by C D Cain
Tucker slapped her hand on the bar. “Hold on to your panties. Show’s about to start.”
The lights dimmed to black as the masses of voices quieted. The music of a single violin began to play above the crowd. Sam could hear the strings as clear as if she was sitting right next to the violinist. She looked up at the speaker above her head. The notes streaming from it were a torturous song of shyness seduced by pain and sadness. She had been reminded of the woman she once was—of how she had viewed other women she dated. She didn’t like it. Thankful she had been changing, she tried to think of Mo in the way Tucker had described her. She wondered if maybe she had misunderstood her all those years ago.
Tucker put her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ll be back. Gotta help get some drinks out before there’s a riot.”
Sam patted her hand. “Sure thing. I’ll be right here.”
A soft, falling rain filled the wall-to-wall screen behind the deejay’s booth. The violin’s scream became stronger, confident, and powerful as the raindrops strengthened into a storm. A flash of lightning erupted across the wall. The lights above the dance floor flashed brightly as if the lightning had actually been in the room. The strings of the violin changed from sounds of an orchestra to a synthesized, electric beat. Sam felt the wall beneath the speaker vibrate with each thump of the bass. The intensity of the women’s dance in front of her grew. Another flash of light and lightning.
“Can you feel it?”
Sam recognized Mo’s voice immediately. It was that drawn-out sultry voice, deep and low that she used when she deejayed. She couldn’t fight the roll of her eyes.
“Come on, ladies. I said, can you feel it?” She held the last words to linger over the sound system before they faded into a song.
The lights lit up one by one over the dance floor. Sam turned back around to take a swallow of her drink but left it sitting on the bar for fear it would be knocked out of her hand by the gyrations of the women in front of her. A keyboard’s notes teased into a slow crescendo.
“Say my name and you can dance.”
The woman who had bumped into Sam earlier screamed as loud as she could, “MO!”
Boom.
The bass exploded with one final lightning strike. The wall next to Sam shook even harder. Laser lights began to sway over the crowd of women jumping up and down on the dance floor. Strobe lights flashed until they centered on the female standing in the deejay box. The crowd screamed. Sam thought the woman in front of her would surely fall flat on her ass. Her footing was not so stable with the wild jumping up and down she was doing.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! She looks fucking amazing,” the woman screamed.
The crowd roared and sprang up and down on their feet. They all began to dance as if Mo had them under some type of trance or spell.
Mo held her hand up in the air as she danced with them to the music. She adjusted the oversized earphones until only one covered her ear. “The night is ours!” She moved her hands along the large instrument panel until the beat faded into an even faster-paced rhythmic collection of strings, keys, and beats. “Now dance your beautiful asses off.” Mo’s body flowed and became one with the music. She raised her hand in the air and swayed to the beat as the other hand deftly moved across the panel—pulling, pushing, or spinning the device to will her tunes. Her hands created their own rhythms as they moved from the panel board to adjust the headphones from her ears to her bare neck.
Sam didn’t feel the excitement or the urge to dance as the women around her apparently felt. She only saw Mo. How many times had this woman entered her life to basically screw it up? She was like static to a fall sweater. Nothing could shake her loose from Sam’s life. Even now when Sam was no longer in the scene to compete for women with her, she was still right here in front of her. She thought of Brantley, or was it Claire? Hell, she couldn’t remember her name. What she did remember was Mo spinning her way into her life to steal her away. She had that girl so twisted up in her web of lies, she couldn’t even see straight. Sam had genuinely liked her until Mo dug her claws into her. Poor girl was a mess after Mo moved on to her next conquest. A damn mess. All hopeful thoughts of Mo being a better person went right out the window. Sam picked her drink back up, raised it in the air toward the deejay’s booth, and said, “I see you, alright. I’ve always seen you.”
“Give yourselves to me tonight. Let go. I’m in control. I’ve got you,” Mo purred into her microphone.
The women shouted their submission to Mo as their bodies moved together. Heads bobbed to her cadences, toes bounced to her tempos, and hips swayed to her pulses. Sam sat still on her stool, drinking her cocktail. I’ve got you. She felt an immediate soothing to her building anger toward Mo with the sound of Gentry’s voice in her head.
