The two women separated, and Madeleine was all smiles, promising, “I’ll see you later,” before heading in the direction of the casino floor.
Kara watched her tip the hostess, who thanked her, lifting the velvet rope. She couldn’t help but follow Madeleine’s every move until the woman was no longer visible. She stood there, feeling much like the prince left holding Cinderella’s shoe. Ms. Madeleine Jessepp, who are you?
Back in her suite, Madeleine enjoyed a leisurely dinner before succumbing to the director’s repeated order to try different outfits. Adjusting the current costume, a shimmering green designer number and checking her makeup, she watched the director constantly pacing while giving orders over his phone. Finally off the call, he stood looking her over with a critical eye. More like queer eye for the straight girl playing a lesbian. Still, it had actually been more fun than she’d imagined and the Kara woman—she had to stop calling her that—Kara was nice and sort of shy.
She’d expected the woman would be a little grabby or even presumptuous, but she was a pleasure to be with. She hadn’t infringed on Madeleine’s personal space. And she listened. Really listened to her. She asked pointed questions but nothing terribly personal. It was as if she understood there was a line Madeleine wouldn’t cross. It was also clear that Kara found her attractive. She had seen that look from hundreds of men, and a few women too, but it usually preceded some awkward pass, a filthy proposition, or an uninvited grope.
She had always been attractive. As a girl, she’d drawn the creepiness out of old men and family friends. As a young woman in college, she’d had zero problems attracting the eye of anyone she liked, even the professors. It astounded her just how many well-educated, and supposedly mature men would throw themselves at her, offering everything from tutoring, introductions, and other more inappropriate invitations. By the end of her second year, two facts were obvious. She could ride out her entire academic career “under” the tutelage of any professor she wanted; and she just wanted out. An undergraduate degree, especially one she didn’t feel she had actually earned, would be worthless. Madeleine loved the theatre, loved TV and movies; any sort of staged production fascinated her. But if the road to production couldn’t be reached with a degree in English Lit, then she would try another route. She’d learn the job from the inside out. That summer she packed up her car, defied her naysaying parents, and drove to Las Vegas and an audition to choreograph a dinner theatre act.
Madeleine sighed as she picked up the fact sheet she’d been given on Kara. She wanted to look it over a few more times before meeting the woman again. Maybe there was something in the file that would ensure completion of the project. Franco had stressed how important it was for Kara to be at her best on Saturday. That didn’t give her much time. It was already Tuesday evening, and she felt she hadn’t even begun to get anywhere near close enough. She prided herself on never defaulting on a job and didn’t plan to on this one either. More than anything, she wanted the extra money. She knew she couldn’t throw her success in her parents’ faces, but she wouldn’t be returning broke and busted either. She may not have made it to the big time, but it would seem like it to those she knew back home in Minneapolis. Ten years in Vegas and this is my biggest job yet. The thought depressed her.
As she thumbed through Kara’s personal and professional achievements, she made a note of several details she could use as talking points. But how was she supposed to bring up her rowing club in conversation? Oh, Kara! What strong, lovely arms you have! You must row a lot! She laughed to herself. She did actually have a great build. And she did like the look of her hair, thick and dark. Kara was shorter than her, but it was hard enough finding men taller than her much less women. Madeleine continued down the bio and looked for something she could actually use. She noted one of Kara’s side projects, partnering with a developer to turn several historic old warehouses into lofts. This woman has more money than she knows what to do with. When does she ever sleep? At least this was something she could use. Her own father had been in construction her whole life; she had grown up around blueprints and drywall. She was also very aware of how particular rich clients could be about the smallest of details. Her dad would often come home worn down from dealing with their daily demands. Her more than ten years in Vegas, her childhood experiences and impressions of people with money—it all had left a sour taste in her mouth.
Reading further she saw a paragraph extensively outlining Kara’s current emotional state. Apparently, the woman’s father had greatly impacted her both personally and professionally. Kara’s confidence had been worn down over the course of her work for the family company. If she was going to get Kara’s mojo going by Saturday, she had to get her head in the game, and for that she needed a game plan. Picking up the script again she made a note of the when and where of the plans for the following days.
