"How do you know these things, James? You think Neiman-Marcus is slumming."
"I do not!" Jamie said, laughing. "And my sweetheart has been initiating me into the world of bargains. It's kinda fun."
"Clue me in," Mia said. "And tell Ryan I owe her one for bringing you down to ground level."
Jordan arrived home a little before 5:00, and she grabbed Mia and twirled her around in a circle before planting a dozen kisses on her face. "Damn, I missed you. I know you're just a half-hour away, but that makes it that much worse." She put her lover down, and her nose began to twitch. "What's that smell? Did you order carryouts?"
"No, sweetheart. That's the smell of food. Food cooked … at home … over real heat. No plastic, no microwave, no kidding."
"What? We have a kitchen?" Jordan asked, obviously pleased.
"Yep. Come with me, and I'll show you all of the new things we have. Oh, and by the way, the new things are mine. I don't want your slobby friends to start using them, because they'll ruin everything. I'm feeling very protective of my little realm."
"No problem. They have to keep their hands off my woman and my woman's kitchen. I'll fight to defend you and your spatulas."
For the tenth time, a graceful foot obscured Jim Evans's view of the television, and he finally reached out and grabbed a bare knee, holding it firmly so that he could read the election results scrolling across the bottom of the screen. "This is important," he reminded his companion.
Twisting out of his grasp, Kayla pushed her crimson hair from her eyes and chuckled mildly. "It's not important, and you know it. Bob Washington should have been declared the Democratic senatorial nominee before the election was held. Calling that group of socialists competitors was merely semantics."
"I know," he agreed, shifting so he could see around her, "but I'm interested in the rest of the results."
Sitting up, she gave him a very serious look. "You don't honestly think that Prop 22 is going to fail, do you?"
"No," he said, grimacing slightly. "I just hope it doesn't pass by too much. I know this means a lot to Jamie."
She ran her hand along his arm and said, "It's gonna pass, and it's gonna pass by a wide margin, Jim." As she spoke, the ballot initiatives from California started to slide across the screen. He blinked when he saw the preliminary numbers.
"Did I read that right? Did it say 75% in favor?" Blanching, he didn't even wait for her answer, knowing that his eyes had not deceived him. "Oh, shit." He lay down and draped his forearm over his eyes. "Assholes."
Gazing at him, she tilted her chin and asked, "You're upset by the numbers? I've been telling you all along it was a cakewalk."
"What?" he said, his arm dropping to his side. "It shouldn't bother me to have 75% of the people of the most liberal state in the country say that my daughter shouldn't ever be allowed to marry?"
Kayla blinked slowly, trying to understand. "Who are you? You voted for the Defense of Marriage bill. Explain the difference."
Grumbling audibly, he turned onto his side. "Turn off the TV, will you? I've seen enough."
"Come on," she insisted, grasping his hip and giving him a shake. "Don't pout."
"I'm not pouting," he said, pouting. "I just don't want to talk about it. I get yelled at enough by my daughter. I don't need you piling on."
"Jim," she urged, tugging at him again. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but you've got to admit the proposition and the bill were basically the same thing. Are you opposed to gay marriage or not?"
He rolled onto his back and shook his head. "Yes, I'm opposed to gay marriage."
"Then how …"
Petulantly, he said, "I'm not really opposed to lesbian marriage."
"Uhm … wanna run that past me again?"
"Seeing Jamie and Ryan together makes me see how women need that kinda thing … it's part of who they are. And I've gotten used to seeing them hug each other or kiss. It … it seems pretty natural. And … I'll admit to watching my fair share of lesbian porn. It's … not so odd to see women together."
Kayla was staring at him with a look that should have warned him that he was treading in dangerous waters. But he was too engrossed in his thoughts to notice.
"But guys are different," he said, sounding confident of his opinion. "Why two guys would want to marry is beyond me. Totally beyond me. Every guy I know had to be talked into marriage. Marriage is for women. Guys just go along for the ride." He was really getting into his topic, and he continued to expound. "The guys who want to marry look like such queens. You know what I mean. The pictures of guys all dressed up in tuxedos or wedding gowns," he added with a grimace. "They turn my stomach!"
