by JLee Meyer
“Why don’t you dump that guy and sign with Dash?”
Dasher’s head jerked up and she rolled her eyes. “Dad! You’re starting to sound like Mom. Stop, please.”
He folded his massive arms across his equally massive chest. “Your mother is a very smart woman. Just because we’ve gone our separate ways doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate her. When she’s not drinking, she’s the best.”
Kate thought she saw regret in his expression. She could relate. Both of them absented themselves from their problems by working. That didn’t mean the problems went away. They usually just got worse.
The door opened then and the surgeon who had spoken with Dasher before came bustling in. They all stood as she approached.
“Ms. Pate?” She looked askance at the rest of them.
“It’s okay. This is my dad and the rest are dear friends. We can all hear. How is she?”
“We did a complete hysterectomy. The tumor is removed, and there didn’t appear to be any others in the abdominal cavity. We took some tissue samples to check microscopically, but as of now, we’ve done what we can surgically. You’ll need to talk to the oncologist about the next steps.” Glancing at her watch, she said, “She’ll be in recovery for the next few hours, then moved back to her room. Barring any complications, you can see her then. She’ll be out of it until tomorrow. I suggest getting something to eat, all of you.”
The collective sigh of relief was audible. After each of them, including Lupe, shook the surgeon’s hand, she strode out of the waiting room, leaving them alone.
Jerry shoved his hands in the back pockets of his designer jeans and studied the ceiling. “Well, uh, can I buy all of you ladies lunch? I’d like to at least say hello to Mimi when she wakes up. Of course, I understand if you have other plans.”
Lupe shyly shook her head. “I go home and come back. I must see to my granddaughter when she comes from school.”
Kate let Dasher decide. She might want to spend time alone with her father. Dasher briefly gave Kate a look that she understood immediately. Dasher wanted her to stay. Kate agreed with only her eyes. How odd that they’d known each other only a few weeks, not counting the five years before, and they were communicating without words like a couple. Like she’d seen her parents do. She had read about things like that.
Dasher turned to her father, who had been watching intently, and Kate was sure he hadn’t missed a thing. His expression was unreadable, but he seemed pleased when they both agreed.
*
Kate left the hospital at eight o’clock and drove straight home. If she’d been tired before, she was exhausted now. Mimi was rather groggy, but she had squeezed Kate’s hand and thanked her for being there for her and Dash. She seemed happy to hear Jerry’s voice, and they were holding hands when Kate and Dasher slipped out of the room.
Holding hands. She had so wanted to hold Dasher’s hand in the waiting room, but hadn’t. She’d wanted to take her hand again in the hallways, the elevator, at the restaurant. But she didn’t.
She’d held hands with some of her dates, her sister, her mother. She’d seen girls do it in high school and college, but she had so few female friends, it seemed foreign to her.
Now she was obsessing about what holding Dasher’s hand would be like. She knew she couldn’t. Look what happened every time they touched! It would be like kissing her, for God’s sake. Kissing would be next, she had no doubt. Probably more, and that thought overheated every system in her body.
If she held Dasher Pate’s hand she’d never stop and her career would be over. Teenage boys and young men were so homophobic, they’d drop her at the box office immediately. Her gay male actor friends told her that was why they needed to keep their orientation a secret—straight women didn’t like their fantasies exploded. The movies were a business of illusion, after all.
She couldn’t worry about that right now. The larger problem was why she wanted to hold Dasher’s hand. Could she really be falling in love with her? Would that make her a lesbian like Laurel? Well, yeah.
It would also answer some questions that had been popping into her head lately. Like, why was she so content to help her gay friends out if they needed a date? Answer: She needed one, too. One that ended with a chaste good-night peck on the cheek or sleeping in a separate bedroom. The tabloids billed her as wanton and lusty, which was nowhere near the truth. Except when she thought of Dasher.
