by Jenna Rae
She poured a double slug of vodka into a coffee cup and chugged it down, then did the same thing again. Janet stood next to her for a long time, saying nothing. Finally, Del nodded and pulled Janet in for a hug. They didn’t talk or make love or fight. They went to sleep on the couch, huddled together, and they never brought it up again. The next time Del knew she would be late to meet Janet, she sent a text.
Shaking off the recollection, Del took a detour on the way home. Wanting to cool off, she went zipping across the Golden Gate Bridge and along the gorgeous Marin headlands. She opened up the bike and let the cold air and freedom push away the garbage in her head. Reluctantly, she headed back into the city and wandered toward Lola and Janet. On the last turn home, she spied a gleaming red Aston Martin parked in front of her house. She slowed and almost bobbled the bike. That car! She’d seen one in an ad and thought it was cool, mentioned it to Janet once, months before, during one of those silly conversations, lolling in bed and talking about nothing. One of those moments when it had felt like Janet really loved her.
Del grunted and slowed to check out the showy vehicle—it was exactly the car she’d pointed out, the DB9 Volante, and it was the kind of showpiece only a drug dealer or a movie star would drive. Or an heiress pretending to be a substitute teacher so she could use Del to dig up dirt on the police department. A job well done, including good details like renting a shithole of a flat in the Western Addition and driving a rusty old Fiat.
Props for an actress in a crappy play about a stupid, lovesick dyke cop. Del’s breath turned sour and she grunted to herself.
She parked the Boulevard in the garage, knowing Lola would hear the automatic door, and took her time going upstairs. Lola was kind, compassionate, tenderhearted. She could be manipulated all too easily. Taking a deep breath and easing it out, Del made sure her expression was neutral before she went in. Lola can’t help being a softie, she reminded herself, and Janet is the queen of manipulative bitches. She sure fooled me and I’m supposed to know better.
She looked around and saw no sign of anyone. She tensed and let her hand hover by her duty weapon. Then Lola was at the top of the stairs, wearing a white shirt and jeans, and Del remembered the first time she saw Lola at the top of those stairs. The first night they were together. She wore white then too. Del had thought of it as bridal then. Or was it a protestation of innocence? Janet wore white a lot, and she was no innocent. The two women were polar opposites. For the first time, Del realized there were things about Janet that reminded her of Momma—the desire for glamour, the impatience, the selfishness, the short temper. How had she never seen that before? What did Lola have in common with Momma and Janet? Del had to smile, thinking about it.
“Pretty much nothing. Two legs, breathing air, that’s about it.”
Lola frowned, clearly nonplussed by the mumbled nonsense, and Del shook her head. She took the stairs two at a time to pull Lola into her arms.
“Careful,” she warned herself, unaware that she spoke aloud. “Don’t crush her.” But her arms tightened.
Lola squirmed and laughed, a nervous sound, and Del released her.
“Are you mad?”
Del heard the tremor in Lola’s voice and forced a tight smile.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” Lola shrank away.
Does she realize she’s doing that?
“No—”
“I’m sorry, Del.”
“At her. She shouldn’t have put you in this position.”
Lola shook her head. “She seems—”
“Okay.” Del cut in, working to keep her voice and face neutral. “But notice, she came when I was at work.”
“Ye-es. Uh, let’s eat before we—is that okay?”
Del nodded, unsure what else to do. Where was Janet? Well, she decided, Lola would let that cat out of the bag when she was ready. Sometimes it was better to let people take control of a situation and see what they did.
Lola gestured at Del to sit down at the kitchen table and started serving dinner—chicken cacciatore, one of Del’s favorite meals. There was a peach pie cooling on the counter, another favorite. Something smelled sweet and flowery. Was Lola wearing perfume? That was a first. Del preferred the way Lola smelled without perfume. She was wearing makeup too, a lot of it. Del’s mouth tightened.
