Sugar

by Karin Kallmaker

  "It's an edible fake," Emily said, as she drew Sugar fully into the lounge. "Chocolate cake, in fact, and this is the artist who created it."

  "At first glance I thought it was She-Devil. That's really amaz-ing."

  "Best of Seattle is going to do a segment on Sugar's work." Emily tucked her hand under Sugar's arm again.

  "Found yourself another new discovery?" Smiling at Sugar,

  Annette added, "Emily's the one who originally promoted Chastity McLain."

  "Wow." Sugar was impressed. Chastity's latest single was, according to the gay news she'd read online, getting heavy "push" from her label and rising on the charts.

  "Thursday we'll go into our mutual histories." Giving Annette an arch look, Emily added, "Don't believe a word this one says. She's a notorious con artist."

  "Shut up, Emily. Did you move the vodka?"

  "Would I do that to you?" Turning her attention again to Sugar, Emily opened her mouth to say something, but when the lights flickered out, came back on, then went out again, she said simply, "Oh, damn."

  I'm cursed, Sugar thought. I am obviously cursed. What petty god of electricity had she offended?

  The lights stayed out. In the abrupt stillness of the house, Sugar realized how hard it was raining now. 1-90 was not known for good driving conditions in heavy rain. "I'd better head for home."

  "It's too late," Annette advised from the dark recesses of the room. There was the clink of ice, then the sound of the mini-refrigerator closing. Sounding casually sure of her facts, she went on, "Traffic was crawling when I came through. With the power out, every idiot on the island will want to go somewhere else. It's gridlocked out there."

  "Stay and join the party," Emily said. In the dim light, she looked very sincere.

  "I'm not dressed for it, really. Under this smock is a T-shirt that says 'Bad Hair Day,' which, I might add, is true." If you asked Noor, she'd say Sugar was having a bad hair year.

  "Hogwash. You look wonderful. And I'm betting that even though you've got, well, more shape than I do, one of my sweaters would get you through. I was going to see if I could persuade you anyway, as I'd really like you to meet some of the people who'll be here. Though," she added in a distracted tone, "the off-islanders likely won't show now."

  From the doorway, Julie said, "Well, I've always said there's no substitute for Sterno in a caterer's life. If you've got candles, though, that would be a help."

  "I'll do better than that," Emily said. "We lose power twice a year at least, so I've got oil lamps aplenty. It'll be romantic and the light will flatter all of us."

  Sugar helped set up and light the charming lamps that cast, as Emily had predicted, a very flattering light on everyone, including Emily. The soft contours of her clothes molded to a body that had— how had Emily put it? A body that had "less shape" than Sugar's? Less breast perhaps, but definitely more toned muscles. Very differ¬ent from Charlie's, she mused. They were softer in spite of the tone. Then she realized she was thinking about muscles again.

  "Let's go find you a sweater," Emily suggested, drawing Sugar out of the room. They crossed the foyer and Sugar realized they were going to climb the curving staircase together. She was glad Emily could not see her blush as she wondered what the heck it was about staircases and her libido lately. Weren't they phallic or something? Did fire and power failures instill a desire for, um, bed¬room activities?

  "Here." Emily held out her hand. "I know the way and where all the things that go bump are."

  Sugar didn't know what to say and the tingle that shot up her arm was quite unlike anything she'd ever felt before. What on earth was wrong with her? Maybe, a little voice whispered, some¬thing was finally right. Emily had what Gran had always described as "oomph."

  "This is the heavy toe-breaking armoire," Emily narrated, pulling Sugar gently to the right. There was a metallic clatter. "And that, I kid you not—I inherited it—is a suit of armor."

  The hallway was dark and Sugar didn't interrupt. She had no wish to walk into anything and, darn it all, she was not thinking that the streaming rain on the windows sounded anything like pas¬sionate surf.

  Emily was moving more confidently as dim watery daylight

  seeped through a stained-glass window at the end of the long hall¬way. The light cast her red hair to the shade Sugar could only think of as dried blood. Even with her eyes adjusting to the light, Sugar couldn't see the top of the stairs from where they were. It was as if they'd left the rest of the house far behind.

