Piece of My Heart

by Layce Gardner

  “Because it’s bad for business. Isn’t there some rule in life about fraternizing with your clients like how professors aren’t supposed to date their students?”

  “Which they do all the time,” Jenna retorted. “Don’t worry. I’m not in the market for a girlfriend. Besides, I feel it is my public duty to find these pots their lids,” Jenna said.

  Dale giggled. “They’re all lidless pots.”

  “Hey, watch it. I’m one of those lidless pots.”

  “Only because you’d rather sit at home and watch women’s softball on TV instead of getting out there and finding a date.”

  Jenna shrugged. “I like their tight pants. So sue me.”

  Dale took a sip of water and stood. “Why don’t you come over for dinner? We can have drinks on the deck, watch the sunset, and brainstorm on how we’re going to save these women from themselves.”

  “Taylor won’t mind?”

  “Taylor never minds,” Dale said. “You know she loves you.”

  “Yeah, if only I could love her back. Too bad she’s married. To my best friend,” She good-naturedly teased Dale.

  Jenna chugged down the rest of her water and tossed her bottle high into the air and across the room. It plunked down into the trashcan. “Nothing but net!”

  Chapter Two

  Dale and Taylor had been married for as long as Jenna had known them. She couldn’t imagine one without the other. Some lucky lesbian couples were like that. They fit together like a puzzle, their pieces forming one whole picture. Then there were lesbians like herself who always seemed to have one piece missing from the puzzle.

  Dale and Taylor lived on five acres of wooded land about three miles outside of town. Jenna regarded it as the boondocks because there wasn’t a store in sight. Being a city girl, Jenna needed a convenience store at the very least, and definitely a Starbucks. What did one do for a fast sushi fix if the nearest restaurant was thirty minutes away?

  Jenna and Dale sat out on the back deck that overlooked a meadow of tall grasses and even taller pine trees. The breeze smelled like nature and citronella.

  “Do you really think we can help those women?” Jenna asked. She sipped her Sam Adams Ale. She dearly loved beer in bottles. She was uncertain why—it just seemed high class and lowbrow at the same time and she swore bottles made the beer taste better. Under duress at fancy restaurants she suffered through a glass of white wine, but beer in bottles was her first choice of beverage after Fiji water. “DIE, a juggler, and a celebrity look-alike.”

  Dale laughed. “It’s DID. not DIE.” She sipped slowly at her white Russian. Dale loved them. She said the milk coated her stomach so the liquor didn’t give her heartburn. Jenna thought it was a strange concoction. Half-and-half and liquor just seemed gross and wrong.

  “I can barely keep track of my own personality and there’s only one of me. How Agnes does it with three boggles my mind,” Jenna said.

  “Yes, it does,” Dale agreed.

  “And think of what her closet must look like with three completely different wardrobes.”

  At that moment, they heard tires crunching on gravel.

  “Taylor’s home,” Dale said. Her face lit up.

  Jenna watched her best friend wryly. There had never been anyone that had made her face light up like that. Jealousy tugged at her heartstrings. What she wouldn’t give to have a love like that in her life.

  She turned her head and watched as Taylor’s Land Rover bounced up the driveway, veered off the road, and pulled around to the back side of the house where they were sitting. Taylor popped out of the Land Rover and stood on the runner. She smiled at them mischievously and waved.

  “Darling, most people try to keep their cars on the road. That’s what steering wheels are for,” Dale said.

  “What fun is that? I’ve got a beast here,” Taylor patted the Land Rover lovingly. “She needs to run and play.” And with that, Taylor ducked back into the ‘the beast’ and drove over the hillocks that surrounded the house and only after completing a big circle around their acreage did she pull up in the driveway and park it in the garage.

  Taylor was one of those people who seemed bigger than life. You know the type: When they walk in a room, everyone smiles and is happy to see them. They have zillions of friends and know all their names. Taylor didn’t have to go to work like most people. She made her fortune back in the early 2000s when she invented roadkill stuffed animals. They were a lot like other stuffed animals except they were flattened and had tire marks down their middle. The armadillo was a best-selling favorite. She invested that money wisely and had enough to keep her in Dr. Pepper for the rest of her life.

