“I know you have. No, it’s fine,” God said.
“Let’s hope so for my sake, because I’m the one who’s going to get my ass nailed to the wall if this thing goes wrong.” Gigi picked up a lone white feather that had fallen from the angel wings. She examined it closely and then gave it to Caroline. “Look, it’s a souvenir.”
“Thanks. I still think you need a better attitude about this. The book is something to help people better understand themselves and get motivated to become better people. Don’t you care about people?”
“No. I don’t really like people. I mean, I like you,” Gigi added, noticing the hurt look on Caroline’s face.
“Well, you better learn to like people because they’re going to come to you for guidance,” God advised.
“Look, I just typed the fucking thing.”
“Actually, you did more than that.”
“What are you talking about?” Gigi said, getting flustered. She knew God had something more up her sleeve than just typing a manuscript.
God shrugged. “My mind doesn’t work like a human’s. I needed your brain to put the ideas into human terms. I planted things, you made them grow.”
“I just did what you told me,” Gigi said, getting panicky.
“Gigi, relax. She won’t let anything happen to you. You’re one of the chosen ones. They don’t get hurt . . . well, except for your skin condition and oh—the crucifixion.” Caroline stared intently at God.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” God replied evenly.
“See, now you know why I’m scared,” Gigi said. She walked out of the bathroom and went to sit on the couch. They followed her. Gigi rested her head in her hands.
“I have a better exit strategy this time,” God said, sitting down next to her.
“I certainly hope so. If I get blown to pieces by some religious nut job I’m going to be really pissed at you.” After all, she thought, it would be her name on the book jacket, not God’s.
“I’ll take care of you,” God said, putting her arm around Gigi’s shoulders.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Gigi said. Both Caroline and Gigi eyed God suspiciously.
“Just relax, both of you. Now grab the book and let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” Gigi asked.
“To get published,” God said.
“Oh, just like that, huh,” Gigi chided. “On a Friday afternoon. Right.”
“I think you’re forgetting who I am.”
Gigi and God stood outside the front door of the Dial Tower in downtown Phoenix looking up. The Golden Calf Publishing Company was located on the seventeenth floor. Gigi was dubious. “You really think this is going to work?”
“It’ll work.”
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed. Don’t we have to write letters or something? I mean, popping up with the manuscript seems a little forward.” Not to mention she was wearing slippers.
“I don’t have time to be piddling around waiting until someone, somewhere thinks they might be a little bit interested,” God said.
“All right, all right. Don’t get your grundies in a bundle,” Gigi said, following God inside the building. The lobby was immense and God’s shoes made sucking noises as they crossed the granite floor to the elevator which opened immediately upon their arrival.
“What does that mean?” God asked, pushing the button.
“That your underwear gets all bunched up and you get all fussy.”
“Oh, now, come closer,” God said, holding out her arms.
“What for?” Gigi asked nervously.
“Because I said so.”
Gigi stepped closer. God wrapped her arms around her. Gigi felt like every neuron in her body was lit up and overloaded. “What did you do?”
“I jump-started you. These are reverent people. They’ll sense it.”
“What? You made me glow.” Gigi looked at her arm. It did seem to have a kind of aura.
“Kind of. You have that touched-by-God look.”
“Oh, goody. Will it help our case?”
“Yes. Now, do you remember these people?”
“What people?”
“The people we’re going to see about publishing the book. They’re the Eichenbachers and they own this publishing company. He was the man I had you touch at the hospital that day when he had a heart attack.”
“Oh, I get it. My, how neatly you’ve connected things,” Gigi said snidely.
“I’m not leaving this to chance.” God pushed open the door and they went inside.
Gigi introduced herself at the desk and explained her plight.
The well-dressed brunette receptionist informed Gigi and her now invisible companion that the publishing house did not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
“This one they will,” Gigi replied.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“I don’t think your glow thing is working,” Gigi whispered to God.
She’s not spiritual. Just tell her this. God went on with a sort of sales pitch.
Gigi relayed the message. “God says that if you don’t tell the Eichenbachers we’re here she’ll give you a wicked case of acne. By the way, tonight you’re going to meet Mr. Right, who will marry you and give you the children you so desire. He’ll make a great husband and father. You don’t want to mess it up by showing up looking like a pimple pizza. Tonight is the beginning of your new life, so don’t screw it up. Go in there and tell Randolph that God plucked him from the jaws of death for a reason, and that reason is now here. Don’t keep us waiting.”
The now stunned receptionist disappeared behind a closed set of executive doors with a brass plate that said Eichenbacher.
The Eichenbachers were much different from the receptionist, Gigi noted. It appeared they could see the glow. Gigi relaxed a little. Randolph asked her to have a seat then took the manuscript gently from her, as if it were an infant. He was a dark-haired man with a well-trimmed beard. About six foot four, he was wearing a pair of tanned Dockers and an azure shirt. He put on his reading glasses over which he looked at his wife.
“It’s a self-help manual with a message,” Gigi explained.
“Is it really the . . .” He paused, looking a little choked up.