The bar and dance floor were darkened except for the bright flashes of white of the strobe light. Sam looked around at the diversity of the women. Feminine. Androgynous. Casually dressed. Sporty dressed. All shapes, sizes, and races of women filled the dance floor. The lights flashed on and off to the beat. Sam tried to make out the faces to see if she recognized anyone else from her days of old. The lights flashed on again. She caught sight of a taller woman standing over those around her. What the hell is she doing here? She excitedly thought to herself as she set her drink down ready to make her way over. Recognition of another face stopped her suddenly. Rayne? Sam straightened her spine on the stool to look harder in that direction when the lights flashed back on. She darted her head around the dancing heads in front of her.
Is that really Rayne? She had grown accustomed to seeing Rayne in the faces of strangers. It wasn’t anything new to her, but this woman was a dead ringer for her. The lights flashed on again. It is her!
Tucker’s hand on her shoulder stopped Sam’s bolt out into the crowd. “You about ready for a fresh one?”
Sam nodded but didn’t take her eyes from where she had seen Rayne. Her heart pounded with nervous anticipation, her breath stolen by Rayne’s radiance. She swallowed the building waves deep in her belly. So much time had passed since she had seen her last. Maybe this was a sign? Maybe it was like Gentry had said—everything happens for a reason. This wasn’t Louisiana, nor was it Alabama. This was her home state of Georgia. A smile started to build within. Come on lights. Hurry up.
The music lowered. “Ladies. You’re killing me. You look too damn good for me to stand up here all night.” Sam looked up sharply toward Mo’s voice. Mo took her earphones off and walked down the stairs.
The woman in front of Sam bumped hard into her. “Oh my God. She’s coming.” She grabbed her friend next to her and shook her shoulders. “She’s coming this way,” she yelled. “I’m going home with her tonight. You wait and see.”
Sam rolled her eyes. She tried to find Rayne again in the crowd, but it was useless. The women were going wild as Mo maneuvered through them. Just then she saw Jazlyn swoop Mo up in her arms, lift her, and put her back down. The rolls of nervous anticipation violently turned to rolls of nausea when Sam saw Rayne and Mo looking at one another. They exchanged words with their bodies leaned in toward one another. The lean turned into a hug of a greeting held far too long.
“Who the fuck is that?” the woman in front of Sam screamed with a slightly drunken slur.
Obviously, Sam wasn’t the only one to notice the apparent attraction within their hug. The sting of tears she once believed would never stop began to resurface. The excitement of seeing Rayne’s face, of having her near again, was cascading like a waterfall back to heartache.
The music suddenly changed as another electric violin played, followed by the undeniable voice of Annie Lennox singing, “Sweet Dreams Are Made of This”. Rayne was smiling a genuine smile. The one Sam remembered she gave when she felt truly elevated. That was the one she wore as Mo shook her hair free from the newsboy cap she had been wearing. When Mo took Rayne’s hand to lead her out into the dan
cing crowd, it was as if she had grabbed the very core of Sam and pulled her right along with them. No matter how badly the scene before her hurt to see, she couldn’t take her eyes from them. Mo walked backward to lead Rayne further into the center of the dance floor. She rocked her hips to “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)” as she mouthed the words to Rayne. Sam’s chest tightened as Mo slowly trailed her hands down Rayne’s arms to bring her hands to her hips. With hands on each other’s hips, they swayed together. Sam’s breath caught somewhere in between an inhale and exhale when Mo pulled Rayne closer. Their hips rubbed against one another’s to the rhythm. In a much different connotation to the song’s lyrics of the world stopping, Sam wanted nothing more than for the world to stop. To just stop the unfolding of the eroticism in the dance in front of her and cease the pain of watching Mo’s hands so effortlessly accepted upon Rayne’s body. For the first time, she let her eyes close to the sheer agony of the sight before her. Her Rayne. Except she wasn’t, was she? Her Rayne had been shy to an intimate touch. Her Rayne had responded with innocence in their attraction and arousal within her own timid touch. But this? This was on display for all to see, including her. Mo slid her hand underneath Rayne’s shirt at the small of her back and nestled her thigh in between her legs as she guided their hips together in a low, tortuous movement. Sam closed her eyes to see the Rayne she remembered. The one whose blush wasn’t hidden in the light of the moon out on the dock the night of their first kiss. The tears streamed freely down her cheek. Yes, so much had changed. The woman she loved and had given her heart to was being exposed for all to see as the next conquest on Mo’s list. She felt Rayne’s skin against hers as it had been the night in the on-call room. Now, Mo knew that touch. Mo. The woman who had chased after every woman she had ever been attracted to was touching…no, violating…the woman she loved to her core in front of everyone. She had her hand inside the waistband of Rayne’s jeans manipulating her body to do what she wished it to do. Bitterness coated her tongue like acid. The song ended with the women dispersing among the crowd. She glared at Rayne as she returned to stand next to Jazlyn. She couldn’t stomach looking at Mo again. She had felt Rayne’s body next to hers. Had molded it with her will against her.