How in the world was she supposed to get this woman where she needed to be? There was nothing in the script that said “sleep with the woman,” yet Madeleine got the impression that it was somehow implied. Great. I’m a fucking whore now. She pushed the thought away and thumbed through the script again looking for a better way to accomplish her goal in time. It was pointless. She was going to have to get somewhat intimate with the woman, or it would never work. It was easy to see that Kara was attracted to her. So why hadn’t she acted on it? Had Kara been waiting for her to make the first move? Maybe it was just how lesbians were?
She was going to need to step up her game. Tonight she planned on having a real cocktail or two to soothe her nerves. Maybe a stroke to the arm or pushing her hair behind her ear would do the trick. It was exactly the same as flirting with a guy. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kara was unattractive. Actually, she was quite beautiful in a boyish sense. She was certainly charming. She tossed the script and the fact sheet onto the desk and smiled to herself.
Just then Franco popped into the suite, announcing, “Show time!”
With a deep sigh, Madeleine adjusted her dress and headed out the door prepared to give the performance of a lifetime.
En route to the hotel bar, Madeleine sealed a plan in her head. She wanted to wear down the reserved Kara and returning to the same bar sounded like a safe way to start the evening. She was pleased to see that the same table was still reserved for them, especially considering how busy the place was, and Kara was already seated.
They stayed where they were and ended up talking for hours. But afterward Madeleine conceded that she hadn’t been able to crack Kara’s public persona enough to get a feel for the real woman. She was kind and open, and interestingly enough, spoke with enthusiasm about ideas, beliefs, even regionalization of culture and language, but she never spoke of her father or family and skirted any mention of the topic. She never talked about the substance of her business career, except to make a joke or tell a funny story about an advertising account and the way many companies simply rebranded outdated products for a new market.
Madeleine was good at improvisation and people and decided the fastest way to get Kara to open up and have fun was an evening stroll down the Strip. Kara admitted she hadn’t seen Las Vegas Boulevard in years and would enjoy a little adventure. “Come on, let’s walk. We can talk and check out each of the casino’s entry displays. I have a feeling you’re a fan of the pirates?” she said, gesturing down the street toward Treasure Island.
“Who doesn’t enjoy a little swashbuckling now and then?” In the bright lights of the Vegas Strip, Kara apologized for her mood. “I’m sorry if I seem a bit secretive. The truth is, this isn’t just my fourteenth Wexler-Ogelthorpe sales conference. It’s my last. On Friday I plan to deliver what we call ‘the long game analysis.’ It’s something we do every year to help us make decisions about the direction of the company. The interns call it pivot-or-sprint plan. My father is CEO, and he’s a classic sprinter.” At Madeleine’s concerned look, she explained, “Sprinting is a metaphor. If a company is deemed to be on the right path, the strategy is to run faster th
an the competition. Lead the field so to speak.”
“And you’re not a fan of business as usual so you what, plan to tell them it’s time to pivot, head in another direction?”
Kara spoke sharply. “I plan to break the S.O.B. with twenty years of data on the growth and maturity of the Internet, online sales statistics that prove once you remove boomers from the stats, which he insists is still the consumer base, we find every campaign we have run in the last four years failed with Gen X, millennials, and whatever it is we’re calling the new kids, ah, Gen Zed.”
“Zed? Oh right. Zee. Okay, I get that you’re a bit edgy on this and sometimes shock is the best way to get people to consider options they never knew existed, but what about your family. Won’t this hurt them?”
“Every minute he wastes taking them deeper down the rabbit hole is a day closer to complete failure.”
Madeleine was bothered by the terminology and found she couldn’t look at Kara. Walking with eyes cast down, she finally asked, “You say ‘them’, not ‘us’ when you’re talking about your family. Why do you distance yourself if you’re planning on making changes?”
“Making changes…no, I’m done with trying to make changes. I’m going to deliver the painful reality of the situation to the national account reps. They deserve to know their future is headed for the toilet.”