"Let me get this straight," she said. "You voted for the Defense of Marriage bill because seeing guys together makes you sick?"
"No! Well … partly … no, no, that's not it," he grumbled. "Marriage has been between a man and a woman forever. I don't see why we should change it just because of pressure. Besides, the numbers don't support it. The majority of people don't want it. That should count for something." He was trying to think of another good reason when he saw the look on her face.
"Of all of the narrow-minded …" She jumped from the bed, giving him a lethal glare before she stormed out of the room.
"What? What did I say?" he called after her. "Don't be so sensitive!"
When he didn't get a reply he went into the sitting room of his apartment and found her in front of the TV watching CNN. "Why did that upset you?" he asked, perching on the arm of the sofa.
She looked up at him for almost a full minute, finally asking in a quiet voice, "Don't you have any sense of how important your vote is?"
"Well, sure I do-"
She cut him off. "You told me how you explained your position to Jamie, and that made sense. I didn't agree with you, and it angered me that you felt that way, but at least it made sense. But to hear you admit that you voted to take away the right of adult citizens to marry just because gay men give you the creeps not only astounds me-it sickens me."
"Kayla!" He stared at her with his mouth gaping open. I … I … I'm sorry."
"For what? For that fact that you upset me, or that I called you on it?" She got up from the sofa, went into the bedroom, struggled into her clothes and found the card key to her own apartment. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said, leaving the room by slamming the door.
"What in the hell was that all about?" he asked the empty space.
Mia and Jordan were just finishing dinner when their roommates arrived. Toni walked over to the pair who were sitting at the never-used dining table and asked, "Where'd you get that?" She looked closer. "Since when did you start eating carbs again?"
Jordan shot a guilty look at Mia. "One night won't hurt. I've been dying for a good carb-loaded meal, and Mia was kind enough to cook for me."
"Cook?" Toni looked at her. "You can cook?"
"Sure. I can cook … for Jordan."
Toni gave Jordan a smirk. "You'd better not let Roman know you ate a big plateful of spaghetti. He'll have you run to Denver and back to burn it off."
"What Roman doesn't know won't hurt him. And if he finds out, one of you had to squeal." She gave all of her roommates an evil smile. "If he finds out, I'll make up something awful about each one of you. Hot fudge sundaes, whole bags of Oreos, candy bars hidden in energy bar wrappers. I'm very creative."
"Roman's gonna have to smell the carbs on your breath," Toni said. "And he might." She laughed and went into her room, followed quickly by the others retreating to their spaces.
Mia stared at her partner. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't eating carbs?"
Jordan looked a little sick. "After all the work you went to? I'm not an asshole, honey. Besides, one day isn't a big deal."
"Why did Toni act like it was?"
"Because she likes to stir things up. That's just her style. She doesn't mean anything by it."
Mia got up and started to clear the table. Jordan jumped to her feet to help, but the
brunette said, "Don't bother. It'll only take a second. Go relax for a little while. I'll be right in."
She wanted to argue, but Mia didn't look like she was in the mood to discuss things. "Okay. I'll be waiting for you."
After she left, Mia spent the fifteen minutes it took her to clean up trying to get over her anger. She knew that Jordan was telling the truth and trying not to disappoint her, but it still made her angry that her lover hadn't been more forthcoming. When she was finished, she went into their bedroom.
Jordan was sitting up, gazing expectantly at the door. "Mad at me?"
Mia sat, then lay down, taking Jordan with her. "No, I'm not mad. I guess I was a little embarrassed. I felt like you were just humoring me."
"No, not at all. It really did feel great to eat a normal meal. Didn't you see how my eyes lit up when I saw you'd made spaghetti?"
"Yeah." She reached under her lover's shirt and drew her fingers along her abdomen. "I've been wondering how you got this thin. I thought it was from working hard." She rapped on Jordan's belly, half expecting to hear a wooden sound. "Is it good to be this skinny, honey? You're looking anorexic."
