Talk of the Town Too

by Saxon Bennett

  “Great.” Megan set them on her desk and opened the top folder.

  “Don’t you have a dinner date with the best man on the planet and your mother to discuss the big day?” Rafferty inquired.

  “I canceled it.”

  “You canceled the big Friday night dinner?” Rafferty asked. “Dinner, Jeff and the wedding,” Megan replied, not meeting

  Rafferty’s eyes.

  “I see. Are you getting cold feet, or did you discover something bad about him?” Rafferty asked.

  “What do you mean, something bad about him?” Megan closed the folder and completely focused on Rafferty.

  “What I mean is that I was hoping the best man on the planet was not some kind of porno-freak or evil to his mother or something like that.”

  “Rafferty, you’ve got to stop listening to Dr. Laura

  Schlessinger. It doesn’t give you a very positive outlook on heterosexual life.” Megan had caught Rafferty in her office on more than one occasion doing her work and listening to Dr. Laura on the radio. Megan was fairly certain this was a daily ritual.

  “It’s all I know. I’ve never been straight. But boy, you straight people do have it tough. You should hear the people who call in.” Rafferty sat on the couch and took her shoe off. “I’ve got this horrid blister and it’s killing me. Don’t tell anyone about my fascination with Dr. Laura. The pink Mafia will get me.”

  Megan laughed and sat down next to her. “I won’t tell anyone and no, I didn’t discover anything bad about him. He’s still a wonderful man. I think I’m discovering some things about myself,” she replied, thinking that perhaps she’d never been in love with Jeff and now as the big day drew closer she didn’t have the guts to tell everyone that she wasn’t sure about spending the rest of her life with a man everyone told her was wonderful.

  “I see.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “Saying what?” Rafferty asked. She had removed her sock and was acutely studying her blister. Megan knew she was doing this so she could appear distracted and avoid further questioning. Megan had seen Rafferty use this tactic with her mother, Bel Aragon, when the occasion warranted it.

  “ ‘I see.’ Do you really, or is it some new linguistic nuance I have not yet discovered about you?”

  “Perhaps we should go to dinner and talk,” Rafferty suggested. “I’ll make you dinner at my place,” Megan said.

  “All right. I’ll bring the wine.”

  “You never answered my question.”

  “I do see. I’ve been in that place. It’s not a place I recommend. Jeff is a good guy. You should marry him and live happily ever after.”

  “That is easier said than done,” Megan said. “I think you should try.”

  “I want to but there’s something else . . . I don’t know.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Rafferty said softly. She pointed to the hallway.

  Megan heard footsteps down the hall and she knew that prying ears were approaching. Eileen was the law firm’s receptionist and Rafferty was convinced she also did reconnaissance for her mother. She was not to be trusted. They had both memorized the sound of clicking high heels on the wood floor. Eileen wore them every day. She was a trashy blonde disguised in a neatly tailored suit with a short skirt that Bel admonished her for daily, to no avail. Hear the clicks and nine times out of ten they were attached to that snitch’s feet. Megan nodded.

  Rafferty left and Megan turned off her cell phone so she wouldn’t have to talk to Jeff, who she knew would be calling. She straightened up her office, made a few notes on her P.D.A. for Monday and then shut the door. She wanted to get to the meat market before they closed at six. Then she wanted to swim a few laps, take a shower and get dinner started. She was hoping Rafferty would be done taking depositions by six and could come by shortly after.

  Megan stopped by the boardroom where Rafferty was and held up seven fingers to indicate the time. Rafferty nodded.

  Later that evening, Megan was grilling the steaks and doing a poor job of it. Smoke was clouding up her eyes and she could not seem to control the spurts of fire flaring up against the searing meat.

  Rafferty came over to rescue her. She opened vents, reorganized the charcoal, flipped the steaks and closed the lid. “They’ll be fine,” she said.

  “I make great salad,” Megan offered, thinking she was glad she had stopped at the farmer’s market on the way home.

