to this bar. She did deadpan better than anyone, and I liked her a lot. I’d also like to get to know her better, but she was a slow roaster. That suited me fine. I didn’t mind waiting for something really good.

  “What can I do to help?” I tried a different angle.

  A frustrated breath left her mouth as she shook her head. The unruly knot of sable hair that formed her usual style looked more ruffled today. As if she’d adjusted it one too many times. Her brown eyes were pleading with me to drop it as much as they were asking me to continue pushing.

  “Hey, Vega,” Charlie’s gruff voice interrupted us as she walked briskly from the back office. “How’s the article going?” She was walking quickly toward the exit, not caring about my response. In the next second, she was outside, presumably leaving for the night.

  “Does she ever work a full night?” I asked, then clamped a hand to my mouth. That wasn’t a kind observation and certainly unprofessional in front of her employee.

  Lane gave another frustrated breath and shake of her head. Instead of the usual open stance she took behind the bar, her shoulders were rounded, and she kept herself at an angle as if to deflect any attention. She was constantly in motion, prepping lemon slices, cleaning surfaces, taking and making drink orders. Tonight, she was also guarded.

  “Something’s wrong; I can tell.” I focused on the swiping actions she kept making with the towel.

  “It can wait till Iris gets here,” she finally admitted.

  My lips curled up. Just as I’d hoped. Iris would be coming in tonight. Pulling out my phone, I sent her a short text to tell her I was at the bar. A phone chime sounded from the entrance as Lane and I both looked up to catch Iris on her way inside. Her eyes crinkled when she saw us, not bothering to check the message on her phone.

  “Hey there,” she greeted and dropped onto the stool next to me. Her smile was bright at first, then it petered out when she faced Lane. “What’s wrong?” On a swivel, her head took in the entire bar. She was looking for someone in particular. My posture stiffened. That sense that something was going on that only they knew about came over me again.

  “No,” Lane said, and Iris’s posture relaxed. The one word didn’t explain anything to me, but to Iris, it spoke volumes. “It’s Charlie.”

  “What’s she done now?” Iris groaned, clearly not surprised that Lane was upset by something Charlie had done.

  Lane’s eyes went instantly shiny. The brown shimmered in the low lighting of the bar. A lump formed in my throat at the unexpected emotional display. Iris’s hand shot across the bar and grasped hers. It calmed her enough to explain. “She’s selling the bar.”

  My mouth nudged open. Not that Lane couldn’t get another job bartending someplace else, but this place was this place because of Lane. She pretty much lived here and took care of everything. Almost to the point of co-dependence. If she weren’t so together otherwise, I’d be a little worried about her.

  “Now? Dammit,” Iris swore. “Did you tell her?”

  “What’s the point?” Lane replied.

  “What’s happening here?” I tried to get a handle on this conversation.

  Iris looked at Lane for permission before speaking. “Lane’s been saving up to buy this place from Charlie when she retires. It’s supposed to be six more years. Charlie’s been counting it down. Why the sudden change, did she say?”

  “She had a doctor’s appointment today.” Lane stopped the busy wipe down of the back bar, not needing that extra level of comfort to talk to her best friend. “Likely he told her that her smoking and drinking was aging her too fast, and she’s decided to reduce her stress to zero.”

  “What stress?” I scoffed and got a chuckle from Iris. “Seriously, Lane does all the work around here. She runs this place. Charlie’s never around. How much stress could she possibly have?”

  Lane’s eyes shimmered again, but at least she appeared amused. “She didn’t say anything, but she’s been talking about how her doctor’s been nagging her for years.”

  “Did she mention a price?” Iris asked.

  Lane brushed the back of her hand against her cheek, stopping a tear before it fell. “She thinks she’ll get three-fifty for it.”

  Three hundred and fifty thousand? For this place? My eyes scanned the bar for the millionth time. It had an identity problem, part cocktail lounge, part sports bar, part restaurant bar. Desperately in need of an update, it was still better than a couple of the others I’d checked out since arriving.

  “She’s out of her mind,” I said, and they both stared at me in surprise. “Unless she owns the building?”

  “She doesn’t. Even at a realistic price, I’m out of the running now. I need more time, lots more.” Lane’s shoulders hunched. She must have had her heart set on buying this bar.

  “I’ve got some savings, but not enough to cover what she’s asking.” Iris’s perfect posture failed her. I popped upright, surprised by the offer. It was one thing to offer a friend money to help cover expenses if she’s hit hard times. It was quite another to offer to help buy her a bar. “Sorry, Lane. This sucks.” She reached across the bar top to squeeze her hand again.

  “Yep,” Lane managed but swallowed roughly.

