Don't Cry for Me

by Rachel Lacey

  By the time she’d finished massaging Eve’s lower back, she felt like a whole new woman, her muscles as soft and pliant as freshly kneaded dough. “You are one thousand times more talented than my heating pad,” she mumbled into the sheet.

  Josie laughed. “And I’m at your disposal any time you need me. You had some pretty badass knots in your muscles.”

  “Blame the kittens.”

  “Never,” Josie whispered, “but I’m sorry I let you lug that box all over town if this is what it did to you.”

  “Well, it didn’t cause the problem, only aggravated it.”

  “Will you always have this pain?” Josie asked, trailing her fingers down Eve’s spine to circle the small surgical scar over her fused vertebrae.

  “Probably, but it’s not usually this bad. I haven’t been keeping up on my exercises. Someone’s been distracting me.” She rolled over, pulling Josie in for a kiss.

  “Sorry,” Josie murmured against her lips.

  “Don’t be,” Eve told her. “I’m not.” She pushed herself upright, sighing in relief at the improvement in her back. “Thank you for the back rub.”

  “You’re welcome. I made you late for work for an entirely different reason than I’d planned.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Eve kissed her again, slow and deep. “I’ll make it up to you another time.”

  “Damn straight.” Josie’s eyes twinkled playfully.

  “I really have to go, but my day will be a lot more comfortable now, thanks to you.”

  “I’m glad.” Josie leaned against the headboard, one hand toying with the lavender tips of her hair.

  Eve slid out of bed and dressed, and with another kiss, she was on her way. She rode the subway to her apartment, where she showered, put on fresh clothes, and headed to work. It felt like an eternity since she’d left the office yesterday, before her date with Josie and the night that followed.

  Eve caught up on emails at her desk before making her way down to Greta’s office for a scheduled meeting. By now, her producer would have reviewed the footage from Dragonfly’s grand opening on Friday night and have feedback on how she thought it had gone. Eve rapped her knuckles against Greta’s door.

  “Come in,” her producer called, and Eve pushed the door open. Inside, Greta sat behind her desk, glasses perched on her nose, typing briskly on her laptop. She looked up at Eve. “Your gay bar seems to be a success so far, eh?”

  “Looks that way.” She perched on the guest chair, opening her laptop to take notes.

  “Not exactly a surprise. All the businesses you help tend to do well, unless their owners completely fuck things up after you leave.”

  “I don’t think Josie will fuck things up,” Eve said.

  “Doesn’t really matter to me one way or another,” Greta said. “Sometimes, a little drama is good for ratings. And speaking of ratings, yours are still not where we’d like to see them as we consider your renewal.”

  “Okay,” Eve said, sitting up straighter. God, she was tired of the constant fight for ratings. This was an aspect of television she’d never considered before becoming a part of it. “I’ll take another look at our advertising budget and see if there’s any room left to reallocate.”

  “You can try, but at this point, things are pretty well set. Your episode with Josie Swanson’s bar is going to be our season two finale, so you need to focus on generating as much buzz for that episode as possible. We need drama. We need tears.”

  “We have both of those things,” Eve assured her.

  “What about the friend she hired as a bartender against your advice? He had a few mishaps on opening night. Let’s try to follow up on that. I mean it, Eve. You need to pull out all the stops on this one if you want a third season.”

  Pain radiated through Eve’s lower back as that all-too-familiar tension crept back in. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’ll be filming your follow-up segment at the bar sooner than usual, since we’re on such a tight production schedule. I’d say it needs to be completed by next month this time. That gives us two weeks to get everything finalized before it airs.”

  “Got it,” Eve said, noting the dates on her calendar.

  “And if you get any whiff of drama between now and then, use that to your advantage during filming. Get us that million-dollar video teaser we can use in our promo for the episode. Remember, drama draws ratings.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Eve swallowed the urge to tell Greta where she could shove her request, because she would probably agree with her if she hadn’t spent last night in Josie’s bed. Despite her shower and change of clothes, the scent of Josie’s lotion still teased her every time she inhaled, and this was the problem with mixing business and pleasure. There was no way for Eve to be objective about anything to do with Josie or Dragonfly anymore.

