Heteroflexibility

by Mary Beth Daniels

  “So what should we do about Zest?” Bella asked.

  “We’ll fix her up,” Nikki said. “Everyone donate one item to the cause.”

  Bella tugged away a scarf lined with jingling bells and wrapped it around my waist.

  I watched them with chagrin. “Oh, ladies, really, it isn’t necessary.”

  “Oh yes it is,” Jenna said, dropping two strands of beads with Obama pins fastened to them around my neck.

  “I brought extra foil in case my drill got bent,” Krieg offered.

  “Perfect,” Mary said. “We’ll make a crown.” She took the silver sheet and began folding it.

  Still no sign of Bradford. I couldn’t wait to see him and prayed he wouldn’t be in costume either.

  “Is Bradford dressing up?” I asked, hoping, of course, for salvation. Mary pressed the crown to my head.

  But then I saw him, striding through the concourse. He wore a black pin-striped Zoot suit and a dashing felt hat. Bystanders stopped to stare at him as he passed, walking jauntily along, acting the part. My heart clenched. He was beautiful.

  The women backed away, as if to clear a path for him to me.

  A long gold chain swung against his leg as he strode forward. His hands were gloved, the hat slung low, obscuring his eyes. As he approached, he nodded at me. “Good to see you again.”

  He hadn’t shaved that morning, completing the look. He was so handsome, so breathtakingly perfect, that my throat closed up.

  Nikki nudged me. “She means to say hello,” she said.

  I nudged back. “Hello, Bradford.”

  We stood there, looking at each other, me feeling ridiculous in beads, spangles, and a foil crown, until Blitz grunted. “Time to find our gate, Hoebags. Our plan is boarding in fifteen minutes.”

  “After you,” Bradford said.

  As we walked beside each other to the gate, my pulse wouldn’t slow down, even when I told it to, my stupid, gaydarless hammering heart.

  Chapter 21: Party on the Plane

  Nikki stood a few rows from the back of the economy section and hoisted her beer can in the air. “How many lesbians does it take to screw in a light bulb?” she called out.

  I leaned toward Aud. I was sitting by her and Audrey on the three-seat side of the plane. Blitz and Krieg were opposite us. Bradford sat directly in front with Mary and Jenna, although I couldn’t see them for the seat backs. Nikki and Bella were opposite them.

  “Man, they’re going to kick us off the plane,” I said.

  “Bad jokes are probably prohibited by federal law,” Aud said.

  “Hoebags!” Nikki called, even louder. “Do I need to commandeer the speaker system?”

  I settled down further in my seat, not wanting to know who was watching.

  “So,” Nikki went on. “How many lesbians does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

  A chorus answered, “Four!”

  Nikki laughed. “That’s right! One to change the light bulb.”

  She pointed at Bella, who also stood leaning against the window, her head cocked beneath the overhead compartment. “The second to organize the potluck,” Bella said.

  “Good job!” The finger moved to seat in front of us.

  Jenna said, “The third to write a moving folk song.”

  She chose Audrey next. I wondered if the tiny girl could even project. “The fourth to make an interpretive dance!” she called out. Aud squeezed her hand.

  “Or start a drum circle,” Nikki said. A couple pillows sailed through the air, smacking into her.

  Bella tossed them back. “That’s a lame joke, Nikki, even for you.”

  “Ha! I’m always funny!” Nikki rummaged around in a bag. “And I come bearing gifts!” She tossed a book over the seat into my lap. “This is for your lesbian edification.”

  I flipped it over. Odd Girl Out by Ann Bannon. A 50s-style woman’s face dominated the cover, and a smaller naked girl kneeled in the background, clutching a pillow.

  “It’s a classic. Read it and weep.”

  A flight attendant walked up the aisle. “You ladies settled in yet?”

  “She means you, Nikki,” Blitz said. “Settle in.”

  “You chicks are no fun!” Nikki said, but she turned and sat in her seat.

  I tucked the book into my bag, too antsy to read. The foil crown was yanking my hair, so I pulled it off. I couldn’t really see anything in front of me, especially Bradford, but I spied his hand and wrist when he reached up to adjust the air vent.

