by Cynthia Dane
“Oh honey.” Sloan put out her cigarette and slung her arm around Leah’s shoulders. “You kinky girls are always the most imaginative. That’s why you’re the ones who control the show.”
“Really?” Leah found that hard to believe. “Because you seem to call most of the shots. Including when I get to come.”
“Because that’s what you want, and I get off on it, too.”
Leah grinned. “So you’re cool with being exclusive?”
“It’s not like my calendar is filled with dates with other women. As long as I’m content, I can make something work.” She paused, lost in thought. “Although, if you’re signing up to be my exclusive lover, then you might be taking on more than you can deal with. There’s a reason my little black book is full of names.”
“You might be surprised.”
“I’m already surprised.” Sloan’s hand was back between Leah’s thighs. “Every time I meet up with you, I’m surprised. Maybe it was fate, after all.”
“You don’t seem like the kind of woman who is impressed by fate.”
“I’m not. Fate is bullshit, but sometimes it’s fun to indulge.”
Sloan suggested they wash up and order in their dinner. Leah was determined to stay as long as she could. It wasn’t too far to walk back home, even at the midnight hour, although she had a feeling Sloan would offer her a ride home again.
She never expected to be invited to stay the night.
They took turns showering. While Leah washed up and put on one of the plush bathrobes, Sloan ordered their dinner and suggested they go over the finer details of their new relationship. By the time they finished dinner, Sloan was ready to go back to bed.
Naturally, they didn’t go there to sleep.
***
The most obnoxious call came at eleven, about thirty minutes after Sloan had drifted off to sleep with Leah curled up next to her.
Nobody called her personal cell this late unless it was an emergency. Somebody had better be dead or, worse, one of her companies hemorrhaging money.
Nope. It was worse than that.
“Why the hell are you back in Portland?” Aaron’s half-drunken slur woke Sloan up faster than the fire alarm. “You took the company plane? Last I checked, you didn’t have another work meeting until Monday morning!”
“What’s wrong?” Sloan yawned into her phone. Her sleep shirt stretched against her torso. Leah rustled beside her, but kept her eyes closed. “Did you need to use the plane for a booty call in New York?”
“The whole point is to not use it when we don’t need it for work, Maggie. That’s the whole definition of a company plane! Are you going to dare writing off the fuel and crew fees for your personal booty call?”
“What makes you think I came to Portland for sex?” Wait, she didn’t want to know that. Aaron was a big enough pervert already.
“I know about the girl, Maggie. Your background check request crossed my desk a few days ago. Didn’t think you were desperate enough to go after her so quickly.”
“What the fuck are you doing going through that?” Sloan threw back the covers and got out of bed. She was taking this conversation to the bathroom. “Have you been drinking? Stop calling me when you’re half drunk. What happened? Did your girlfriend of the night stop blowing you because one of her baby teeth fell out?”
“That’s fucking low, Mags. I don’t make fun of you because you chase college tail at the ripe old age of forty.”
“Thirty-nine. You’re the one in his forties now. You’re the creep, Aaron.” Sloan stopped in front of the bathroom mirror to check the bags beneath her eyes and the crow’s feet her doctor claimed could go away with only a few injections. She hadn’t become that desperate yet. “Why the hell is it any of your business if I’m in Portland meeting up with a girl? You do it all the fucking time! Last time I needed to use the company plane at the last minute, I found out you were in Morocco seeing one of your sugar babies. So don’t come after me about jet fuel and crew wages. At least I stayed in the fucking country.”
“I got this call today,” Aaron continued, ignoring her. “Somebody tipped me off that you met with Maxine Woodward in California.”
“Yes, and? I was conducting legitimate business.” Sloan simply wouldn’t say what.
“Everyone knows what Maxine Woodward does!” Aaron’s voice raised to the point Sloan almost hung up on him. “When is she not in the fucking tabloids because that ex-wife of hers wants to talk shit?”