  She disguised a shiver. She wasn't a fanciful person, and Emily was no succubus luring her to her doom. She was an attractive, charming woman who was only being flirtatious and kind to some¬one she found interesting—interesting as a project she could pro¬mote.

  "Here we are. I think if I open the shades all the way we'll have enough light. There is an oil lamp in here, though. It's not just being on the island that's the problem—the house is old and so are the wires. I've often thought of having it all updated sometime when I'll be away for a month."

  Sugar was very glad of the poor light. Emily's bedroom was right out of her sumptuous bedroom fantasy, the fantasy she'd only started having when Charlie had showed up on her doorstep. A large four-poster bed with draperies dominated the room, with a mirror over the headboard. Both the bed and mirror frame were of dark, carved wood that made Sugar think of Henry the VIII's era. It was a little heavy for Sugar's tastes, and she would have thought for Emily's as well, except that the sheer size, and that of the matching dressing tables, fit the room. The large picture window, were it not sheeted over with rain, would have encompassed a glo¬rious view of Seattle. In front of it was a fainting couch, the kind a damsel swooned upon as she yielded her virginity to the dashing scoundrel who had climbed in through the window.

  The fantasy in her head had her doing the swooning on the chaise, and Charlie cast as the scoundrel. But it was Emily's bed¬room. This, she concluded, was getting a little too weird for an ordinary girl from suburbia. She could make no sense of her emo¬tions or her libido.

  "How about this," Emily called from the walk-in closet. "I think purple would bring out your beautiful eyes."

  "Now, really," Sugar said, trying to keep things light. "Flattery is nice, but my eyes are not beautiful."

  Emily froze, a lush eggplant-hued sweater in one hand. "Nobody has ever said that to you before? I would think it would be every Tina, Dickie and Harriet's pickup line since the day you were born."

  "No, you're the first to use it."

  "It wasn't a pickup line. You have Elizabeth Taylor's eyes."

  Sugar really didn't know what to say. The idea that anything about her was beautiful flew in the face of thirty-four years of being complimented for a great personality. "You're the one with amazing eyes."

  "Thank you," Emily said with a smile as she crossed the room toward her. "See how that works? Someone gives you a compli¬ment, you're not supposed to argue."

  "I'll try to remember," Sugar replied drily. She wasn't sure she appreciated the lesson in deportment.

  Emily handed her the sweater. "This will look great, and you're welcome to wear it."

  "Thank you," Sugar finally managed. She started to unwrap the ties of her smock, then realized part of her wanted Emily to turn her back while part of her very much wanted Emily to watch. To watch, and to think about.. .

  Think about what, Sugar. Think about exactly what? Taking you to bed? Right here? You danced with her months ago, which she doesn't even remember, and have talked for perhaps forty min¬utes.

  First Charlie's bedroom eyes and seductive voice, now Emily's playful touch to the ties Sugar was fumbling with. "Can I help with that?"

  "I, uh, I can manage."

  "Pity." Emily moved a little closer, her hand slowly moving onto Sugar's waist. "I'm a very helpful person."

  "Emily, I... I don't know you."

  "I don't know you either. What I know," Emily went on she drew Sugar closer to her, "is that a spark is
there. Tell me you don't feel it."

  "I'm not saying I don't." She felt it plenty. She'd never felt any¬thing quite like it in her life. She'd never felt anything like the rush of attraction she'd felt for Charlie last night either. "But I don't... There are things I don't do casually."

  "Oh, honey, there isn't anything I do casually."

  "Oh, my goodness," Sugar breathed just before Emily kissed her.

  She needed the fainting couch but knew if she got anything like horizontal there was no telling what would happen. Emily's mouth was sweet but purposeful, and yes, absolutely yes, Sugar felt the spark.

  She felt it up and down her arms, in her spine and definitely tingling its way up her thighs. The spark was why she didn't draw back right away, why she leaned into Emily's kiss and thoroughly, completely, yielded to it. It was a delicious kiss, full of promise for more pleasurable things. Sugar found herself wanting to surrender to wherever it might lead. Then an icy shiver ran down her spine and she pulled away, gasping for breath.

