by Bobbi Marolt
“Is it so important to you?”
“No, but women together is important to you. In all my years, no one has ever asked me if I was attracted to them. Not even if they were drunk on their asses. I don’t think you can deny your desire for women, possibly even for me. Why do you find women so frightening?”
“I wouldn’t write about women loving women if I found us frightening. I write from…from…hell, I don’t know. Maybe my books are from personal experience. No, not experience, but they’re easy to write. As a woman, I’m qualified to know what a woman would feel, and would like to feel, physically and emotionally. It doesn’t matter that I’m straight.”
“Of course you know women, but you married a man. Have you thought about writing mainstream romance? You’d get better bucks from a large publisher, and I think your work would do well if you throw in a guy and change some personal pronouns and body parts.”
“My writing isn’t about making money.”
She nodded. “I know. For what my opinion is worth, your work is about entrapment.”
“And by that you mean my entrapment?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” Feeling that she had overextended her welcome, Marty apologized. “I’m sorry. You have permission to slap me.”
“I’m resilient, but I understand your curiosity.” She closed the script. “Maybe you have part of me right. My life is changing and anything could happen. I’ve met and kissed you, and that was all in the same day. Some people would call that an interesting beginning.”
“What do you call it?”
Liz kept eye contact with her. “Fate,” she said. “Maybe my subconscious is testing probability and outcome.”
Marty wanted to dive across the sofa and show Liz exactly how likely her attraction was, but she would never force herself on anyone.
“Is that an admission of guilt?”
“Call it what you like,” she said and opened the play to the last page. She cleared her throat and gave a quick summation of the story. “Your character goes to sleep and the curtain goes down. No suicide or murder has taken place. We have, simply, a sleepy woman preparing for tomorrow.” Lifting her eyes to Marty’s, she quoted the last line. “It won’t be curtains for them, or for me. I’m not that lost of a soul. Tomorrow is curtain up.” She closed the script.
“At least I like the ending. She’s not so tragic after all.”
“Your dialogue throughout says that much. I don’t think you’re visualizing this in the comedic sense it was written.”
“I’m fighting it, I agree. Alone, the whole show, I’m kicking myself.”
Liz pushed up from the sofa. “I’m going to copy this, if you don’t mind. Maybe I can come up with some ideas for you to mention at your meeting. Make us some coffee?”
Marty puttered in the kitchen. While Liz copied and bound the script, she hummed a song from the musical Breakable Goods. Marty softly sang along and wondered if Liz had chosen the song at random or had the song’s sexual overtones been a conscious choice. Either way, the tune fed into her ego. It made her feel special because it was her favorite song. From the kitchen, she watched Liz finalize the copied script.
“Coffee ready?” She entered the kitchen and placed the copy on the table.
“Yup. Cream and sugar?”
“A bit of both, please. This should happen the other way around, but I’m enjoying your attention.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Marty answered and sat across from her. “Shit. I’m doing it again. Sorry.” She glanced toward the nearly boxless wall. “Do we finish today?”
Liz looked over at the remaining items. “Sure, if you—” She stopped abruptly. “Maybe I should do those alone.”
Marty’s eyes grew large with excitement. “What? Aw, come on. With that look on your face? What’s in those boxes? Your girlie magazines? Toys?” She made a mad dash toward the windows. Liz flew ahead of her and blocked the boxes with her body and arms.
“Stuff. Props, mostly.” She warded off Marty’s left and right grabs for a box.
“Props? Now we’re talking my game. How do you use them as a writer?”
“With each novel, I have certain physical items that represent a portion of the story. You use props, and I sample them or carry them with me. Like this one, from my book Advance Copy.” She handed her a small, faux diamond chip ring. “I built the entire story around this cheap ring I found on the street.”
“Really?” She turned the ring around in her hand for her inspection. “I remember reading about this ring.” She handed it back. “Motivational material. Interesting. Do you have”—she scanned her memory for book titles—“the blue pashmina scarf from Residence Inn?”
“Let’s see what’s inside my box o’ tricks.”
She opened the container and Marty peered over her shoulder. She reached between Liz’s body and arm but playfully had her hands slapped away more than once. Liz picked up an item and then shoved it back into the box.
“Hold on now. That was an interesting look on your face. Show me the prop you just scuttled away. Was it the pack of flavored Trojans from Newport Reviewed?”
“Yuck. I never wrote about condoms.”
“You did, too, and more than once.” She tried another reach into the box of goodies. Again, she felt a slightly stinging slap. “In Newport Reviewed and Suddenly Yours your characters—Oh, wait a minute. How did you sample those? They were strawberry in one book.”
Liz blushed her own shade of strawberry. “Never mind, pest.” She reached into the box. “Here’s the scarf. Pretty, huh?” She wrapped the cozy wool around Marty’s neck. “Keep it. I want you to wear that for me in the dead of winter.”
“No sooner? How about now?” She moved closer. “I can pretend it’s cold. Playing make-believe is my job.” She tickled Liz’s nose with the corner of the scarf.
“Nope.” She scratched her nose. “I’ll take it back and return it to you on Groundhog Day.”
