by Sandy Lowe
To my right, I can hear sniffling coming from the adjacent cubicle. Maggie was also laid off, and while I plan on holding in my tears until I’m alone, Maggie has no such intention. She’s been crying openly since she started packing. Behind her, Cliff is the opposite. He’s angrily throwing his belongings into his box. Things are breaking—you can tell by the sound—but I think he’s beyond caring. His brow is furrowed, his ruddy face red with anger, and he’s been muttering for a good ten minutes, the occasional swear word popping out, crystal clear among the garbled sentences.
Darren walks me to the elevator, then rides down two floors with me, both of us feeling so awkward we have no idea what to say to each other. In the lobby, I stop at the front door and take a deep breath, my banker’s box held at my waist. The other elevator car dings its arrival and I know Maggie’s in it. I don’t want to deal with the rawness of her emotions right now or I’ll lose the tentative grip I have on my own.
“You take care of yourself, Ms. Vaughn,” Darren says quietly.
“You, too, Darren.”
I step out into the daylight. It’s a weird dichotomy: On this mentally gray and foggy day, the weather is sunny and bright, a pleasant seventy degrees with the kind of crystal-blue sky that makes you stop in wonder at the beauty of nature. I put my box in the trunk of my car, slide into the driver’s seat, and drop my forehead against the steering wheel.
I don’t know what to do or where to go.
That lasts for…I have no idea how long. When I lift my head from the steering wheel, nothing has changed. The sun is still shining. I’m still parked between a blue minivan and a black SUV. I’m still unemployed. I yank the door handle to hurl myself out of the car, suddenly oppressed by the recycled air and my own self-pity. Before I can figure out where I’m going, I’m pushing through the glass double-doors that lead into the little shopping plaza next to my building that houses the yoga studio.
And Cherry on Top.
It’s late morning, so Katie’s early rush has passed. She has an employee during business hours, a kind-looking woman named Ruthie who has a super-pleasant smile and works surprisingly fast for somebody as old as my grandmother. When I walk in, Ruthie is arranging colorful cupcakes in the display case and I can see Katie farther back, spooning batter into cupcake pans with an ice cream scoop. When she glances up from her work and sees me, I’m pretty sure her face lights up as she smiles. Pretty sure…
I take a seat on one of the stools with a great sigh of relief. Ruthie approaches me, but Katie intercepts her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“It’s okay, Ruthie. I’ve got this one.”
I smile at Ruthie, who nods and returns to her display case.
“Hey, Belle. To what do I owe this surprise visit?” Katie glances at the clock on the wall. She wipes her hands on her apron, then lays her forearms on the counter to look me in the eye. “You’re not taking an early yoga class, are you?” She makes a show of looking for my gym bag. I sit at her counter in my black slacks, pale yellow silk top, and black heels, looking every bit the businesswoman. Except now, I have no business.
“Nope,” I say quietly. “No yoga clothes.”
“Too bad. I’m partial to the capri-length black pants and the purple tank top.”
I’m momentarily speechless as she holds my gaze. I clear my throat and manage to ask, “You are?”
“Definitely. Though the blue top with the white stripes runs a close second.” Katie grins at me as I sit slack-jawed. “So, what’s going on? This is an usual time for you to be here, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look so good. You’re really pale.” Before I can answer, she’s got her palm pressed against my forehead, then the side of my face. “Are you sick? You’re not coming down with something, are you?”
Her concern is so genuine, the feel of her hand so warm on my skin, that I feel my eyes well up. Which immediately mortifies me. I turn away quickly, but Katie sees before I can cover.
“Oh, God.” Without a word, she grabs a blueberry cupcake from the display, pops it on a plate, and slides it in front of me. “What is it? What happened?” When I don’t answer, she looks around, then moves to the end of the counter and lifts up a little flap I never really noticed. She extends her arm. “Come with me.”
I’m barely holding myself together, but I stand and obey her.
“Ruthie, we’re going to the office for a minute. Hold down the fort for me?”
“You got it, boss.”
Katie grabs my hand in hers, snaps up my cupcake with the other, and tugs me along behind her until we’re in a very small office I’d never noticed before. It’s tucked in a back corner. She closes the door behind us. The office is tiny, barely big enough for a small desk and chair, a second chair, and a four-drawer filing cabinet. A laptop sits open but sleeping on the desk. I’m pretty sure if I stretch my arms out, I can touch both walls at the same time. Despite its diminutive size, the office is neat as can be. Katie maneuvers me to the chair in front of the desk, makes me sit, and sets my cupcake down in front of me. Then she perches one butt cheek on the edge of the desk and looks at me intently. I feel like those blue eyes can see right into my heart, my soul. I swallow hard, never having felt anything like it, and my eyes fill again.
“Talk to me.” She brushes some of my hair off my forehead. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I look down, swallow again a couple times, force myself to get it together. The last thing I want to do is lose it in front of this wonderful, shockingly sexy woman who’s being so kind. I don’t want her thinking I’m some sort of dishrag, weak and useless. After a moment, I feel more in control. I take a deep breath, look back up at her, into those eyes.
