“Sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m really not in the mood for chatting.”
The man’s lips thinned and his lip curled. “Oh, well, so sorry to have bothered you.” He stood up and walked to the back of the bus and grabbed one of the straps. I sighed. I had become one of those grumpy commuters I despised.
In a matter of minutes, the man was trying to strike up a conversation with another woman sitting nearby.
She was not as polite as I. “Get the hell away from me, dude,” she said with a grimace.
I chuckled. I felt only a little bad for the guy, but what was he thinking? He was now coming off as a weirdo. Men should not walk up to random women and just start talking to them in this day and age, not with all the horror stories out there.
The bus arrived at the college campus and I alighted, schlepping my heavy bag over a shoulder. I hated the class I was taking this semester. It seemed like a repeat of what I had already learned in the last three classes. As a matter of fact, all of the courses seemed to repeat the same information with bits and pieces of new learning stuck in between. It made it difficult to miss any classes though; it might happen to be one of the rare new-information days on that particular day. You just never knew.
The parking lot aisles were full of cars lined up waiting for spaces to open. A woman honked at a guy who almost backed into him. A few expletives were shouted before the guy left, the woman flipping him the bird out her window. As she took the time to do that, another car sped into the space, bringing another resounding honk from the woman, who almost hit a pedestrian as she sped down the aisle to find another spot.
Traffic, and drivers in general, were getting worse every day in Denver. People were taking more risks, there were more hit-and-runs, and fewer people were less gracious than they used to be. I was glad I did not drive; it was bad enough on the bus. At least it was the driver who was yelled at and given rude gestures. I did not have the personality to handle it.
The main building at the Arapaho Community College consisted of a large round two-story entranceway with large windows that allowed the fall sun to bath the floor. My class was located on the first floor at the end of a long hallway. When I arrived at the classroom, two other students stood in front of the door not looking very happy.
“Son of a bitch,” one said. “I can’t believe they canceled class without telling us.”
“I could’ve sent home my babysitter,” said a woman I knew from the program named Shelly. Her bright red ponytail swung as she shook her head.
A large sign was posted on the door: “COURSE #285 Writing for a Shrinking World has been canceled.” Today’s date was listed under it.
I sighed, then my phone notified me that I had a text. When I read it, I laughed.
"Oh, sure, now I get a text saying class has been canceled."
Then the cell phones of the other two students chimed and I knew they, too, had gotten the same message. They were still mumbling as they walked down the hall back to the front entrance.
I threw my phone into my purse and walked back to the bus stop. At least now I could go home and relax. I would surprise Brook with some Indian food, which was pricier than our usual fare, but I needed something special after the day I had today. We could kick back and watch TV. I did not care what we watched, even Brook's dumb detective shows, just so long as I could curl up next to her and have a glass of wine.
The bus was even more packed when I boarded than it had been earlier and I had to stand and hold onto one of the poles as we made our way to the main station where I would change buses. A group of boys sat in the back, throwing pieces of paper at each other and laughing uproariously.
Ah, to be young again.
***
It took a good hour and a half to get back to where Brook and I shared an apartment. But it was much earlier than I would have been home if I had had class. I had called ahead for the Indian food so I was in and out in just a few minutes before walking the two blocks home.
I sighed when I saw the elevator's out of order sign.
Damn it, I thought. I'm already so tired. But I made the trek up the three flights of stairs and set everything on the floor outside the door as I dug through my purse to find my keys.
I heard the TV in the bedroom, the music from whatever movie she was watching blaring through the walls. I set my burden on the counter and my bag on the floor, deciding to surprise Brook with dinner in bed. Maybe I would light a couple of candles and we could take a bath together afterward.
With two full plates in hand, I went to the bedroom door. I heard heavy panting and moaning coming from the room and I rolled my eyes.
She's watching a damned porno again. Well, maybe we would have a little fun tonight; that would certainly help my mood.
Balancing one of the plates on the crook of an arm, I turned the doorknob and opened the door. The first thing I noticed was that the TV was turned off, and for some reason that seemed odd to me. The music I had heard was coming from the small clock radio next to the bed.
But that was not what made me drop the two plates that crashed to the floor, tikka masala sauce and pilaf rice splattering across the rug, along the wall, and on the open door.
On the bed lay Brook, her face buried between the legs of Ingrid, the manager of the restaurant where she worked, whose back was arched and her head hanging back as she bucked her hips and moaned. Then Ingrid’s hands moved to Brook’s head, pulling Brook in deeper into her mound, Ingrid’s eyes closed and her breathing shallow.
The music was so loud, and the two women were so involved in what they were doing, they had not heard the door open. However, when the plates fell, they looked up and Brook's eyes went wide.
"What the hell?" Brook said, apparently still stunned that there were two plates of food on the floor. Then a look of realization came over her. "Paulette..."
"Fuck you," I snarled before heading into the kitchen where I had left my bag.
"Wait," Brook called out as she ran after me, naked, her breasts bouncing as she made her way into the kitchen. "I can explain..."