Sam shot the rest of her drink back and slammed the glass down on the bar in front of Tucker. “Oh yeah, she’s fucking changed, alright,” she yelled with venom in her voice. “You tell her if she ever crosses my path again, she’d be wise to keep walking.”
Tucker was shocked at the anger she saw in her friend. In all of the arguments between the two women, she had never witnessed Sam this angry. All she could do was nod her response.
Sam turned abruptly around on her stool and stormed through the crowd. Mo was perched like a vulture back on her post with the music and light show continuing. Sam’s resentment grew with each flash of the strobe light on Rayne’s face. She moved quickly toward her until she caught the surprise in Rayne’s expression as their eyes met. Rayne froze where she stood. Sam thought she detected a hint of a smile as she reached her. It angered her more. How dare she smile at her after practically having sex out on the dance floor with that bitch? Sam’s eyes were like daggers when she grabbed Rayne’s hand to pull her behind her. She raced toward the exit to leave all of it behind. All of those faces. All of those expressions who had seen Rayne and Mo together. She pushed open the metal door with such force that it slammed loudly behind them. As she led Rayne from the club into the alley and through the groups of women mingling outside, she realized she had no idea why she was doing it. Why was she bringing her with her and where in the hell was she taking her? She had walked nearly a block before she saw the entrance to Piedmont Park. Using muscle memory, she followed the path she used to take in medical school until she reached the park bench next to a small pond where she had spent hours studying. Thankfully, it was empty. She slowed as the tension in her body began to dissipate. She turned to face Rayne. There were no words that seemed fitting. No sentences or statements or expressions came to be shared. The warmth and softness of Rayne’s hand within hers began to further dampen the anger within her. She wasn’t ready to let the resentment go, so she released her finger’s grip from Rayne’s hand.
“No, don’t let go,” Rayne begged.
Sam bit the corner of her lip. Her Rayne stood right in front of her. The moonlight shone on the face she remembered from the dock. The lips of the kiss that had awakened her soul. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Jazlyn invited me.”
Sam stopped the roll of her eyes. She was not in a place to be blasé in their conversation. “I know the simplicity of what brought you here. I’m asking why you’re here.” She felt the sharpness in her words.
“I don’t know.”
“Figured you’d say that.” Sam saw this was going nowhere. She briskly pulled her hand from Rayne’s and turned to walk away.
“No, goddamnit, don’t you walk away from me.”
Sam’s spine stiffened. She hadn’t remembered Rayne’s voice with such assertiveness in it before. Neither had that particular profanity ever crossed her lips. She had no right to be angry with her. She wasn’t the one who was nearly fucking some bitch out on the dance floor. The fire of her anger returned from the smoldering ashes Rayne’s eyes had left. She turned to Rayne without hiding what she was feeling toward her. “Tell me one good reason why I should stay?” The tone of her voice was equal with her expression.
“Because I die a little every single time you walk away from me. And honestly, I’m not real sure how much of me is still alive at this point.”
