Summer Fling

by Jean Copeland

  Jordan glanced over at her from the driver’s seat.

  “Come on,” Kate said. “They can’t be that unreasonable.”

  “They sent me to a therapist when I came out to them at fifteen.”

  “I’m sure they just wanted to make sure you were okay with your preference emotionally. It’s gotta be a hard thing for a parent to hear—at least it was back in the nineties.” Suddenly, panic rifled through her. “This may be a bad time to ask, but are they okay with it now?”

  Jordan nodded. “The bigger disappointment to them is having a child in such a low tax bracket.”

  Kate sank back into the passenger seat. “I don’t dare suppose they know my age and love the idea of their underachieving daughter dating a woman so much older than her.”

  “I haven’t mentioned how old you are.”

  “Jordan,” Kate wailed. “You’re just going to spring it on them by walking in with me?”

  Jordan shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, Kate. Look, if you’re worried about winning them over, tell them you’re trying to talk me out of a music career.” She laughed, but Kate sensed Jordan hadn’t found the suggestion amusing in the least.

  When they walked into the restaurant, Kate was already ordering a drink in her mind. One glass of wine or a flavored seltzer was the proper first beverage during dinner with the girlfriend’s parents, but in light of recent disclosures, a martini or three would be necessary to avoid another concert of drumming and bobbing at the table. Although Kate had become an expert at masking her nerves in court, Jordan’s captain-of-finance father would undoubtedly smell the fear.

  “There they are,” Jordan said, waving into the dining room.

  Kate searched the couples seated in the general direction Jordan indicated, but all she noticed was an attractive, middle-aged couple. Who waved back. And smiled. At them.

  “No,” Kate whispered as Jordan pulled her by the arm to their table. “It can’t be,” she whispered again. Where was the stuffy, gray-haired old couple? Where was the big pocketbook her mother was supposed to be stuffing dinner rolls into? This couldn’t be. They weren’t supposed to look like that…like her!

  After the exchange of cordial introductions and Kate’s first dirty martini, she’d settled into her seat and relaxed enough so that she was in command of all her extremities in front of Mr. and Mrs. Squire.

  Jordan gave her thigh a squeeze of reassurance under the table, but Kate couldn’t stop her eyes from darting between Jordan’s parents, both so refined and attractive. Her second dirty martini helped wash down the disturbing observation that if Jordan’s mother was a lesbian, they’d probably hit it off quite famously and lunch in trendy bistros after spa days in the same salon as Kathy Lee Gifford.

  “Jordan tells me you love the water,” Mr. Squire said. “We’ll have to get you out on our boat before the summer’s over. We dock in Stamford.”

  “We like to do our Sunday brunches out on the Sound,” Mrs. Squire said. “Lox, bagels, and mimosas.”

  “That sounds fantastic,” Kate said, starting to feel a little buzzed. She stared into Mrs. Squire’s face, dying to know how old they were. They had to at least be fifty. If there’s a god or goddess in heaven, they’ll at least be fifty.

  Mrs. Squire appeared to be puzzled at Kate’s prolonged glance. “Do I know you from somewhere? What year did you graduate?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Kate said casually. Way to go with the staring, genius, she secretly scolded herself. “Uh, ninety-one,” was her answer to the second part. Hey, she didn’t specify high school or college. “So how long have you folks been married?”

  “Thirty-three years in October,” Mrs. Squire said, smiling at her husband.

  “We hadn’t planned to get married that soon,” he said, “but when Jordan’s sister decided to show up, we managed to make it in right under the wire.” His chuckle softened the scandal.

  “He always blames my sister,” Jordan said. “It’s not like she was the one who was supposed to stop at the drugstore.”

  Kate was impressed by her quick-witted, feminist defense of womankind.

  Her father smirked. “I think Mrs. Squire just wanted to get her hooks in an up-and-coming future business mogul.”

  “I already had them in you, darling,” Mrs. Squire said, dragging manicured fingers across his hairy forearm.

