by Jane Hardee
CHAPTER SIX
Camille lived in an older home restored with a warm sense of Southern charm, located on Main Street and behind Fairfield Park. The wraparound porch overlooked a large yard with an abundance of pink azalea bushes. With Michael’s help, Camille had painted the shutters a robin’s egg blue, a bright contrast with the white wicker porch furniture. A narrow hallway led to the old-fashioned kitchen and Camille’s office in the back of the house.
“You survived the dreaded birthday party, huh?” Camille asked when she greeted Michael.
“Yeah, I guess,” answered Michael, sticking her hands into her worn jean pockets and following Camille to the kitchen.
“Jamie had a gallery opening I couldn’t miss. Sorry I couldn’t be your support.” Jamie was another young artist Camille represented, and Michael had met him at an opening of a new gallery in downtown Atlanta several years ago. With Camille’s persistence and sharp business sense, his career was also beginning to take off.
“How was it?” Camille handed Michael a bottle of beer, then started the popcorn.
As the microwave whirled and kernels began to pop, Michael hesitated, not sure she wanted to relive the night enough to explain what she had seen, but she also knew that Camille might understand the way no one else would.
“Somewhat better than slicing my Achilles tendon with an X-Acto knife.”
“What happened?”
Michael popped the top off her beer and leaned against the counter. “I was about ready to leave when I saw Stevie and Jess kissing.”
Camille stared for several long moments. “No! Aren’t they just friends?” she finally asked, stunned.
“Damn right. I thought so too.”
“Well, what does Jess say?” Turning her back to Michael, Camille opened the hot bag of popcorn and dumped it in a large bowl. “Did you guys talk?”
“No way in hell will I talk to Jess about her love life. Why would she even think I’d want to hear about it?” Michael pulled several napkins off the table and slammed them next to the popcorn.
“Because she doesn’t know she is the love of your life. Or that you worship—”
“The ground she walks on. I know, I know,” Michael said with a mocking tone. “But I don’t think I can handle her talking about someone else.” Michael had tried on numerous occasions to explain the importance of their friendship, but Camille always suggested she tell Jess the truth. Why? So she could be crushed when she found out Jess could never love her that way? No thanks. She wasn’t about to throw herself at Jess’s feet only to have her heart stomped on.
Michael leaned back against the counter and rubbed her forehead. Camille wrapped her in a hug.
“I’m sorry, hon. It must really be getting tough if you’re willing to talk to me about it.” Camille pulled back. “Do you want to go out with that woman I told you about from work? Carla? She is really sweet and has a killer body.”
“No, I don’t want to go out with anyone.” A vision of Ally flashed before her eyes, and she remembered how empty and unfulfilled she felt leaving her hotel room.
Camille clasped Michael’s hands. “You can’t keep torturing yourself. You need a distraction.”
“The only distraction I need is one I can create myself. You have anything new for me?” Michael gave a cocky smile, her usual charming way to change the subject. She did not want a pity date or another hookup. Camille often said it: Michael was incapable of becoming intimate. She could share her body with someone, but her heart was padlocked. Jess owned her and she wasn’t about to have a one-night stand with someone Camille recommended. After waking up with Ally the other morning, Michael made yet another promise to herself that was the last time she would use another woman as a distraction from Jess. Michael knew she wanted Jess, but she also knew she couldn’t be with her. Damn. She needed relief bad, and just telling Camille about Stevie made her itch to find another hot woman and lose herself in sex. Don’t do it. Put your mind on work.
“I actually have a lead, should know something solid by Tuesday,” Camille said, as the doorbell rang. She stopped at the kitchen door and turned to Michael, giving her an encouraging look. “We are going to have fun tonight. No worries.”
*
Jess straightened her shirt and fluffed her hair. It wasn’t as if this was a first date. First of all, Michael didn’t even want to discuss what happened. Secondly, Camille and Morgan would both be here as well. What was there to be nervous about?
When the door opened, she dropped her hands in hopes that Camille had not seen her primping. Jess was very fond of Camille, even though she’d had some relationship history with Michael. She was more worldly and sophisticated than Jess, and she had always admired her easy grace and powerful presence. When they first met, Jess had been intimidated by Camille, but after getting to know her Jess found her to be down-to-earth and very sweet.
“Michael’s in the kitchen. I guess Morgan is taking her time as usual.” Camille headed into the living room with a DVD in her hand. Just the mention of Michael’s name sent Jess’s heart racing. Jess sat down on the couch in the spot she usually chose when Camille hosted Girls Night In. When Michael rounded the corner with a beer and a huge bowl of popcorn in her hands, Jess’s breath caught. Did she look that good when she left this morning?
“Hey.” Michael gave her a small, shy smile.
“Hey,” Jess repeated, her smile broadening.
Michael sat down on the couch next to her, as usual. Jess felt a charge right away.
“How are you?” Michael tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and turned to face Jess.
“Fine. I’m fine.” Jess wanted to run her fingers through Michael’s hair, pull it loose of the short ponytail. Jess was about to suggest they talk for a minute when Morgan burst through the front door.