“You haven’t told them yet? How were you supposed to get them to make changes if they didn’t know?” Madeleine was getting riled and for some reason couldn’t pull back the attitude. This was as bad as trying to converse with her folks. For some reason they always expected her to know things they had never shared and berated her when she didn’t.
“I told the board, I advised the board, I even went as far as to send them monthly updates on my analysis and the change announcements coming from our industry. Everything I say or do is shouted down by ‘he who knows best.’” This she added with ridiculous air quotes.
From Madeleine’s perspective, it sounded like Kara’s research couldn’t have been very compelling. Still, torpedoing the management team seemed underhanded, even mean somehow. “And the board. Are you meeting with them?”
“That’s on Saturday, and yes, I’ll give them the numbers again and then my ultimatum. He goes, or I do.”
“What?” Her tone was incredulous. She stopped dead on the Strip forcing the swarm of pedestrians to swim around them like a street performer that tourists just ignored. “This is your father we’re talking about, right?” Madeleine couldn’t control the rush of words that sprang up from some deep sense of propriety. “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you talk to him, or your sister? She seemed very nice and you said your brother would be here tomorrow. I hear your frustration but taking him down in a public ultimatum…who does that?” The blame game cut too close to Madeleine to take at face value. Suddenly she was off script and challenging this woman’s behavior. She didn’t care. It was too much to handle. What Kara was doing to her family hit way too close to home.
“Madeleine, you don’t know anything about me or my situation.” Her fists rested on her hips in defense mode, the superhero pose attractive in a strange way. Shaking her head, she warned, “Don’t do this. Don’t judge me until you know the whole story.”
“Kara…” she said, seeing nothing but angry sparks in her eyes and recognizing that her plan was rapidly spinning out of control. Shit. Franco’s gonna kill me! She had to get her strategy back on track but wasn’t sure she wanted to. She did her best to put her own emotions in check and took Kara’s hand in her own. For a second she thought it might work when Kara’s soft fingers began to interlace with hers. But Kara quickly yanked them away. “I can’t do this,” she said, stepping into the street. She held her arm high, immediately flagging down a cab.
“Come on. Let’s just drop it,” Madeleine pleaded. She’d wanted her to open up but certainly not like this. She’d pushed way too hard on a sensitive situation.
Kara was now giving the taxi driver instructions, her face still angry. “I’m leaving,” she told her and slammed the car door.
“But we’re supposed to be heading the other way,” she said, pointing toward Fremont and leaning in the cab’s window.
“I’m going back.”
“But I made plans for us. You don’t know what I had to pull to get these tickets on such short notice,” she said in a huff.
Kara gave her a backward look to say she didn’t care as the taxi pulled away from the curb. Her only concession was a nod and a mouthed, “Sorry.”
Shit. Shit. Shit! Madeleine was left standing on the curb, all dressed up with nowhere to go. She didn’t know what to feel beyond anger at the stupid woman who’d hired her in the first place; anger at Franco for getting her into this mess; and anger at herself for opening her big fat mouth.
With no idea what to do next, she turned to walk back to the hotel and the production suite made available to her. She needed time to think about how she was going to fix this. She couldn’t bring herself to call Franco and admit she’d blown it. Of course he’d have a backup plan, wouldn’t he? He’d probably already gotten some other woman to play the lucky whore to the poor little rich girl. She sighed and walked on.
Chapter Four
“I knew it!” Joanne challenged as she entered the suite. “You’re supposed to be out with that pretty lady, not sulking…What happened?”
“I hate women!”
Joanne rolled her eyes. “Oh boy. What did she do?”
“Nothing, okay? Just leave me alone.”
“No, I can’t! You’re my sister, and besides, some of the guys want to hit the clubs and I need a tail man.”
“Wingman,” Kara corrected, tossing a cushion at her. “And you’re nuts if you think I’m going to sit around getting drunk and watching a bunch of middle-aged account execs getting drunk and drooling over my baby sister and women half their age.”
Taking a seat on the big couch and taking her hand, Joanne asked with tenderness, “What happened on your date?”
It took a few minutes for Joanne to break through the lone wolf façade.
When Kara finally opened up about the walk and the talk, she realized she’d overreacted even before Joanne’s confirmation. The voice of reason was not what she expected from her baby sister and it helped to dissipate her mood.