  “Wow,” Kate said as she sipped her third martini. “You guys don’t look old enough to be married that long.”

  “I’m fifty-three,” Mrs. Squire said, and made a face, which hadn’t really translated into a face, thanks to Botox. “Sounds so old, doesn’t it?”

  “Yup, especially when I’m only a few years away from fifty myself.”

  “Really?” said Mrs. Squire. “I thought you were only around forty. You look fabulous. Who does your skin? I only allow Yvette at Salon de Paris in Westport to touch me.”

  “Mom, nobody wants to talk about facials,” Jordan said.

  “Sure we do,” Kate said with a slight slur. “In about ten years you’ll have to start worrying about fine lines, too. Would you excuse me for a sec?”

  Kate rose and swayed a little as she headed to the ladies’ room. Running her hands under cold water, she shuddered as she imagined Jordan’s parents imagining her in bed with their daughter. Could anyone’s parents actually be progressive enough not to get queasy? Her own normally open-minded mother threw a fit over their age difference. What would the final analysis be after Jordan’s parents had time to review their daughter’s latest liaison?

  Jordan came in and rushed over to her. “Are you all right?”

  Kate nodded and forced a smile.

  “You don’t seem it. You’re getting a little bombed.” She brushed Kate’s hair away from her face.

  “Why wouldn’t I be all right? I’ve only just discovered that my girlfriend’s parents are only six years older than me. We could’ve been in the same grammar school together.”

  Jordan lit up. “No way. What school did you go to?”

  “Jordan, focus. I can’t even think about what they’re saying about me right now, this old woman dating their thirty-year-old daughter. How gross.”

  “Kate, they think you’re great. I can tell.” She tugged at Kate’s hand. “Come back to the table and finish your dinner. You need to eat something.”

  “What I need is to be ten years younger if I want to date someone your age. And even then I’d still be older than you.”

  Jordan’s eyes grew dark and sad. “Why are you making this an issue again? I thought we’d settled it weeks ago. I love you and want to be with you. Neither one of us can change our birthday, so why waste energy obsessing about it?”

  She sighed and leaned against the counter. “I don’t know.”

  “Kate, are you having second thoughts about us?” Jordan’s brow wrinkled with worry.

  “No.” Kate pulled Jordan closer to her. “I feel like I’ve been zooming through the sky on a flight I didn’t know I bought a ticket for. I’d just like to know the ground is still beneath me. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I suppose,” Jordan said. “A situation made worse by your fear of flying.”

  Kate was suddenly annoyed with herself. Even if this was an issue that needed further exploration, now was neither the time nor place.

  “Okay, enough of this.” She lifted Jordan’s chin and kissed her with slow sensuality, propelling them both beyond the clouds. “Let me present the facts: your parents are great. And two, the night was going along without a hitch until I got all phobic and whatnot.” She smiled to reassure Jordan. “You want to go finish dinner?”

  Jordan nodded, threw her arms around Kate’s neck, and squeezed her. She rejected Kate’s gentle attempt to pry her off until she was good and ready.

  “By the way,” Jordan said. “After a kiss like that, it’s going to be quite a challenge to make it all the way through dessert.”

  * * *

  Kate agreed to stay over at Jo
rdan’s that night as a conciliatory effort since she’d nearly ruined the meal with her parents that Jordan had been so enthusiastic about. Letting her know that she’d been feeling a little overwhelmed about the pace of their relationship seemed to release some of the built-up pressure. So had their tryst that had begun against Jordan’s kitchen counter when they first got home and wended its way over to the couch.

  As she lay in bed reading and responding to some work emails on her phone, Jordan was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. When she came in and landed on the bed wearing a sexy camisole and lace bikini underwear, Kate hadn’t looked up until the scent of her body lotion flipped her switch from business to pleasure.

  “Busy?” Jordan purred.

  Kate’s mouth hung open as she surveyed Jordan over the rim of her reading glasses. “Well, hello.”

