The Woman Upstairs

by Camryn Eyde

  “You sure?” Lizzie asked, as though Ricci and Tara were there on display.

  “She lives in Ricci’s building,” Alicia said, as if that information closed the conversation.

  “Oh.” Fiona cocked her head. “She’s not a lesbian, then?” Fiona asked.

  Alicia looked uncomfortable and tried not to look at Tara. “Umm…”

  “I am,” Tara answered.

  “And she’s unavailable anyway,” Ricci said, after recovering the straw from her throat.

  Everyone but Paige gave her a look of surprise, and Lizzie began to chuckle.

  “Oh? And if she wasn’t?” Lizzie asked, twirling her olive on its stick.

  Ricci blushed.

  “Who wasn’t what?” Paige said, trying to catch up with the entire group.

  “She’s a tenant,” Ricci said to Lizzie.

  “So? Do you have some kind of tenant-super relationship clause?” Lizzie asked, smiling.

  Damn gossip columnists. Wishing she kept her mouth shut, Ricci said, “Not exactly.”

  Lizzie hummed as Fiona turned to Tara and asked, “Are you dating someone?”

  Tara straightened her back and said, “I’m currently working through a divorce.”

  That quelled Lizzie’s teasing looks.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Fiona said. She stirred her cocktail. “Pity,” she said after some thought. “You guys look good together.”

  Tara and Ricci looked at one another for a moment before quickly looking away.

  “Drink?” Ricci asked Tara.

  “Please.”

  Downing her cocktail, Ricci ran for the bar, her best friend following closely.

  “You’re sweet on her,” Alicia said, snapping her accusation right in Ricci’s ear.

  Where had she come from? “What!”

  “Tara. You’re interested, aren’t you?”

  “Pfft. No.” Ricci waved at the bartender. Hurry up.

  “Don’t tell me you kissed her?”

  Ricci shook her head and increased the urgency of her wave.

  “God, Ricci. You did, didn’t you?”

  Rounding on her friend, Ricci whispered, “Will you just drop it. What did or didn’t happen between Tara and I is none of your business. She’s a tenant, that’s all. Leave it out.”

  “Is she sweet on you?”

  Ricci groaned. This sounded like a high school drama. “No.”

  Alicia bit her lip and looked behind them. Her following grin made Ricci wary. “Oh, I think she is.”

  Ricci turned to see Tara watching them from the table. “She’s thirsty, that’s all. What’s taking so long?” Bringing her attention back to the bar, she found the bartender raising his eyebrows at her. “Two cocktails please. Whatever has the most alcohol in it will do.”

  Her choice of drink, she thought later, wasn’t her smartest move. Downing that, and a few more to avoid Alicia’s accusing glare and Lizzie’s increased teasing, Ricci grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her to the dance floor.

  “What—?”

  Ricci quietened her questioning with a sharp look, and found the corner farthest from the table the remaining group were watching them from. Letting go of Tara’s hand, they stood awkwardly in front of one another for a moment. “I needed to get away from them for a moment.”

  “Because of the teasing?”

  Ricci nodded.

  “You could have gone to the bathroom or something. Dragging me onto the dance floor only confirms what they’re saying, I hope you realize that?”

  Ricci looked at Tara with horror. She hit herself in the forehead. “Crap.”

  Tara’s chuckle could be heard over the music. “Stop worrying. They’re being immature children. Don’t let them get to you. We both know there’s nothing going on between us.”

  Ricci closed her eyes and tried to stamp down the memory of their kiss, and of Tara’s body, and her smile, her laugh…her ice-blue eyes. Ricci shivered.

  “Is there?” Tara said when Ricci opened her eyes. It sounded accusing.

  Ricci shook her head quickly. “Nope.”

  Tara wasn’t convinced. With a sigh, she shook her head at Ricci as she searched her eyes. “Ricci…” she said on an outgoing breath.

  Ricci shook her head rapidly. “You don’t need to say anything. I get it. It’s just a…” Ricci shrugged. She couldn’t define the feelings she had for Tara. They were too unfamiliar to name.

