She kept her seat while the Wexlers inspected the area and made sure their company signage and branding were positioned properly. Joanne’s husband was the first to the bar and wasted no time getting himself a morning beer. Madeleine was nursing her morning glory, intent on switching to something non-alcoholic. After all, it was barely after eight o’clock in the morning. And even if this was Vegas, it was way too early for her to tie one on. Judging by Joanne’s reaction, she felt the same way about her husband. It looked like she would have it out with her hubby, but resigned herself to decorum as others began to arrive. While Joanne and Doug began welcoming guests, Kara took a seat on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the crystal clear water.
Yesterday, sitting at the bar and talking, Kara had joked about this regular pool reception. “I do not see the appeal of standing around a pool watching a bunch of sales guys in golf shirts and big baggy shorts all boozing in the hot sun and drooling over my sister-in-law or making inappropriate comments about my baby sis. Either way, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
Sure enough, the guys were arriving in groups. They always seemed to travel in packs on holiday or when attending conventions. She wasn’t sure which was more dangerous for a single woman, the unscrupulous pack, or the lone predator wolf. No wonder Kara didn’t enjoy these functions.
She knew Kara hadn’t seen her. So she put up with the overt glances from the newly arrived attendees wondering if Kara would intervene before she was forced to confront them herself. The minute she came close to finishing her drink, the offers for a refill and to join her started pouring in. She was about to escape to the pool and hopefully Kara’s consciousness when a pack took the opportunity to approach Samantha where she lay on a lounge. She was polite, but her body language made it clear she was not interested in their company or conversation. Oblivious to her discomfort, they stood surrounding her, a drink in one hand, the other in pockets, expecting to be entertained. She understood Samantha’s predicament. These guys were mostly young and clearly stupid. Instead of wandering off, they just stood there uncomfortably. When they failed to offer any scrap of conversation that drew her in, their civility began to slip. Soon enough, one of the guys made an inappropriate comment about her tan lines before another asked for proof.
Without thinking, Madeleine was on her feet, pushing her way into the pack. She offered her hand. “I almost forgot,” she explained insistently, “but we have to do that thing for Joanne.”
Samantha locked eyes with her. You could count the beats of her heart as she considered this rescue attempt from a stranger. “Oh my God. I completely forgot. Thank you,” she said getting to her feet and grabbing her sun wrap. “Sorry guys,” she said, hooking her arm through Madeleine’s. “Duty calls.”
They walked together from the pool area toward the public washrooms. Clear of the VIP section, Samantha dropped her arm and thanked her sincerely. “They never get it, do they?” She was bristling as they walked into the ladies’ washroom. “They crowd around you like some rape gang. I never know who to be madder at, them for their behavior, my husband for not stepping up to save me, or me for just putting up with it. I wouldn’t do it, put up with those assholes, if they didn’t work for the company.”
“Hey, don’t sweat it. I swear most of it is just this town. You have to be dumber than a box of rocks to believe that ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ crap.”
“Oh God, I know!” Samantha agreed, offering her hand. “I’m Samantha Wexler. Pleased to meet you and thank you for being my savior today.”
“You’re welcome, Samantha. I’m Madeleine.” The moment she said her name she saw both recognition and surprise on the woman’s face. “Yes, that Madeleine,” she said simply. She knew from Joanne that Samantha was aware of her existence and that she was involved with the fantasy experience, but she didn’t know exactly how much she was privy to, so thought it best to not say more.
Quiet for the longest time, Samantha finally smiled. “Smart and feisty,” she said with a crooked grin. “No wonder Kara’s so bent out of shape. You are just the kind of woman…”
They were interrupted by Joanne’s hasty arrival. “What the heck!” The woman seemed frantic as she grabbed them both quickly, then made sure they had the place to themselves. “What are you two doing? They were supposed to be chatting with Madeleine, not you!”
“Joanne, for God’s sake relax,” Samantha said. “I don’t know what division those creeps are from, but Madeleine rescued me seconds before I went ballistic and took them out myself. You should be thanking her for coming to the rescue, and me for not causing a scene!”
Joanne’s protest died on her lips as she watched her sister storm into the public restroom. Kara stopped to look them over, her surprise and confusion evident. “Samantha. You’re all right?” When she nodded, Kara let out a breath of relief. “I don’t know who the hell those assholes were. They don’t work for us. I kicked them out. Actually, security’s showing them out of the hotel, so it’s safe to rejoin the group.”
“Thanks, Kara. I’m all right. Madeleine here intervened just in time.”
Kara looked at her and nodded, remaining silent. Turning to her younger sister, she said plainly, “Pretty much everything is back to normal, except your husband. He seems to have forgotten last year’s case of alcohol-induced sunstroke.”
Joanne just groaned, shaking her head. “Why did I ever get married? I gave birth to two children, but for some reason, I have to care for three!” This she said while stomping from the washroom.