  Josie had owned Swanson’s for over two years, but she’d never had a busier or more overwhelming week than Dragonfly’s first week in existence. She’d gotten fairly comfortable working with Adam and Elizabeth over the weekend, but on Tuesday, she worked her first shift with Lauren, and it felt like starting all over again.

  They seemed to hit their stride together easily, though, which was good since they would be working the main bar together on weeknights. Lauren was energetic and experienced, and she had a great rapport with the customers.

  By the time Dragonfly’s second Saturday rolled around, the crowd had thinned considerably, but Josie was still doing a steady business. The signature drinks had been popular, and a lot of customers were taking advantage of her delivery agreement with neighboring restaurants, having their dinner delivered to Dragonfly and drinking her liquor while they ate. That had been a stroke of genius on Eve’s part.

  As for Eve, she’d been strictly business all week. Josie had seen her for two scheduled marketing meetings, but she hadn’t allowed so much as a kiss, even when they were alone. Josie had been so consumed by her work at Dragonfly this week, she hadn’t had time—or energy—to protest too hard, though. She’d spent every spare moment setting up ads the way Eve had shown her, maintaining her social media presence, and managing all the behind-the-scenes details that went into running the bar.

  Still, Josie missed her. As she poured wine for a couple of women who’d just come in, she found herself hoping Eve might show up tonight the way she had last Saturday.

  “You do still own this place.”

  Josie looked at the woman in front of her as she set two glasses of shiraz on the bar. She’d definitely seen her in Swanson’s before, although not in a while, and Josie couldn’t remember her name, if she’d ever known it. “I do,” she said with a smile.

  “I’m glad,” the woman said. “When I saw the new name out front, I thought you’d sold. I used to live around the corner.”

  “I knew I remembered seeing you in here,” Josie said. “New name. New brand. What do you think?”

  “I love it,” the woman answered. She had shoulder-length brown hair and a friendly face. “Much more my style. I’m Nicole, by the way, and this is my wife, Fiona.” She gestured to the blonde beside her.

  “Nice to meet you,” Fiona said in a crisp British accent.

  Josie found herself enchanted by the pair of them, sipping wine in matching turquoise wedding bands. “Do you still live nearby?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Nicole told her. “We split our time now between our house in New Jersey and a cottage in the French countryside. This one hates cities.” She nudged Fiona, who smiled into her wine. “But I still make her come here with me a few times a year. I can’t help it. This city is in my blood.”

  “I don’t hate it as much as I used to,” Fiona said, giving her wife an affectionate look.

  Josie laughed. “This city has a way of winning people over if you spend enough time here.”

  “It sure does,” Nicole agreed. “And maybe Fi will be easier to convince next time, now that we know this place is here.”

  “Perhaps,” Fiona agree
d, glancing appreciatively around the bar.

  “Well, I certainly hope so,” Josie told them. “Because I’d love to see your faces here at Dragonfly again.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Nicole said with a laugh.

  Josie was still thinking about them as she climbed the stairs to her apartment that night. She’d never been in love or even had a serious relationship, never given marriage much of a thought one way or the other. But Nicole and Fiona seemed so…happy, so relaxed, so at ease with each other and the world around them.

  And yeah, maybe Josie did want that for herself someday.

  As she crawled into bed with the sun rising outside her window, she was missing Eve like crazy. It felt like an eternity since she’d shared Josie’s bed, since they’d even shared a kiss. So when she woke just past noon on Sunday morning, she sent Eve a quick text.

  How’s your weekend?

  It took several long minutes for Eve to respond. A lot quieter than last weekend.

  Was that an invitation? Josie decided to treat it as one. Stop by tonight?

  Tempting, but I can’t.

