by Jane Frances
Her lie worked a treat, everyone laughing and then commencing a debate on just how big Ally’s head had become since one of her houses had been featured in Architectural Digest. Ally relaxed, grateful she’d gotten away with it, but already thinking to her next lie—the one that would be needed to explain why Morgan wasn’t going to proceed with a new house after all.
Then again—Ally rolled her pencil between her fingers as the meeting progressed around her—designing a house for Morgan would provide a very good excuse for her to keep visiting the office. She could be a difficult client who demanded lots of design changes and lots of meetings. Ally entertained this fantasy for a couple of minutes before conceding that designing and building a house was a pretty extreme—and expensive—method of dating.
Stop being so ridiculous! She chided herself angrily. She excused herself from the meeting and stomped to her office to gather what she needed for her site visit. Under normal circumstances, she would never entertain such outrageous thoughts. She wouldn’t normally lie to everyone who crossed her path either. Ally stomped back out of her office, plans in hand, and left for her site visit without saying another word to anyone.
To top off her day, her mum called not too long after she got home from work. “How are you, dear?” she asked.
I’m in love, Mum . . . with a woman. I’ve never been so happy and I can’t wait to introduce you to her because I just know you’ll love her too. But I’ve also never felt so frustrated because she’s in trouble at the moment and I can’t do anything to help her.
“I’m fine, Mum. How are you?”
Right toward the end of the conversation, Ally mentioned she’d split with James. “I realized he wasn’t the right one for me,” she told her. Apart from saying that she’d loved every minute she’d spent in Barcelona, that was the only complete truth she told in that conversation.
Lies, half-truths and evasions. Ally had hung up from her mum feeling strangely desolate.
The feeling returned now, as Ally recalled their conversation. Then, just as suddenly, her spirits leapt along with her heart. Her mobile was ringing. And it was Morgan.
“How did it go?” she asked without saying hello, desperate to know the outcome of her meeting.
“It was long . . . and difficult.” Morgan sounded drained. Ally was not at all surprised. Straight off a long-haul flight and straight into a marathon meeting. Nasty. “I’ve never been so glad to be home in my life.”
“You’re already home?” Ally frowned. Morgan had said she would call as soon as the meeting had finished.
“Mmm. Michael drove me home. I didn’t want to speak to you in front of him, so I waited until I got back.”
“He came to the meeting with you?”
“Yes. He sat in on it. And I’m glad he did since he’s much better at arguing the terms of my contract than I am. In fact, he’s just better at arguing than I am full-stop.”
Ally balked. They were talking contracts? That didn’t sound too promising. She wanted to be there, beside Morgan, if there was any bad news to impart. “Honey, don’t tell me over the phone. I’m all ready to go, so I can leave for your place straightaway.”
Morgan drew a long breath. “Baby,” she said gently, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Ally frowned.
“Did you see the news tonight, about the reporters at the airport?”
“Yes.”
“Well, some of them moved camp to outside my apartment building. Building security keeps moving them on, but they keep coming back. And even from a distance they can see anyone who comes or goes.”
“I don’t care!” Ally cried. “If they ask me anything I’ll just tell them I’m your friend. You are allowed to have friends, aren’t you?”
“It’s not that simple at the moment, baby. Any woman seen in my company is going to be the subject of intense public speculation. I don’t want that for you.”
“Or you don’t want it for you,” Ally blurted, suddenly blinded by tears and too upset to be the caring, supportive lover she’d promised to be. Anyway, how could she be loving and supportive? She wasn’t even allowed to be there. “This is bullshit!”
She clutched her mobile tightly then threw it across the room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Morgan jerked her head in fright at the sudden crashing sound that came through her phone. It was over as quickly as it happened. She held her mobile in front of her, staring at it in stunned shock. She put it back to her ear. Nothing. Ally had hung up.
Tears sprang to Morgan’s eyes. She should have predicted the presence of reporters at her home from the moment they welcomed her at the airport. But she hadn’t, too intent on other, more immediate problems. Like the potential nightmare that was waiting for her at the network. So she’d kicked herself when Michael drew up to the entrance of her building and she’d stepped out of his car to the sound of pounding feet, of figures emerging from the shadows, of more shouted questions and blinding camera flashes. Had she predicted this, she would have insisted to Michael that she take a taxi home and then instructed the driver to go instead in the direction of Ally’s address in Croyden. But she hadn’t. And it was almost guaranteed she’d be followed if she was seen exiting her apartment building’s underground garage. So she couldn’t go to Ally and Ally couldn’t come to her. Either way she would be immediately targeted. Morgan didn’t want that. She wanted to protect Ally, keep her safe, keep her well out of the ruthless hands of the media. Much as she found the thought of not seeing Ally tonight both distressing and disappointing, she decided on it anyway, and she’d called her the moment she was safely inside her apartment.