“I swear we need to do this more often. I look forward to this day every month!” Morgan shrugged off her suit jacket and flung it, along with her briefcase, on the floor before plopping down into an armchair.
“Ha, like you have the time.” Camille sat cross-legged on the floor near the television and put Basic Instinct, an old favorite, into the player. “Michael’s schedule is fixing to get pretty busy too.”
“What do you mean? New commission?”
Camille nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell us? That’s great!” Morgan leaned over to slap Michael on the knee.
“Camille hasn’t told me much about it yet.”
Camille spoke in her official business voice. “I was going to wait until I heard something more concrete but…I have been doing some networking with the editors of a women’s magazine in New York. They are looking for a dramatic piece for their building’s entrance.” Camille winked at Michael with obvious pride.
Something close to jealousy nipped at Jess. Ridiculous. Of course Camille would be proud of Michael. What if it wasn’t just pride? What if Camille had some weird resurgence of her romantic feelings for Michael? Jess shook her head. Stop freaking out.
“What magazine?” Morgan asked with excitement.
After sorting through a few of the magazines in a basket, Camille pulled one out with a svelte model on the cover wearing a tiny golden dress.
“La Femme!” Morgan squealed as she grabbed the magazine and began flipping through the pages.
“Michael, this is big,” Jess said, trying not to look at the glam model too long. Fashion magazines never boosted her body image any.
Michael held out her hand to get the magazine from Morgan. “Have they seen my work?” She turned the pages slowly, glaring as if she had never seen the magazine before. Maybe she hadn’t.
Jess leaned in and read aloud some article titles: “‘How to Hula Hoop Your Way to Better Abs with a Victoria’s Secret Model’ and ‘Twentysomethings Reveal the Most Awkward Song Ever Played During a Hook Up.’” Oh, my.
Jess kept her smile in place as she thought about what this new job would mean. Would Michael need to move? Atlant
a wasn’t exactly a hotbed of artistic activity.
“I sent them a digital copy of your portfolio. They will want you, Michael. They would be fools not to.”
They want you. No, I want you. Jess cringed. Where had that thought come from? A blush crept up her neck to her cheeks, but she could do little to stop it. Jess had not yet allowed herself to imagine being with Michael intimately. She knew once that thought entered her mind there would be little to distract her from the idea. So she was concentrating on the kiss they had shared and only that.
“I haven’t even spoken with them yet. I might not want it. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Michael set the magazine aside and leaned back into the couch.
Although Michael looked aloof, Jess knew she would want the project. Not for the money but for the work. Michael loved to create things for others, to bring their visions to life. Jess remembered when Michael took her first sculpting class in high school. Michael had been successful with any form of art she attempted, but something about sculpting made her come alive. On many days Jess would open her locker and find some trinket that Michael had made for her. Her favorite was the apple Michael had carved for her out of soapstone. It sat on her desk at work and she touched it for good luck. To this day Jess had no idea how Michael knew her locker combination.
*
They made small talk until Morgan turned out the light, just as Sharon Stone first appeared. Michael prayed Basic Instinct would hold her attention. Her hopes were dashed the moment Jess shifted, putting her warm thigh in direct contact with Michael’s. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t ever brushed up against each other while watching a movie, but Michael found it much more difficult than usual to remain composed.
Halfway through the movie she was doing well and able to concentrate on Sharon Stone’s legs, and soon she became involved with sketching the actress’s thighs. Then Jess shifted again and rested her head on Michael’s shoulder, one of those friendly affections they had shared in the past, but Michael shivered when she inhaled Jess’s unique scent. Clean and fresh with a hint of something fruity. Raspberry and citrus maybe? Michael stopped sketching and concentrated on twisting the fringe of the throw pillow resting under her arm so she wouldn’t do something stupid. Like take Jess’s face in her hands and kiss her, right here in front of Morgan and Camille. Kissing her.
It hit her. She remembered last night’s dream of kissing Jess. Michael had dreamed of being with Jess before but her dreams had always seemed romantic and sweet, such as lying in bed together or riding horseback on the beach during sunset. No sex. No kissing. Last night her dream had been much more intense and intimate. Downright erotic. Her sweet soft lips and her supple feminine figure. A wave of heat settled between Michael’s legs. She moved her thighs in an attempt to ease the pressure there, but it only made the ache more intense. Michael did not know how much longer she could pretend she wasn’t distracted. “I need another beer,” she said and scooted to the kitchen.
Michael took her time, even going to the backyard to put her bottle in the recycling bin rather than leaving it by the sink the way Camille always instructed. She pulled another beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter, trying to cool down. Was this how it was going to be now? Her skin on fire every time Jess was around? Not being able to think due to the blood rushing in her ears…and lower?
Michael returned and squeezed as close to the couch arm as she could get. Jess had readjusted and was now leaning against the opposite arm. The movie ended not a moment too soon.
Michael stretched and walked slowly to the hallway. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m feeling really tired.”
“I’ll text you as soon as I hear from the bigwigs in New York,” Camille said.
Michael could see the look of concern of her face. It was rare for Michael to be the first one to leave. Camille would often sit with her and talk for hours after the others had gone home.