  “Taylor’s so full of life,” Jenna said. And without even realizing she was saying it aloud, she added, “I want a girl like that.”

  “Oh, some days you wouldn’t. Don’t get me wrong. I love her more than life itself. But she can be a handful,” Dale said.

  “A handful of what?” Taylor asked, coming out the sliding glass door. She’d snagged a cold Dr. Pepper out of the fridge on the way out. She’d lost her license to party about ten year’s previous—quit cold turkey and never looked back.

  “Roasted almonds,” Dale said sweetly. “A handful of roasted, salted almonds.”

  “Liar,” Taylor said. She bent down and kissed her wife on the forehead. “I am a handful of fun, games, and life lessons. A walking, talking, living, breathing, cautionary tale.”

  “Sounds like something Connie told you,” Jenna said. “Are you still getting life coaching from her?” Jenna had made the mistake of taking Taylor and Dale to a soirée at Connie’s luxurious mansion on Lake Wannabe. (Other people had potlucks. Rich people had soirées)

  Taylor had found Connie a ‘person of interest.’ In Taylor-speak, that meant Connie was an interesting person. Taylor collected interesting people like other people collected souvenir key chains or thimbles. Taylor signed up for life coaching lessons with Connie because she said she wanted to squeeze life like it was a lemon, make lemonade, and drink it all up.

  “Yep, I am still getting lessons from Coach Connie,” Taylor said. She sat down in the third of the four wooden deck chairs. “I like listening to her positive take on life. It inspires my joie de vivre.”

  “Like you need any help with that,” Dale said. She took Taylor’s hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

  Taylor leaned forward in her chair and rubbed noses with Dale. “Actually, you are my inspiration.”

  “Get a room, you two,” Jenna kidded.

  Taylor leaned back in her chair. “You have to admit, Connie is very entertaining.” She took a drink of Dr. Pepper. Then she lifted the can and studied it. “I did discover not to drink soda around her. She gets all statistical about its evil properties. I told her there’s nothing evil about prunes and carbonation.”

  “What do you two talk about?” Jenna asked. Despite firing Connie because her attitude was too positive, especially when Jenna had been depressed after losing her girlfriend to the Italian wench, she still held an acute interest in her.

  “Actually, we talked about you,” Taylor said to Jenna.

  “Oh, do tell,” Dale leaned forward in obvious anticipation.

  “You need a refill?” Taylor asked, popping out of her chair.

  Dale shook the ice around in her drink. “No, I don’t. Stop teasing and tell.”

  “Can I have another beer?” Jenna asked. She thought she might need one if she was going to endure a vicarious life coaching session with Coach Connie.

  “Only if you plan on spending the night. You know the rules—no drinking and driving,” Taylor said.

  “Are my traveling pajamas still around?”

  “Of course,” Dale said. “Where would they go?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Taylor said. She slipped back inside the house.

  “Hurry! The suspense is killing me,” Dale said.

  “I can wait, I think,” Jenna said.

  “Why? You want to know
as much as I do.”

  “I do, but sometimes Coach Connie hits my weak spots. I have a feeling this is one of those times,” Jenna said.

  Taylor returned with another Sam Adams. She plunked it down on the table in front of Jenna. “It’s showtime. You ready?”

  “Ready,” Jenna said. She took a deep breath and held it.

  “It’s actually complimentary and she might be sending clients your way,” Taylor said. She’d brought out a glass of ice and poured her remaining Dr. Pepper over it. The foam rose to the top and Taylor slurped it down before it overflowed.

  “Really?” Dale said. “That would be fantastic!” She looked over at Jenna. “Wouldn’t that be great?”

  Jenna nodded and forced a smile. Sometimes she felt like Dale was a lot more enthusiastic about She-She than she was.

  “Yeah, she said that you all were supplying a much needed service to the community. Most lesbians come to her because they feel helpless when it comes to their love lives. She was also impressed that Jenna had taken her heartache and subsequent depression and turned it into a money-making venture,” Taylor said.