"I know," Jordan said. "And, no, I don't want to be this lean. But I've got to get to ten percent body fat before I can start to put on muscle. We all underwent a lot of testing when we got here, and they told me I was skinny-fat."
"What in the hell is skinny-fat?"
"I have the kind of body that can't build muscle until it's down to an almost dangerously low body fat percentage. If I'm not extra, extra lean, any additional weight is just fat."
Mia laughed. "You don't have an ounce of fat on your whole body."
"Yes, I do. Actually, it's down to about a pound right now, and once I lose it, I can start building up again."
"A pound? You're really concerned about a pound?"
"Yeah. Well, Roman is. I'm at just over ten percent body fat. Once I get to ten, I can start working harder on weight training. I don't know if this is really gonna help my game or not, but he's sure it is. He's had a lot of success with the past teams, so I've got to trust him."
"So … run this past me again. What's the goal?"
"The goal is to be as lean as I can get by eating an ultra low-carb, low-fat, high-protein diet. Then I'll start to increase my weight-training and slowly increase my carbs. Right now, I'm doing no more than twenty grams a day. That'll probably go up to fifty or sixty, but only if I can handle it."
"This sounds like a load of crap to me," Mia said, "but if you trust this guy, I'll support you. Now, what can you eat?"
"Not much that I like," Jordan admitted. "No sugar, no added fat, no butter or oil, of course, no cheese, no beef. Just skinless chicken, fish, green vegetables, and as many kinds of beans as I can stand. Too bad I hate beans, huh?"
"Sounds like a big chicken and vegetable salad with no dressing," Mia said, making a face.
"Yeah. I've been having grilled chicken or fish and a plain green salad for dinner every night since I've been here. I don't even care about food any more."
"Well, I don't know how Jamie can fix this, but I'll call her tomorrow and see what she can come up with." Mia tucked her arms around her partner and kissed her tenderly. "We need to call them tomorrow and give 'em a little love. Prop 22 won by a landslide."
"We should each marry one of Ryan's brothers and live in a big house where all the girls partner up and the boys run around with as many women as they can get their hands on. That arrangement would be perfectly legal. Morons," she muttered.
"Ryan would have to go outside the family. I think incest is almost as bad as homosexuality."
"Right. I guess she can marry my brother. He'd be a wonderful husband."
Mia looked at her for a moment and saw the guarded, closed expression that Jordan always wore when she talked about her family. She gave Jordan another gentle kiss and hugged her even tighter. "Let's just live in sin," she said. "We're too young to commit to marrying all of those O'Flahertys."
"Good point. But if you get married, pick Rory, okay? I get bad vibes from Conor."
"It's a deal," Mia said, not sure if her lover knew just how bad the vibes had been between her and Conor.
During dinner, Jamie and Ryan left the radio on in the kitchen. It wasn't very loud, but each of them could easily hear it since they weren't talking much. Ryan didn't tell her partner about her blow-up at therapy, partially because she never talked about her sessions, and partly because she was embarrassed to have caused such a scene. Jamie forgot to tell her about talking with Mia, and the rest of her day wasn't memorable enough to bring up. So they both picked at their food and listened to the commentators report that over seventy-five percent of the state thought them unworthy of state sanction of their love.
Ryan looked at her partner, seeing how down she looked. She thought of the little story her grandfather had told her and said, "Let's go be gay."
"Pardon?"
"You heard me. Let's get on my bike and go to the Castro and be way gay."
A smile lit Jamie's face as she asked, "How do we be way gay? I don't wanna be on TV again."
"Let's put on our dykiest clothes and go sit in a seedy bar and check out chicks. That's what most people seem to think we do on a regular basis. We might as well do it."
"You wanna check out chicks?" Jamie asked, raising a dark-blonde brow.
"Sure. We scary homos can't have real, meaningful relationships. Let's go shopping so we can have the next victim lined up."
"I can't tell how serious you're being." She wasn't sure when it had happened, but she was having a harder and harder time reading Ryan's cues of late. "Do you really want to go out?"
"I meant everything but the shopping for the next victim thing. I'm gonna stick with you-just to screw with people's minds."