"No, no need to explain," I spat through clenched jaws as I held back tears. I would not cry. I would not let this bitch have the upper hand anymore. I was in debt because of her. I had put up with her bullshit for way too long. Well, I had had enough. "Five years, Brook! Five fucking years."
Brook's face fell. "I know," she whispered. “I'm sorry."
"How long have you been seeing her?" I asked, my hands on my hips.
"Two months," Ingrid said from the hallway where she stood naked, her short black hair mussed and amusement gleaming in her eyes as she leaned lazily against the door jam. I had not even heard her approach.
I said nothing. Instead I grabbed my bag and walked out the door. I heard Brook yell my name again, but I ignored her as I ran down the stairs, almost falling more than once. That was all I needed, to die breaking my neck because I fell down the stairs after finding my partner in bed with another woman. My life was pathetic enough at the moment without that happening.
It was not until I was outside and had turned into the alleyway between our building and the one next door that I leaned against the brick and allowed the tears to fall.
I pulled my phone out and dialed Daisy's number.
“You march your ass right over to mine,” she said firmly after I told her what had happened, not allowing any room for argument.
I had no choice. Brook and I were done and I no longer had a place to live.
Chapter Seventeen
I spent the night at Daisy’s but had not taken anything with me when I ran out of the apartment. Just thinking of returning made me want to puke, but I had to at least collect my clothes, especially those I bought using the credit card Joanna had given me. Hopefully Brook would let me pick up my things without causing too many problems.
It felt strange knocking on the door, Daisy standing next to me with her arms crossed. I hoped she would not make a scene. The door ope
ned and Ingrid rolled her eyes.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said in a bored tone. “Brook! It’s Paulette and her puppy.”
My arm swung out to stop Daisy from hitting the woman.
“I’m just here to pick up my things,” I said, as if it were really her business. My chest felt heavy and it was hard to breathe, but I had expected these physical reactions. So, I pushed my way past Ingrid and made my way to the bedroom.
“You know, I’ll treat her better than you ever did,” Ingrid said as she followed us across the living room to the bedroom. I ignored her and flashed a warning glance at Daisy, whose fists were closed up tight at the end of rod-straight arms that hung at her side.
Brook came out from the bedroom, a towel on her head. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Yeah, I just need to get clothes and the stuff my mom gave me. You can keep the rest.”
She shrugged. “Whatever,” she said as she walked into the kitchen.
Daisy pulled out the trash bags she had brought and we began stuffing clothing into them. My nicer clothes I left on the hangers and put them together with a bag over them and tied a knot at the bottom to protect them. I knew I should have kept the dry cleaning bags, but I had never had anything that needed to be dry cleaned before. Live and learn.
“Good,” Ingrid said—she still hadn’t left, as if she were watching to make sure I did not take something I should not— “now I’ll have room for my stuff.”
I only had a split second to see Daisy clench her jaw before I realized what was going to happen. She turned around, doubled up her hand into a fist, pulled her arm back, and her fist connected to Ingrid’s nose, blood pouring from it immediately.
“What the hell?” Ingrid screamed, her hand trying to staunch the crimson flow. “You stupid bitch!”
Brook came running in and stared at Ingrid and then at me. “Why’d you do that for?” she yelled.
I shrugged. I could not believe how calm I felt at that very moment.
“She wouldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut,” Daisy said.
I turned, tied the top of the last bag and threw it over my shoulder. Then I grabbed a second one and handed it to Daisy. With two bags each, we managed to make it out of the apartment without anyone else getting hurt.
Once outside we both burst out laughing and within minutes tears were running down our cheeks. People walking by stared at us with curious looks, but we did not care. It felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I was now free to pursue anything, and anyone, I wanted. And I knew exactly who I wanted to call.
***
“Thanks for letting me stay with you,” I told Daisy as we sat down to eat. It seemed odd to be sitting at the kitchen table and not in front of the TV, but it also felt right. A sadness washed over me as I thought of the few times Brook and I had eaten dinner at the table, feeling like a real family. Yet, it happened so rarely, I was not sure why that memory would bother me so much.
“Of course,” Daisy said. “You are welcome to stay as long as you want. We’ll be roommates!” I could not help but smile at her enthusiasm. She was a good friend, but I knew I could not impose on her for too long. Although she and Dean did not live together, they needed time alone, and I did not want to be the odd one out.
“What do you want to do?” she asked as we cleaned up the dinner dishes.
I shrugged. I did not feel like doing anything. Crawling in a hole sounded appealing at the moment, but I would not tell her that. “Whatever you want to do,” I said instead.
“We can watch movies and eat popcorn.”
I smiled. “As long as they have nothing to do with detectives, I’m fine with that.”
We watched a romantic comedy, laughing through a majority of it and then crying at the ending.
“If only there really were happily-ever-afters,” I sighed.
Daisy put her hand on my leg. “Honey, you’ll find the right person, I promise.”