“So she’s a lesbian who is divorced from a crazy sack of shit. What about it?” Not like Maxine crafted her whole image around it. Aaron, however, was the kind of toxic loser to build his whole life around a marriage and throw a fucking fit when it was over. Ask me about his ex-wife. Go on. Ask. “Don’t be a homophobe, Aaron. You know it’s not cute.”
“I’ve been very patient with this whole lesbian thing, Maggie, but I’ll be damned if you’re sneaking around talking to the biggest narks we know. If I see our names in the paper tomorrow, I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Do what you did last time you were mad at me and hire male sex workers to wait for me in my room? For that surprise gangbang you so kindly bought me?” An easy enough situation to diffuse, once Sloan got over her shock at seeing five naked men in her bedroom. Not like they came at me the moment I walked through the door. Yet she had received Aaron’s message loud and fucking clear. Typical man with threatened masculinity. “Please. You’re over here crowing about wasted money, and you want to waste money on men I won’t be attracted to? Come off it.”
“You used to like that sort of thing.”
“I used to like a lot of things, Aaron. Things change. Tastes change. Like me.”
“I hope she makes you happy, Maggie, because God knows you can’t make her happy. You’re such a fucking bitch that…”
She hung up on him and temporarily blocked him. He’d be over this bullshit when he woke up with his hangover in the morning.
Still… I did not need that. Sloan caught her bearings in the bathroom before turning off the light and going back into the bedroom. She was surprised to find Leah sitting up in bed, naked and as beautiful as the first time Sloan saw the real her.
“Everything okay?” Leah asked.
“It is now.” Sloan tossed her phone onto the nightstand and crawled onto the bed. Her nightshirt rose above her ass and reminded her that there were still many tactile pleasures to be had that night. “Just an irate businessperson who wanted to ruin my night, but I won’t let him, so you have nothing to worry about.”
Leah studied her for a few more seconds before releasing the smile waiting to burst from within. “It seems that there are few worries when we’re around each other.”
“That’s how I like it.” Sloan pushed her down and wasted no time getting on top of her. Leah acquiesced so easily that Sloan almost worried that nothing about this night was real. “How’s three rounds in one night sound?”
Leah grinned and raised her head for a kiss.
Fuck you, Aaron. Thinking about that bastard made Sloan kiss her lover harder. Why do you have to be that way? Why can’t you leave me alone? Why can’t I be rid of you?
Sloan had a million reasons for wanting to stay away from a serious relationship. Sex made her feel good. Sex gave her a reason to get through her shit-fuck week and look forward to something that gave her the best endorphins of her life. It had always been that way. Sex was both a curse and a blessing. Makes my life. Ruins my life.
She didn’t regret a single partner she ever had. Not even the men of her youth.
Yet there were secrets she didn’t want Leah knowing. Ever. Secrets from Sloan’s past that had the power to ruin everything she ever worked for.
I’ve only loved one person my whole life. I’m not about to fall into that trap again. She promised herself that as she buried her face in her lover’s breasts.
Chapter 12
“When did you get these?” Karlie tapped the end of her pen against Le
ah’s brand-new earrings. Red clef notes, to be precise. Big enough to stick through her curly hair when she sat a certain way at the Starbucks table. Her pencil wrote the tiniest love letter to Sloan that she could muster. A love letter that would right now go unsent, because Sloan had made it clear that she was not interested in romance.
Leah touched the earrings. They jiggled against her jaw, making Karlie giggle. “Birthday present from a friend. Didn’t have a chance to wear them until I put on this outfit today.”
“I bet. Can’t wear those to the bakery, huh?” Karlie looked back at her laptop screen. A personal essay, meant to help her get into the colleges of her choice, stared back at her. “They’re cute. Which friend gave them to you? Melissa? Or was it the one from the bakery?”
“Gina.” Leah left it at that. Karlie could infer whatever she wanted. “Don’t you have an essay to finish?”