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Jenna said. She stuck her forefinger into the bottle and pulled out the foamy part of her beer. Taylor had a habit of getting it shaken up and foamy between its trip from the fridge to the imbiber. One couldn’t complain if the beer was being delivered.

  She wiped the foam residue on her pant leg.

  “Don’t do that in front of our clients,” Dale said, indicating the foam faux pas. “They don’t need anymore bad habits.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, although Mickey would most likely approve. I can’t wait to spend time with her at the carnival,” Jenna said.

  “What carnival?” Taylor asked.

  “There’s a carnival coming to town this weekend. We’re taking our clients there for their first social foray,” Jenna said.

  “Sorry, but no can do,” Taylor said.

  “Why?” Jenna inquired. She tried to quell the panic she felt rise in her throat. Her first outing with her first clients and it wasn’t going to materialize. What was she going to do now?

  “Don’t panic. It’s just been postponed. Something about a licensing snafu with the Grand Poobah,” Taylor said.

  “Grand Poobah?” Jenna asked. “Why does that sound familiar?”

  “It’s from The Flintstones cartoon. That’s what Taylor calls the mayor,” Dale explained.

  “But not to her face,” Taylor said with a chuckle.

  “But aren’t you friends with the mayor? Can’t you get her to waive the license or whatever?” Jenna asked.

  “Don’t worry, Jen, they’ll get it ironed out. The carnival will be coming through town the week after next. Mark my words.”

  “Yeah, but we need something to do this week!” She looked at Dale. “You got any ideas for a plan B?”

  “How about doing one of my launches?” Taylor asked. She volunteered as a fishing guide in the summer months at Lake Wannabe. In the wintertime, she was their snowmobile and ice fishing guide.

  “Fishing?” Jenna asked. It was one of those things that tourists did. They came to Merrell, rented a pontoon boat, and fished. Jenna didn’t understand the allure—she hated water and fish, and especially fishy water—but she couldn’t deny that lots of people loved to do it.

  “Yeah, it’s a perfect venue for timid daters. I’m working next weekend as the fishing expert. My friend Val just started the Lavender Launch. It’s like an Olivia Cruise. Except it’s on a pontoon. On a lake. And you fish.”

  They laughed.

  “Okay, tell me why exactly it’s a perfect venue for timid daters?” Jenna asked.

  “You’ve got a built-in activity and something to talk about,” Taylor said.

  “Like what?” Dale asked.

  “Fish,” Taylor said. “What else? And if you need more conversational ammo, you’ve got weather, bait, fishing methods, and equipment.”

  Dale derailed her. “Our clients don’t seem like the fishing type. There’s a woman who thinks she’s Elizabeth Taylor, another woman who is really three women—a dormouse, a slut, and butch—”

  “Wait a minute, what? Three women?” Taylor asked.

  “As in multiple personalities,” Dale said.

  “Wow, that’d be awesome! A dream come true—three girlfriends in one. It’d be like having an affair, but without the ugly repercussions,” Taylor said.

  Dale socked her in the arm.

  “Of course, I wouldn’t do such a thing,” Taylor said quickly, rubbing her arm.

  “Don’t forget the juggler,” Jenna added.

  “Juggler? As in throwing balls up in the air kind of juggler?” Taylor asked.

  “And anything else she can get her hands on,” Jenna said.

  “She does it when she gets nervous,” Dale said. “Kind of a juggling Turret’s kind of thing.”

  “Hmm… Maybe a carnie would find that an endearing trait,” Taylor said. She smacked her chair arm. “If you can’t find her a date, maybe you can find her a new job with the carnival.”

  Dale touched her arm and said sweetly, “I love the way you think.”

  “You know, the Lavender Launch isn’t such a bad idea,” Jenna said. “I think it might work. Mickey will probably go for it. She’ll convince the rest.”

  “You’re probably right. She’s the most forceful presence of the group,” Dale said.

  “See? Problem solved. How about I grill us up some steaks?” Taylor asked. She jumped up. “I’m starving.”

  “Steak it is,” Dale said. She looked over at Jenna. “We can do this, right?”