  “Come sit down,” Rafferty said, pouring Megan a glass of wine.

  Megan took a sip. It was a full-bodied burgundy and she suspected Rafferty had raided Bel’s wine cellar. Bel had impeccable taste in wine. “Is this contraband wine?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “We can’t afford it.”

  Rafferty laughed. “She won’t miss it for months.”

  “I don’t have cold feet,” Megan said matter-of-factly.

  Rafferty smiled. “You know, that’s one of the things I like about you. You never beat around the bush. You just speak what’s true without any gloss, or tactful embellishment.”

  “It makes a lot of people nervous.”

  “Yeah, but to me you’re a breath of freshness in a stuffy world of protocol.”

  “Thank you. Jeff doesn’t share your opinion,” Megan said. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking that she preferred Rafferty’s company to Jeff’s, and this thought worried her. It was the beginning of her doubting process.

  “Have you reassessed your options and suddenly found this one distasteful?”

  “I have doubts about certain parts of my relationship with Jeff,” Megan replied.

  “Such as?” Rafferty finished her glass of wine and refilled both their glasses.

  “I need a point of reference. When did you know that you were in love?” Megan said, sitting down next to her after she had checked the steaks. They appeared to be doing fine now.

  “I don’t know for certain. One day Emily walked into the room and I just knew. I looked at her and my heart just—I don’t know— like everything kind of melted inside, and then one day she left and everything sucked,” Rafferty said wryly. “So maybe love is as overrated as sex.”

  “Rafferty, I was counting on you to be a shining icon of what life and love could be,” Megan said.

  “So you’re saying he doesn’t move you?”

  “Correct.”

  “Megan, finding a good life partner is not all about passion. It is more about making sound decisions. Jeff is nice, dependable, loving, and doesn’t have really fucked relatives. He’s a good catch. Go with it. In time you’ll find that passion is overrated, or it’ll come later. One morning you’ll wake up and want to fuck his brains out. Just give it time,” Rafferty advised.

  “I don’t think time is the answer,” Megan replied. “I don’t think we have a lot of passion in our relationship.”

  “Sweetie, you’ve been dating for five years. I think you’re past getting wet every time he walks in the room.”

  “I never got wet when he walked in the room. I think sex is greatly overrated.” Megan thought about the last time they tried, and she just couldn’t. She didn’t know why.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Rafferty asked in earnest. “No, I’m not kidding.”

  “Wow, maybe he isn’t the right one.”

  “What about when you first fell in love? Did you get wet?” Megan said, taking a sip of wine and thinking the demise of her relationship was a great way to find out about Rafferty’s love life. Rafferty smiled. “We’re not talking about me.”

  “That is pure and utter cowardice,” Megan replied, disappointed.

  Rafferty got up and stuck the meat thermometer into the steaks. “Let’s eat. I think they’re ready. And you’re right, I am a coward.”

  Dinner was fabulous. Megan made a chef’s salad and they drank another bottle of Bel’s wine. Rafferty helped Megan clean up and then begged off.

  “I have to get up early,” she explained. “And do what?” Megan ask
ed.

  “Oh, just some stuff,” Rafferty said, rummaging around for her car keys, which Megan miraculously provided.

  “You and your mystery life. Do you have a secret lover?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. Just some stuff I have to take care of.”

  Megan couldn’t help thinking that Rafferty wanted to get out because they were both feeling kind of festive and one never knew where that might lead. She always did that whenever they threatened to get too close. Rafferty had firm boundaries that Megan had yet to figure out how to cross. She tried anyway. “Rafferty, can I have a hug?”

  “Sure, I mean, if you want one.”

  “I want one.”

  Rafferty drew her close. Megan could feel their bodies touch and just for a second she knew Rafferty relaxed before she pulled away.

  “So I’ll see you Monday,” Rafferty said. “No, how about Sunday for brunch?”

  “What about Jeff?”