Kara stood silent, looking over the other two. Finally she asked, “Are you both okay?” They both nodded, then explained what had transpired. “I’m so sorry. I was sitting on the pool edge, in my own world. I should have picked up on those assholes.”
“No you shouldn’t have,” Samantha said bluntly. “Kara, as much as everyone likes to pretend you’re responsible for the world, you really aren’t. What happened here had nothing to do with you. Actually, if I wanted to be mad at someone, it would be my husband.”
“He’s waiting outside. Samantha,” she cautioned, “he’s beside himself.”
Now it was her turn to groan. “Don’t worry, I’ll assuage his manly worry.”
“At least he’s not threatened that you were saved by a woman.”
Samantha thanked Madeleine, asking her to stay. “It doesn’t get a whole lot better but the food is to die for, and the rest of the guys are tolerable, at least when Kara’s holding the whip.”
That picture made Madeleine smile. Turning to Kara, she said, “I have a feeling your services as Sheriff of the Pool will be in high demand.”
Kara shrugged, accepting a brush-by hug from the departing Samantha before suggesting, “I could always use a good deputy. Listen, I…”
“It’s okay. I was out of line last night,” Madeleine offered. She looked around the washroom, and the teens making their way in. “I have a cabana. It’s right next to the ones your group has. You could come join me for a quiet talk and still be able to keep an eye on your pack.” She didn’t know which made Kara smile more, the description of the Wexler-Ogelthorpe employees as a pack or the invitation for a quiet discussion. “You were right to challenge me. I really don’t know you or your situation, but I’d like to.”
Kara nodded, signaling for Madeleine to lead the way. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t realize just how raw I was. This whole thing has taken such a toll but it’s no reason to be a jerk, especially to you. Please forgive me?”
They had just reached the VIP Pool when she stopped to look at Kara. She wanted her to see her face, to know she meant what she said. “Will you tell me about it? I want to understand but more than that I want to be a friend, and as your friend, I think you need to get this stuff off your chest. Kara, carrying all this emotional baggage must be killing you. I can’t pretend to understand your work or your family, but I can listen.” She watched as Kara considered her request. God, she was a frustrating
and fascinating woman.
Kara finally smiled, then offered her arm. It wasn’t a necessity as much as a statement. Madeleine accepted, holding her head high as they walked through the throng of account reps and senior staffers milling around the pool. They moved through the group like they were parting the Red Sea. Madeleine couldn’t tell if the reaction was a show of respect, especially after the ejection of the party creeps, or fear. Did the guys respect Kara or fear her? Deep down she knew only time would tell.
Chapter Five
Madeleine looked over her costume for the night. The designer little black dress was a far nicer cut and fabric than anything she owned. She could admit she pulled it off too. “Shouldn’t I be wearing pants or a suit? Something more—I don’t know—lesbianish?”
The director laughed at her assumption. “Trust me, with that dress, every lesbian in town will be after you.”
That did little to settle her nerves. Running out of excuses, she pointed to the three-inch heels. “I’m already taller than her. Shouldn’t I be wearing flats?”
“Oh goodness me, could it be stage fright? I do believe the lesbian doth protest too much.” He stood with one arm crossed over his chest, a hand supporting an elbow, the other hand bracing his chin in a dramatically gay pose. He seemed miles away as he hemmed and hawed, finally saying, “My dear. I appreciate your whole ‘I’m straight and don’t know what lesbians want’ shtick so allow me to interpret. One, lesbians are not like men. They do not need to be taller than you to feel secure. If anything, your subject has a preference for taller ladies. Now I know this seems counterintuitive from the straight male standard but lesbians, especially this one, prefer women to be authentic. Yes, she will be wearing pants, maybe even a suit. That’s just her, and yes, she will appreciate the dress with the heels because you look stunning. You wear it better than your own skin. That’s what she’ll notice and what lesbians want. Now, that is also the last time I will play the cultural interpreter. From now on just ask yourself, ‘as a woman, what do I want?’”
* * *
Joanne sent Kara on ahead to collect the West Coast boys from the bar and meet her at the limo. Kara hated it when Jo called them that. Yes, they were account executives for the US West Coast, but her father used that term in a derogatory manner. It was the most offensive he could be about two gay men without risking them quitting. Michael and Mark were good at what they did, leading one of the few truly profitable divisions in the company. Her father might get away with calling her names, but he couldn’t abuse the guys without consequence.
In the bar, the guys, enthusiastic and ever cheerful, were insisting they needed a little liquid courage before taking straight-laced Joanne for a walk on the wild side. Kara couldn’t argue and found herself laughing at their inane jokes and less concerned with the schedule. Anyway, Joanne said she needed time to fix her stockings. Did women still wear stockings? Did they even make stockings anymore? Maybe she was talking about pantyhose. Even she, a lesbian, knew that women didn’t wear pantyhose in ninety-degree weather. Or did they? Whatever. They finished their drinks, finally making their way to the casino entrance and the line of waiting limos. She listened in good humor as the guys debated the etiquette of entering and exiting a limousine. She had just decided she would bypass their pantomime when they spotted Joanne. Michael let out a wolf-whistle which Mark stifled with an elbow to his ribs.