“The word of God?” Gigi finished. “Well, I suppose it is. She says she filtered it through a human mind because she doesn’t think like we do.”
“You said ‘she,’ ” Laura Eichenbacher said excitedly. She was a small, pretty blonde wearing a flowered sundress.
“Well, she is she to me because I like women. She would incarnate as anyone wished.”
“Are you devout?” Laura asked quietly.
“Me? Hell, no,” Gigi said. “Ouch.” God had poked her in the ribs. “No, I’m going to tell them what a whimsical and capricious God you are.”
Wow, big words coming from you, God chided.
“My vocabulary has improved from hanging out with you. Besides you made me study all those books.”
Great. And now you throw them back at me.
“You shouldn’t have given us free will. It’s like handing the keys to the Cadillac to a teenager and then getting pissed when they crash it.”
That may have been a mistake. God nodded. But you would have become boring creatures without it.
Gigi turned to see the Eichenbachers staring intently at her. “I suppose this looks rather odd. As I was saying, God has chosen a pagan, amoral, heathen lesbian as her messenger.”
They both sat with shocked expressions on their faces.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but my behavior has improved in her presence,” Gigi offered.
“Saint Paul started out badly,” Randolph said, leafing through the manuscript.
“And what about Mary Magdelene.” Laura leaned over her husband’s shoulder to read the manuscript.
“Faith is an amazing thing,” Gigi said. She could tell the Eichenbachers were anxious to read the manuscript and she was getting kind of antsy.
She wondered if Caroline was still in the mood for a little afternoon hanky-panky.
Now about the book. God nudged Gigi.
“So will you publish the manuscript?” Gigi asked.
“Most certainly. Did God pick us for a reason?” Randolph asked.
“She told me to tell you she picked you because you’re devout and you feel God every day,” Gigi said, relaying the message.
“Outstanding,” Randolph said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started.” He rang the receptionist. “June, please bring in a contract and the checkbook. Now, the negotiations usually take a month or so to go into effect. You are free to get a lawyer to look over the contract.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’d screw God,” Gigi said.
“Well, of course not. I mean, the royalties are fairly standard within the industry and everything depends on sales, but I think this book will do very well,” Randolph said.
“Great then, well, I’ve got to get going,” Gigi said. “Is everything kosher with you?”
I find it most acceptable. God smiled broadly. And yes, Caroline is still in the mood.
Chapter Nine
Megan lay in Rafferty’s arms still glowing from their afternoon dalliance. It was Saturday and they were supposed to be doing some research at the law library. Megan smiled to herself. Being interested in something other than work was still a new sensation to her.
“Does this part go away?” she asked.
“What part?”
“You know . . .” She ran her finger around Rafferty’s soft brown nipple. It became hard beneath her touch.
“Oh, that part,” Rafferty said.
“All I think about is how long it will be before I can hold you naked in my arms again.” Megan trailed her hand down Rafferty’s stomach.
Rafferty parted her legs and pulled Megan on top of her. “What are you thinking about now?”
“About getting inside you again,” Megan said, putting her fingers inside Rafferty. Rafferty pulled her in tight, wrapping her thighs around her. Within minutes Megan brought her to climax.
“Oh, my God, that feels good,” Rafferty said.
Smiling, Megan sat on top of her. “I love you, Rafferty.”
“Ditto.”
“Do you think our mothers are spending a lot of time together lately?”
Rafferty ran her hands across Megan’s backside and positioned her so their crotches met. “I don’t really want to talk about my mother right now.” She gently moved against Megan.
“Just check it out.”
“All I want to do is check you out,” Rafferty said, putting her fingers inside Megan and watching her intently. Megan ground her hips slowly against Rafferty’s hand until she felt herself coming again.
After dinner on the way to Symphony Hall, Helen leaned back in the leather seat of Bel’s Lexus and thought about how much she enjoyed spending time with Bel. She hoped Bel felt the same way and had a sneaking suspicion that she did. Maybe God was right in letting things follow their course and not worrying about it. This was still a difficult concept for Helen to get her mind around. She was good at helping other people combat their neurosis. It was harder when it came to one’s own psyche. At least her palms were clearing up. Now she only needed small Band-Aids on them.
Helen was mildly amused when Bel looked over at her and said, “Rafferty thinks it’s weird that we spend so much time together.”
“I’m surprised those two have had time to think of anything.”
“What do you mean? I’ve kept their caseload lighter than usual.
I thought it would be nice for them to get off on the right foot. I don’t want Rafferty to screw this one up.”
“Busy with each other. I swear, every time I talk to Megan she’s in bed and I don’t think she’s alone.”
“How do you know that?”
“Megan doesn’t answer her cell phone but she’ll pick up on the first ring on the land line. The only phone in her condo is in the bedroom.”
Bel laughed. “I bet that hasn’t crossed her mind.”
“I’m sure it hasn’t.”
Bel pulled into the parking lot of Symphony Hall and parked the car. She looked over at Helen. “Are you sure you’re all right with this thing?”