Next question: Why did she go out only with straight men who were jerks, more interested in publicity than in her, and she could easily dump? Answer: She just wasn’t drawn to men who were straight, decent, and obviously attracted to her. Like Jason Beresford. Although after seeing him with Greta, she had revised that thought. Jason might have been attracted to Kate, yet he was entranced with Greta. But there were others. Her mother kept telling her she was too picky. She kept telling herself that she just hadn’t met the right one. Was that true?
Or was the truth that she had met the right one, five years ago? The ramifications of that possibility were so complex that Kate had to sit down. Then she stood up, poured a glass of Syrah, and sat down again. Then she went to her home gym and worked out, showered, tried to eat something, and sat down once more in front of the untouched glass of wine.
How would she explain this new development to her parents? Her fans? Her staff? Like it or not, celebrities were cottage industries. They employed publicists, agents, attorneys, assistants, drivers, and the list went on. She risked her career and disappointing so many.
Warning herself not to leap to conclusions, she tried for some perspective. Kate knew without a doubt that she was drawn to Dasher. But maybe she was simply bored and loved drama. She was between projects, around all those lesbian friends of Laurel and Stefanie.
She stared at the wine. She really liked those women but didn’t want to date them. Just hang out. They were real. They treated her like a friend. This was a new environment and she liked it. That was it. She didn’t want to date one of them, although a few were pretty hot.
She sorted through the mail and stopped when she arrived at a large manila envelope hand-addressed to her from Laurel. Few people had her personal street address.
She opened it and saw the proof sheets from the photo shoot. She was musing that the photographer had done a good job when she skidded to a halt at the shots of her and Dasher on that huge motorcycle. There it was—all the confirmation she needed.
She sipped. Dasher, those damned eyes. They had somehow burned into her soul the moment Kate met her. If she was being completely honest, with herself at least, she conjured them up when she was performing a love scene in a film. And when she couldn’t fall asleep at night. Dasher’s eyes held mystery and a deep understanding that she’d never found before or since, and that lulled her into a complete sense of serenity.
She’d always reasoned that it was her imagination, but getting to know Dasher only confirmed her fantasy. Oh, God. Things had changed, because now when she envisioned Dasher’s eyes, she wasn’t able to fall asleep at all. Rather, she became aroused to the point of no sleep. And she didn’t see much rest in her future, either, because she was getting worse.
The moment Dasher had touched her at the hotel photo shoot, her carefully constructed papier-mâché life had begun to dissolve and she didn’t see how she could paste it back together. As she gazed at the pictures, the proof was right in front of her.
Draining her glass, she choked on the last drops. It hadn’t occurred to her until that moment that there was one more risk in this whole scenario. Perhaps it was the biggest one. What if Dasher didn’t feel the same way?
Why would she care what Kate was feeling after the shabby way Kate had treated her for the past five years? She’d be crazy to have anything but resentment toward her. The thought of Dasher turning her back on Kate made her stomach twist painfully.
She carefully washed the crystal wineglass, dried it, and put it in the cabinet. Walking purposefully to her home office, she methodic
ally opened the computer and checked her calendar. By rearranging some magazine interviews and doing one by telephone, she could put a few days together. Laurel had asked her if she’d do a final run-through of the hotel opening that was less than two weeks away.
She made her reservations.
Chapter Fourteen
Dasher sat in the garden in the hospital and sipped her coffee, leaving the scone untouched. Each day she waited for Kate, and each day her disappointment tore at her heart just a bit more.
It had been four days since Dasher returned from dinner with her father and tried to call Kate, only to have the call roll to voice mail. She must have pressed that number twenty times but stopped leaving messages after the first day. After three days she stopped herself from even calling, trying to salvage some dignity. Kate knew how to find her.
Her father had confronted her about her feelings for Kate and warned her that this might happen.
“Kate, honey, for all the world knows, she’s straight. I haven’t even heard rumors to the contrary, and you know how this town talks. Has she given you any encouragement? Have you slept with her?”
Knowing she was probably blushing furiously, she had blurted, “Dad! No, but…we kissed once.” She was painfully aware of how pathetic that sounded.
