Such a Pretty Face

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  “I liked watching you with her.”

  She glanced sideways at me, her eyes large. “What do you mean?”

  “I was proud that you were offering to help her.”

  I didn’t feel at all embarrassed when the side of her face darkened in a blush. The scar moved back and I caught a ß ash of white that meant she was grinning. My heart shouldn’t have warmed, my body shouldn’t have tingled, but there was nothing I could do to stop either of those things. I wasn’t even sure why I should want to.

  • 56 •

  SUCH A PRETTY FACE

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The inside of the truck cocooned us in a comfortable intimacy that I was afraid to breach with my voice. She seemed equally reticent, because she only nodded when I gave her my address. She was gripping the steering wheel tightly and I couldn’t help but notice the muscles in her forearms. The dashboard clock glowed white to the right of her hands and I gasped.

  “What is it?” Ryan slowed the truck immediately. “Did you forget something? Want me to turn around?”

  “No, I just noticed it’s nearly eight o’clock. I had no idea it was so late.”

  Ryan glanced at the clock as well. “It still looks like Þ ve. Gotta love summer.”

  “I’m a winter girl myself,” I said. “All this sunshine kind of makes me depressed.”

  “Spoken like a true Portlander.”

  “Hey, what can I say? Sunshine is overrated.”

  “Ah, so I guess that means I won’t ever catch you slathering your body down with oil and laying out in a skimpy bathing suit, huh?”

  “Are you kidding? They’d probably call out the whale patrol.”

  The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  Ryan was silent so long that I thought the comment had slipped by unnoticed. A frown creased her forehead in several places. “That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

  I think it’s been established that I don’t think. “I meant I haven’t been in a bathing suit in a few years.”

  “Me either,” Ryan said.

  • 57 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “Hey, have you had dinner yet?” Again my words had somehow escaped my lips without me thinking about them. Of course she hasn’t had dinner yet, you idiot. She’s been with you. “What I mean is, I would love to thank you for your time. There’s a great little restaurant not too far from my house and they have the best pasta sauce I’ve ever tasted.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” she said with no trace of a smile on her lips.

  “I know.”

  The ensuing silence in the cab of the truck was almost more than I could bear. I couldn’t tell her that I didn’t want to go home to that house, to that little horror of a dog, to that empty, hard bed, without talking about Brenda. I wasn’t even sure she was gay. I snuck a look at her proÞ le.

  “I have an idea,” she said and pulled the truck over before I could even think to question her. She got out and jogged around the corner, leaving me sitting alone.

  The engine ticked and I kept pace with it by drumming my Þ ngers on my kneecap. I was somewhat familiar with the area because Brenda and I would take leisurely strolls to a wonderful little market around the corner that specialized in wine and cheese. At least I knew how to get home if she decided to leave my ass here. I jumped as a Þ gure appeared in the driver’s window. Rather, a torso. And then Ryan’s face appeared in the window. Her smile melted any embarrassment I had been feeling.

  “Can you open the door?” I saw, rather than heard, her say. I jumped to do so and noticed that she was holding something wrapped in paper in both of her hands. “Here, can you hang on to these for a minute?”

  I reached out and took the warm bowls. The aroma told me what they were before I peeked into the wrappers. “Oh,” I said as the scent of hot clam chowder and fresh baked bread Þ lled the air. “These smell wonderful.”

  “Yeah, they do. There’s a little park with a pond around the corner.

  Ever been there?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I found it by accident when I was riding my bike over here.” She pulled the truck into a turnout. She opened her door and held out her hand in a silent gesture for me to hand her the soup. The idea of having

  • 58 •

  SUCH A PRETTY FACE

  dinner, even of the quick takeout variety, made me feel shy, but by the time I got out of the truck, Ryan was walking across the grass toward a mass of trees. I could hear the sound of splashing and the soft honk of ducks, but I was still left speechless when I rounded a corner and came to the small pond. Two ducks, along with several ducklings, ß oated on the surface.

  Smiling like a parent at Christmas, Ryan said, “We got lucky. It’s kind of late for ducklings.”

  My expression must have pleased her, because her smile widened and she indicated a bench. I stepped onto it and we both sat on the backrest. I imagined the displeasure on my mother’s face if she ever found out I had done something so unladylike. The idea increased my enjoyment of the moment even more. I could feel the soup through the bread shell Ryan passed me and I pretended to bend my head closer to smell it in the hopes that she wouldn’t notice how red my face had gotten. I picked up the long spoon and stirred my soup.

  “Why so quiet? Not into clam chowder?” Her voice was so soft and so near to my ear.

  “No, it’s one of my favorites. Thank you for this. It was very sweet of you.” I was having a hard time meeting her eyes. I forced myself to taste the soup. I must have moaned as it hit my palate because she said,

  “Good, huh?” evidently watching me.

  The sound of the water, even the gentle sound of the mother duck quacking made the moment almost surreal. We sat for a few minutes, both enjoying the soup, before I felt obligated to speak.

  “May I ask you a question?” The air probably didn’t shift but it felt as though it did. “You did that last time. You stiffen when I ask if I can ask you a question.”