  Tara sighed again. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you back.”

  Tara suddenly bumped against her as a rambunctious dancer knocked her off balance. They both gasped as their chests collided and their breath mingled. Tara’s perfume swamped Ricci and she swallowed against its power.

  Stabilizing herself with a hand to Ricci’s hip, Tara said, “Are we dancing, or going back to join the others?”

  Ricci looked toward their table and saw the woman cheering at them.

  Ricci groaned and lowered her head. “I can’t dance.”

  Tara smiled and shook her head and stepped back a little. “Just move,” she said, as she started to sway her body to the beat of the music.

  Ricci watched the way her hips swung and copied it. Her eyes darting up and down Tara’s body to watch the movement of her feet, her arms, her shoulders and her chest. There, her eyes got stuck for a moment.

  “Eyes up,” Tara said as she leaned across and spoke directly into Ricci’s ear.

  Ricci froze and stepped away quickly, nearly falling over the large bass speaker in the process. Tara caught her and they ended up pressed together as a slower song came on.

  “I’m not very good at this,” Ricci said as Tara began to sway them.

  “You don’t have to be. Follow my lead.”

  Ricci took a deep breath and relaxed. Tara’s hands were wrapped around her. One hand splayed at the small of her back, and the other bracing her across the shoulder blades. Ricci copied the grip and tried not to hyperventilate. Their hips rocked together from side to side, and every other beat, their chests pressed together and stole Ricci’s breath away. Every part of her that touched Tara burned. Shutting her eyes, she let herself rejoice in the sensations it was creating. She let the alcohol relax her and meld her against Tara’s body. Soon, every movement became smooth, sensual, and Tara’s grip on her tightened.

  Remaining in the embrace as the slower song ended, Ricci pulled her head from Tara’s shoulder and looked the woman in the eye. Panting together, and eyes darkening, when Tara looked at her lips and wet her own, it was all Ricci could do not to jump her there and then. Flushed and slightly sweaty, Ricci hadn’t seen anything more beautiful. Someone groaned. An instant later, Ricci was tasting the cocktail of choice on Tara’s tongue.

  She woke in the morning with a groan. Oh my God. So much pain. She cautiously raised a hand to try and hold her head together and groaned again. Not again.

  “Shh.”

  Ricci’s eyes burst open and were accosted by the morning light. Flinching from the brilliance of the morning, she looked to her right to see Tara holding her head with a grimace on her face. She was bare and Ricci forgot her pain as she stared, unabashedly, at Tara’s breasts. They were large, dusky pink, and marked with love bites.

  “Oh my God,” Ricci whispered as her eyes drifted south. Sheets crossed Tara’s hips, but Ricci had a feeling she was bare from top to toe. Looking under the sheets covering her, she saw her own naked body.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tara said.

  “What?”

  “You look like you’ve just got the shock of your life. Don’t tell me you don’t remember. Again.”

  “I…uh…” Ricci’s mind was blank. “My head hurts.”

  Tara sat up and yanked the sheets with her as she stood. Ricci covered herself with a pillow. “Dear, I’ve seen it all before.”

  Ricci blushed.

  “I can’t believe I did it again. Such a mistake,” Tara said before exiting the room
and slamming the door for good measure.

  Wincing at the noise, Ricci stared at the ceiling trying to recall anything from the night before. Unfortunately, the hangover consumed her, and after guzzling a gallon of water from her bathroom tap, she lay back down and slept the day away.

  Ricci roused late in the afternoon and emerged from her room to find pain killers and coffee. Tara’s door was wide open and the apartment was silent. Tara had vanished. Groggily, Ricci nursed her coffee and went back to the task of trying to figure out what had happened.

  She remembered leaving the bar after burning up the dance floor with Tara, but anything after that was hazy.

  Walking to the terrace door, she spotted the sofa in the living room, and saw the top she wore last night bunched up in the corner of it. Memories of Tara’s hands pushing under the top and ruining her panties burst through her brain. Tara had taken her there on the sofa. Twice. They stopped to take off Ricci’s clothes the second time. Ricci had spread herself open and pleaded for Tara to have all of her. It had been liberating at the time. Thinking of it now made her squirm with vulnerability. She’d never given herself over like that before.