“I got laid off this morning.” I say it quietly, understanding that it’s the first time I’ve actually said it out loud. I’m impressed that my tone is more matter-of-fact than it is pathetic. Point for me.
Katie gives a little gasp. “Oh, no. Oh, Hayley, that sucks. That sucks. My God, I’m so sorry.”
I blink at her, focused on only one thing, only one word. “You know my name.”
“Of course I know your name.”
“I’ve never told it to you. Have I? You’ve never asked and I don’t think I’ve ever told you.”
“You haven’t. I found out on my own.”
“How?”
“I asked around.”
I blink some more. “You asked about me?”
“Mm-hmm.”
We sit there, looking at each other and grinning, and it suddenly doesn’t feel like one of the worst days of my life any longer. Which is weird because, let’s face it, I’m still jobless. I have a mortgage, a cat to feed, bills to pay. But something about having all of Katie’s attention focused solely on me seems to make the entire world feel like a better place. Which is so weird.
“Well,” I say. Because what else can I say?
Another moment of silence passes before Katie slaps her hands on her jean-clad thighs. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.” She moves behind the desk, opens a drawer, and pulls out a fifth of vodka and two coffee mugs. As my eyebrows go up in surprise, she pours a shot into each mug, hands me one. “I keep this handy for bad days. I think today qualifies.” Mug held in the air, she says, “To the next chapter.” Bringing her eyes to mine, she adds softly, “Because you know there is one.” And it might be me, but that line seems kind of…loaded.
I touch my mug to hers and we down the shots, grimacing as the vodka burns its way down our throats.
“I didn’t say it was good.” Katie laughs.
“Because you’d have been lying.” I cough as I speak, feeling my eyes tear.
“Next, you’re going to eat that cupcake.”
“I am?”
“Mm-hmm. Cupcakes make everything better. Why do you think I do what I do?” She breaks the cupcake in half, then breaks one half in half and hands it to me. “Also, the blueberry pairs really well with the vodka. How I know this shall remain u
nspoken.” We eat together, our eyes never leave each other, and she’s right. The sweetness of the blueberries chases the hot tang of the vodka nicely. When I nod, her expression seems to say, See? You should listen to me more often.
She settles against the desk closer to me. Much closer. I can smell her scent: sugar, fruit, but something else that’s not of the bakery…something spicy, something uniquely her own. “After that, you’re going to go home and change, then come back here and pick me up. You’ll take me to the grocery store, where I’ll get ingredients for dinner. Then back to my place so I can cook for you and we can discuss your next steps.” A sexy darkness has settled into her gaze, and it’s hard for me to look at her without squirming. In a good way.
Somehow—totally unlike me—the first thought I have actually pops right out of my mouth before I can stop it. “You’re kind of bossy.”
Surprisingly, she isn’t offended. Instead, she raises her eyebrows. “You have no idea.” And before I can even comprehend what’s happening, she’s leaned forward, her fingertips under my chin, and she’s kissing me. It’s soft and tender and sweet, but there’s something underneath, a hunger, a promise of more. As she pulls back, I’m startled to see her face flush a light pink. She visibly swallows, then whispers, “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks now. Weeks.”
I can’t seem to do anything other than sit there with a goofy grin on my face, thinking that, despite having been laid off this morning, I may have just hit the mother of all jackpots. Not about to let it slip through my fingers, I stand up, step right into her space, take Katie’s face in my hands, and kiss her again. Not softly. Not tenderly. Not sweetly.
Her mouth is hot and tastes like blueberries with a hint of alcohol. I delve my tongue in for a little more before slowly pulling away and leaning my forehead against hers, both of us breathing raggedly.
Katie rolls her bottom lip in and bites down. “Okay, that was…” Words seem to escape her.
“I’ve wanted to dothat for weeks,” I say quietly.
“Glad to know we’re on the same page.” Her blue-eyed gaze shifts up to meet mine. “Feel any better?”
“Why? Did something bad happen today? Because I can recall nothing before these past five minutes.”
That makes her smile. I love to see her smile and want to recreate it any chance I get.
“Nah. But something really, really good happened.”
“That, I am aware of.” My arms are still around her waist, and I interlock my fingers at the small of her back. She’s small, but she’s warm and solid, and I wonder how I ever got by without holding her like this.
“Good.” As she says it, a loud crash sounds from outside the door, obviously a stainless steel bowl falling to the hard floor, and Katie’s shoulders come up as she grimaces.
“I’m okay,” comes Ruthie’s muffled voice, and we both chuckle.
“I need to get back to work. I’ve got a huge order to fill.” The obvious regret in her voice makes letting go of her totally okay, though when she rubs her thumb across my bottom lip, I have to think twice.
I nod. “I’ll go home and regroup. Catch my breath. Absorb.” Meeting her eyes again, I add, “Everything.”
Katie’s smile lights up the room. “You do that. Come get me at six?”
“I will.” And I kiss her once more, softly, and the knowledge that kissing every inch of her body is suddenly a distinct possibility floods my system with heat.
As Katie puts her hand on the doorknob, she turns back to me and lays a gentle, comforting hand on my upper arm. “Hayley? It’s going to be okay.”