Now, realizing what an error in judgment she had made, she tried calling Ally back.
“Don’t do this to me again, please,” she prayed softly, dismayed to be switched through to Ally’s voice mail. She didn’t leave a message, instead hanging up and immediately redialing. Voice mail again. She hung up again.
Morgan stood motionless in her lounge-room, looking out to the glittering arch of the Sydney Harbor Bridge and wondering what the hell to do next.
Quickly she decided.
Her phone rang just as she was about to redial and leave Ally a message. The caller ID was one Morgan had entered in the minutes before she and Ally left her hotel room in Barcelona. Ally-Home. It seemed she was calling from her landline.
“I’m sorry.” Ally’s voice was choked with tears.
“It’s okay.” Morgan wished she could reach through the phone and pull Ally directly to her. Then she could kiss away her tears, the tears she knew she had caused by her efforts to protect. “I’m sorry, too. I should have known—”
“I broke my mobile.” Ally sobbed. “That’s the second in as many weeks.” There was a muffled sound as if she’d covered the mouthpiece while she blew her nose. In the next moment the sound clarity had returned. She sniffed and then sighed heavily. “God knows how I’m going to explain this one to Josh.”
So that had been the crash. Ally must have hurled it at something. “Somehow I think that’s going to be the least of your worries soon.” Morgan closed her eyes, vacillating one final time over her latest decision. She made up her mind once and for all. “Would you like me to come to you tonight, or do you want to come to me?”
Ally snuffled and then made a little noise that conveyed she was surprised but very happy with the change in plan. “I’ll come to you.”
“Are you sure?” Morgan asked, still hesitant. Just like the closet Ally had promised to live in—and was already wanting to evict herself from—Morgan was pretty sure she really had little understanding of just what she was letting herself in for. Maybe Ally could check into a hotel and she could arrive an hour or so after?
But no, Ally insisted she wanted to be there for Morgan and not skulking around like a thief—or worse, a mistress. And the paparazzi would probably follow Morgan to the hotel and then the papers would be full of her “secret late-night ren
dezvous.”
Morgan had to admit she was right. She gave her the codes to enter the building and access the elevator. She’d have preferred she enter via the underground garage instead of the main entry, but remote control access was the only means of opening the garage door. Obviously Ally didn’t yet have a remote control and since she no longer had a mobile she couldn’t call to advise when she was waiting outside. So the main entry it had to be.
“See you soon, my love.”
Morgan disconnected from the call as she ascended the stairs to the mezzanine level of her apartment and to her bedroom. For that long-awaited and much-needed shower.
“Coming!” Morgan called loudly about forty minutes later. She threw her hairbrush aside and dashed down the stairs. Her hair was still a little shower-damp, but apart from that she was ready to receive visitors. Ready to receive Ally. She opened the door and there she was. Morgan took a second to drink in the sight of her then threw herself into her arms. “Oh, Ally! My God, I’ve missed you.”
“Ditto.” Ally clung onto her tightly. “I’m so glad you changed your mind . . . and I’m so sorry for what I said to you earlier. I was wrong. I was thinking only of me and what I needed when I—” She looked up to Morgan with tears pooled in her eyes. “When I should have been thinking of you . . . how you felt.”
“It’s okay.” Morgan ran her hand down Ally’s cheek and bent to kiss her softly on the lips. “You’re here now and I’m very, very happy about that.” She held her at arm’s length, worriedly searching her face. “Did you get ambushed at the entrance?”
Ally pulled a tissue from the cuff of her shirt sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Not ambushed. I got approached by two reporters wanting to know if I lived in the building . . . if I didn’t, who was I going to visit . . . was it you? That sort of crap.” Ally smiled, although not quite confidently. “I did what you did at the airport—head down and don’t say a word. Although I doubt I looked half as good doing it as you did.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Come off it!” She kissed Ally on the nose. “Congratulations. You’ve just survived your first brush with the press.”
“Such good fun it was too.” Ally grimaced. “Anyway, that’s more than enough about me.” She pressed her index finger to Morgan’s breastbone. “I want to hear about you. How did it go?”
Morgan tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. “Come in and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Ally dabbed at her eyes again and smiled. “I thought you were never going to ask.”
Morgan stood aside for her to enter and then watched Ally look all around her, at the bits of the apartment that could be seen from the entrance—essentially just the passage leading to the kitchen and living areas, and the staircase.
“Wow!”
“I’m guessing that’s a great compliment coming from an architect.” Morgan laughed. “I’m also guessing that architect’s mind of yours won’t be able to concentrate on a word I say until you’ve taken the tour?”
Ally shrugged noncommittally. But her eyes lit up at the suggestion.
“Come on then.” Morgan tugged at her shirt sleeve again and herded her in the direction of the stairs. “We’ll start with the best bit.”