  “Close up,” Iris encouraged, false levity in her voice. “Hardly anyone’s here. Charlie’s gone for the night. Send a text that you’re sick and closing.”

  Seconds passed as her eyes stayed on Iris. Decided, she reached for her phone and typed in a message. Then she went into the back to tell the cook they were closing.

  I looked to Iris for an explanation of Lane’s intense melancholy. Her eyes flicked to the kitchen, and she shrugged
. She wouldn’t tell me more about Lane’s upset without Lane there. I liked that about her as much as it frustrated me. Lane seemed far more upset than someone just losing a business opportunity. Surely there were other bars she could buy when she’d saved up enough money. Some in better condition than this one, which needed more than just a little lipstick added.

  When Lane came back from the kitchen, Iris went over to a back cabinet to extract a stack of towels. She tossed them into the bar sink and reached for a disinfectant cleaner. I reached across the bar top and waited for Iris to hand over a cleaning towel. They both stared at me, Iris with a proud look and Lane with enough surprise to bring back that ghost of a smile. I could help her wipe down some tables. She needed a break. I didn’t need to know her whole story to know she needed to get out of this bar as soon as possible tonight.

  16 | Dale & Kennedy

  News had already spread among the bar’s usual patrons. The mood somber as I sat through another interview. The regulars were worried, rightly so, that a change in ownership would mean no more catering to the lesbian and gay crowd. Finding another gay owner to take over the space was a bleak prospect.

  My eyes caught on Iris, then flicked to Lane. She’d missed a day of work, shocking everyone. Iris had been absent, too. I’d stopped in to see how Lane was coping with the news a day later and couldn’t believe neither of them was there. I liked the bar, but they were the draw for me in this place.

  “I don’t know what we’ll do if it closes,” Kennedy said with a sigh. She’d been doing this often throughout the interview tonight. “We love this place, and now it’s going to close?”

  “You don’t know that, sweetie,” Dale assured her with a pat to her wide back.

  “I was so excited to tell Vega our story in our favorite place, and we find out it could be gone in a couple months.” Kennedy sighed again and rested her blond head in her palm.

  “Sweetie,” Dale soothed again, the hand now rubbing circles on Kennedy’s back. “Let me get you another glass of chardonnay. Vega, anything?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” I looked down at my notes to see where Kennedy had gone off topic. She’d been telling me about some competition they both entered that helped prompt their declarations of love to each other. Badminton? Hot dog eating? What had it been?

  Another breathy sigh sounded from across the table. Kennedy was staring after Dale. “Doesn’t she look exactly like Xena? It’s how I first noticed her. A living breathing Xena in a bowling alley in my neighborhood. I just had to meet her.”

  My teeth bit into my upper lip. Ah, yes, a bowling competition. And no, Dale didn’t look anything like Xena. Not that I was a Xena fan, but I knew what the character looked like. Dale was five-five at most, had mousy brown hair, hazel eyes, and a conical shape to her body. She didn’t look like anyone on that show as far as I remembered. Of course, to Kennedy, coming in at an inch under five feet, someone five-five would be pretty damn tall. If Dale wore blue, her eyes might look more blue than greenish hazel. Her light brown hair, though, was shaggy short, not at all long and black. Based on the conversation we’d been having, she hadn’t ever been much for exercise. Yet, people found similarities wherever they wanted. Who was I to fault someone for thinking her sweetie was the embodiment of the ubiquitous lesbian fantasy woman?

  “Which is your favorite episode?” she asked, her eyes still lingering on Dale up at the bar.

  “Hmm?” I asked, scratching a random note on the page. It might have said: Dale, in no way looks like Xena, but her delusional partner believes she does. But my handwriting was a little hard to read. I could decipher it later. “Oh, uh, the one with, uh, what’s her name, Gabrielle, yeah, and Xena around a fire pit.”

  “Which one? The,” and she continued to summarize every episode where there was fire and the two main characters. I had no idea which one I’d been thinking of—the one and only episode I’d seen—but figured it would fill time until Dale got back, and we could conclude this interview.

  A slender blond woman was shaking hands with Lane when I glanced over again. In the next instant she was following her into the kitchen. Iris was talking to a striking black woman with tight curls that spiraled out from her head in a fluffy crown. Beside her stood two blondes who kept changing their shade of blond every time they came into the bar, a butch who showed up with more piercings every night, a gorgeous Asian woman who often flitted from one group to the next, and another dark-haired butch who stepped right out of the fifties with rolled cuffs on her jeans and t-shirt.

  “Ever written any fanfic?” Dale asked, making me realize that she’d retaken her seat. Probably a while ago, since she’d picked up on Kennedy’s Xena-obsessed thread.

