“I’d expect nothing less.”
*
It was a quarter to six when Lucy made it home, which meant she would sadly be late for drinks with Emory. Even more tragically, it happened a lot. Something she was working on, though the nature of her high-status job didn’t help. When you were in charge, people tended to wait on you without complaint, and she would never want to take advantage of that. Lazy and entitled were two things she did not aspire to be. She fired off an apologetic text to Emory so she wouldn’t race over to the bar and made her way into her small beach house and slipped out of her heels, scrunching her toes that were at long last free from the endless day.
Instantly, she heard the click, click, click of tiny paws on the aged hardwood. Her Yorkshire terrier, Bernadette Peters, appeared in tail-wagging greeting. “Why, hello there, you tiny bundle of love.” Bernadette Peters licked her face happily, her whole body shaking in excitement because at long last her owner was home. “I missed you too. Let’s get you some dinner and a chew toy. What do you say?” Her answer was more shaking, which in Bernadette Peters speak translated to wholehearted agreement.
Lucy strode farther into the two-bedroom beach bungalow she’d come to adore. Her place wasn’t big like Emory’s beach house half a mile down the shoreline, but it was charming and it was hers. Her favorite spot on the back deck faced out over the water. She’d start her day with a cup of coffee and often end it out there with a nightcap, watching wave after wave roll in from the Pacific.
As soon as BP was fed and fawned over properly, Lucy quickly changed clothes from high-powered CEO to Everygirl about town in dark jeans and a midnight blue V-neck. She topped off her look with a long necklace and fruit punch lip gloss, pulling her hair back on the sides to complete the transformation. With keys in hand, she hopped into her silver Aston Martin and headed to the Lavender Room.
Emory was, of course, already there when she arrived, nursing a Kentucky Mule at a small table. “I got one for you too,” she said to Lucy and slid a drink her way.
“You’re the nicest to me.”
“I am. I’m so glad you noticed.”
The Lavender Room was a lesbian bar that knew how to do things right. Upscale in nature, the décor was classy. Through the center of the room stood a square mahogany bar with a row of cream-colored upholstered bar stools along each of its sides. Matching lighting fixtures with cream-colored shades hung from the ceilings, and jazzy piano music played from the bar’s speakers.
“I haven’t seen you in three days,” Lucy said. “What’s new? Give me your updates.”
Emory, her blond hair pulled into a subtle knot at the back of her neck, considered the question. “Grace wants to start her own talk show for ten-year-olds and has decided to practice interviewing people, which is code for Sarah and me. Today, the pint-sized Barbara Walters delved deep into my childhood and I’m not sure I’m over it.”
“She hasn’t asked to interview me yet.”
“Trust me. The clock is ticking.”
“And how’s Sarah?”
“Busy, but happy. She’s working on a whole list of summer activities for when Grace gets out of school. The word Disney may have been tossed around.”
Lucy regarded Emory, amazed at the woman she’d become. “Who would have thought two years ago that Emory Owen would don a pair of mouse ears and sing ‘It’s a Small World’ while riding Dumbo?”
Emory winced. “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
“Well, I have to. It’s happening.”
Emory laughed and stirred her drink absently. “So what happened to you today? Why all the over-the-top lamenting on the phone?”
“Do you remember the school bus feature that snagged all of that attention four months back?”
“I do.”
“The guy made it all up. Or at least made up his part in it.”
Emory sat back. “Shit. Seriously?”
“Yeah. And without knowing this, I agreed to talk to a Union-Trib reporter about the story and walked blindly into her trap.”
“Her trap?”
“Yep, Kristin something, whose main goal in life is apparently calling me onto the carpet for running the release.”
Emory laughed it off. “That’s ridiculous. We’re a wire service and not responsible for the journalistic integrity of others. Don’t sweat it.”
“Trust me. I get that, but the Miss America of news reporters I spoke with this afternoon sees things very differently. This could be some really bad PR, and I hate bad PR.”
“I’m sorry, Miss America?”
Lucy sat back in her chair and sighed. “Miss America with an ax to grind is more accurate. Miss America with an evil streak. A vengeful side. There’ll probably be a movie about her one day. Wes Craven style.”
“1990 would like that reference back.”
“Still. You should have seen her, all beautiful and unaffected. Like she was the morality police and I was in major violation and not capable of her divine understanding of journalistic integrity.” Emory smiled at her. “What? What are you smiling at?”
“It’s just very rare that someone gets to you like this.”
Lucy set her drink down in defeat. “Yeah, well, I felt attacked.”
“I can see that. But you know what? It’s not your fault, nor is it the fault of the company. We had no way of knowing.”
“Right? Why couldn’t she see that?” She turned her head and followed the progress of a blonde on her way to the bar, pausing because Lucy wasn’t sure she was actually seeing what she seemed to be seeing. No way. It couldn’t be. What were the odds?
“Luce? You okay over there?”
She turned back to Emory, heat flaring in her chest. “She’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“Evil reporter. She’s here in this room.”
“Oh, show her to me! I need to see this woman.”
“Don’t you dare be obvious, but she’s at the bar, looking perfect and superior.”