  “Time will tell,” Jenna said.

  Chapter Three

  “I don’t know about this,” Liz-Melody said. She was standing on the dock at Lake Wannabe wearing a bright orange life jacket tightly cinched around her enormous breasts. She had her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked like she was posing for a publicity shot on a yacht somewhere in the Mediterranean. If she hadn’t been dressed in jodhpurs and riding boots (a la National Velvet) she would’ve been perfect, despite the life jacket. Jenna thought to herself that Liz-Melody had her own floating pontoons in that D-cup bra she was wearing.

  Jenna pulled Dale aside and whispered, “Please god, let Agnes come as Mickey tonight. Her big, bold, butch persona is the ticket to getting this launch to work.”

  “It’s not looking like it,” Dale whispered back. Jenna followed Dale’s eyes and saw Agnes sidle onto the dock. She was obviously trying not to draw attention to herself.

  “Hi, Agnes!” Jenna called out.

  Agnes looked apologetically at Jenna and Dale. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a fight with Mickey. She says it’s her turn and beside she’s much better at stuff like this. But she’s a little uncontrollable so I thought it best if I came.” She looked like she was on the verge of tears. “I don’t even know how to fish.”

  Liz-Melody joined the huddle. “Hi. Does this life jacket make me look fat?”

  “No,” they all said at once.

  Agnes said, “You look beautiful. I actually prefer Liz in her more natural look. Is that your real hair?”

  “Yes, it is,” Liz-Melody leaned over so Agnes could feel her hair. To Jenna’s surprise shy little Agnes stroked Liz-Melody’s hair.

  “It’s very soft,” Agnes said. She bent her head and sniffed Liz-Melody’s head. “Gee, your hair smells terrific.”

  “The secret is coconut oil. And I know I should keep it short—so it will fit under my wigs—but Liz did have this real natural side to her, and I haven’t found a wig that looks better than my own hair, so I keep it long.”

  “You should let it go free more often,” Jenna said. Liz-Melody looked more like a normal person without the wig and heavy makeup.

  Agnes’s phone alarm sounded. She turned it off and said, “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She walked away.

  “I didn’t know safari shorts and shirts came in gray
,” Jenna said.

  “I didn’t either,” Dale said, watching Agnes scurry off the dock. Liz-Melody wandered over to the other side of the dock to watch Taylor sort out the fishing poles.

  Cindy came down the dock next. She had her juggling balls and sippy cup clutched in her hands. She wore blue and white seersucker knee-length shorts, a crisp white blouse, and blue sandals. Jenna thought she looked sane were it not for the juggling balls and the sippy cup.

  “Wow. You look great,” Dale said.

  “Why, thank you. I thought it might be too dressy but I’m afraid the rest of my shorts are more for working in the yard. I had to go shopping to get this. Still, I prefer to be overdressed than under,” Cindy said.

  “Give me the balls,” Jenna said, holding her hand out. She felt like a first grade teacher asking a child to spit out their gum.

  Cindy looked crestfallen. “I knew I should’ve hid them, but women’s shorts have such shallow pockets.” She looked beseechingly at Jenna. “Can’t I keep them?”

  “Hand them over,” Jenna said more firmly.

  “You look so nice, it’d be a shame to ruin all that hard work by inappropriate juggling,” Dale said.

  “Besides, they’re a safety hazard,” Jenna said, “The close quarters will make juggling kind of hard.”

  “I’ve actually juggled in a closet before,” Cindy said.

  Jenna didn’t want to know. She snapped her fingers like she was scolding a puppy.

  With a sigh, Cindy handed the balls over. Jenna had almost closed her hand around them when Cindy snatched them back. She held them protectively to her chest. “I can’t. I need them. I can’t control my nerves without them.”

  Suddenly, Mickey reached over, grabbed the juggling balls, and in one smooth motion, tossed them into the lake. Plop, plop, and plop!

  Jenna had been so focused on Cindy that she hadn’t seen Mickey saunter down the dock in her tight jeans and sleeveless black T-shirt.

  “Problem solved,” Mickey said, dusting off her hands.