  “What about him?” Megan said, staring at Rafferty. “Brunch would be nice.”

  “Great. Call me.”

  “I will.”The following Monday morning, Megan sat at her desk musing over the wonderful weekend she’d had with Rafferty. She had managed to avoid Jeff all weekend. They had gone for brunch on Sunday and then Rafferty had taken her to West World to see a horse show. It was nice to see Rafferty so excited about something. The law was obviously not her passion. Eileen, the receptionist, came in and broke her reverie.

  “It’s FedEx and it just came in,” Eileen said, handing her the package.

  Megan opened the package and then went directly to Rafferty’s office. They had found a judge who was willing to hear their case. This could be a major break for them. She stopped short at her door. Rafferty was inside talking to her ex-girlfriend, Emily. Megan stepped aside so they didn’t see her. Megan hadn’t liked Emily because what she had seen of their relationship had not been good. All Emily appeared to do was play mind games with Rafferty.

  “God damn it, Emily, you can’t just walk in here and tell me you made a mistake.”

  “Rafferty, I miss you. People make mistakes or have a change of heart. Maybe it takes something like this to change us.”

  “You walked out. You said you couldn’t love a lawyer. I work too much. You knew that going in and now suddenly it’s all right with you. That doesn’t fly with me.” Rafferty’s voice was steady and devoid of any emotion. It was like she was talking to a client.

  “I want someone who is driven. That someone is you.”

  “No, it’s not. You need to leave. I’m sorry I can’t get over losing you and then have you walk back in and it’s everything is back to normal. My heart doesn’t work that way. You broke it and I’m done.”

  “Rafferty . . .”

  “I mean it. I want you to leave,” Rafferty said. “Rafferty, please, can’t we just talk?”

  Megan contemplated leaving. She knew she shouldn’t be eavesdropping on their lover’s quarrel. Still, she was concerned for Rafferty. And now, as Rafferty stood in the doorway, Megan no longer had a choice.

  “I’ll call security.”

  “I’m staying at the embassy. You can call me there.”

  Megan ducked into the empty boardroom so Emily wouldn’t see her. She waited a minute and then knocked on the door, saying, “We got the case.”

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Not much,” Megan lied.

  “She is totally fucked,” Rafferty said, turning to the window. “Are you okay?”

  “No. I thought I’d never see her again,” Rafferty said.

  Megan took a step toward her. She instinctively took her hand. “If you need to talk . . .”

  Rafferty started to cry.

  Megan turned and took her in her arms, letting her cry.

  “That fucking bitch. What I ever saw in her, I’ll never know,” Rafferty said.

  Megan laughed and then gently wiped her cheek. For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes. “She’s pretty hot, long blonde hair, tight ass and nice breasts.”

  “And she’s a complete manipulator. Besides, she was stingy in the bedroom department.”

  Megan laughed. “But she got you there.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. So we have the left and the leavers.” Rafferty found a tissue on her desk and wiped her eyes.

  “Don’t remind me. Can I take you to dinner?”

  “I don’t know. I probably won’t be good company,” Rafferty said, slumping down in her chair.

  “Please. We need to have to fun. I have fun when I’m with you,” Megan said.

  “Why do I feel like a distraction?” Rafferty asked.

  “You’re not a distraction. You’re a focal point,” Megan replied before she could stop herself.

  “That’s not good.”

  “Says you. I like it,” Megan said, turning and leaving.

  They went to dinner at a Thai restaurant downtown. Rafferty had a hamburger while Megan enjoyed a combo plate of things she didn’t recognize on the menu. On the way home they drove by the women’s bar. Outside of the bar was a line of women. It was Eighties Night.

  “What’s up with that?” Megan asked as they waited at the light.

  “It’s the women’s bar. They play all that tainted Eighties music,” Rafferty said.

  Megan made a quick right turn, sending Rafferty lurching into the car door.

  “Where are you going?” Rafferty asked.

  “To the bar. Let’s go dancing,” Megan said, driving through the back alley.