  The flight attendants went through their safety spiel. I squirmed a bit to settle down in the cushion, almost wishing I was sitting away from the rest so I could sleep. The night on the plastic chairs in the airport, specifically designed, it seemed, to discourage people from sleeping, had not allowed for much rest.

  Audrey put on a headset to watch the in-flight movie, Baby Mama.

  “She’s way into Tina Fey,” Aud said.

  I nodded. “Her rendition of Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Live gave me faith in comedy again.”

  “I’m sick of that vice presidential hellspawn. I’ll be glad when this race is over.”

  “Everyone’s sick of Palin,” I said. “There wasn’t anything on CNN on Prop 8 this morning. What is the latest?”

  “Still down four points. The ploy to ban us will fail. Gay marriage has been legal in California for six months. It’s practically an industry for them. They won’t squash a major source of destination tourism.” She pushed the button on the arm rest and pushed her seat back a little.

  “So they’ll keep it for a money reason, not a moral one.”

  “All the morals are on the side to ban it. All the logic goes to ‘no.’”

  “Are you feeling better about the wedding now that it’s so close?” I remembered the pictures. Fern had gone to great measures to be near Aud again.

  She closed her eyes. “I’m allowed cold feet. I never thought I’d be doing this, once I figured out I was gay.”

  “But you are.”

  She glanced at Audrey, rapt into the movie. “She’s worth it. Even if she is hot for Tina Fey.”

  The seat belt sign clicked off, and Bradford’s head poked over the back. He looked so young and disarming, his eyes peeking over the blue seat that I was momentarily stunned, imaging a small boy version of him, with his crystal eyes and a mop of black hair. “You ready for this, Zest?”

  My heart skittered. “I’m a little anxious about the venue and how the ceremony will go.”

  “Let’s powwow,” he said. “Jenna, will you switch with Zest for a bit, so she can talk to Mary and me about the wedding?”

  Jenna popped up, holding fast to Butch. “Sure.”

  I unbuckled and tried to stand, forgetting my camera bag strap was on my ankle. As soon as I took a step, I unceremoniously fell into Aud’s lap.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Girls are always falling onto my cooter.”

  I disentangled myself and eased out. Bradford was all the way next to the window, and I felt a jolt of disappointment to see Mary beside him, reading a book, a white cloth pressed to her forehead. She’d be between me and Bradford.

  “Why don’t you two switch,” he suggested. “I want to show Zest some shots I found of Bella’s dress.”

  Mary looked up, revealing her face. Her skin was extraordinarily glossy, like she was encased in plastic. She caught me staring and touched her cheeks. “Bradford’s giving me a cleansing mask,” she said. “I’ll peel it off in two hours.”

  “On the plane?”

  “Want one?” he asked. “It’s easy to apply.”

  “No, no,” I said, then thought about him applying it, his hands against my face. “Well, maybe.” I turned back to Mary, whose face looked like a flesh-colored Mylar balloon. On second thought, maybe I didn’t want him seeing me that way.

  Mary moved down, and I slipped beside Bradford. His arm lay along the seat rest, and as I settled in, my bare skin connected with his hand. I felt annoye
d with myself at the jolt. Why did I have to be attracted to a gay man?

  I could see each sharp bit of stubble across his cheeks and chin. I tried not to stare at his lips again, but we were so close it seemed possible if I leaned forward just as he turned his head, we would—

  “Here’s the shot,” Bradford said, sliding a magazine cut out from leather portfolio. “See how the light falls just so on the gown?”

  He waited, without a hint of self-consciousness, for me to force myself to look down at the image.

  “It’s unusual lighting,” I said, willing myself to focus. “I doubt we could pull it off in the hall unless we’re really lucky with windows. Does she want me to do a solo bridal portrait there?”

  He shook his head. “I think only shots of the couples, although if you see a good image, take it. We’re not going to be traditional, as you might have guessed, in keeping the couples segregated before the ceremony. Mary has rented a big limo that can carry us all there.”