Karlie shrugged. Her hair, so like Leah’s in that it curled without effort, bounced with her movements. “I need a break. Could you get us something to snack on?”
“Like what?”
“They got that popcorn here.”
Leah fished into her purse and pulled out her gold Starbucks card. “I’ve only got like five bucks on there, so don’t go crazy.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Karlie slid out of her seat and bounded toward the register. That left Leah enough time to sigh and place her head on top of her letter.
Sloan bought me these earrings on Sunday. She had to leave early Sunday evening so she would be refreshed for a meeting on Monday morning, but Sloan had taken her lover shopping in downtown Portland before leaving. She owed me an outfit I could wear home, anyway. Sloan had kept the dirty lingerie. Knowing that made Leah snort on her frappe.
The earrings were only the tip of their shopping iceberg. Sloan had multiple credit cards, each one black or platinum. She decided which one to use based on the rewards a store offered. I never thought I would own something Kate Spade. Leah almost didn’t know what to do with her typewriter bag. No, not a bag that could hold a typewriter… but a colorful bag shaped like a typewriter, with little buttons she could push! It was so adorable that she was almost afraid to take it outside. Except she had today, because she had an impromptu day off from work and felt like dressing up in her cutest outfit.
She hadn’t only bought things for herself, however. Karlie wore her new charm bracelet, which jingled as she pushed her hair back from her face and ordered something at the register.
That’s how Leah was. She couldn’t be totally selfish when getting spoiled. If someone offered to buy her presents, one of those gifts was bound for Karlie’s hands. It had been that way since she was a toddler. Most of my allowance during my teens went to her… toys, clothes, whatever I thought she needed.
Karlie returned with a small drink and a bag of popcorn. She popped open the bag and poured salty popcorn onto a napkin. “Help yourself! You paid for it.”
Leah rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I gu…”
“Ma’am,” an elderly woman interrupted them on her way by. “I want to say that you and your daughter are absolutely gorgeous. You two look so much like my Italian friend Francesca.”
Leah paled in horror. Karlie, meanwhile, laughed with popcorn spilling from the corners of her mouth.
“That’s my sister!” she proclaimed. “Oh my God, Leah, someone did it again! Do you really look that old?”
“My apologies.” Embarrassed, the woman shuffled away. Leah remained frozen in her seat. That wasn’t the first time someone had mistaken her for Karlie’s mother. Even when Janet was around, people often looked at the similarities between Leah and Karlie and took it for genetic truth. Only a daughter could look that much like her mother. Not even sisters were that similar.
“Can you believe that?” Karlie wiped off her fingers and went back to typing on her laptop. “People are so blind. We look nothing alike.”
“We have the same hair.” It had skipped a generation with their mother. Grandma Lola had the curliest hair in Portland. She said it came from Honduras, where she was from. “And the same nose.” They got the nose from their dad.
“Whatever. Hey, when I’m done with this essay, could you look at it?”
“Sure.”
Fifteen minutes later, Leah hadn’t made any progress on her letter, but Karlie had finished the first draft of her personal essay, and now turned her laptop around so her sister could dissect it.
“How I Overcame My Personal Hardship.” Groan. Leah remembered when she had to fill out essays like this to get into college. Not that she went right away. There were other matters to tend to at home after she finally graduated high school a year late. God only knew what Karlie wrote about. Probably something completely made up, like most kids who didn’t have disabilities or broken homes did.
What’s this? The introductory paragraph spoke of the Vaughn family and how good they had been to the youngest child. Even when she always had nightmares as a little kid. I had forgotten about those. More like Leah had blocked it from her memory. Those were some of the scariest nights of her life. How was she supposed to handle a four-year-old waking up at three in the morning, screaming because she claimed Janet wasn’t her real mother?
“What’s wrong with it?” Karlie put down her phone. “You’re making that face, sis.”
“What face?”
“The face you make when you’re swallowing something sour.”