  Hot date? Josie asked, adding a winking emoji so Eve knew she was joking.

  I’m attending a gallery opening.

  Josie took a moment to imagine Eve wandering through a gallery in one of her exquisitely sexy dresses, art admiring art. And Josie wished for the opportunity to experience it with her, to see her in her element, to let Eve educate her on the finer points of fine art. If only Josie didn’t work every goddamn night. Thank God for Mondays, and speaking of Monday…

  Dinner tomorrow? she asked.

  Sure, Eve replied.

  Josie rolled onto her back, heart racing at the promise of seeing her again. You pick this time. Just let me know when and where to meet you.

  Okay.

  Can’t wait. Josie added the emoji face blowing a kiss, hit Send, and climbed out of bed, feeling significantly more energized about the day ahead now that she had a date with Eve to look forward to tomorrow.

  22

  “Interesting choice,” Josie said, eyebrows raised as she walked toward Eve outside O’Doul’s Pub. She had on skinny jeans and a slinky black top, and Eve’s pulse was already skyrocketing just looking at her. She drew her in for a quick kiss. Josie tasted sweet, like she’d eaten candy on the way here.

  “How so?” Eve responded, hands sinking into Josie’s back pockets as she drew them together, breasts meeting on each exhale.

  “It seems more my style than yours,” Josie said, leaning in to kiss her back.

  “You think I can’t do casual?” she murmured against Josie’s lips.

  “Based on the evidence in front of me, you can definitely do casual.” Josie pulled back long enough to slide her gaze over Eve’s sleeveless gray top and jeans before pressing their bodies back together. “Although I haven’t seen a look yet that you couldn’t pull off, including my pussy T-shirt.”

  “Never going to live that one down.” Eve felt herself smiling at the memory. “But I didn’t choose this place because it’s casual or for the cheap beer.”

  “No?” Josie asked, eyes locked on Eve’s, clearly intrigued.

  She tipped her head toward the club across the street. “You told me last Monday you wanted to go to a bar where you didn’t work, let someone else mix the drinks, and go dancing.”

  Josie blinked. “Oh.”

  When she didn’t say anything else, Eve felt a twinge of disappointment. She’d thought Josie would enjoy this, but maybe she’d read her wrong. Maybe it was too much, or maybe she was just too tired. “That’s a lot for a Monday night, isn’t it?” she said, backpedaling. “We can just—”

  Josie pressed a finger against her lips. “Shut up. I want to go dancing. There is absolutely nothing I’d rather do tonight. You just caught me off guard, I mean…I can’t remember the last time someone really listened to me like that. You’re unexpectedly thoughtful, Eve Marlow.”

  And now Eve was caught off guard, because Josie had flat-out told her what she wanted on their last date, but suddenly, this felt like a much bigger deal than she’d ever meant it to be. “Who have you been dating that no one’s ever paid attention to what you like?”

  “Exactly,” Josie said, bringing their mouths back together. “I told you I’ve been on a lot of shitty dates. Either I just have horrible luck, or the online dating pool is pretty shallow these days. You’re the first person in years I really enjoy being with.”

  “Mm.” Eve ignored that comment in favor of another kiss, because she felt the same way, not that she’d ever admit it. This thing between them was only casual, a few dates and some blisteringly hot sex when it suited them.

  “Is dancing okay for your back?” Josie asked between kisses.

  “Yes. In fact, it hasn’t bothered me all week, but I wore these just in case.” She gestured to her practical—albeit rhinestone-studded—flats.

  “Perfect.”

  “Come on, I’m starving.” She disentangled herself and led the way inside.

  The pub was loud and crowded. Eve paused in the doorway as a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach, an instinctual reaction she thought she’d overcome after all her time at Swanson’s. Her eyes flitted to the bar. But there was Josie, slipping her hand into Eve’s with a reassuring squeeze. “Okay?”