Playfully pouting, she removed the scarf and peered around Liz’s shoulder again. “I’ll wear it in February. Do you have the silver cigarette lighter from Grand Rapids?”
“Yes.” She reached inside the container. “This was actually a gift from my husband, when I smoked.”
“It’s pretty. Anything in there that takes batteries?”
“I’ll keep you guessing.”
“Come on! Do you have the big purple dil—”
Liz immediately covered her ears and scrunched up her nose. “No. Don’t say it.”
“Don’t say what? Dildo?”
“I hate that damn word.”
“That’s funny. You use it. A lot. Your characters, I mean. Well, maybe you do too, but in your books someone’s always strapping one on or performing a personal act.” Again, Marty’s eyes widened. “How did you test toys?”
“That’s another question I won’t answer, but yes, I have written about them. I never realized how much.” Liz took the lighter and placed it in the box. She turned back to face Marty.
“I’ll let you off the hook.” Marty reached around with both hands and closed the box. “I guess you’ve had enough of me for today.”
“Honestly? You’ve made me smile more in these few hours than I have in years.”
“Great. That still leaves several years’ worth of smiles I can replenish.” She wasn’t about to give up.
Liz jerked her head toward a door. “I have a small balcony slash fire escape. Care to risk the heights with me and have our coffee out there?”
*
The early evening had grown hot and humid. When they settled with their coffee, they watched two men passing a football to each other.
“Frankly,” Liz said, “I’ve never met anyone quite as invasive as you. I hadn’t anticipated this side of you.”
“I’ve been rude, I know. I can’t help it, though. You’ve so much stuff to play with, many questions, and something still tells me I’m not off my rocker.” She sipped her coffee and looked to the str
eet below. She pointed to the football enthusiasts. “We’re like them, I guess. Back and forth. I wonder which of us will drop the ball. I’m great with recovery.” She looked over at Liz. “Invasive? Is that how you see me?”
“You’re like a stage mother. Like Rose, from Gypsy. You seem to know what’s good for me.”
“Playing Rose is a role I’ve always wanted.”
“Would be fun watching you play Rose with Felice playing her daughter Louise.”
Marty laughed. “Oh, God, I’m not sure I’d want to go that far, but Louise is the perfect role for Felice.”
“Do you think you’re special? Above her? Maybe you’re afraid you’ll lose your audience to someone younger?”
She hesitated. “No. What the girl needs is a good spanking and then a good script. Sometimes I feel badly for her until she makes a public remark that a gossip columnist shoves down my throat the next day.”
“This thing between you and Felice, is it a war?”
“It’s Felice’s war. I just laugh at her a lot.” Both sipped their coffee and sat silent. Marty was comfortable, enjoying Liz’s company and relaxing. She wondered about the contents of the prop box. She liked the playful mystery within, and the greater mystery of Liz. “Are we at war?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve known each other a short time, and I’m bothering you about your…what shall I call it? Your denial, I guess, but I don’t feel you’re annoyed with me.”
“If you annoy me I’ll tell you. As for the short time, what’s wrong with that? When I write, I have to throw people together in a few short pages to show their intent with each other. Why can’t that happen in real life, too? I’m sure it does, sometimes. Wham. The attraction is there. Form an opinion, a plan, and then see it through.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Throwing us together? Oh, darlin’, this will be an interesting relationship.”
Liz released a gentle sigh. “Welcome to my world. You’ve told me your attraction to me is like lightning to the Empire State Building.”
“What do you plan to do about it?”
“I’m not sure, but, if nothing else, I’ll be a friend.”
“Let’s go the distance here. Are you attracted to me?”
She was quick to answer. “I think you’re attractive and I think you’re fun. You make a nice cup of coffee, too.”
Marty set her coffee cup on the iron grate. She stood and pulled Liz to her feet. Almost breast to breast, she kept that distance between them. She didn’t hug Liz; she didn’t kiss her cheek. When Liz leaned closer, Marty winked at her.
“I’ve had an enjoyable afternoon with you, but I have a meeting to attend.” She picked up their cups and Liz followed her into the kitchen.
“Call me?”
“You can count on it.” She closed the door behind her and descended the front steps. Outside, she reached into her pocket for her cell phone and called Nina.
“Why didn’t you return my call?” Nina asked.
“I haven’t checked my voice mail. Something wrong?”
“The meeting was cancelled.”
“I didn’t know you were invited.”
“I’m special,” Nina said. “Of course I was invited. Do you think I work just for the peanuts you pay me? I like the perks.”
“Are you busy tonight?”
“No. Come on over. We’ll get drunk and talk about people.”
Liz flashed through Marty’s mind. “Yes…people.”
Chapter Three
She walked lazily to Nina’s. The cancelled meeting was a pre-production dinner. Other than a free meal and a few laughs, she thought the idea a waste of time. She was happy with the cancellation, but wished she had known sooner. A few more minutes getting to know Liz wouldn’t have been painful.