“Thanks, boss!” Michael said, as she walked down the hallway, relief flowing through her.
Just as she was about to descend the steps, the front door opened.
“Hey, wait up,” Jess said, shutting the door behind her.
Michael turned around, leaned against the porch railing. “What’s up, Jess?”
“You rushed out this morning and I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay. About last night.”
All of Michael’s hurt came rushing back. She looked down at her worn sneakers. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. No big deal.” I’m only dying inside.
“Okay. Because, I mean sometimes…with friends…things happen.”
Michael’s head popped up. Friends? Such as Stevie? Maybe Jess did have sense and didn’t want an idiot like Stevie. Maybe Jess was embarrassed she had kissed Stevie. Well, that’s more like it. Michael took a chance she was right.
“Yeah, everyone had a lot to drink. Mistakes happen. Right?” She lifted her shoulder in indifference and laughed, hoping it would ease the tension. Jess looked away. A moment passed, and Michael tried not to stare, waiting for some sort of response.
“Definitely. We still on for Memorial Day? I need some time away.”
Memorial Day. Our trip. Michael had been so busy with finishing her last commission and trying not to think about Jess naked, she’d forgotten about their annual trip to Dogwood Bluff, their childhood home. They had not meant for it to turn into a tradition, but after the first Memorial Day there six years ago they kept going back. Michael visited her mother several times a year, but Memorial Day was usually the only time Jess came with her. Jess usually spent her holidays with Sara in New York.
“Of course,” Michael said, feeling lighter. Jess and Stevie were not together. At least now she could pretend Jess was celibate, which would help her sleep at night. Although her relief didn’t change the fact that she would be spending a very long, very friendly weekend with Jess. She could hardly sit through a two-hour movie with her without combusting.
“Should we leave Friday night or Saturday morning?” Jess asked, folding her arms in front of her chest.
“Let’s make it Saturday.” The less time they spent together, the better. Michael always found the trips to Dogwood Bluff romantic since they were always alone, unless they were with Annabel, Michael’s mom.
Jess leaned back against the door frame. “I can’t wait.”
Michael didn’t know if it was the soft porch light on Jess’s features or just Jess herself, but she couldn’t remember a time when Jess had looked so lovely. Leaning against the door, her dark hair slightly ruffled by the warm breeze and her smooth skin with the slightest hint of makeup. Michael couldn’t move, captivated by Jess’s beauty. You have to stop this. She couldn’t even say good-bye to Jess without falling all over herself. How would she ever survive a long weekend?
Michael sped down the Atlanta streets. Driving helped clear her mind, and she was grateful for the twenty-minute drive back to her loft. She sang to the radio and tried not to think about Jess. She tried not to think about how the hell she was going to survive a long weekend with her. Going to her mother’s for Memorial Day weekend had always been something she looked forward to. Lately, though, her reaction to Jess was painful. It took willpower to be around her without imagining touching her. Kissing her. And that damned dream. Michael prayed that her dreams wouldn’t take another erotic turn as they had last night. She didn’t know if she could handle dreaming about Jess that way at night and then being close to her all weekend.
Her friendship with Jess was something she cherished. Michael worried that if she continued down this path of obsession their friendship would change, and not for the better. This weekend could be the perfect opportunity for her to snap out of it. While she did love Jess with all her heart, she needed to move on. She needed to remember Jess was her sweet friend, not the woman she couldn’t have.
It was going to be a long, long weekend.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After completing the sculpture for the doctors on Decatur S
treet, Michael itched for something to do. She had updated her digital portfolio and worked on an oil painting she planned to give her mother for Christmas, but she was still restless. Camille called on Tuesday with no news from La Femme. It was now Wednesday, and she felt jittery. Maybe they’d looked over her work and changed their minds. Michael’s sculptures didn’t exactly scream haute couture, and perhaps they wanted someone more established in the art world, more known outside of Atlanta.
To prepare for the trip to Dogwood Bluff, Michael made a run to the drugstore. She needed a good excuse to get out of the house. She entered Mason’s pharmacy, waved to Herman, and grabbed a shopping basket. Herman Mason was a tall, lanky man who Michael guessed was nearing eighty. Michael liked the small-town feel of the family-owned business. Everyone chatted about this or that in Mason’s, and it reminded her of a drugstore in Dogwood Bluff.
“Hey, string bean. Storm coming, no doubt about that.” Taking his time packing another costumer’s purchases, Herman clapped her shoulder with an arthritic hand when she passed the messy checkout counter.
“Rain doesn’t bother us Southern ladies.” She winked at him and sauntered over to the toothpaste aisle.
The rain and thunderstorms in Georgia this time of year were a sight to behold. The dark cloud cover blanketing the city was almost eerie. Michael loved the humid smell of rain and the distant roar of thunder. Her mother always told her that God was preparing the earth for summer, that plants and flowers needed all the water they could get before the temperatures reached the eighties and nineties. As children she and Jess had always wished for the power to go out when there was a bad storm. Anytime they heard a clap of thunder, they ran and found their flashlights, a game they shared until high school.