“I had forgotten about the nightmares.”
“Really? I guess they were a long time ago.” Karlie picked up her phone again as soon as it buzzed. “Meanwhile, I need to come with a topic for my English essay that’s due next week. I’m supposed to write a paper about a song I really related to last year.”
Leah chuckled, grateful to have a change in topic. Grateful that she talks to me about this stuff. She knew that her role as “big sister” meant Karlie was more likely to talk to her about growing up, rather than going to their mother. “That should be easy! It’s because of you that I memorized all the lyrics to ‘Cheap Thrills.’”
Karlie looked up again, gobsmacked. “Are you kidding me? I was an underclassman when that song came out! It’s like… so ancient now! They play it on classic streaming stations!”
“You’re kidding.”
“No way. You’ve got to be the one kidding me. That song came out like five years ago.” It wasn’t until Leah gave her an exasperated face that Karlie amended, “Okay, like, 2016. Not five years ago, but it’s 2018 now! Duh!”
Leah still laughed. “Could’ve sworn it was last year. Time goes by too quickly.”
“Don’t say stuff like that, sis. You’re sounding like an old person.”
“Well, I did recently turn thirty. That’s ancient, according to you.”
“Don’t do that to me. Don’t remind me how old you are now, okay? It’s bad enough that mom’s almost sixty. I keep having to remind her that Kurt Cobain died, like… thirty years ago.”
Leah rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure it’s more like twenty-five, but whatever.” I can’t believe I remember when that happened. Leah had barely been in elementary school, but she remembered her mother being glued to the TV and screaming that you couldn’t trust someone like Courtney Love if your life depended on it. That’s what happened when one’s mother claimed to have known Courtney when she grew up in Portland. Still calling bullshit. Janet definitely had a friend named Courtney Lovett, but not Courtney Love.
“When you get older…” Yeah, Leah was starting to show her age. Who knew she would turn into one of “those” adults, sooner rather than alter? “Time doesn’t mean anything anymore. It goes by so quickly, because you no longer have the kinds of references that you did when you were in school.” That’s about when it started, right? The endless days turning into months, then years. Without the structure of a school year to keep her grounded, the only way Leah knew it was summer as opposed to winter was because it was slightly less rainy. “I could’ve sworn that song came out l
ast year.”
Karlie cocked her head, the same curly hair she shared with Leah knocking a napkin off their table. Karlie hadn’t noticed. “Growing older sounds scary. You don’t know what day it is, huh?”
“It’s all about perception. I guess a switch goes off in your head as soon as your brain stops developing. I swear it’s not that scary now.”
“What if time goes by so quickly that you wake up tomorrow, and it’s your fortieth birthday?”
Leah recoiled. “Don’t do that to me.”
“Sorry.” Karlie went back to her phone.
“Who are you texting, anyway?”
The fact Karlie wouldn’t look back up told her sister that something was afoot. Bad? Good? All Leah knew was that her hackles were raised. “A guy in my class.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t give me that tone… and you can’t tell Mom. You know what she said about me dating.”
“Not until you’re sixteen, and only if your grades stay up.” Both had long happened, but Karlie once confessed that their mother was so hard on boys that the thought of dating sounded impossible. “So what’s this boy’s name?”
“Stan.”
“People are still naming their boys Stan, huh?” Leah was showing her age again, because that would never not be a reference to The Golden Girls. Karlie assured her that it was actually a reference to American Dad! Whatever that was. “Well, let me know how it goes, huh? I promise not to tell Mom.”
At least Karlie was grinning again. “It’s not like we’re dating, sis. We’re texting.”
“Uh huh.” Leah knew how that went. First, it was phone calls and texting. (Or emails, like back in her day.) Then they were going to the movies. Then to the bookstore (the cool one, of course.) Then they were sharing pizza slices and drinking from the same soda bottle.
Then they’re up in his room, doing things they’re not supposed to know about.