Emory delayed a moment before casually turning her head in the direction of the bar, where Kristin seemed to have taken a seat. “She’s pretty. You were right.”
Lucy shook her head in warning. “Don’t let it fool you.”
“And gay apparently.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Well, she’s at a well-known gay bar so I’m going to wager the chances are good. I’m quite astute, you know.”
Lucy shrugged. “She’s fairly new to town. Maybe she’s trying to meet people.”
“Yeah,” Emory said. “Gay people.”
“So she’s a lesbian,” Lucy said to herself, mulling that over. “Well, not entirely shocking. There was some mild flirting before she set out to destroy me and everything I stand for.”
Emory held her thumb and forefinger close together. “Maybe a little dramatic again. Why don’t you go talk to her?”
“That’s the craziest thing you’ve ever said to me. Should I parasail naked next? Why would I talk to her?”
“Because you’re clearly bothered by the whole experience. Maybe,” Emory said calmly, “this is your chance to smooth things over.”
Damn it. Lucy hated it when Emory made valid points. She took another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb her senses a bit, especially if she was going to face Ms. Kristin James. She set the empty glass on the table. “If I don’t return, call for help.”
Emory held up her phone. “On it.”
Lucy gave her head a little what-the-hell shake and stepped up to the bar alongside Kristin. “Vodka martini,” she said to the bartender. “Two olives.”
Kristin glanced her way and offered a smile in greeting. “Ms. Danaher.”
“Ms. James.” Lucy realized her voice sounded cold, aloof, which prompted her to pause, reminding herself that the goal here was to deliver some sort of peace offering. There were olives in her drink. Maybe she could fashion a branch of some sort. “Listen to us,” Lucy said lightly. “I thought
we’d done away with the formalities. I’ll call you Kristin if you’ll call me Lucy.”
“We should definitely give that a shot.”
The bartender placed a martini in front of Lucy and she sipped it lightly. “I haven’t seen you in here before. Are you stalking me?”
Kristin nodded. “Desperately. How did you know?”
Lucy smiled. “I can’t reveal all my secrets,” she said, which earned a polite laugh.
“I come in for a drink after work on occasion,” Kristin said, “but only once in a while. It’s a nice little spot.”
“I think so too,” Lucy said. “My friends and I love it.” Kristin had a great mouth, kind of pouty and full. She gave herself a mental shake. This was the woman who’d slammed her in her office only a few hours prior. How was it that Lucy was now irrationally captivated by her very attractive lips? The bottom one especially, as it—stop it. Sometimes she didn’t understand herself.
“About earlier today,” Kristin said, swiveling her stool in Lucy’s direction. “I hope there are no hard feelings about the interview. You seem like a nice enough person.”
That was her, the nicest. “Of course not. And to prove it, let me get your drink.”
Kristin held up a hand. “Oh no. I couldn’t let you do that.”
“But I want to,” Lucy said, meeting the green eyes that wouldn’t stop. The bartender, having heard their conversation, nodded and accepted Lucy’s American Express.
“That’s very generous of you,” Kristin said, raising her glass. “I don’t know a ton of people in town, so when someone does something nice…well, it resonates. So thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Lucy said. “And now you’ve met me, so you know one more person.”
“This is a valid and encouraging point.” And then, “You’re welcome to sit.”
Aha, an invitation. “Maybe just for a minute, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Lucy slid onto the stool next to Kristin’s. “Good, because if I’m being honest, I didn’t like how we left things at my office. I’m not sure we ever saw eye to eye.”
Kristin moved her head side to side as if considering this. “No, perhaps not. But maybe we don’t have to agree in order to be friends.”
She pushed the comment aside and focused on her goal. “But I was hopeful that I could get you to understand.”
“Why GNW ran the press release?” Kristin asked.
“Yes. Because, as I said, it’s not our job to differentiate.”
“I realize that’s how you feel, but that kind of outlook doesn’t do a lot of people any good. If it weren’t for that not-our-fault policy, there wouldn’t have been thirty-two erroneously run news stories throwing a literary parade for a bald-faced liar.”
“We didn’t set out to deceive anyone.” Her eyes met Kristin’s and she decided to just be honest with her and ask for what she sought. “Please don’t include us in this story.”
Kristin closed her eyes momentarily. “You want the story killed.”
“Not killed. Just for you to leave GNW out of it.”
“So that’s what this is?” Kristin held up the drink halfheartedly. “Not a token of friendship at all, but a negotiating tactic.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say to that because voiced out loud, coupled with the dejected look on Kristin’s face, her actions now seemed a little low. “No, it was both.”
Kristin stood. “I understand. And it’s fine. But I should probably get home.”
Lucy stood there, feeling not only like she’d dug herself further into a hole with the story, but she also seemed to have hurt Kristin’s feelings. Apparently, she had some. Who knew? “Kristin, for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to—”
“All is well. Enjoy your night.”
Lucy stood there experiencing full-on crash and burn as Kristin left the bar. She headed slowly back to Emory, who smiled up sympathetically. “That didn’t look like it went so well.”
“That’s because it didn’t. She hates me,” Lucy said, plopping down into the chair like a petulant child.
“Who could hate you?”
“Right?”