  “Will you and I also ride in it?”

  “Oh yes, it’s quite large.” Mary rubbed her fingers along her jaw, where the mask ended. “We’ll let you in last and out first for shots.”

  We went over the order of the ceremony, the individual vows, and the basics of the reception. Another softball team, the Peppermint Patties, would also attend the wedding as witnesses. The two teams would play a game Sunday morning before we headed back to Texas.

  “That’s about it,” Bradford said, closing his leather folio and resting his head against the seat.

  “I guess I should switch back with Jenna,” I said.

  He held his arm out in front of me. “Nay.”

  “Nay?” I smothered a laugh.

  “Nay, fair damsel! Do not deny me the beauty of your smile!”

  All this with his eyes still closed.

  “But what will the Lord of the castle say, pray tell, m’lord, if we are found out?”

  “Hell if I know.” He laughed.

  “Homos!” Nikki stood again. She glanced at me. “And half-homos. We need to liven up the joint! Is everyone drinking?”

  “Not for six bucks a beer,” Blitz grumbled.

  “I’ll buy!” Nikki said, repeatedly pushing the flight attendant call button. “Fetch me a serving wench!”

  Bella tugged Nikki back into her seat. “It’s not our turn yet. She’s coming.”

  “Is there an eject button on the plane?” I muttered.

  Bradford chuckled. “For us or for her?”

  I felt a little brazen. No harm in flirting with the unattainable. “Do we get to go together?”

  “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “Then for us.”

  He smiled, practically a thermonuclear event at this proximity, and I wanted to hit something, especially Cade, who popped into my thoughts unbidden. This is why girls like gay men, I realized yet again. No wonder it’s a cliché. No pain, no problem. The easy flirt. The safe way to feel special.

  Maybe that’s why I was doing it.

  The flight attendant arrived. “Hooray!” Nikki said. “Beer for everyone. Whatever’s cheap.”

  “It’s all the same price,” the woman said. She seemed unfazed.

  “Don’t create an airline incident,” Krieg said. “We got grounded on a plane once due to an unruly passenger.”

  “I’m not unruly!” Nikki said. “Ten beers.” She pulled a wad of cash from her pocket. “Thank you.”

  The flight attendant walked away without anyone designating the brand. Whatever she had ten of, I guessed, glad there hadn’t been a scene. With our position in the back of the plane, I really couldn’t see anyone in front of us, regular passengers who might be reacting.

  Nikki twisted around in her seat. “Time for more gay jokes. Anyone, anyone?”

  When no one answered, she said, “All right. It’s all on me then. What’s the difference between a lesbian and a Ritz cracker?”

  “Nikki!” several people chorused. “Don’t do it!”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll whisper the answer. She stopped at the end of our aisle, cupping her hands around her mouth. “One’s a snack cracker, and the other’s a crack snacker.”

  I pinched my lips tightly, almost laughing despite myself.

  “Gotta love Nikki,” Bradford said.

  “How do you know all these women anyway?” I asked him.

  “A couple of my friends play on the league. They asked me to sponsor their team.”

  “You sponsor the Hoebags?” I asked. “I didn’t see a salon name on their shirts.”

  “I’m a silent benefactor,” he said.

  Nikki heard him. “He doesn’t want everyone to know he pays off the Hoebags,” she said. “Might ruin his sterling reputation.”

  “I have to watch my associations,” he said.

  “You got that right.” Nikki waved at the flight attendant, who trundled the cart down the aisle. “Whoo hoo! It’s Miller time!”

  She snatched the beers off the top of the cart, much to the attendant’s chagrin, tossing them across the seats. “Heads up, Hoebags!” she called.

  “Airplane surfing!” She flung herself across our laps. Her elbow apparently found a tender spot, because Bradford let out an elongated, “Oooof.”

  “Sorry dude,” Nikki said, rolling on her back to gaze up at him. “I’d give you a blow job to make it all better, but I’m not very well practiced.”

  His face had turned pink. “I’ll pass,” he said. “But you can get up now.”

  “Spoilsports,” she said, wiggling her way backwards.