  “Hello,” Jordan said. She grabbed Kate’s phone and straddled her to toss it onto the nightstand. She remained in Kate’s lap and started to kiss her sensually. Moments later, Kate reached for the side lamp and tugged the small chain.

  After their second vigorous romantic interlude of the day cleansed away the remainder of memories still brewing from dinner, she lay with Jordan in her arms listening to her breathe. Her eyes grew heavy in the serenity of darkness and warmth of Jordan’s body against hers. Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, Jordan’s chest rose and then stopped.

  “You know how earlier you said that you wouldn’t mind feeling your feet on the ground again?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah, listen, I hope that didn’t upset you—”

  “No, it’s okay,” Jordan said. “I understand what you mean.”

  “You do?” Kate turned on the light.

  “You make me feel like I’ve been zooming through the atmosphere, too,” Jordan said. “The only difference is I’ve been enjoying the ride.”

  Kate touched her hand, her heart deflated by Jordan’s sullen tone. “Jordan…”

  “Kate, I’m fine. I’m grateful for your honesty. But I think I have a solution to your problem. I have to go to LA for ten days.”

  “Oh? What for? Website business?”

  “No, music business. A rep from a small company out there, Swag Music, wants me to cut a demo.”

  “That’s so great,” Kate said. “How did this come about?”

  “I got the call a couple days ago. I didn’t say anything because at first I thought it was a joke. But apparently, some muckety-muck who was at my Moxy’s show in June contacted the rep and said she should check out my YouTube video. I Googled her and the record company, and they’re legit.”

  Her? “I’m so happy for you,” she said flatly, deafened by the alarm bells ringing in her head. If this rep wasn’t plotting something of her own for Jordan, surely the lure of LA’s music scene would keep her out there. What’s more, her graphic-design business was the kind that traveled.

  “I was going to ask if you wanted to take a little vacation and come with me for part of it, but I guess it’s a good opportunity for you to have some space.”

  “Me?” She wasn’t about to let Jordan stick her on the hook for a break, if that was, in fact, what she was about to suggest.

  “Yes, you. I don’t need space,” Jordan said, her eyes steeling over. “The shorter the distance I am from you, the better.”

  “From a business point of view, wouldn’t it be better if we’re apart? You’ll need to focus on what you’re doing.”

  “I’m a musician, not a neurosurgeon. Besides, it’s a proven fact that musicians are much more creative when they’re around their muse.” Jordan crawled up and rubbed her nose against Kate’s.

  “I’m your muse?” Kate grinned at the suggestion.

  “You are. Matter of fact, I’ve been working on a new tune for a couple of weeks now.”

  “About what?”

  “You.”

  “Get out of here,” Kate said. “No, it isn’t.”

  Jordan tantalized her with a cocky look. “Fine. Don’t believe me. You’ll know it when you hear it. It’s one of the songs I’m recording for the demo.”

  “It better be a flattering portrayal, or you’re gonna have a libel lawsuit on your hands.”

  Jordan screeched with laughter as Kate nibbled at her collarbone to drive home the threat. When they finally settled down, Jordan snuggled up to Kate and slipped her arm around her torso.

  “Think about taking a long a weekend or something, if you can sneak away,” she said. “Ten days is a long time not to see you. I don’t know if I’ll make it.”

  “I’m certain you’ll have plenty of activities there to keep you busy. You probably won’t even remember my name.”

  “I will if you come with me. I’m leaving Tuesday.”

  “This Tuesday?”

  “It’s sudden, I know, but everything’s happened suddenly.”

  “I’ll have to check my calendar tomorrow and see what’s up. A long weekend away in sunny California might be nice, if I can swing it with my caseload.”

  “I hope you can,” Jordan said and closed her eyes.

  Kate switched off the light but lay wider awake than before. Jordan’s solution to Kate’s problem hadn’t felt like it solved anything. But the time apart would give her a chance for some much-needed reflection. She was in love with Jordan, and while it felt utterly fantastic, this fact also resurrected aspects of herself she’d thought were dead and gone. Jealousy. Insecurity. Anxiety. Viv and Didi acted like they’d unearthed their own private diamond mines when they were in love. Why had she felt the specter of doom and gloom floating overhead?