“And while I’d love to stay a little longer and list the many attributes that make you amazing, I need to head home and whip something up for dinner.”
Lucy sighed. “I figured you’d be out after one drink. It’s okay.” While she adored Sarah and Grace more than was even possible, there were times when she missed her friend and the old days when they stayed out late, chatting about life or strategizing about the business. In all honesty, she felt a little lonely as of late.
“Keep your chin up, Luce. Everything will be all right.”
“Sung by the Killers on the album Hot Fuss in 2004.”
Emory shook her head. “How are you able to do that?”
Lucy grinned. “It’s a gift. One of many.”
Chapter Two
Kristin James hadn’t enjoyed her day.
It started with the five pages of notes she’d received from her editor, Dalton, on the preliminary work she’d turned in on the exposé. Then she’d received a call from her landlord that he wouldn’t be fixing the dishwasher that continued to leak water onto the kitchen floor of her rental house, followed by the embarrassing exchange at the Lavender Room with that press-release-CEO of all people. But the fact that her Honda Civic wouldn’t start once she’d made it to the parking lot of the bar was just about all she could handle.
Instead of curling into the fetal position and surrendering to the universe, a course of action that she had first considered, Kristin sat on the curb outside the bar, waiting on the cab she’d called. That’s when she saw the blonde Lucy had been chatting with make her way to a Jaguar convertible and pull out of the parking lot. A girlfriend, perhaps? They were at a lesbian bar. The two of them would certainly make a striking couple. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her thoughts. Anticipating the cab company, she was surprised to see the readout.
“Hiya, Mom.”
“I haven’t heard from you in two days.”
She smiled and relaxed back onto her hand. “Which isn’t a lot of time.”
“You’ve never been a mother.”
“True. But I’ll try to remember if I ever am one that two days is minimal.”
She heard her mother sigh. “How are you doing? Ready to move home yet?”
“Nah, I’m doing okay.”
Quite honestly, the “move home” didn’t sound like such a crazy suggestion anymore. She missed San Francisco, having lived there her entire life. Her friends, her family, a dating scene she was familiar with. The job at the Union-Trib had sounded like an adventure, a chance to do the kind of investigative journalism she wasn’t finding at her desk job at The Chronicle. But the transition had been hard. She’d met some people at an environmental activist meeting, but they were just acquaintances at this point. A couple of people at work had been friendly enough, but quite honestly, Kristin was lonely and beginning to really feel it.
“And the house? Are you all settled in?”
She took a deep breath and brightened for her mother’s benefit. “The house is wonderful.” Yep, no puddles of water on the kitchen floor at all. Apparently, she’d need to go dishwasher shopping over the weekend. She pushed forward. “I bought the cutest little curtain for the kitchen window. It looks out over this little side yard.” She left out the part about her next-door neighbor leaving his spare car parts all over the ground.
“And you’ve made friends in the city?”
She nodded to sell herself the lie. “I have. We just met for drinks actually. It’s a fun little group. We might be getting together for a movie night this weekend and I was thinking I could pop my special popcorn for them.” Tears welled in her eyes at the dishonesty, but she couldn’t bear to upset her mother, who worried about her incessantly.
“That sounds like so much fun, sweet girl. You don’t know how relieved I am th
at you’re doing so well, and I won’t keep you anymore as you’re probably with friends. I love you and will talk to you soon.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
She hung up the phone and sighed, wishing half of what she’d reported to her mother were true. But there was a bright spot in her world—her work. Her mind was already firing after the conversation with Lucy earlier. Kristin believed in her story and was excited to get up each day and work on it. Not to mention, it was a topic that had her captivated. There was certainly a lot of gray underneath the umbrella of truth, to the point that she wasn’t sure where the line became firm. In fact, it now had her examining her own avoidance of the truth in the conversation she’d just had with her mother. It was something to think about and maybe include—lying for the greater good. She did, however, want to examine the topic from all sides. That’s the part that got her blood going, as there was something enthralling about compiling information, connecting the dots, and figuring out how it all went together in order to tell the best possible story.
Kristin checked her watch. The cab that was supposed to have picked her up twenty minutes ago was nowhere in sight. She stared across the parking lot and watched as the cars on the exterior street hugged the bend in the road, their headlights sharpening then blurring on the curve.
“Stargazing?” a voice behind her asked.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Lucy watching her from a few yards away. Perfect, just what she needed. Of course the high-powered CEO who looked like she walked out of a fashion magazine was here to observe her down-and-out moment. “Something like that.”
Lucy closed the distance between them until she stood next to Kristin’s spot on the curb, peering down at her curiously. “Seriously though, what are you doing sitting on the sidewalk at night?”
Kristin blew out a breath. While she’d really rather not involve Lucy Danaher in the details of her mid-evening plight, there didn’t seem to be a way to get her to move on without first supplying her with an explanation. “Because my car won’t start and I’m waiting on a cab.”
Lucy scratched the spot just above her lip as she thought. It was quirky and cute. Kristin brushed that thought aside as aggressively as it had come on. “This is quite tragic,” Lucy said. “I’d be happy to give you a ride. Where do you live?”
Sweet Hearts Page 2