Marty smiled with the thought of her. Liz wasn’t exactly enigmatic, but she was a challenge that Marty rarely faced. Not one to bother with straight women, or at least professed straight women, she still couldn’t deny the tingles she felt in her presence, especially when Liz seemingly made a mental note on the layout of Marty’s breasts. Liz had mapped her and might be interested in following that map to unknown treasures.
“Good Lord, Jamison,” she said. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”
She picked up a bottle of red wine and, thirty yards later, she rang the front buzzer to Nina’s apartment.
“Yeah, you’re in,” Nina said after she buzzed back.
*
They settled at the breakfast nook and Nina poured two glasses of wine.
“So,” Nina said, “how was your afternoon?”
“Nice. Enlightening, too. I think she’s thrown me a bone, but I’m not so sure I want to get involved.”
“Don’t be so practical. She’s hot, you want her, seal the deal.”
“Seal the deal? That’s funny.”
“Sugar, you’ve been looking around for a few months now. You aren’t the type to stay single much longer. Feel her out. No pun intended. Better yet, intended.”
“I like her company and she has a lot going for her.”
“She looks like a great kisser, too, from that little peck she gave you in the dressing room. I won’t even begin to wonder what that was about.” Nina tipped her wine glass against Marty’s. “So you’ve had a little taste.”
“Excellent kisser. Oh, for sure.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll dig a little deeper. She and her husband recently divorced and that could make me a rebound for her.”
Nina’s jaw dropped. “She’s straight? Holy Toledo. I’d have never thought that.”
“Yeah, well, if you saw the way she looked at me earlier today, you’d never assume she’d been married for twenty-four years. If the woman had come two inches closer to me, she’d still have me wriggling about in her arms.” She took a long swallow of wine and refilled their glasses.
“I can’t imagine what she’s thinking. Why do you suppose she writes for lesbians?”
“What do you think?”
“I guess she’s closeted. I see your predicament now.”
Marty nodded. “She read some of my new play and she thinks it’s a two woman show.”
“I had your manager e-mail a copy. The script is hilarious.”
She groaned. “Liz thinks that, too.”
“Great minds. Maybe you could give Allison a call. Or Felice.” She smiled.
“You’re killing me, Nina.”
“Now, wait a second. Hear me out. Felice has the misguided notion that she can act you off the stage. This play could be her chance to put her money where her mouth is, and you’ll have the chance to embarrass her.”
“That’s silly. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize any show, and you know I don’t have a vendetta against Felice. She’s just a little virus that I can’t shake. Besides, the show is still one woman. Listening to you suggest Felice, I’m beginning to count my blessings that I’m the entire cast.”
She shifted uneasily in her chair. She did have a certain amount of fear regarding Felice, but wouldn’t say it out loud. The realization was more than enough. Twenty-two years ago, Marty’s youthfulness and determination, coupled with the guidance of mentor Joyce Manning, triggered her rise to the top of the Broadway food chain. On the other hand, perhaps the trigger was two years later for her show Breakable Goods when she appeared in a sequined dress with a V front cut to below her bellybutton. The dress barely covered her nipples. Maybe Felice would one day have a similar costume that catapulted her to the top. No. She reminded herself that there was more to her success than the perfect fabric.
Nina pulled a cigarette from her pack. “Want one?”
“One drag.” She took a long drag and exhaled slowly. “I was smokeless for three weeks, until now. I’m gonna miss cigarettes. I know I will.”
“My prediction is you’ll be smoking again soon, especially with the new show you have going and then adding this Liz thing to the heap.” Marty didn’t doubt Nin
a. “What’s going on inside of you?”
Discarding her thoughts of Felice, Marty focused on Liz. ”I like her. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”
“I’m on your side, sugar. Enjoy yourself, but if it looks like it’s going to hurt, stop. Rachel wrecked you and I mopped up after your tears for months.”
“I’d given so much to her. I introduced her to world leaders and to powerful people in show business. We traveled the world and her entire ride with me was first class. To this day, I can’t believe I found her in our bed with another woman.”
“Did you ever wonder if she felt something was missing?”
She narrowed her eyes and finished her wine in a large gulp. “Yes. I should have bought her a chastity belt. Live and learn.”
“As long as you’ve learned. Well, I don’t mean to open old wounds. That said, for your new show, your only costume is some type of nightwear. Do you want me to suggest a color to the wardrobe department?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll try for a canary yellow teddy. If the show is panned, they’ll still come to see your fabulous legs.”
“Ever confident in me. That’s what I like about you, Nina. You’re consistent.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Nina emptied the bottle into their glasses. “You have great legs, sugar. If I were a lesbian, I’d go out with you.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll bet Liz thinks the same.” She grabbed another bottle of wine from the rack. “I like the new show: the nobody from Queens makes good on Broadway. It’s you, and it’s funny. I think this change will be good for you.”
“Or maybe it’s another mistake. I should have thought about the show before I signed the contract.”
While Nina poured the second bottle of wine, Marty’s cell phone rang. “Another bet is that’s Wonder Woman calling.”
She opened her phone and checked caller ID. “Hello, Liz,” she said and stuck her tongue out at Nina.