by Jane Hardee
Pulling a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, she focused on the crude map the concierge had drawn. Glancing at her watch yet again, she realized that she was several minutes early. Sighing with relief, she tossed the map in the trash can and crossed the bustling street toward Dyson’s Restaurant.
As she neared the entrance, she glanced in the reflective surface of a window. She looked good. Michael had opted for black trousers and a tailored blue shirt, along with black loafers. She let her hair fall around her shoulders, but that meant she continually had to tuck it behind her ears—a habit her mother never liked. Michael clutched her portfolio, a dark brown satchel with her initials engraved into the bottom right corner. It was her favorite present from Jess when Michael had graduated from SCAD, and Michael rubbed the initials with her thumb as she thought of how proud Jess would be if she landed this commission. With that in mind, she headed for the door and grabbed the polished brass handle.
Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she strode into the restaurant and looked for the back table where one of the editors, Audrey McAllen, said they had reserved seating. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she noticed a trio of attractive women gathered around a circular booth near the back wall. One of them waved and stood as Michael approached.
“You must be Ms. Shafer,” a woman said, taking Michael’s hand in a firm but friendly handshake. She was a few inches shorter than Michael but exuded a confidence that Michael found refreshing. “I’m Audrey, we spoke on the phone.”
“Wonderful to meet you. And please, call me Michael,” she replied in her most professional-sounding voice and hoped her palm wasn’t sweating.
Audrey gestured toward the other two women who stood to greet Michael. “This is Deborah Laney, one of our editors.”
Michael couldn’t help but notice the sleek suits all three women wore and feared she was underdressed. She didn’t own a suit and wondered if the trio would be put off by her androgynous style.
“And this is Marguerite LeBeau. Our editor-in-chief.”
Michael was caught off guard by the woman’s penetrating stare. Now this woman was intimidating. And attractive. And she knew it.
“Hello, Ms. Shafer.” Marguerite grasped Michael’s hand. After researching the editor-in-chief, Michael had learned that Marguerite was from France, but she was unprepared for her thick French accent.
“Camille spoke highly of you,” Deborah said, as Audrey sat down next to her and signaled to their waiter. “And we are intrigued by your digital portfolio.”
“I brought photos as well, if you would like to take a look.” Michael slid her portfolio across the table. “And thank you for your interest.”
Audrey and Deborah looked through the pictures and commented on her talent and style, but Marguerite’s eyes did not leave Michael’s face. She was a little surprised to be on the receiving end of a look like that on a business interview, but she did not mind the attention.
“How do you find New York, Ms. Shafer?” Marguerite asked, folding her hands on the tabletop. She wore no jewelry, unlike the other editors whose hands sparkled with rings and bracelets when they had flipped the pages of her portfolio.
“I find it thrilling. I only wish I could stay longer,” Michael replied. Apparently this was good news to Marguerite because she raised her eyebrows and nodded.
“Let me get straight to the point, Ms. Shafer,” Marguerite said, shaking her head slightly when Deborah slid the leather binder in front of her.
“Please, call me Michael,” she said with a lopsided grin, trying to keep the usual flirtatious tone out of her voice.
“Yes, Michael. We want you for this project,” Marguerite said with certainty.
“Really? I’ll be honest. I was surprised when Camille told me about this. My women are powerful and graceful, but they don’t slink around like fashion models. I can’t soften the hard edges or the intensity of my work.” She hadn’t intended to say anything so frank and hoped she hadn’t seemed unprofessional.
“Too busy carving to appreciate fashion?” Marguerite’s eyes twinkled.
Michael exhaled with relief that Marguerite hadn’t been offended by her comment.
“As far as what we want this piece to convey—femininity. Plain and simple,” Marguerite continued. “We will give you free rein to create what you want, but the piece needs to convey the female, her grace and her power.”
“Power I can do because I don’t believe femininity is synonymous with fragility or delicacy. I don’t create frail women, but I can provide you strength and boldness.” Michael knew honesty might cost her the job; she hoped if that happened, Camille wouldn’t kill her.
“Yes, I understand. I will return the courtesy of your honesty and tell you that I am new to La Femme, and things are going to change. We are a fashion-forward magazine and will stay as such, but the most important thing about fashion is expressing one’s individuality. And that takes confidence. Fearless, beautiful women. That is the new La Femme.” Marguerite tapped the cover of Michael’s portfolio for emphasis. “You see, boldness is exactly what we want.”
This was music to Michael’s ears. She couldn’t care less about fashion, but she would do anything to bring strength and empowerment to women. She felt an almost an audible shift of the wheels turning in her mind. Work mode took over.
“What mediums are you considering? And have you decided on a completion date?” Michael opened the last page of her sketchpad to take notes.
“Marble,” Audrey said, sipping her wine.
“Excellent.” Michael resisted the urge to drool. She loved sculpting with marble. The pieces she had previously created were small because it was so expensive.
“We weren’t sure if Camille had discussed much about the commission with you. We wanted to make sure our offer was fair: you will have to live in New York to complete the project by the date of the opening of our new office at the end of August. Of course we will pay for your expenses and anything else you require,” Deborah said, slipping a small piece of paper across the table with a number on it.