  But then, she suspected, neither had Tara.

  Zoe’s comment in the lobby last week about Tara’s frigidity proved one hundred percent wrong. Tara had been demanding and sure. She hadn’t held back in her cries of pleasure as Ricci had buried her face and her fingers inside her. She had proactively sought release, and had been incredibly responsive. Long into the night they had given and taken before collapsing spent in Ricci’s bed.

  Then the combination of the excessive cocktails and yet another hangover had wiped Ricci’s memory clean. She had been dazed and delirious when she woke beside Tara that morning. Confused and in pain, her neurons refused to fire and she reacted with surprise. Now, somewhere in the city, Tara must have been cursing her existence.

  She dropped her coffee cup.

  “Shit!” she screamed, leaping away from the hot liquid scorching her bare legs.

  Chapter Eleven

  Finally

  It was Friday when the police contacted her to request an interview. Covered in paint, and moving drop sheets from Tara’s apartment, she had literally dropped the lot when the phone rang. The surveillance footage confirmed Mrs. Carter’s vandalism of her property in high definition. She had snuck through the side entrance with a large duffel bag, and had been caught entering apartment five. She was filmed filling the lock with goop before giving the camera the middle finger and leaving. Her confidence in her boyfriend hiding or deleting the footage had been misplaced.

  According to the police, Harrison Cummings was a low-level employee with very little access. His efforts extended only to requesting the Parkland Apartment calls, and fudging the resulting requests.

  Instructed to hold onto the security deposit until a long and messy legal process was finalized, Ricci officially washed her hands of the Carter’s impending divorce and moved on with her life.

  Mostly.

  Tara was difficult to move on from. She hadn’t seen the woman since Wednesday morning, and wondered if she still even slept in her apartment. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee that greeted her every morning suggested she was still around in some capacity.

  Shaking out her hands, she took a deep breath and dialed.

  “Good morning, this is Alicia at—”

  “Hi.”

  “Ricci?”

  “Yeah. Umm, I need to talk to Tara. Her apartment is ready.”

  “Okay. I’ll put you through. First…what happened the other night?” she asked in hushed tones.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You. Tara. Dancing, and leaving in a cab together holding hands.”

  “We would have fallen over otherwise. Didn’t you notice how drunk I was?”

  “Yeah, and about that. Since when do you drink ten cocktails in a row?”

  “Ugh. I have a lot to do today, could you please put me through to Tara.”

  “Why didn’t you ring her yourself?”

  “Because I don’t know her number. She still hasn’t filled in the paperwork. Hence, the call.”

  Alicia hummed.

  “God, will you please just fu—”

  “Hello?”

  “Shit.” Ricci slapped her forehead. “Sorry. Tara?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “It’s Ricci. Alicia put me through in the middle of me telling her off.”

  “So I noticed. May I ask why?”

  “She thinks we…you know…hooked up. I didn’t say anything.”

  Tara cleared her throat. “Thank you, but I was asking why you wanted to talk to me.”

  “Oh. Oh! Yeah…sorry. Umm…paperwork.”

  “You need to be more informative, dear.”

  “Tenancy paperwork. The apartment is ready. I wanted to know if we could get together and fill it all out so you can officially move in.” Ricci fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “I thought you’d maybe like to come over for dinner?”

  “Oh…”

  “I still have some of Mom’s pilaf left. I guarantee it’s worth putting up with me for.”

  “Putting up with you? Why would I need to be bribed to see you?”

  “Well…we haven’t seen each other since Wednesday, and, you know, I don’t even have your number. It’s not like I’d call or anything, because we’re not…umm…and I know we’d said we’d be friends and all, so I guess I couldn’t have found a way to say hi, but I thought it might be a little weird, you know, now we’ve seen each other…” Ricci paused when she realized she was about to say the word naked. She rapped herself on the head. “God. Sorry. Rambling. Look, will you have dinner with me or not?”