  Aud leaned over the top of our seats. “Riding cooter?” she asked.

  Nikki looked up at her. “Don’t you know it! Straight cooter no less!”

  “That’s the best kind.”

  I glanced at the movie screen. Baby Mama still played, so presumably Audrey was still engrossed. But these couples seemed fine with sexual entendres between friends. I’d have diced a woman into chopped beef if she’d talked that way to my husband. Not that anyone had. Other than my…best friend.

  Everything had to come back to Cade. I wondered, for a moment, what he was doing. He had no idea I was on a plane to California to shoot a mass lesbian elopement, flirting with a gay man, and drinking, ugh, Miller Light.

  I wondered if he’d gotten in touch with Fern. She’d been so, well, busy (I flashed with an image of her boss in chains), that she had to have been ignoring him. He probably didn’t require a lot of attention, poor guy. She only had so long, though, before he’d know she wasn’t pregnant.

  I’d probably be hearing from him when THAT happened. I might should speed up the divorce.

  I popped the top of the beer and downed it in one long swallow. Nikki, who had shoved up the armrest so she could face the aisle, saluted me. “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about.” She raised her beer in the air. “To our photographer—an equal-opportunity public snogger, penis lover, heteroflex and image-snapper extraordinaire, who knows how to PARTY!”

  Everyone held up their beers. I clinked my empty one against the others. Just a week ago I could never have imagined women like this would be my best—and pretty much only—friends.

  I turned to Bradford and whispered, “Can you explain to me what a heteroflex actually is? Nikki’s called me that twice now.”

  He grinned. “Heteroflexible means you’re primarily straight, but you’re willing to be, well, flexible on that.”

  “Flexible meaning that I will sometimes be with a girl?”

  “If the mood strikes.”

  I leaned my head back against the seat and crunched my empty beer can. “I’m something I didn’t know existed.”

  “Not a bad thing.”

  “And cooter is—”

  “The part you have that I don’t.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Bradford cocked one of his half-smiles. “Glad we can talk about these things.” He handed me his beer. “It might be a long flight,” he said. “I’m more
of a wine guy.”

  I opened it gratefully. The last thing I needed was for Bradford to figure out that a silly flip of a homeless photographer was falling for him a mere six days after her husband filed for divorce. I’d never actually felt this giddy before. Cade had been a long slow agonizing decision, a mutual agreement after we realized we’d missed our chance to easily meet other people in college.

  In fact, I remembered his exact words. “It’s you and me or singles bars.”

  The height of romance, that Cade.

  But no one else had made it even that close. EPT-stick man, who introduced me to Fern, wasn’t anything special. And my lone boyfriend in high school was more a way to ditch my virginity than an affair of the heart.

  And now there was Bradford, completely inappropriate, out of my league even if he liked women, which he didn’t. For him to know what was going on in my clueless head would be far more humiliation than I could bear, even in a week like this one.

  But as he grinned down at me, relaxed, his head resting against the plaid cushion, I had a feeling he could already tell.

  Chapter 22: Signs, Signs, Everywhere Are Signs

  Everybody, well, other than Bradford, had their buzz on by the time we landed. I sloshed through the terminal, trying not to bang my camera bag as I walked. Some professional I was turning out to be. But the women were singing and hugging, and I was right in the middle of it.

  “We’re naming you an honorary lesbian,” Bella said, her arm around my neck. We stumbled to the baggage claim.

  Nikki rushed past us, shouting, “She’s already halfway there!” Then she sprinted ahead.

  “I think she’s going to jump on the conveyor,” Bella said. “Let me go fetch her.”

  Bradford neatly intercepted Nikki first, steering her away from the carousel, which still trundled a random bag or two from the previous flight. He pushed her onto a plastic chair and said, “Stay.”

  Bella and I burst into giggles. “Stay, Nikki, be a good girl!” Bella said. “Where’s Butch? He can show you!”

  Bradford turned to me. “And you, be careful with your equipment. We want it—and our photographer—in one piece tomorrow.” He took the bag from me before it banged against a pole. “Let’s get this more secure.”