Michael read the six-figure offer and took a gulp of wine to calm her nerves. She tried to comprehend such a large sum of money landing in her bank account.
“It looks like we have a deal,” Michael said, allowing her smile to broaden.
*
Rubbing her tired eyes, Jess decided to shut down her laptop and call it a night. She stretched and shuffled to the bedroom to check her messages. Glancing at her cell, Jess saw a new text from Michael.
“Good news,” the text said. Jess’s heart began to hammer as she thought of all the things that might change when she heard the news. She pulled on her favorite, worn baseball T-shirt, flopped down on the edge of the bed, and called back.
“I got it. I got the job.” Jess could hear the grin in Michael’s voice. Having known her for years, Jess wasn’t surprised Michael sounded steady, but Jess could still read her emotions. “I’m flying back up in a week to get started. They are putting me up in a hotel for two months. The piece will be too big to move.”
“Michael, congratulations! That’s wonderful.” Jess was happy for Michael, but she felt sick at the thought of her being away for so long. They usually spent more time together during Jess’s summer break.
If she visited Sara in New York a few times, though, then she could see Michael some. If Michael wanted to see her, that is. Or had the time. On second thought, that seemed desperate. Jess could survive a summer without Michael. She could go to the movies a lot, and the ones she liked. Michael hated the crowds in movie theaters.
“I will see you tomorrow at eight, right?” Michael asked.
Jess loved how concerned Michael sounded.
After saying their good-byes, she pulled the soft blanket around her shoulders and replayed the conversation. Two months in New York? How was Jess ever supposed to understand her new feelings for Michael if she wasn’t even around? And what if she didn’t come back? Jess wa
nted more than anything for Michael to be a creative success and achieve her dreams. To live her life to the fullest. But what if that life didn’t include Jess?
*
After the phone call, Michael tilted her head back and shut her eyes in contentment. She was so glad Jess was in her life. So glad she could share things with her. When something good happened—or something bad, for that matter—Jess was the first person she wanted to talk with. Michael couldn’t imagine life without Jess. If that meant keeping their friendship platonic, that was exactly what she would continue to do. No matter how hard it got. She found a tiny bottle of tequila in the hotel mini bar to celebrate.
Feeling resolved to keep her feelings about Jess private, she dialed her mom’s number. Annabel also would be thrilled to hear the news. Michael bounced up and paced around the small hotel room as she waited for her mom to answer.
“Well, Michael! What happened at the interview? Do they love you?” Annabel’s Southern drawl always seemed stronger when she was excited.
“I don’t know about all that, but they definitely love my work. I’ll be living in New York while I complete the sculpture. Will you come visit me?” Michael teased.
“You know I will! Oh, Michael, honey, I am so proud of you. So proud.” Michael guessed her mother was about to grab the nearest tissue box. Annabel cried when she was happy, sad, excited—she even cried at church. The woman just couldn’t hold in her tears.
“Mom, don’t cry now. This is good news.” Even though she had witnessed her mother cry a million times, it was never something she enjoyed.
“Oh, you know me,” Annabel said with a sniffle. “You’ll be busier than a moth in a mitten! Don’t worry about Memorial Day.”
“We’re still coming, Mom, and I can’t wait. I’m picking Jess up bright and early.” Her mother loved when Michael came to visit, but she always seemed worried that Michael would miss out on something if she was stuck in Dogwood Bluff too long.
“And how is my Jessica? Have you confessed your undying love yet?”
Michael’s heart sank. My undying love. Yes, it was undying. Even after she had convinced herself only moments ago that she could keep these feelings to herself, she knew in her heart what her mother had always known—and would never let her forget.
“Mom! It’s not like that.” A vision of Jess kissing Stevie invaded her mind; it wouldn’t happen again, she knew that, but someday Jess would want someone. “She’s my best friend, Mom.”
“You know you can be best friends with your partner. No one says you can’t. In fact, it’s probably not a bad idea.”
Michael could tell her mother was smiling. At least one of us finds humor in this situation. Annabel only wanted the best for her, but Michael couldn’t help getting annoyed when she brought up her unrequited love. It was hard enough to deal with the emotions roiling in her head and heart; it was all the more exhausting to defend her need to keep them private.
“I will call you when we leave, Mom. Get some sleep because I know you will be cooking half the day tomorrow. What’s on the menu?” Michael asked, changing the subject.
“Your favorite.”
“Chicken pot pie?”
“That’s right, sweetie.”
“We’ll be there in the blink of an eye.”
CHAPTER NINE
Hands on her hips, Jess riffled through her open closet and groaned. She had packed the outfits she thought were most flattering on her, but she also wanted to bring something special. Something Michael had never seen. Something to wow her. Jess forced herself to concentrate on the coming weekend and not worry about Michael leaving for New York. Her insides turned to mush every time she remembered the kiss they’d shared, and she hoped, somehow, for a repeat. Sharing an unplanned, drunken make-out session was one thing, but Jess wanted more than anything to share an intimate, passionate encounter. It was getting impossible to ignore Michael’s sexiness. How her eyes lit up when she smiled. Or the androgynous, subtle perfume she wore.