Lola started telling a long story about nothing, making it funny and light. Del nodded, smiled, pretended to listen, but her head was filled with a smoke-tainted wind. This wasn’t Lola being sweet; it was a strategy. She’d tucked Janet away somewhere out of sight so she could soften Del up with dinner and kisses and sweet talk.
Am I really that scary? What does she think I’m gonna do? The chicken turned to mud in Del’s mouth. After all this time, Lola was still paralyzed by her fears. She wouldn’t talk about the violence that had colored most of her life, but Del saw its scars.
She hated the way Lola shied away from confrontation. She hated the fear in her eyes when Del seemed angry. She hated the way Lola still had to be reassured in bed, the way her first instinct was to shy away when touched. The anxiety, the nightmares, the little manipulations she wasn’t even aware of—Lola’s fear had become the third person in their relationship. There were times when Lola looked at her and Del knew she was seeing Beckett. Fearing Beckett. Anticipating angry words or a punch or a kick or a shove. Del pushed her plate away, ignoring Lola’s intake of breath. She was exhausted from pretending to eat and was careful, easing out of her chair around the table to pull Lola up and toward her.
“I think we’ve avoided things long enough, don’t you?”
Lola nodded but refused to meet Del’s eyes.
“I would never get mad at you for being nice. You know that, right?”
An audible swallow accompanied Lola’s second nod, and Del’s stomach flipped when she heard it.
There was silence. Del resisted the impulse to crush Lola to her. How long would it take before Lola really trusted her? Would Lola ever really trust her?
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” Lola pulled away, straightening the chairs, and stood on the other side of the table.
Like she needs protection. Del fought resentment.
“Can we talk about it?”
“Yes, of course. Sorry.” Lola busied herself, clearing the table. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. Janet showed up this afternoon. Obviously. You saw that car.”
Del nodded, her face blank.
“So,” Lola continued, after a pause. “I know you don’t want her here. I don’t either. I know she hurt you. I hate her for hurting you.”
Why does it feel so strange? I hate Beckett for hurting her, so why does it seem strange that she hates Janet for hurting me?
“I don’t want to feel sorry for her.” Lola’s voice quavered. “She’s the enemy. She’s a terrible person, but—” Lola stopped, pursing her lips. “She’s scared.”
And that reminded Lola of when she was scared. That, Del knew, was what Lola meant. She was helpless and afraid, and no one helped her. Not when she was a kid and not with Beckett. Del’s resentment seeped away.
“All right.”
The surprise on Lola’s face would have been comical under other circumstances. It made Del’s stomach churn. She forced a smile onto her face, and Lola tried to match it but ended up grimacing. It looked like someone had put big pliers in the corners of Lola’s mouth and forced them up and out. It was gruesome. Del looked away.
“All right,” she repeated.
“You’re not too mad?”
“I’ll talk to her, is that what you want?” Del felt like she was luring a frightened deer back from the edge of a cliff. One wrong move, and the doe would leap blindly into the abyss. Didn’t she always feel like that?
She was tired of luring the doe away from the cliff. She hadn’t felt how exhausting it was until this moment. Not that it was Lola’s fault, of course.
It’s not my fault either. Del pushed away t
he thought and focused on Janet.
“Odds are, she’s just exaggerating. She’s a manipulator, Lola. I told you that, I know I did.” She heard the bitterness in her words and took a second to temper her tone again. “But I trust your judgment. Okay?”
Lola nodded and Del let her breath out in a slow exhale. The doe was veering closer to her and further from the cliff. Again she felt resentful and then immediately guilty.
I’m pissed at her because my ex showed up? Nice.
“Where’d you hide her?”
Lola’s nervous laugh bubbled up and Del made herself smile.
“The—my house.”
“Oh.” Del had been wondering for months when Lola would bring up the fact that her house was sitting empty down the street. Del had gotten in the habit, back in the first week, of picking up the mail there and bringing it home with her. She hadn’t imagined she’d still be doing that come September.
“I just wasn’t sure where else. I know you don’t want her here.”