Sam heard her words for the brief moment they passed over her. But she wouldn’t own them. She wouldn’t let them in as if they were truth. They were a trap. They were a means of igniting old feelings. Mo’s hands on Rayne’s body flashed in her mind. “You looked pretty alive a few minutes ago.” She just wanted to leave. She regretted letting Rayne see her or know she was there, much less bringing her along with her out here.
“Sam, please. Please don’t go. For some reason, you found me in that club tonight. For some reason, in the mass of all of those women, you saw me. Can’t we at least just acknowledge that?”
“We can acknowledge that I would’ve never imagined you’d dance like that with a woman. You’ve gone from not knowing who you wanted to be to practically making out with her in front of everyone. And with her. After everything, you get with someone like her.”
“I didn’t get with anyone. I’m not with Mo. We’re just friends.”
“That dance was anything but friendly.” Sam couldn’t look at Rayne any longer without envisioning Mo’s hands on her body. She shifted her weight onto one leg and looked away. “Whatever. What does it matter to me now, anyway?”
“Don’t be like that, Sam. We’re just friends. Please, let’s sit down and talk.”
Exhausted from it all, Sam brushed the overgrown shrubbery off the back of the bench and sat down. “I really don’t think there’s much to say.” She had grown so tired of the pain from others—the heartache she had felt at the hands of Rayne many times now, the pain of watching her mother broken and needing her, and the pain of a taste of betrayal by Gentry. She had not told Sam of them knowing one another and for that, Sam felt for the first time she had been untruthful with her. After all, an omission is a lie.
“Can we try?” Rayne sat beside her and took her hand. Sam didn’t resist her touch or pull away her hand.
She watched as Rayne sat silent, studying the fingernail moon above them. Initially, her body flinched as Rayne began to stroke her hand; but then, she let herself feel the touch of Rayne again. She looked down to watch Rayne’s thumb slowly slide around the tip of each finger. She was incredibly gentle with her touch. It was a gentleness she had not been given since last Rayne held her in some way. Sam had found herself over the months trying to determine what exactly it was about Rayne that had made her fall so exqu
isitely into her. Yes, true, she had many personality qualities that led Sam to her. Yet as she continued to lightly stroke Sam’s hand, she realized it was her tenderness upon all else that hooked her so deeply. The tenderness in the way she held her with her eyes or touched her skin with hers was unmatched to any she knew. Sam softened with the recollection that at no point had she seen that tenderness on the dance floor with Mo.
Rayne looked up and over her shoulder toward the rolling hills of the small park. “The noises.” She waved her hand. “Reminds me of being back home on the bayou with you.”
Until then, Sam hadn’t noticed the street noise being drowned out by the call of the insects. She looked up and around the park as she thought about the night on the dock with Rayne. “Yeah, but they sound different.” When she looked back at Rayne, the moonlight had caught the charms hanging at her neck to make them sparkle in its light. She was overwhelmed with the feeling of Rayne’s hand upon hers and the proximity of the woman who had sat next to her on the bayou’s dock. She swallowed hard. Since the engagement party, she hadn’t let herself think of the charm any longer. Gentry had asked her of the little white box, but she hadn’t talked of the charm. The last she thought of it was when she saw Rayne touch it at their goodbye. A part of her wished she would wear it daily as she had done the cross Memaw had given her. Seeing it at the base of her neck was physical proof that she, too, thought of Sam. She wondered how often in a day her hands found the cicada charm. Cicadas.
“The cicadas don’t sound the same here,” Sam said flatly.
“I think those are katydids.”
“Katy dids?”
“There are a thousand different species of them. They say they’re named because they sound as if they’re saying ‘Katy-did.’” There was a nervousness to Rayne’s words. It was as if she couldn’t get them out fast enough for fear Sam would become frustrated with her rambling and yet again get up to leave. “Meems would tell me…” With the mention of Memaw’s name, Rayne’s eyes saddened. She took them from Sam and looked out at the small pond at their feet. Reflexively, Sam squeezed her hand. She didn’t know why. It was a natural response to seeing the sadness darken the green of Rayne’s eyes.