“Your lady friend may be feeling a little embarrassed, too.”
Kara hadn’t thought of that. But she hadn’t thought of much else except Madeleine. She couldn’t get the woman out of her head.
With a knowing smile, Joanne turned the subject back to the account reps and her need for a wingman. “It’s not the old guys who want to go out and party. Well, they do, but they know better than to let us know where they’re going. It’s the West Coast boys. They want to hit something called the Fruit Loop.”
“You do know it’s not called that anymore.”
“What isn’t?”
“Fruit… I might have said yes, just to watch you squirm all night in a gay bar.”
“There you go! Always a silver lining and why don’t you call your lady friend and ask her to join us?”
“You know she’s not my lady…hmm, why the hell not,” she said sarcastically. “I can make an even bigger jerk of myself. Make it a complete bust from the get-go.”
“That’s enough from your lesser self, sis. Now, since you’re not going out with your friend, go get your jammies on. You can help me check off all the items for tomorrow’s reception by the pool, which you will be attending.”
“The pool? Shit! Now I have to shave my legs.”
* * *
Madeleine entered the VIP pool area as scripted, wearing a skimpy but elegant one-piece, a somewhat see-through wrap, floppy sun hat, and oversized designer sunglasses. She looked every inch the vacationing starlet. She took a quick survey of the reserved cabanas, choosing to stretch out on a partially shaded lounger where she could keep surreptitious watch over the Wexler-Ogelthorpe reception. Tod
ay would be her second shot. Last night she had returned to the hotel expecting to be fired. Instead, to her astonishment, the director and her manager Franco told her they thought the evening was a success. Kara, they explained, needed to feel she was meeting the real woman and the argument and sudden departure would work for them. It made her feel a little queasy wondering how upsetting this kind woman, much less deceiving her, could possibly work in their favor. What did that even mean?
“Hey,” Franco explained, “this chick needs to feel like the hero. You know, riding to the rescue of the damsel in distress. She also likes them feisty. You showed her the feisty side last night; now you get to be saved by her.”
“Saved?” She questioned the idiocy of the setup. She was supposed to accidentally bump into Kara and her group at the pool. Then at some predetermined time, some creep was supposed to get all handsy with her, giving Kara a chance to play the protector. She didn’t like the scheme. It was out of character for her to need a protector and she was sure Kara already knew that. All this would do was drive her suspicion and distaste into a higher gear. Still, she hadn’t written this stupid fantasy thing, and she wasn’t paying for it, so who was she to say? She was the actor who was about to abandon her character’s principles, along with her own, to play this thing out. I can’t wait to leave this town!
From her shaded corner, she watched as Kara and her sister made their way to their cabanas in the VIP area which were separated by raised planters and potted palms. It looked like the Wexler group had reserved all of the cabanas except for the one being used by her. Kara and Joanne, she noted, were not alone. A striking, curvy blonde walked beside them, joking and carrying on some discussion that clearly made fun of one of the men in tow behind them. She could guess which man was Kara and Joanne’s brother. He could easily pass for Kara’s twin, except he was six inches taller. The second guy was shorter and more wiry. He wore a vintage beach swimsuit with matching terry cloth jacket and towel. It looked great on him; she had to admit she hadn’t seen one years. And that’s when it hit her. He must be Zack, Joanne’s husband. She was carrying the same matching towel and beach bag. Even her suit was in a complementary color. She held back the overwhelming need to snort and laugh as she sipped her morning glory. She now realized that the other woman, the gorgeous blonde, was most likely Kara’s sister-in-law, Samantha. She was dressed similarly to Madeleine herself, in a floppy hat and vintage one-piece. In contrast, Kara was hatless, with aviator shades concealing her eyes. She wore the cutest boy shorts that showed off her muscled legs. The matching tank top covered most of her trunk, leaving a gap at the waist that hinted at well defined abs. Whatever she did to keep in shape was definitely working for her. Madeleine quickly buried the thought of gently pulling that tank a little higher to get a better look at those sculpted abs.
Cause and Affection Page 4