Her expression is warm and kind, and I give her a smile back as she squeezes. I snatch up the remaining cupcake—no way I’m not eating the rest of that heavenly delight—and follow her out of the office. Once in the open kitchen area, she gives me a wave, winks at me (causing a pleasant fluttering in my stomach), and heads over to help Ruthie with whatever batter she’s mixing. I let myself through the counter and walk toward the door. My grip on the handle, I turn back and Katie looks up, catching my eye, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s right.
It’s going to be okay.
I push through the door, pop the remaining blueberry cupcake into my mouth, and head into the next chapter of my life.
Guilty Pleasure
M. Ullrich
The first time I heard about Samantha Sanderson was during an awkward “welcome to the neighborhood” conversation with her parents as they helped me unload boxes from the U-Haul. I don’t recall the exact course we took through multiple topics, but somehow we ended up on how I’m single, a lesbian, and how their college-aged daughter was a lesbian, too. Even though the conversation with this middle-aged couple was awkward in and of itself, I was at least a little grateful that they didn’t assume I knew her because of our shared orientation. They told me how they’d known about Samantha’s preference for girls since grade school, even whenshe didn’t, and had to act surprised when she had finally come out in high school. I laughed when it was warranted. It was easy to talk to these bright, cheery people, even if they did contrast with my usual quiet, broody self. It gave me good reason to be content in my choice of new home. Starting someplace new in your early thirties isn’t easy for anyone, especially an androgynous lesbian. If I had worried about landing in a neighborhood where I’d feel unaccepted, those worries were squashed. I had hit the neighbor lottery with the Sandersons.
I settled into my new home quickly and easily. My new job was great, and the Sandersons seemed to know just when I was feeling a little lonely, and they would offer to have me over for dinner. It was nearly perfect until spring break rolled around. That’s when Samantha came home from school. I knew she was trouble the moment I saw her. She was the type of woman who would distract you every day for the rest of your life.
I was checking on tulips that were sprouting up defiantly through the chilled soil. The previous owners must’ve planted the bulbs, and to my surprise it looked like my planters out front would be filled with the color in no time. I was looking around at the bare trees that lined the streets when she caught my eye. A leggy strawberry-blonde jogged up the Sandersons’ front path. Her yoga pants clung to her full thighs, and even though the rest of her was hidden under an oversized sweatshirt, I knew her curves didn’t stop there.
“You must be Andy.” When she spoke it surprised me. She had a throaty, raspy voice that I knew would narrate every sexy dream I would have from that point on.
“Excuse me?” Pretty women make me dumb, I’ll admit it, and Samantha didn’t qualify as just pretty—she was drop-dead stunning. I eyed her curiously, and she tossed her long ponytail back and forth as she laughed.
“I’m Samantha.” She jogged across the small patch of lawn that separated my house from her parents’ home. Well, I suppose it was her home, too. “My parents have mentioned you a time or two.” She eyed me up and down, and I was suddenly very conscious of how I looked: short hair that had been styled by my pillow, wrinkled pajama pants, and a hooded sweatshirt I’ve had for longer than I care to admit. She smiled at my silence, and I damned her for having beautiful eyes, too. The kind of eyes I saw myself falling into, deep, and that was as unexpected as it was unwelcome.
“Andrea,” I corrected so unnecessarily that I even annoyed myself, “but yeah, most people call me Andy.” I kept my hands drawn close to my sides because Samantha’s eyes were soft enough to be called a temptation. I didn’t need to know whether her skin was just as dangerous. “Nice to meet you.” I turned away as casually as I could and started to retreat, but dammit, I still heard Samantha’s sultry voice say that she hoped to see me again soon.
There was no immediate second meeting, I actually didn’t see Samantha again until she came home for the summer, when I was bringing my beat-up garbage cans to the curb around the same time she was waiting for her ride. Gone were the workout clothes, and instead she looked like she was dressed for a night out on the town, one that would inev
itably lead to a very satisfying night in bed. If our age difference wasn’t obvious before, it certainly was now—my night was ending just as hers was beginning.
“Hey there, neighbor!”
I know I grimaced slightly when she called out to me, mostly because I wanted to avoid a conversation. Almost enough to climb into the trash can.
Let me set one thing straight, I don’t feel comfortable ogling women. I want to be better than all the jerks that objectify and stare, but sometimes I can’t control the gravitational pull of a short black dress. I can easily ignore cleavage, and toned arms are something I can admire innocently, but a nice ass wrapped perfectly in a short dress will forever be my downfall. So when Samantha turned back to her front door to check that it was fully shut, my jaw met the pavement. Her long, toned, and tanned legs were on display and led straight up to the most perfect ass I had ever seen; more than a generous handful, definitely muscular, and so firm that I could easily imagine myself coming against it. My cheeks flushed, and I knew the instant Samantha turned around I had been caught staring. Her salacious smirk clued me in. I didn’t bother to wave before making my awkward retreat.
I made a promise to myself that night: I would avoid Samantha at all costs. Did I think anything would happen between us? No. But I didn’t want to risk the only friendship I’d forged in my new neighborhood by coming across as a creepy pervert with regard to their daughter. Samantha, however, had other ideas.