Her dad scrubbed his face as if trying to contain himself. “Dasher, that’s not much to base your love on. She’s a star, and her demographic won’t tolerate her being in a lesbian relationship. Unless you want to add a boy and make it a three-way.”
She couldn’t believe his comment. “No! No way. Oh, God.” Could this be any more awful?
They didn’t speak while he paid for their meal. “Honey, why don’t you talk to your mom about this? I’m obviously not very good at comforting you. I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. But if you ever need someone’s ass kicked, I’ll be there.”
He’d waited with her until the valet brought her car around. Kissing her forehead, he said, “If it helps, she won’t be a teenage hard-on much longer. But I’d sure find out how she feels about you. Take care, and give my love to your mom. I’ll be up to visit in a few days.”
Dasher knew her dad loved both her mom and her. He just was a little ham-handed around emotions. And his attempts to express them, well, they were honest, at least.
Her mother had asked for Kate not long after the surgery, and when Dasher told her she wasn’t answering her calls, Mimi took her hand and held it for a long time. Still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia, Mimi seemed clear-headed when she said, “Give her time, sweetie, give her time.”
“Time. Now there’s a concept.” Dasher shook off the thought and rose from the bench, knowing she wouldn’t see Kate today. The weight of all the unspoken emotions made her body seem leaden. Her appetite had disappeared, her days seemed long, and her nights even longer. All she could do was replay every moment with the woman who held her heart hostage.
When Dasher entered, her mother was sitting up in her bed looking cheerful. Since her surgery she’d been that way—chatty and, well, motherly. She fussed over Dasher and tried to get her to smile and laugh.
So here she was, miserable. Kate was gone. Dasher registered that her mother was calling her name.
“What? Oh, I’m sorry, Mom. How are you feeling today?” Best to keep the subject light and focused on Mimi, because Dasher wasn’t sure how she could hold herself together otherwise.
“I asked where Katie was.” From the look on her face her mother was well aware of what Dasher was thinking.
“Haven’t talked to her. I don’t even know where she is. Go figure.” She tried to hide her hurt and anger by keeping her face still and studying her PDA.
After a long silence, Mimi said, “I’m sorry, Dash. Do you think the crazy Pate family finally overwhelmed her?”
Mimi clearly hadn’t asked the question to bring the subject back to herself. She seemed genuinely worried. “I don’t think so, Mom. She really likes you. Don’t doubt that. It was probably me.”
Her eyes welled and tears threatened to spill down her face, something that never happened around her mother. Dash had always been the problem solver, not the problem itself. She jumped up and walked to the window, embarrassed by her lack of control.
“Dasher, come here.” Her mother’s voice was strong and Dasher automatically returned to her side.
Mimi took her hand and held it for a few seconds. The warmth immediately made Dasher relax a bit. It had been years since they’d held hands, but the child she had been had never forgotten her mother’s touch, especially the few reassuring ones.
Mimi seemed to search Dasher’s face. “You’re in love with Kate. What are you planning to do about it?”
Shrugging, Dasher said, “There’s not much I can do. She’s disappeared.”
“Do you know where she is?” Her mother’s eyes were steady and warm.
“Probably at the hotel. The one in San Francisco owned by her sister and my friend Stefanie. She goes there a lot.”
“Is there a way to know for certain if she’s there?”
Dasher had thought about calling Stefanie more times than she could count, but didn’t want to drag them into her misery.
“I don’t want Stefanie to feel awkward about it. That’s not fair.”
Her mother became agitated. “Dasher Pate, have you ever heard the expression ‘all’s fair in love and war’?”
“But—”
“Stop being so freaking honorable and go after her! I mean it, she needs you.”
At that moment Dasher’s cell phone vibrated. She had forgotten to turn it off in the hospital. Actually, she’d refused to, in case Kate called. She prayed she hadn’t just whacked someone because of her negligence.
Mimi looked hopeful and Dasher couldn’t get the phone out of her pocket without fumbling a few times.