She looked fairly happy and a little playful, so Jamie got up and held out a hand. "Let's go. We don't even have to clean up. I think lesbians are supposed to be pretty sloppy."
"That's my girl. Always willing to adapt."
An hour later, they were seated on a pair of barstools, looking out at the mélange of people passing by the Twin Peaks, a venerable Castro bar. The place was located right at the epicenter of the neighborhood, the corner of Market and Castro, and even though it was mostly populated by forty-something men, the pair felt quite comfortable there. There were large plate-glass windows that allowed for a very good view of the passersby, and Jamie was taking full advantage.
She sat with her forearms resting on the wooden ledge, her beer in front of her. The blonde looked as stereotypically lesbian as Ryan had ever seen her, and she had to admit that she liked the look for a change of pace. Jamie had on most of the outfit Ryan had bought for her for the Dyke March-camouflage pants, a tight, dun-green T-shirt, and a pair of black Doc Marten's. Her distressed leather jacket was draped across her bar stool, and she intentionally kicked it every once in a while, just to add a mark or two.
Ryan matched her partner's style, wearing faded jeans, an old jeans jacket that she had turned into a vest, and a skin-tight, black tank top. She didn't copy the Doc Marten's, however, choosing her buff-colored work boots for a little variety. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a black baseball cap pulled low over her eyes that read "Rough Trade" in bright red letters. Her motorcycle jacket was on her chair, just like Jamie's was.
Much to Ryan's surprise, Jamie thought it would be fun to girl-watch, and they spent a pleasant hour doing just that. To neither woman's surprise, it was established that Jamie liked big women, while Ryan preferred a smaller, more petite size. Ryan liked her women to be quite clean-cut, preppy looking if possible, while Jamie had much broader tastes. Ryan was actually amazed to hear her comment that she fancied some pretty tough-looking characters, but she didn't express her surprise. Jamie was just developing her taste after suppressing her inner desires for the better part of her life, and Ryan fully supported her efforts to define what sorts of women attracted her.
"Oh! Oh!" Jamie's eyes lit up, and she elbowed Ryan in the ribs. "There she is! That's the woman for me!"
Chuckling, Ryan tore herself away from gazing at her partner's verdant eyes and looked outside. There, casually posing in front of the window, was a woman who looked like she'd just come from splitting a cord of wood. A blue and green flannel shirt covered her torso, the sleeves having been completely removed. Very well-cut arms extended out of the snug shirt, which was tucked into tight black jeans. Her hair was glossy black and straight, just ticking the collar of her shirt. Cocoa brown skin, flawless and smooth, perfectly complemented the nearly black eyes that darted up and down the street, obviously searching for someone. "You want her, huh?" Ryan asked, leaning over to whisper into her partner's ear.
"Uh-huh," Jamie purred, gleefully engaging in the fantasy. "I'd make good use of those big muscles."
"So … does she replace me, or do you want us all to party together?"
"Mmm …" Jamie growled, still staring at the stranger. "I want you both. Since you're my favorite, you can pick which half of me you want. She'll take the leftover."
"Okay. Works for me." She got up and strode out the door, leaving a nearly apoplectic Jamie behind.
It was obvious that the two women didn't know each other. The stranger moved back a step and looked Ryan over from top to bottom, not even a hint of a smile crossing her dark features. Ryan was speaking, and she slowly inclined her head towards her partner, who tried to compose her expression. Now both women looked at her, and the stranger nodded once, then followed Ryan into the bar.
Jamie wasn't sure if her best course of action was to hide in the bathroom or run out the front door, but since the two large women were blocking the door she decided that the bathroom would have to do. She got about two feet when Ryan grabbed the back of her pants and held on tight. "Don't bother getting up," she insisted. "We can pull up another chair." Propelling the struggling woman back onto the stool, Ryan said, "Jamie, this is Coco. Coco, Jamie." She pulled a stool over and urged Coco to sit. She sat on the other side of the new addition, blithely ignoring the lethal gaze that she could feel burning into her skin. "Jamie, don't you have a question that you wanted to ask Coco?" She beamed a smile at her partner.
Nurture Page 13