“Maybe,” I replied. I was getting tired, but we were sitting on my bed. Daisy only had a one-bedroom apartment. Kicking her out of her own living room seemed a rude thing to do. I laughed to myself.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” I said. Then, seeing her look, I added, “I was just thinking about you slugging Ingrid.
This brought us back to squeals of laughter, which brought me out of my depression. Life happens; all I needed to do was live it the best I could.
***
Alexandra called me the following day to give me an update on the Hanover Project bill. It was nice hearing her voice and not feeling guilty for the feelings that crept up. I was leery of starting a new relationship so soon after my breakup, but if it happened naturally, so be it.
“So, it will be voted on by the end of the month,” she said. “That gives us two and a half weeks to get this out to the public. She kept the conversation focused on business, which made it easier for me.
The timing could not have been better. The next edition of the Common Sense Libertarian was due to come out next Thursday, so if I could get the article written and presented to Blake before Wednesday, and he approved it, we could have the story out to the readers an entire week before the vote.
“If enough people begin contacting the committee members with their concerns, there’s a good chance they’ll table the issue for a later vote,” Alexandra continued. “However, if they believe no one is going to protest it, they have no reason to stop it from going through.”
It made sense. “Well, we’d better get busy then.” I explained the timetable to her. “I would like to interview a couple of residents of the Hanover Building, and then I’ll start working on my rough draft this weekend.”
“That works.” She sounded formal, distant.
“Hey,” I said. I paused as I tried to gather my thoughts. “About the other night…”
“No, that was totally on me. I knew you were in a relationship and I still made a move. It wasn’t planned, I promise you.”
“How about this,” I said. “Why don’t we just meet up for dinner, in a public place? No dates, no hassles, just something casual.” I was not ready to tell her about my break-up; I did not want her thinking I was asking her out because of what happened with Brook.
“I’m up for that. I promise to keep my hands to myself this time.”
Wow, if she only knew how much I wish she would not keep her hands to herself…
We decided to go to an Italian restaurant in LoDo.
“I’ll meet you there at eight, will that work?” I asked.
She agreed. “Hey, you don’t have a car, do you?”
I was glad she could not see my face because I knew I had to be as red as a beet. “No, but I can take a cab.” There was no way I was taking the bus to LoDo for a dinner date.
“No, I’ll pick you up. What’s the address?”
After much back and forth about whether or not she should go out of her way, I finally gave her Daisy’s address. She would pick me up at seven-thirty in front of the apartment building.
As I got ready for our date, I felt as giddy as a schoolgirl, although I was not expecting anything but a nice relaxing dinner.
“You don’t think I’m jumping into this too soon, do you?” I asked Daisy. “I mean…I am not planning on sleeping with her or anything like that, but she is really nice looking.”
She shook her head. “Hell no. You know how I felt about Brook. I saw this breakup with her coming a mile away. She always treated you like dirt; it was bound to happen.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did! But you wouldn’t listen!”
She was right. I would not listen, so I shook my head. “No, I guess I didn’t.” I hugged her. “Thanks again, bestie,” I said.
“Girlfriend, you are always welcome.”
God, how I loved this girl.
Chapter Eighteen
Alexandra picked me up at exactly seven p.m. outside of Daisy�
�s apartment building. Her eyes bulged as they fell to the exceptional amount of cleavage that burgeoned from the low-cut dress that clung to my body, showing every curve. Daisy had helped me with my makeup, something I had not used for at least three years. My blond hair was pinned back with a clip on one side so it hung down to my shoulder in waves. Although my legs were not long and never-ending like hers, they still turned heads as I leaned in to look through the window of her dark blue Camaro. Or maybe they were looking at my butt. All I knew was that I felt pretty good about myself and how I looked tonight. And her reaction had only reinforced that image.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey yourself,” she replied. Was it just me or did her voice sound a little breathy? “Get in.”
I opened the door and slid into the seat, black leather and heated, and took in the opulence around me.
“Nice car,” I said as I clicked my seatbelt.
“Thanks. It was my gift to myself when I got the job at the Capitol Building.” She shrugged. “I had always wanted a Camaro, so I got one.” She smiled as she shifted into gear and pulled out into the busy 120th Avenue traffic. “Of course, I would have preferred a nineteen seventy-eight, but what I could find either needed too much work,” she glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow, “and I don’t work on cars,” then she turned back to the road, “or were way overpriced. As soon as I saw this one, though, I fell in love.”
“I can’t wait to buy a car,” I said. “I hate taking the bus.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get there; I know your time is coming.”
I smiled at that. She barely knew me and she already had confidence in me.
We sat in an awkward silence for several minutes and finally Alexandra said, “Oh, I was able to set you up with an interview with Renee Wheeler. No one from the committee would talk to me, but she is an assistant to Santiago Flores from District Six. She said to just call her to set up a time and she’d be happy to share what she can with you.”
“I really appreciate that,” I said, glad we had something to talk about. “I was also able to set up appointments to talk to a couple of the tenants at the Hanover Building. I’m surprised how many don’t want to talk. You would think they’d be all over it.”
Romancing the News: A Lesbian Office Romance Page 9