The doe was edging away again and Del nodded with feigned enthusiasm.
“No, yeah, that was a good idea.”
Lola offered an echo of the awful smile, and Del looked away for a second to erase the picture from her mind. She would love to never see that smile again. She pasted on a professional look and crinkled her eyes at Lola.
“You want to go over there, talk to her?”
“If that’s okay.” Lola got up and pulled out a plate of leftovers she’d wrapped up, adding a glass container of homemade chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.
“Are those just for her?” Del tried to keep her tone light, but Lola held out the cookies as if to ward off outrage.
“No, no. Of course not. I thought we’d sit down, have some coffee. Keep it friendly.” She was nervous all over again, still holding out the jar of cookies like a talisman.
Del waved the cookies away and forced another fake smile.
“Sure, yeah. Why not? As long as I get some of those!”
Lola rewarded her efforts with an even worse phony grin. It was ghastly, and again Del had to look away. She gestured Lola ahead of her and took a deep breath to clear away her frustration and annoyance. Dealing with Janet was going to be frustrating and annoying enough all on its own.
“Did you go in?” Del asked this while they were crossing the street.
“What? Oh. Yes.”
“Was it hard?”
Lola exhaled loudly. For the first time since she’d gotten home, Del felt like she was hearing and seeing the real Lola.
“I should have done it months ago. I’ve been self-indulgent, just pretending the house wasn’t right there.” She slowed and Del half-turned to see her face. “I’m ashamed of being such a coward.”
“You aren’t a coward. It was traumatic. Anyone would have been scared.”
“Maybe,” Lola conceded. “But a normal person would have gone home and dealt with it. I should have been stronger.”
Lola’s face twisted with self-loathing and Del looked away. She hated that look almost as much as she hated the kicked-dog look, sometimes maybe more. Was either of them worse than the horrible fake smile? Del shook her head.
“I’ve handled everything wrong. The way things started between us, I wish I could go back and do things right.” Lola shrugged. “Ah, it’s not important right now.”
“Tell me, please?”
Lola shook her head. “Let’s deal with Janet first. I just wanted to say that I’m done being a weakling.” She fished out her keys to open the door, and Del followed her, wondering what exactly that meant.
Chapter Four
Lola had apologized earlier, holding out the bundle of clothes and averting her eyes.
“Sorry I didn’t bring you any underwear.”
Janet, standing naked and still shower-damp in the living room, had shrugged.
“No biggie. I don’t wear any.”
Lola had just nodded, unable to think of a reply. She’d left then, relieved both to get away from Janet and to escape the house she’d once loved. Now she was back again, and again she felt like a big, stupid, awkward lump. Janet was curled up on the big beanbag chair Lola had lugged over, and she looked comfortable and relaxed. The borrowed yoga pants and sweatshirt hung off of Janet’s tiny frame. Even Lola’s socks were too big on Janet. She was impossibly, inhumanly beautiful.
It would be easy to hate her, wouldn’t it? Lola shook off the thought. She’d never had such a jealous, mean-spirited reaction to another woman, and it startled her.
“You.” Del’s voice was flat, and Lola followed her into the kitchen like a puppy forced to look at the puddle it had left on the carpet. Janet trailed along after them, sighing heavily as though annoyed by the inconvenience of moving. She waited until Del sat, then sank into the chair across from her.
Lola unwrapped the food while Del played server, putting extra cream and sugar in Lola’s mug, plunking down her own and Janet’s unadorned. Janet pushed around the food Lola had brought, watching Del and ignoring Lola. Lola’s gaze darted between the two women and she tried to feign calm.
Del was bristling with tension she tried to cover with obvious effort. She rubbed Lola’s back as she sat next to her. She was vibrating with rage, and Lola had to force herself not to cringe away from that seemingly casual, too-heavy hand on her back.