“It’s a text message.”
“What does it say?”
Dasher stared at the small screen. “It’s from Stef. It says, ‘She’s here.’”
Chapter Fifteen
Laurel and Stefanie stared across the table at Kate as she picked at her poached egg on dry toast. Laurel couldn’t fathom why she’d ordered such a tasteless meal, especially since she was bordering on too thin. She seemed lost in her own world, barely acknowledging their futile attempts at small talk.
Kate had either stayed in her room or stuck on sunglasses and a Giants baseball cap, as well as an old flannel shirt worn at the cuffs and baggy jeans, and wandered the hills and wharfs of San Francisco. Few recognized her in that disguise, especially with no makeup and her hair carelessly stuffed into the cap. If someone did, she denied that she was a famous star and scurried back to the hotel, ordering room service for the rest of the day. Sika let them know that Kate barely touched the meals.
Laurel eyed Stef, then gently prodded her under the table with her knee to get her attention. When she snapped out of her own reverie and met Laurel’s gaze, Laurel could see the worry in Stef’s expression, and maybe a little nervousness. Laurel tried to subtly tilt her head toward the exit, hoping she wouldn’t have to manually throw Stef out of the dining area. Stef seemed to finally remember the plan they’d discussed in bed that morning and cleared her throat.
“Well, I’d better get going. I have a punch list a mile long. You two have some fun today.” She pushed her chair back and gave Laurel a brief but tender kiss, then squeezed Kate’s shoulder as she passed by her.
Gazing at Stef until she disappeared around a corner, Laurel turned back to the table and was surprised to catch Kate watching them. Usually Kate would unblinkingly study her food if Laurel and Stef were affectionate. This time she seemed close to tears and glanced away.
Laurel took her hand. “Kate, what is it? What’s bothering you? You suddenly appear and haven’t said more than fifty words since you got here.”
“You told me you needed help with the final preparations for the hotel, and here I am. End of story.” Her voice was flat a
nd lifeless.
Sighing, Laurel muttered, “Keep telling yourself that.” She had a million things to do to get ready for the opening and here she was, yet again, listening to another of Kate’s dramas. This was getting old.
Kate’s eyes flashed. “You’re welcome. Listen, just because your life is perfect and you have everything you’ve ever wanted doesn’t mean others are so lucky. So back off.”
“Kate, what are you talking about? Everything I’ve ever wanted? If I recall, you are the golden one in the family. You have always been the star, always been the most popular, the best. Now I’m the one with everything? Where’s this coming from?”
Looking ready to pounce, Kate snapped, “You tell me. Tell me you aren’t happy. Tell me you aren’t in love. Tell me you can’t be exactly who you are. Tell me!”
Laurel sat back, stunned at the pain she detected in Kate’s accusations. Suddenly Kate closed her eyes and put her face in her hands, elbows on the table. Whatever energy she was using to fight had disappeared.
“Katie, I’m sorry. I thought you were the happiest woman on earth. You’ve always had everything you’ve ever desired. You’re beautiful, rich, famous, and everybody envies you. Now tell me which one of those Hollywood bad boys you’re upset with and we’ll figure out how to dump him.” Laurel doubted her words, but this was Kate’s usual pattern.
Holding up a hand, Kate gave her a sad smile. “You don’t envy me, though, do you, Laur.” It wasn’t a question.
Taken aback, Laurel could only be honest. “I used to. I mean, you always had a lot of attention. But I suppose the answer is no, I don’t envy you. I have no idea how you live up to all those expectations. I should thank you, because having all that attention focused on you allowed me to get by. Although I’ve always suspected that Mom and Dad were disappointed with the lesbian thing.”
“Oh, God.” Everything Laurel said seemed to upset Kate more.
Laurel slipped into her protective big-sister role. Something was definitely different about Kate. Usually her unannounced entrances were brief and filled with drama. This time Kate had arrived quietly and stayed to herself most of the time. Laurel touched Kate’s arm. “What’s wrong?”