  “Megan, it’s a women’s bar, as in lesbian.”

  “Exactly. I can dance with you,” Megan said, scouting for a parking space.

  “This is not a good idea.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Megan found a spot in the back forty. She hoped she could keep Rafferty’s courage up long enough to get her to the front door.

  “I lost it somewhere along the trail of broken hearts,” Rafferty replied.

  “Now that we’re both single I think we should have a mission statement,” Megan said, parking the car. She leaned over and opened the glove box. Inside, she located a roll of Tums.

  “A mission statement?”

  “Yes, I think it should be a dedication to spontaneous fun.”

  “You’re supposed to be getting married, and I probably need to spend some time with a cognitive therapist.”

  “This is better. Two martinis and a lot of sweat on the dance floor,” Megan said, popping two tablets in her mouth.

  “I told you that Thai food is hard on the stomach,” Rafferty replied, pointing to the package of Tums.

  Megan hoped that’s all it was. “I know, but I’ve never tried it. I’m sick of sticking to routine. Thanks for being a good sport.”

  “You’re starting to scare me.”

  “Wait, the night is young,” Megan said, pinching Rafferty’s cheek.

  “Ouch!”

  “See, cognitive therapy. Misbehave and I pinch you.”

  “I don’t think your mother would agree with your methods.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  “If you say so,” Rafferty said, getting out of the car.

  Megan walked into the bar like she had been there before, paid the cover charge and ordered them two martinis. She scoped the dance floor and as soon it filled up she dragged Rafferty out into the middle of it and made her dance to Eighties tunes. Megan watched as Rafferty let herself relax.

  “Oh, shit!” Rafferty said, suddenly stopping in the middle of a song. “What’s wrong?” Megan asked, still moving to the music.

  Rafferty had completely stopped moving. “Emily’s here.”

  “Where?”

  “Right behind you,” Rafferty replied, pointing not very discreetly.

  The song ended and the D.J. announced the next would be a slow one and that it was time to find a partner or cuddle up to the one you’re with.

  “Do you want it to be over?” Megan ask
ed, praying the answer would be yes. Rafferty deserved someone better.

  “With Emily?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course I do. I just can’t believe she’s here.”

  “Then dance with me,” Megan said, holding out her arms. “Megan, it’s a slow song,” Rafferty said, turning slightly red. “So?” Megan knew she was pushing, but with Rafferty one had to be aggressive or she would slip through your fingers. She wanted to hold her. She wanted to feel her body close.

  “And you’re a straight woman in a gay bar.”

  “And you need to lose an old girlfriend,” Megan said, grabbing Rafferty as the music began. Rafferty did not protest, Megan noted. This was a step in the right direction.

  “This is not good.” Rafferty glanced nervously over Megan’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know about that. You smell really good and you have a nice butt.” Megan slid her hand down Rafferty’s backside.

  “I think you’re pushing boundaries.”

  “You can sue me in the morning,” Megan said, pulling her closer and thinking this was the nicest slow dance she’d had in a while.

  Later that night, Megan was sitting on the couch replaying the night’s events when the doorbell rang. She wondered who it could be. It was nearly one a.m.

  She looked out the peephole. It was Jeff. It was awfully late for him to be up. He was a C.P. A. and was usually up at the crack of dawn crunching numbers. She opened the door.

  “Jeff, what’s going on?” Megan said, suddenly acutely aware that she was standing in the doorway, wearing only her long white silk shirt.

  “Better you tell me,” he said gruffly.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Megan said, smelling liquor on his breath. He wasn’t much of a drinker.

  “I know where you were tonight.”

  “Are you following me?”

  “So what, are you gay now? Is that why you’re breaking it off?”

  “Jeff, I don’t know what you are talking about. I went out with a friend.”

  “Is that what you call each other?”

  “Jeff, she’s my business partner.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He weaved a little and reached out for the door- jamb.

  “I think you need to leave.”