Kara expected to see Jo and her flowery summer dress, and she smiled spotting her making her way to join them. Then she saw someone else. Someone completely unexpected. Mark, standing behind her, leaned in whispering, “I wish I had a sister who could conjure a vision like that.”
Kara smiled but colored. What else could she do? As much as she wanted to run and hide, Madeleine, in her little black dress, was a vision. And it wasn’t like this was a date. Madeleine must have run into Joanne on her way out. Maybe she was on her way to her own…
Stepping up to the group Madeleine offered Kara a gorgeous smile. To the guys, she said, “I’m Madeleine. Please forgive me but I ran into Joanne, and she convinced me I wouldn’t be a fifth wheel. You all don’t mind?”
Michael stepped forward, all grins. “Welcome to the party.”
“Actually,” Kara added, “the guys were just explaining the etiquette of entering and exiting a limousine. They’re all for the last in, first out theory. What do you say?”
“Far be it for me to correct the gentlemen but last in, first out works for a team bus but if we were to follow Emily Post, we would exit by social order.” This she delivered with a grin.
“Well that puts me at the end of the line,” Jo announced.
Mark, always the gentleman, corrected her. “As the only married lady in the group, it puts you squarely at the top of Emily’s food chain.”
“Really!” Jo chortled in delight.
It didn’t take long to reach the first gay bar on the boys’ list. Kara had been there before as had the guys. They knew the layout and a few of the staff. Even Madeleine had been there more than once. It was one of the few places in Vegas where a woman could have a drink and not be hit on.
It was always hard to find a place in a gay bar where you could talk. Lucky for them it was too early for the DJ. Instead, a canned dance mix belted from the speakers on the empty dance floor but was somewhat muted elsewhere. Joanne found them a place to sit, and it wasn’t long until they had drinks in hand and the conversation flowing. The noise levels forced a certain intimacy in conversation. Joanne, Kara noticed, was snuggled in between Mark and Michael and was laughing uproariously at something they were sharing. She looked the picture of the popular girl surrounded by handsome admirers, a la Scarlett O’Hara.
“Kara, please don’t be mad. When I ran into your sister, she filled in a few more details. I’m so sorry.”
Kara said, “I know it sounds like I’m a complete asshole over this but that’s not my intent.” Madeleine, leaned in closer, raptly listening. The movement, the scent of her hair, her close proximity, her lips just inches from her ear drove everything from Kara’s brain. Instead of debating or discussing, she asked simply, “Tell me what you would do.”
Madeleine danced with everyone, the guys, Jo, and even Kara but it wasn’t until the last bar, Sin City’s most famous gay dance club, that she turned her attention solely on Kara. At first, she’d convinced herself she was just playing out the scripted scene but had to admit it was easier than imagined. She’d convinced herself she wouldn’t like this socializing and dancing part of the evening but talking had come easily for them and close physical contact easier. All evening, they had been forced into each other’s personal space to converse. She had found that comforting, even a bit exciting. The touching had come later. Just a touch to get someone’s attention, then a nudge to share a private thought. When they began dancing it seemed almost second nature to take her hand, following her on and off the dance floor. Earlier, around the pool and Kara’s employees, everything she did was forced; she felt on display. Not by Kara, who had spent most of her time shielding her from “the guys and their bull,” as she described her self-imposed duty. The sweet part was realizing that she acted the protector for all the women present. So the duty comes naturally to her. Interesting.
Now it felt natural to slip her arms around her. If anything, Kara was the most responsive and polite dance partner she’d ever had. She never overstepped boundaries but the way they moved together…
Yes, they were from two different countries, they were at opposite ends of the spectrum on everything from social standing to income, and the sexuality scale too, yet something was so easy with this woman. Even during Kara’s “bouts” as her sister had described them, those moments where the sadness seemed to creep in, Madeleine was starting to understand her situation. In a way, they were both at the same place in life. She was standing at the end of one big story arc that hadn’t delivered the happy ending. Her career here in Vegas was over. She had known it for the last few years. What was the buz
zword these days? Even Kara used it. Pivot? That’s what she had failed to do, pivot and take her dream in a new direction. Now it seemed hopeless and definitely too late. Between Joanne’s nervous jabbering and Kara’s own more reticent input, she knew they were in the same place. Having grown up with parents uninterested in her dreams and an academic elite who wanted to bed her but not believe in her, she knew how that would have torn her to shreds spiritually if she had stayed in Minneapolis. She couldn’t imagine being there all these years and still standing.
Abruptly, Joanne gave her the signal that it was the end of the night. The script called for Madeleine to return to her hotel suite alone. Her excuse was an early breakfast meeting. Not really wanting to follow the script but understanding it was her job, she announced to the group, “I hate to call a perfect evening to a halt, but I have a seven a.m. breakfast meeting.”
Cause and Affection Page 5