“Megan and Rafferty?”
Bel nodded. “Yes.”
“I’ve never seen Megan so happy and interested in things other than the law.”
“They appear to be doing well,” Bel agreed. “Rafferty is actually behaving like a decent human being.”
Helen laughed. “You know, we’re lucky. They grew up and became motivated, caring young women.”
“Yes,” Bel said, obviously distracted.
“What are you thinking?” Helen asked as they walked toward the concert hall, swarming with concert-goers. She glanced up the stairs of the massive granite monolith. She had always thought it looked like a big box in odd contrast to something as fluid as music.
“Just how Megan was straight one day and then gay the next. It seems so odd.”
“I suppose that’s true. I think she found herself falling in love with a person who happened to be a woman. Fortunately, she didn’t see that as an obstacle to love, which is a good thing. It takes courage to do that,” Helen said.
“You put things into perspective beautifully. It’s a pity the world doesn’t see it that way.”
“Exactly,” Helen said, sliding her arm through Bel’s as they entered the building and were ushered to their seats in the balcony for an evening of Bach performed by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Helen was excited. She loved classical music. She looked through the program and read the biographies of the musicians.
After the symphony and on the way to the car Helen said, “Will you come up for a nightcap? I got us a surprise.”
“A surprise? What is it?” Bel asked. She opened the car door for Helen.
“I went to the Cheesecake Factory this morning and picked us up one.” Helen had gotten up early and picked out a good one. She wanted to please Bel.
Bel laughed. “Because we were fantasizing about cheesecake the other day?”
“Precisely. The psychological term for it is wish fulfillment. I also bought some amaretto.”
Bel raised an eyebrow and started her black Lexus. “Horribly decadent.”
“You can do extra laps on your treadmill at the gym. Not that you have an ounce of fat on you,” Helen said. She pinched Bel’s inner thigh.
“Ouch!” Bel said, feigning hurt. “I do have some fat.”
“Sure.”
“And I will be forced to do extra mileage to pay off the largesse of this evening.” Helen gave her directions to her condo. Bel hadn’t been there yet, since most of the time they met at Helen’s office, which was located near Bel’s law firm. Bel pulled into the parking lot of Helen’s condo. They took the elevator up to the seventh floor.
“Come in. Let me take your jacket,” Helen said. She took Bel’s jacket and watched her go to the arcadia door to look out at the lights of Phoenix. Helen admired the beige silk button-down jacket. Bel had great taste in clothes and a pretty figure to go with it.
“Great view,” Bel said, turning to face Helen.
“I bought it for that very reason. Plus the place is full of gay guys. They make the best neighbors. Ben, the guy next door, helped me decorate.”
“It’s nice. I like it,” Bel said running her hand along the back of the deep brown leather couch.
“Ben’s partner works for the Pottery Barn so we got some fantastic deals. I’m not much for artistic flair but those two are incredible. So I let them loose,” Helen said, surveying the place again. It looked nothing like the placid, suburban home she had shared with Lars. Everything had been so neat, normal and nondescript. Here, there was funk, there was personality, there was a sense of what she was capable of—from the brightly colored rugs to the oak bookcases laced with odd artifacts. The place breathed of someone with fascinations outside hers
elf, and Helen liked that. She poured them both a drink and then got out plates.
Bel eyed the cheesecake. “That looks fantastic.”
“Wait until you taste it.”
“Helen?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for this evening.”
“You’re welcome, Bel. And don’t worry if our daughters think it’s weird we hang out so much.”
Helen tasted the cheesecake. It was to die for, smooth but not overly heavy. She watched Bel.
“Well, what do you think?” Helen hoped Bel liked it as much as she did. It was if everything she did now outside of work seemed to revolve around Bel. When she would see her again, what she would wear and places they could go that Bel would like. This must be how a man feels when he courts a woman, she thought.
“Absolutely fabulous. You are now officially in charge of desserts.”
Helen smiled, pleased.
*
Around midnight, Helen helped Bel on with her jacket. “You have great taste in perfume.” Helen moved dangerously close to Bel’s neck.
“Thank you,” Bel said, turning toward her.
At that moment Helen heard God’s voice in her head telling her, “She wants you to hold her.” Helen, without thinking, obliged. She pulled Bel close and whispered, “I had a lovely time tonight.”
Bel seemed flummoxed by the embrace. She said quickly, “So did I,” and walked right into the closet door, obviously mistaking it for the front door.
“Are you all right?” Helen asked. She touched the red spot on Bel’s forehead.
“Yes.”
Helen ran her hand along Bel’s cheek. “Let’s get you out the correct door this time.” She opened the front door. “Good night, Bel.”
“Good night.”
Helen shut the door and turned around to find God sitting on the couch looking rather smug.
“I don’t think you should be coaching me.”
“Someone has got to get the ball rolling. She loves you, and touching her cheek like that—very powerful.”
“And all on my own, I might add,” Helen said, going to the kitchen to put the dishes in the dishwasher. God followed.
Talk of the Town Too Page 12