  “No.” I tried not to let anything shade my tone. One false note here might push Kennedy the wrong way. If Xena weren’t a fictional character and could be stalked, Kennedy would be the lead trainer of that stalking class.

  “That’s how Kennedy and I first got to talking. I was an avid reader.” Dale took a sip of her drink. “I can send you links to a few good sites, if you want.”

  “I’ve seen many of them.” I haven’t read more than one or two stories on the sites, but I’ve seen them. Years ago, I did a lot of research and wrote a story on fanfic authors, back when people wouldn’t leave Mulder and Scully alone until they finally got together. Which, of course, ruined the show. Ha! Listen to me, sounding almost like Kennedy with her stalkee, Xena.

  After a few more questions, I had enough to complete their story for my article. I’d leave out the delusional Xena lookalike comment so as not to tip off my readers, but otherwise, it was a nice romance. From the grand spectacle that was a neighborhood bowling alley.

  “Hey, Vega,” Iris greeted and gestured to the more condensed group of women she was chatting with. “Meet Cyrah, Ruth, and Cheryl.” She pointed first to the striking black woman with the tight curls, then to the James Dean wannabe with short dark hair and almost translucent white skin, and finally to the gorgeous Asian woman who’d halted her duck-out when I approached.

  “Nice to meet you.” I shook their hands as Ruth’s eyes wandered freely over me. The other two might have been doing the same, but Ruth’s intensity brought my guard up. She opened her mouth, and Iris knocked the back of her hand against her chest, stopping whatever she was going to say. Ruth held up her hands in surrender and backed away, but not before her eyes ran up and down me again.

  Iris turned to face me when they left to join their other friends. “Ruth would hit on a tree. Thought I’d save you the embarrassment.” My eyes flicked over to Ruth again, happy not to have to fend her off, but Iris’s worried tone brought me back. “Unless you go for that type? Did I just block you?”

  A grin tugged at my lips until I realized that she wasn’t joking. “You’re worried?”

  “What kind of friend would I be if I stepped on your toes when you could get your freak on?”

  I laughed hard at that. “My freak on? Is that a thing here?”

  “If you don’t know, I’m not going to be the one to tell you about it. Call your mom and ask for ‘the talk.’ Or go hang out with some high school girls where you’ll probably learn more than you want to know.”

  I laughed again as my eyes spotted Lane and the blond woman making their way from the kitchen over to the pool table area. Both came in around five-four, had the same slender shape to their bodies, and they looked good together. My eyes dipped down to check out the woman’s calves under the long shorts she was wearing. They were more toned than mine, possibly even Iris’s. I wanted those calves, not enough to work specifically on those muscle groups, but it didn’t stop me from wanting the same tone. “Who’s the fit blonde?”

  “Is she your type?” Iris’s eyebrows fluttered in jest.

  “You going to block me again?”

  “Afraid I am.” A smile flared. “She’s married, straight married, and happily.”

  “Ah.” I wiggled my fingers for more information.

>   “You know the employer I run those background checks for?”

  “The paid stalking you do? Sure, I remember,” I kidded.

  She smacked my chest this time. “That’s her sister, Helen. She’s a chef.”

  My brow furrowed, not following what a software employer and a chef sister had to do with walking around a bar. “Are you monitoring her? The software sister wants to make sure her chef sister is actually her sister?”

  “There’s that comedian thing again,” Iris scoffed. “I’ll get you a vest if you want to go out on tour.”

  “It’s almost like you’re clever.” I flicked my hand toward Lane and the chef sister for the rest of the explanation.

  “The software exec also does some venture investing. Lane was so crushed about the premature sale, I called and asked if she’d ever consider investing in a bar.”

  My heart sped up, happy to hear that Lane might get her wish. I searched the bar for the software sister but didn’t see anyone paying the duo much attention. “Where’s the investor?”

  “She lives in Virginia, but her sister lives here and has food industry experience. She’ll trust her judgment. If Helen likes the bar, she might go for it.”

  That easy? I hoped Lane wouldn’t get ripped off in this deal. “What does a software exec know about the bar business?” Not that I knew much more, but I was feeling protective of Lane.

  “She knows business. She’ll look at the financials to see if it’s profitable and wait on her sister’s opinion of Lane and the operations around here. If both look all right, I think Lane might have herself a bar.”

  “Lane must be ecstatic.” Provided the deal offered was a good one.

  Tenderness showed on her face. Over the weeks, I’d moved from thinking they’d been together at one time to knowing with certainty that they’d only ever been friends. Very good, close friends. I envied that kind of friendship. As close as Iris and I were getting, they still had something very special. “She’s trying not to get her hopes up. She’s like that, but this would be the best thing to happen to her all year.” She pushed out a hopeful breath. “She really needs it.”