  "That was some spark," Emily murmured.

  I'm not in control here, Sugar thought wildly. This isn't me and I don't know why. It was as if she'd stepped out of reality. "It was," she agreed, "but..."

  "I know, you don't do casual." Emily gave a light laugh as she let go of Sugar and stepped back. "I'll see what I can do about changing your mind at dinner."

  Sugar busied her shaking hands with undoing the ties on her smock. She didn't realize Emily had moved closer again until Emily's fingertips tipped up her chin. "It's so dark in here—but I'm sorry. I think I've freaked you out."

  "It's not you," Sugar admitted. "I'm acting out of character, that's all."

  "So am I." Emily's smile grew slightly brittle as her fingers left Sugar's face. "I don't often play the vamp. I thought you were responding to that."

  Her heart rate settling to something closer to normal, Sugar said shyly, "I'd rather you played you, and we got to know each other."

  "Dinner on Thursday, then?"

  "Yes, I would like that. Very much." She wouldn't think of what would happen if Emily went on kissing her that way. Sugar could have gone on kissing Emily for hours.

  "I'll just use the little girls' room while you change."

  Sugar let out a gusty sigh when Emily closed the door to the bathroom, and she quickly stripped off her smock and T-shirt. The sweater was a little snug across the bust, the area where their physiques were most noticeably different. She rarely wore any¬thing that revealed her own attributes so . . . prominently. It was perhaps a little more feminine than she would have otherwise chosen, with scallops of lace around the neckline. It was more Noor's style, and yet it didn't look bad. But in the poor light she couldn't see what Emily was talking about—Elizabeth Taylor's eyes? Maybe with a sweater that felt like pure cashmere someone might be fooled into thinking so, but she just didn't think the com¬parison was valid.

  Emily chattered about the Seattle Eats contest as they made their way downstairs. The lounge was cozy with a fire that never¬theless made Sugar feel a little uneasy. She wondered how long it would be until she felt good about warming her feet next to a cozy fire. Maybe it would depend on cuddling with the right woman.

  She excused herself to the quiet of an anteroom near the front door to leave a message for Gran, not wanting her grandmother to worry about her in the storm. When she returned to the lounge there were more arrivals, and even though it was early, the party seemed well underway.

  "You weren't upstairs long," Annette observed as she handed

  >

  Sugar a glass of something orange on the rocks. "I thought for sure you might be delayed."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "I know Emily."

  "But you don't know me." Did Emily have a reputation for quickies or something? Sugar thought Annette was already show¬ing signs of the first drink. She peered into the glass Annette had given her. "What's this?"

  "You're right, I don't know you, which is a damned shame, but Emily saw you first. She's got quite the eye for artists." Annette pointed at the drink in Sugar's hand. "A screwdriver."

  "I'm a baker, not an artist," Sugar said.

  "Nonsense." Emily slipped an arm around Sugar's waist as she joined them. "You are a culinary artist. I can tell that you need a marketing makeover."

  "And you're just the person to give it to her." Annette added, in a Groucho Marx voice, "In more ways than one."

  "Did you have a party before this one or something?" Emily took the drink out of Annette's hand. "You're already potted."

  "Wedding reception." Annette rubbed her forehead. "I need to drink. All that het superiority. And a darling, intelligent, witty woman dumbing herself down so the ape she's marrying doesn't look as stupid as rocks—it's pure tragedy. I intend to get shitfaced and pass out in one of your six spare bedrooms."

  "June's wedding was today}" Emily seemed quite alarmed as she put her hand on Annette's arm. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry I forgot."

  "I smiled my way through it somehow." Tears glittered in Annette's eyes now.

  "Here." Emily handed back the drink. "Just don't forget to eat something." As Annette obediently headed for the buffet, Emily said to Sugar, "I was too distracted. Annette's had a thing with June—her second cousin—since forever. June's way of breaking it off with Annette was to send her a wedding invitation. Bitch."

  Wow, Sugar thought, and here she'd thought her house burn¬ing down was high drama. She sipped the screwdriver for some¬thing to do with her hands. "I'll try to make sure she eats some protein if you'd like. It'll slow down the alcohol."