“What are you not telling me?” Morgan asked from the bed, flipping through the latest issue of La Femme.
Caught off guard and ripped from her thoughts, Jess stumbled over her words. “Hmm…what are you talking about?”
“I’ve known you for how long? I know when you’re keeping something from me. And from that dreamy look in your eyes, it sure isn’t anything bad.” Morgan closed the magazine, placed it on the table next to Jess’s bed, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is she cute? Tell me everything.”
Jess decided to get it over with and tell Morgan. She would get the story out of her sooner or later, and they could talk about it like adults.
As she wondered how to say it, she thought about how Michael reacted both times they had almost discussed it. Was Michael so embarrassed and ashamed that she wanted Jess to hide their kiss from her closest friend? Suddenly Jess felt annoyed. Just because Michael wasn’t going to discuss their changing relationship with anyone didn’t mean that she couldn’t.
Jess picked at the flaking nail polish on her thumbnail and didn’t meet Morgan’s eyes. “I kissed Michael.” When Jess looked up, Morgan was staring at Jess with her mouth open. Jess tugged a sweater from her closet and threw it at Morgan. “Say something.”
Morgan still stared, letting the sweater hit her face and fall to her lap. It seemed like years before Morgan replied. “Michael? You kissed her? When? How was it?”
“Friday. After Stevie’s party. It was earth-shattering,” Jess said, pacing in front of the closet.
Morgan rubbed her face and shook her head, her ever-present high, long ponytail swishing around with the gesture. “Well, shit. What the hell happened?”
Jess relived Friday night and explained the relevant details to Morgan, including the uncomfortable incident with Stevie. “Then she tossed her shirt on the floor and…it just sort of happened. I’m not sure who started it. But I was definitely the more sober one.” She flopped down on the bed and sprawled her arms out, looking at Morgan who was still leaning against the headboard. “It was…phenomenal. I’ve never experienced a kiss that amazing. It was unreal.” Letting out a slow breath, Jess realized how much more real it felt now that she had said it out loud. There really was no turning back.
“So, what…are you guys…like dating now?” Morgan said, trying to hide her laugh with a cough.
“Not even close. She told me it was a mistake.” The excitement flowing through Jess was replaced with a sadness she didn’t want to feel. A kiss that amazing should only inspire good feelings and not fears that Michael would never want someone like her.
“Well, maybe she is embarrassed? She was really smashed.”
“Yeah, maybe. Which is fine. I would be willing to forget the whole thing if…if it hadn’t changed everything for me. I can’t even control myself now, Morgan. She’s electric.” Jess again pushed aside her sad feelings to imagine Michael’s warm lips and firm body. What would it be like to place her hands on Michael’s hard muscles? What would it be like to peel her clothes away and touch every part of Michael with her mouth?
“Well, what the hell are you going to do?”
Jess realized there was only one thing she could do. “I’m going to kiss her again.”
*
When Michael drove up to Jess’s apartment building the next morning, she was glad she was wearing sunglasses. She stared as Jess strolled down the brick steps in the sexiest pair of khaki shorts Michael had ever seen. She felt an instant arousal at the sight of Jess’s smooth legs in motion. Michael tensed her thighs to relieve the tension.
You’re a fucking pig, Shafer. Michael forced herself to pull her eyes from Jess’s thighs. She imagined those legs wrapped around her. Her hand running up Jess’s calf as Michael thrust her hips into her over and over. Since her erotic dream, she had been unable to stop fantasizing. The plane ride home was particularly difficult. The dim lights led to an intense stream of images, something to do with Michael stripping Jess bare as she stoo
d in front of her and kissed her body from head to toe. Stop. Just stop it.
Jess turned around to close the wrought iron gate that separated the small yard from the sidewalk. The khakis were almost short enough to reveal the slight curve of Jess’s bottom. Shorts? Since when do you even think shorts are sexy? Michael continued to scold herself until Jess opened the passenger door and gave her a silly look.
“Talking to yourself?” Jess climbed into the front seat and tossed her overnight bag in the back. Michael closed her eyes for a moment as Jess’s scent wafted into her car.
“Just um…making sure I remembered everything.” Yeah, like the vision of your sexy ass permanently etched into my mind.
“I’m ready for some time away. How about you?” Jess buckled her seat belt and adjusted the strap over her ample cleavage.
“Yeah, definitely.” Michael pulled away from the curb and into the light Saturday-morning traffic. Nothing about Jess’s outfit was indecent; it was summery and light, but Michael wished she was wearing more. Not only because the amount of skin was distracting but because anyone could see her. Michael didn’t want anyone else but her to see that much of Jess’s soft, perfect body.
“Shit.” Michael cursed under her breath as she realized how chauvinistic she sounded.
“What did you say?” Jess dug into her purse to retrieve a pack of gum. “Want a piece?”
“Sure.” Michael held out her hand, praying to everything holy that Jess’s fingers wouldn’t graze hers. “I was going to say that Mom is really excited to see you.”