  “When put like that, how can I refuse?”

  Ricci narrowed her eyes, detecting amusement in Tara’s voice. “Seven okay?”

  “That will be suitable. Good day, Miss Velez.”

  “Uh…” Tara hung up leaving Ricci a little confused. Miss Velez?

  Just after six, there was a knock at the door. Frowning, Ricci stared at it for a moment. Why didn’t Tara use her key? Opening the door revealed visitors she hadn’t been expecting. “Alicia? Keddy?”

  “Hi!” She moved forward and embraced Ricci. “Friday night pizza.” Alicia gestured to Keddy who was grinning around his multiple piercings and holding three pizza boxes.

  “Uh…”

  Alicia pushed past her and made herself at home, as usual. After a quick glace around the lounge, she said, “Where’s the remote?”

  “What?”

  “For the TV. It’s game night.”

  “It is?” Ricci rubbed her forehead and stared at Alicia.

  Alicia gave her the ‘duh’ look.

  Ricci’s eyes widened as there was another knock at her door. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

  “You okay there, Ric?” Alicia asked as Ricci ran to the door. This time, she wasn’t surprised to find her brother and mother on the other side. Just behind them, Tara rounded the privacy wall.

  “Shit.”

  “Rica! Language!” Her mother slapped her.

  “Where’s the roommate?” Stevan said, letting himself in and looking around.

  “I’m right here,” Tara said, walking through the door and giving Ricci a questioning look. “You must be Estevan.”

  “It’s, Stevan,” he said.

  “Oh, pish.” Their mother slapped him on the arm. “You will be proud of your name and your heritage.”

  “Yes, mother.” Stevan rolled his eyes and winked at Tara. “So, how’s my sister treating you?”

  Ricci groaned internally, and noticed Tara blushed a little. “Well enough,” she answered. Giving Ricci a pointed scowl she said, “If you’ll excuse me.” Tara excused herself out of the spotlight and into the safety of her room.

  “She’s hot.”

  Ricci nodded after Gloria told him off for objectifying women.

  “You okay?” Stevan asked her quietl
y as his rubbed his arm with a pout at Gloria retreating to the lounge.

  Ricci looked to her feet, and thought of the mess she’d made with her woeful memory Wednesday morning. Stevan had a good question. “I’m fine.”

  Duly reminded that it was the last Friday of the month, thereby, it was game night and it was Ricci’s turn to host, Ricci found herself in the kitchen staring blankly into her pantry for snacks.

  “You don’t have anything to cook. Do you?” her mother asked.

  “Of course I do.”

  “What are we having then?”

  “Umm…”

  Gloria huffed and shoved Ricci out of the kitchen. Happy with that, Ricci scarpered, leaving her mother to deliver the usual wonderful appetizers. Her sister-in-law arrived just in time to see kick-off eat, and the group dined in the living room shouting at the screen.

  The whole time, Ricci stared down the corridor wondering what Tara was doing. Tuesday night had come back in blazing detail the moment she saw her dress crinkled on the sofa. Searing kisses, hotter touches, and a whispered promise that Tara demanded. Ricci had promised not to regret their night together. Her outstanding lack of memory must have felt like a slap in the face that morning. The woman hardly needed more rejection.

  Sighing, she gathered the plates under the curious gaze of her friends and family, and stacked the used dishes. The bedroom door down the hall clicked open, and Tara stopped short when she spotted Ricci in the kitchen.

  “You okay?” Ricci asked.

  “That is clearly none of your business.” The woman stormed back down the corridor.

  “Wait.”

  “What do you want!” Tara said with vicious intent as she whirled on her.

  “I want to apologize.”

  “For what? Nothing happened.”

  Ricci reached out and took her arm. “Yes, it did. I’m sorry I blanked out on you that morning. I haven’t drunk that much in a long time. It made me—”

  “I’m not interested in your excuses. You could have mentioned something before you let me screw you.”

  “Screw me? Is that what you think you did?” Ricci stepped closer. “I remember everything. I had you begging. We screwed each other.”