  "That's sweet. You don't even know her."

  "Trying to make myself useful." Sugar shrugged.

  "You don't have to do that." Emily ran a hand down Sugar's arm. "You're my guest, and the feature of my party is your work of art. I was serious—you should call your work culinary artistry."

  "My grandmother would say that was putting on airs."

  Emily grinned. "You forget I'm in television. Modesty isn't a virtue in my world."

  "I'm getting that impression." Emily's world was completely unfamiliar to Sugar. She didn't know the rules. Emily's hand was still on her arm and the tingling she'd felt earlier came back. She could learn the rules, maybe.

  "Oh, there's Elaine. That's who I wanted you to meet. She's an investor in Top of the City."

  "Oh." Sugar let Emily tow her across the room. "Would it be a bad idea to mention that I applied there six times and didn't ever get a job?"

  "No, we'll leave that out. Besides, you don't want to work there. Elaine says the top chef is an abusive lunatic."

  Sugar filed that information away to share with Noor, who con¬tinued to apply to one of the few restaurants in Seattle where sous chefs could work their way up into six-figure careers.

  There were kisses on cheeks and gossip about people they knew, then Emily introduced Sugar with a blithe, "After Sugar's Cake Dreams is unveiled on Best of Seattle, she'll be the hottest culinary artist in the Pacific Northwest."

  "So this is who you were raving about last time I saw you?" Elaine shook hands firmly. Her smile seemed genuine. "Emily has been singing your praises ever since she ran across your Web site."

  Emily looked abruptly embarrassed. "As well I might. Sugar is one of Seattle's best-kept secrets. And a good dancer."

  }

  Sugar hid her surprise behind another swallow of her drink. "I wasn't sure you remembered."

  "Of course I do." For just a second it was as if Emily's sophisti¬cated exterior became transparent, and Sugar glimpsed a vulnera¬ble interior. "How could I forget a spark like that?"

  Elaine turned to pick up a finger sandwich from the buffet, then briefly engaged Julie in a discussion of the ingredients.

  Emily leaned closer and added, "I was sure I'd made an idiot of myself in front of Tree and Charlie, panting the way I did the moment I saw you."

  "No, you were fine," Sugar said. "I didn't realize ... I wasn't in
the best shape myself."

  "I know." She smiled broadly as Elaine turned back to them. "Sugar's in the Seattle Eats competition. I'm hoping to persuade her to use that as an opportunity to attract investors."

  The shock must have showed in Sugar's face, because Elaine laughed. "Let the poor woman in on your plans for her, Emily."

  Emily laughed. "No, no, that's not my style at all." She squeezed Sugar's arm. "With a diamond in the rough I just start polishing any part that will hold still."

  The feeling of being nothing more than a project to Emily returned full force, but then Emily's hand grasped hers with an intimate squeeze that took the sting out of her words. Still, the idea of being considered some sort of protegee rankled. She wasn't... unfinished, was she? She remember Noor riding her about her hair and a manicure, but she was pretty sure that wasn't what Emily meant. She was a very good baker and a fine artist. What was it that needed polishing?

  Her annoyance faded as she chatted glibly with Elaine about the ins and outs of running a small business. Emily outlined the components of an investor's package and Elaine expressed interest in seeing it. Feeling somewhat confused, Sugar finished her drink, began another, then followed her own advice about eating some protein from the buffet. The Emmenthaler quiche was delicious; Julie was no slouch in the pastry department. She sampled a sharp,

  exciting tapenade spread on crisp rye toast rounds and several dol¬lops of brie baked in honey and almonds. Emily circulated throughout the room but always returned after a few minutes to chat with Sugar and introduce her to someone else.

  The birthday girl, Nan, was the last to arrive. The storm was cursed for causing a huge traffic snarl, but the rain was pronounced to be easing. A raucous version of "Happy Birthday" was sung, the buffet completely demolished, and then someone began a chant for presents, cake and ice cream. Lanterns were brought to the sideboard where, Sugar realized, her cake had been carefully cov¬ered with a light sheet of Mylar.