  Maybe because the very young, very beautiful singer she’d fallen for was now on the verge of becoming a rock star. And the only place for a middle-aged lawyer in the life of a young, beautiful rock star is behind a desk reviewing her contracts.

  She lightly removed Jordan’s arm from around her and rolled over, hoping to muffle the sound of her mother’s words about fifty-five-and-over communities blaring in her brain.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Unhappy Hour

  As Kate sipped her cosmo at their favorite alfresco table facing the bustling street, she stared at Didi and Viv, her mouth curled in a downward horseshoe and feeling about as heavy. Didi and Viv practically convulsed with giddiness as they texted and FaceTimed their girlfriends, mugging with goofy smiles and kissy lips. How embarrassing.

  She shook her head at the young, downtown happy-hour crowd, as if commiserating with their imagined disgust. She tapped her butter knife on the table to signal the breach of social etiquette and force their mental presence on her more pressing dilemma, but apparently it would be a frosty day in August before they’d realize that on their own.

  “The next person who picks up her phone is paying the check,” Kate finally barked.

  “Gotta go, smoochie-pants,” Viv said to Maia through FaceTime.

  Didi locked her phone and tossed it into her giant purse resting open beside her on the patio.

  “I see someone’s still trying to recoup her losses from our bet,” Viv said as she carefully raised her martini glass to her lips.

  “I don’t care about the money, Viv,” Kate said. “I’d like to have a conversation with slightly more depth to it than a few wows and oh yeahs? while you two grin like idiots at your phones.”

  “Sorry, Kate,” Didi said. “I just thought you’d be on yours, too, since your mamacita’s all the way across the country.”

  “She’s busy singing and recording and whatever they do out there.”

  “Selecting the groupies that get to get on the tour bus for a night with the…” Viv said.

  Didi skewered her with a look.

  “Even if Jordan ever did become famous, she’d never cheat on you,” Didi said.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Kate said.

  “Do what?” Didi said.

  “Act like her PR woman. I know she wouldn’t. I trust her. She has a strong character.”

  “Then
why are you so miserable?” Viv asked.

  “’Cause she misses her little snuggle bug,” Didi said. “I love this tender side of you, Kate. It reminds me that you are human after all.”

  “I’m starting to think I like robot Kate better,” Kate said. She swiped her fork through the brussels-sprouts-and-bacon app they were sharing and stuffed a large gob of it in her mouth.

  “She’ll be back in a week, won’t she?” Didi asked.

  Kate kept them in suspense as she deliberately chewed longer than necessary. “Yes, she will,” she finally said, “but that’s not what’s bothering me.”

  “She’s not gonna cheat on you,” Viv said. “I was just busting ’em on you.” One side of her mouth drooped. “Unless she already has—”

  “Viv, what’s the matter with you?” Didi snapped. “Not everyone cheats.”

  “Girls, this isn’t even about her cheating,” Kate said. “I’m thinking about extending the break even after she gets back.”

  “No,” Didi said. “You can’t do that.”

  “Yeah. What’s the point?” Viv asked.

  “This,” Kate said, her hand drawing circles between them. “I’m sitting here with you guys while she’s off recording a song demo for a real record company, not some CD she could sell locally at her shows. This is just the beginning for her.”

  “I know, and it’s so exciting for you,” Didi said.

  “It’s exciting for her, and she shouldn’t have to worry about keeping the home fires burning while she’s embarking on this incredible journey. It would be selfish of me to expect that of her.”

  “Lots of celebrities have relationships with people who aren’t in the business,” Viv said. “This isn’t something you break up over.”

  “It’s not like we were planning a wedding,” Kate said. “We’ve only been together a couple of months. We’ll just back-burner it for a while so she can focus on her music.” She sat back in her chair, pleased with her rationale.

  Didi and Viv exchanged puzzled looks.