  “Do I?” She shrugged. “I think it might be because it’s one of those things my father used to say right before he said something shitty.”

  “Did he do that a lot? Say shitty stuff to you?”

  Ryan studied me as if trying to Þ gure out whether she could trust me. I forced myself not to look away. “He did it enough. My mother and brother got the worst of it.” She shook her head as if pulling herself from a bad memory. “Anyway, what were you going to say?”

  It took me a moment to remember that I had wanted to ask her a question. “I was just wondering why you changed your mind about dinner.”

  “You want the truth?”

  • 59 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “Always.”

  “You looked lonely.”

  I blinked at her twice before turning away to look at the pond.

  I looked lonely? What kind of shit was that? Was this a pity meal?

  Did she think I didn’t have friends or something? Hell, I had friends. I had Christina, Goody, Amy, and Dominique. Hell, Naomi counted as half a friend. I took another bite of my soup to hide the fact that I was probably about to cry. I really didn’t have that many friends and I was lonely. The waistband of my skirt bit into my belly button. “So is that why you did this? Because you felt sorry for me?”

  “Hey, look at me. Please?” To my surprise she reached out and gently turned my face toward hers. I doubt she meant for me to see so much, but in the instant before she spoke I knew she had been hurt by so many people she trusted that she protected herself by not getting too close. I knew all that in just a split second, and by the next second, I knew that she wanted to kiss me. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, I’m lonely too. I like being around you, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, but there was no doubt in my mind what I saw in her eyes. For the Þ rst time in my life, I had stared into the eyes of someone who lusted after me. Goody was right; it wasn’t a fantasy. It was real, and if I w
asn’t careful, I was going to leave a telling wet spot on the top of the bench.

  Aside from giving Ryan my address again, the ride to my house was quiet. It was evident something was bothering her, but I didn’t know her well enough to ask her what was wrong. She pulled the truck to a stop in front of my house and I found myself studying it with her, trying to see what she was seeing.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  “What is it?”

  “I forgot to leave the light on this morning. I thought I would be home long before dark.”

  “Here, let me walk you to the door.”

  I reached out to stop her from getting out the truck. I was going to tell her that I would be Þ ne, but when my hand covered the back of hers, I forgot how to speak. Neither of us moved. The engine ticked. If it had been faster, louder, I could have mistaken it for my heart.

  The dome light cast a cruel white light on us as Ryan opened her door and I had a ß eeting glimpse of my darker hand covering her pale

  • 60 •

  SUCH A PRETTY FACE

  one before it slipped away. The door shut and I was left in darkness for a brief moment. Then the light came on again and Ryan was at my window, her forehead creased in concern as she bent down.

  “Sorry, guess I was woolgathering.” I got out of the truck and shivered. The house looked unwelcoming. Not only had I forgotten to leave the outside light on, I’d forgotten to leave lights on inside too.

  The line of the roof seemed drawn in against the silver of the darkened sky and it smelled like rain outside. I found myself walking slowly toward the front steps. I thought I heard a small yip and I imagined Pepito staring up at the door, waiting for Brenda to walk in carrying her gadget bags and a treat for him.

  “Nice house,” Ryan murmured at my side.

  “Thanks. I’ve only lived here for two months.”

  “The neighborhood seems quiet. Mine is full of college students.

  Someone’s probably blaring music out their window right now.” She was actually making small talk—trying to, anyway. But she was no better at it than I was, because she hadn’t left me with anything else to say to that.

  “Would you like to come in?” I offered. “Maybe have some coffee?”

  “No, I better not.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot you need to get the truck back.” I fumbled to get my key in the doorknob. There was an inexplicable heaviness in my heart. “I…thank you for taking me to Mrs. Margolis’s, and for dinner.”

  I could barely see her outline in the dim light. It unnerved me that the shadows were hiding her scar. It was as if, in the few minutes I had taken my eyes away from her, something of her had already disappeared. The night had grown so silent that I heard her breathing when it increased. I don’t know why I did it, but I reached out to touch her face, to bring her closer to me. I told myself that I would give her a friendly peck on the cheek, but she took a deep breath and her arms went around me. I was enveloped by leather and a fainter paint smell and all conscious thought slowed as warm, moist lips captured mine in a kiss so insistent, so engrossing, that I almost forgot to breathe.

  Someone made a noise and then all I heard was the sound of her jacket and my own heart in my ears. My hands found their way under her shirt and she inhaled sharply. Her back muscles rippled beneath

  • 61 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  my hands. She shivered and tightened her embrace. Every part of me was aroused. Her hands were in my hair holding the back of my neck. I could feel the door pressing into my back. I felt her lifting me, and then my skirt was up around my hips and her thigh was between my legs.

  I knew for a fact that it was me that whimpered now. She was strong, using gravity and my own body weight to drive me insane. I couldn’t catch my breath or stop my speeding pulse and then her hands were at my hips, helping me to grind roughly against her. Warm Þ ngers touched my bare sides.

  I froze and wrenched my mouth away. “No. We have to stop.”

  “Open the door, please,” she said against my temple.