  Eve nodded, shaking off the moment before leading the way to an empty booth. To her surprise, Josie slid in beside her. She settled close, one hand on Eve’s thigh as she reached for a menu. Sitting like this, with their backs to the rest of the bar, the clatter of glass and din of conversation became a cloak of background noise, sealing her and Josie in their booth.

  At Josie’s suggestion, they ordered whiskey instead of beer. She reminded Eve of the age-old advice against drinking beer before liquor, because they’d certainly want cocktails later at the club. They ordered burgers and sipped whiskey, leaned in close, hands clasped beneath the table.

  “Why do you work at the Do Over office instead of having your own?” Josie asked.

  “I lease it from them, mostly to save on office costs. When we’re not filming the show, I keep to myself.”

  “So if you don’t get renewed for season three, you’ll have to find new office space, on top of everything else?” Josie’s fingers trailed down her arm.

  “Yes.”

  “When will you know?”

  “Soon after your episode airs,” Eve told her. “You’re going to be our season two finale.”

  “Ooh.” Josie gave her a playful smile. “Big pressure on me and Dragonfly. I hope we live up to expectations.”

  “If the episode doesn’t perform well, it won’t be because of you,” Eve said. “Sometimes there’s no predicting what will appeal to an audience, but you should feel good about what you’ve accomplished.”

  “I do,” Josie told her, leaning in for a kiss. “Thanks to you.”

  They sat and drank whiskey until it was late, since the club didn’t open until eleven. Truthfully, Eve was tired. She’d already had a long day, and all she really wanted was to take Josie home and fuck her senseless before falling asleep in her arms. But she’d committed to this, and she wanted Josie to have a good time tonight.

  So she settled deeper into their booth, her back sinking into the cracked leather. She finished her whiskey and set the glass on the table as Josie pressed her face into Eve’s neck, tongue skimming over her skin, leaving fire in its wake. She turned her head, bringing their lips together, kisses softened by the alcohol warming her veins, deep and languid and searching.

  They kissed until Eve was drunk on the desire pulsing in her veins, her body humming with a need she knew Josie would satisfy spectacularly at the end of the night. But for now, she was content to wait. They strolled hand in hand across the street to the nightclub she’d chosen…a gay club, so they could be as hands-on as they wanted without attracting any unwanted attention.

  Inside the club, music pumped, so loud she felt the beat vibrati
ng in her bones. A black light on the dance floor made her top glow bright white, but even more interestingly, it made Josie’s hair glow like purple flames dancing around her face as she began to sway to the music.

  Eve pulled her close, hips bumping as they moved to the beat. She pressed her lips against Josie’s ear. “You’re beautiful,” she said, rewarded by one of those smiles that brought out her dimples, making her whole face seem to gleam with the same intensity as her hair.

  It wasn’t very crowded, being a Monday night, but there were enough bodies on the dance floor to set the mood. Eve couldn’t remember the last time she’d been dancing. Certainly, it had been years. A lot of years. And to her surprise, she was having fun. She closed her eyes, hands in Josie’s as she danced, letting the music guide her. The bass boomed, heavy and rhythmic, thrumming through her body.

  They danced until they were breathless and sweaty before moving to the bar, where Josie perused the drink menu with the intensity of a woman who served them for a living. Eventually, she chose a raspberry mojito, and Eve—curious because she’d never had one—ordered the same. The drinks arrived, a fruity pink but smelling of mint and lime. Eve took a cautious sip. “It reminds me of your Midnight in Manhattan.”

  “It was loosely inspired by a mojito.”

  “I like yours better,” Eve told her honestly. Something about the lemon and mint combo really worked for her. Or maybe it was the creator of the drink itself that worked for her. Either. Both. Who the hell knew at this point?

  She leaned in and kissed her, tasting lime and mint on Josie’s lips. They scooted their stools closer together, knees interlaced as they sipped their drinks and kissed. Eventually, the mojitos were gone, and she and Josie were just kissing, hands on each other’s thighs, tongues tangling as they made out like a couple of teenagers.