Janet waited a moment, then pushed away the plate of food. Lola watched her carefully. Even drawn and tired, Janet was beautiful. Was she wearing makeup? It was hard to tell. She looked like a supermodel, with her huge, dark eyes, her perfect cheekbones. Add her full mouth, her delicate limbs and smooth, dewy skin, and you had an exotic beauty worthy of any magazine cover. It was, Lola thought, easy to see why Del had found her attractive.
Oh, Lola recalled, and she doesn’t wear underwear. And she stands around naked in front of people without being shy or ashamed.
Why did I let her in?
It had been easier when Lola had imagined Janet as a club-footed, humpbacked Cyclops with bad hair and a disfiguring skin condition. She reminded herself again that jealousy was ugly, that beauty was only skin deep. It didn’t do any good. If she were Del, she would choose Janet. Who wouldn’t?
“Del. I’m sorry to show up uninvited. I know you’re upset.”
Janet’s voice was low and Lola had to lean forward to hear her. Del, she noticed, sat back.
Janet’s voice rose fractionally. “I had no right to come to you.”
There was a long pause.
“Lisa has been very sweet,” Janet continued. Lola could have sworn that her beautiful eyes, framed by suspiciously dark, generous lashes, were guileless.
“Lola,” Del corrected, her voice too loud. Janet continued like there’d been no interruption.
“I know this is awkward for you both. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I hurt you. I won’t keep saying I never meant to. I don’t want to fight.”
Del inclined her head.
“I only came to you because no one’ll help me.”
Lola watched, but there was no reaction from Del.
“I’m in danger.” Janet’s eyes filled with tears. “Del, I need you.”
Del reached out and held Lola’s hand on the table. Lola could feel in the tension of her fingers, hear in the too-even timbre of her voice, her effort to maintain calm.
Lola pretended it didn’t hurt when Del’s hand squeezed hers too tightly. She watched Del’s face get red. Lola’s breath grew shallower and quicker and she tried to slow it down.
Del’s words marched out, soldiers in a line. “Go. To. The. Police.”
“You have to help me!” Janet shrieked, and she lowered her voice. “I did before I came to you. They look at me like I’m making it up! I’m gonna turn up dead, and it’ll look like an accident or a suicide or something. You’re the only person who can protect me. I need you, can’t you see that? I know you think I’m exaggerating. Don’t you think I can tell? But I’m not, baby, I swear.”
/> Her eyes were wild, and Lola watched Del’s face. It reflected nothing. This was like watching a game of chess, one in which she didn’t know the rules or the pieces. Del’s hand tightened further on hers, and Lola stifled a gasp and took a slow, deep breath, trying not to draw anyone’s attention.
“So.” Del’s voice was slow and deliberate. She extricated her hand carefully from Lola’s. “You’re in danger. Bad people are trying to kill you. That’s your story. Right?”
Lola’s eyes shot a warning to Janet, who ignored her and nodded. Couldn’t she tell this was a trap?
“So what you thought you would do…” Del paused, crackling with rage. “Is come to my house. Park your ridiculous car in front of my fucking house. Manipulate Lola into letting you in—”
She raised her voice a fraction as Janet started to protest, waited until Janet’s voice trailed off. Lola chewed her lip, made herself stop.
Del tilted her head to the side and lowered her voice again. “Don’t.”
Lola shook her head, unaware until her hair swung into her line of vision that she was doing so.
“You came here when I was gone. You knew Lola would let you in if you looked pathetic enough, right?” Anger ebbed into Del’s words, and she started again, slowly and carefully. “So you came here and got her to let you in. And if there really are bad, terrible, dangerous people after you, you led them straight to my home, to the woman I love.”
Lola held her breath and stayed very still.
“You hid out here, and you left your car there. Who else would drive something like that? Don’t think I didn’t recognize it. It was a fantasy, Janet. Not something a real person drives.”
“I am a real person.” Janet’s voice was low.
“The hell you are.” Del’s was low too and ice cold.
Del and Janet held each other’s gazes, unfaltering, for a good minute. Lola knew they had both forgotten her presence.
Del struck, her voice barely audible. “You’re nothing.”