  I wanted to give in, wanted to continue to feel this good. Her strength and her need were almost too overwhelming. The idea of her touching me, of her feeling my love handles, touching them, made me shudder.

  “I can’t. I have a partner.”

  “A partner…what? Why would you…”

  “I, that’s not what I meant to say, She isn’t here…I’m sorry. I didn’t think this was going to happen.”

  “Your assistant was talking about your ex?”

  “Yeah, but we haven’t really Þ nalized things. She’s—out of the country.”

  The viselike grip Ryan had on my hips eased. I almost cried out when we were no longer in contact. She took a step back and I felt cold.

  “You should get inside.” Her voice was impersonal, much like the day we had Þ rst met. Standing there, feeling the cool air whip through my hair, I tried to Þ gure out why I had said what I did. Yes, I did have a partner, one who had left me for Þ ve months. One who had broken my heart and claimed not to love me. And I had an attractive woman practically shaking with desire…for me. Hell, maybe it wasn’t for me, but I was there and I’d had her in my arms, and I had fucked it all up.

  “Ryan.”

  “Just go inside, Mia.”

  “I want to explain. Brenda—left me. We were together for four years. I haven’t…I haven’t been with anyone else in a long time. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

  “You don’t have to explain. And you didn’t lead me on. I misunderstood. It won’t happen again.”

  • 62 •

  SUCH A PRETTY FACE

  “You’re angry.” I tried to reach up to touch her face again, only this time she stopped me. Her grasp was Þ rm around my wrist.

  “Don’t.” Her voice was harsh, and any arousal that still lingered in my body seeped away. “Just go inside. Please.” I couldn’t see her expression but I could hear the emotion in her voice. Not exactly anger, but a disappointment much deeper than being denied sex would warrant.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and when she didn’t answer, I unlocked the front door with shaking hands. As the door swung open, I turned to apologize again, but Ryan was jogging back to the truck.

  I stepped into the house and shut the door behind me. I dodged Pepito’s attempts to greet me and peered through the window. Ryan was slumped forward in her darkened truck. I had the ß eeting thought that I should run out there and tell her that I had made a mistake. That I had felt more passion coming from her in those ß eeting, heated moments than I ever remember having with Brenda.

  The thought was shocking enough to make me step back from the window just in time to see the headlights come on. She pulled slowly away from the curb, almost as if she felt me willing her not to go.

  v

  Pepito was so excited to see me that he nearly fell over twice. Both times I thought I heard his longest tooth, his left, click on the wood ß oor, acting as a sort of crutch. It took me a moment and two sniffs of the air to realize that he wasn’t excited, he was angry.

  “You little…” I muttered. “Bad boy, Pepito!”

  I took a step toward him, but he was already hightailing up the stairs. I didn’t have to walk far to Þ nd the little load—actually, a big one by Chihuahua standards—that he had left in the middle of the doorway to the den. “Damn it, that’s just perfect.”

  I was on my way from the kitchen wearing rubber gloves and an apron, with a brand-new roll of paper towels tucked beneath my arm, when the phone rang.

  My hello was probably a lot more abrupt than it would have been usually, so it was no surprise when the person on the other end hesitated before speaking. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  I could have said yes and explained that I had to clean up dog shit, but I welcomed any excuse to leave the unpleasant task until it was a

  • 63 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  little less…fresh. She had said she would
call, and for the most part, Brenda kept her promises. Well, there was the “till death do us part, love and honor” thing, so perhaps what I should say is she kept her less demanding promises.

  “Glad you made it okay.” I wished I could stop myself from sounding angry. I had been successfully hiding all the hurt of her exodus, but now, hearing her familiar voice sounding warm and relatively unchanged in my ear made me feel both livid and a little guilty about what I had just allowed to happen at our front door. And that made me even angrier. I wished that I hadn’t answered the phone. “Can you hang on a minute? I just walked in the door.”

  “Sure, but remember the call is expensive.”

  I almost reminded her that she always expensed her calls while she was working, but it just wasn’t that important anymore. I sat the phone down and took a deep breath. Mrs. Margolis must have dumped a pound of salt in those sugar cookies she fed me, because my skirt was now painfully constricting my waist. I unbuttoned it, reached into my purse, pulled out a Snickers, and kicked off my shoes. It wasn’t quite nine yet, which meant that it was dinnertime in Fiji.

  “I’m back,” I said.

  “So where’ve you been?” The question was casual and only slightly bored.

  “I was at a client’s. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason. I called earlier and when I didn’t reach you I called Christina.”

  “Oh?” I waited for her to comment on the button incident, but if she knew about it she didn’t say anything. It didn’t matter, really. If and when she did come back, if and when she did go to dinner at my parents’, I was sure my mother would tell her all about it. “I haven’t seen Christina since Sunday brunch, the day you left.”

  “You two mad at each other?”

  “Look, Brenda, is this why you called? To discuss if my sister and I are mad at each other?”

  “No, I called because I told you I would.”

  “For some reason, I thought you’d call the day you got there, not two weeks later. What, too busy to let me know you’d made it in okay?”

  “I left you a message saying I had made it. Didn’t you check your voice mail?”