“The bedroom?” Ally blinked innocently.
“Exactly.” Morgan laughed again, already feeling the stresses of the last forty-eight hours melting away. This woman did wonders for her spirit. She wagged her finger at her. “But be good.”
Ally blinked again. “Aren’t I always?”
An hour and a half later—a good portion of which had been spent admiring the architecture of the bedroom from various positions on Morgan’s bed—Morgan handed Ally her second vodka and cranberry juice. They’d moved downstairs and were settled on Morgan’s oh-so-very-comfortable couch. They had made a nice little arrangement of the oversized cushions near the divan end so they could sit close together with their legs stretched out in front of them. They were both donned in T-shirts and tracksuit pants that Morgan pulled from her wardrobe. They were too large for Ally’s petite frame and she looked so cute, so vulnerable, that Morgan felt her heart tug as she sat down again.
“Thanks.” Ally took a sip of her refreshed drink then placed it to the side, on the coffee table. “Now please, please don’t keep me in suspense any longer. You were saying that the bitch from hell—”
“Sophie,” Morgan offered, thinking “vulnerable” was maybe not the best description of Ally.
“Yes, her. You were saying she was looking smug about the advertising.”
“Exactly.” Morgan also took a sip of her drink and set it aside. “Although I really have no idea why, because since this happened only one advertiser has requested their ads be pulled from our timeslot. Sophie was adamant it was due to the controversy surrounding the show and warned of more to come. Then Carlo jumped in and reminded everyone, because we’re prime time, advertising costs are at their peak. Many companies run ads for a while in the expensive slots to gain the initial reach, then they drop to either lower frequency or less expensive slots.”
“But that would all be booked in advance, wouldn’t it? If this advertiser suddenly pulled, it’s probably because they are worried about the controversy.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Morgan nodded. “And Sophie did point that out. But then Carlo asked how much longer the ads were to run in that timeslot.”
“And?”
Morgan grinned. “Just two more weeks. After that the campaign was scheduled to go to a slot at half the price—and that particular booking still stands, so it’s not like the advertiser has got their back up too badly with the network. Honestly, Ally, if you could have seen Sophie’s face! And then, to top that off, in the very next minute Maxwell received a call announcing that the phones were currently jammed with viewers up in arms because I was conspicuous in my absence from my usual presenter role of the at-air episode of the show. Carlo, who had already said he thought the decision to keep my scheduled on-location segment but replace me with Troy for all the leadins was a big mistake, went on an ‘I told you so’ rampage. Apparently, he’d already advised them that to be seen to be reacting to what was still essentially tabloid rumor was a big mistake. But to be seen to be reacting in a half-assed manner—which is essentially what they did by keeping my segment but not my leadins—was nothing short of a public relations disaster.”
“It does sound like a pretty stupid thing to do.” Ally nodded, her expression wry. “Did they think that if everyone saw just a
little of the lesbian they’d be less likely to be offended?”
Morgan laughed. “Something like that.”
“I wish I’d thought to ring the network and add my voice to the protest,” Ally mused. “All I did was swear at my television and throw a cushion at it.”
Morgan kissed her on the cheek. “You’re making a habit out of throwing things tonight.”
“Yeah, well.” Ally reached for her drink. She dipped her finger into it and pushed one of the ice cubes around and around the glass. “I got frustrated.” Her dipped finger was removed and held to Morgan’s mouth, an invitation for her to suck. “Anyway, keep going.” After a few seconds she pulled her finger from Morgan’s mouth. “I meant with the story, silly.”
Morgan laughed again. How she adored this woman. “Well, as I said, the phone lines were jammed. But of course not all the calls received today were so great . . .” She explained the polarized views that had been expressed and how difficult they had been to see and hear.
Ally agreed, telling of her similar reaction that evening when reading some of the comments posted on the Internet. “It’s so sad to think there are still people out there with such archaic views.” She met Morgan’s gaze directly. “But surely that small percentage isn’t going to be enough to convince the network you’re a liability, especially in the face of such obvious support for you?”
“I don’t know yet,” Morgan admitted. “As Carlo said, there’s a whole heap of reasons
why they shouldn’t. For one, they’ve got a couple of shows that already have either gay or lesbian characters in them, so dumping me—even though I’m a ‘real’ lesbian as opposed to someone just acting like one—would look rather hypocritical. And like I told you earlier, they can’t just ‘get rid of me’ because of this. And Michael, in his inimitable way, made it very clear that if they suddenly find a loophole in my contract it will be glaringly obvious that that’s the real reason behind my dismissal. They’d find themselves slapped with a discrimination suit so fast, their collective network heads would be spinning. So if they want me out, they’ll have to pay me out.”
“And how would you feel about that?” Ally asked quietly.
Morgan hesitated. “It’s nice to think I’m protected in that regard. But it’s a bit akin to someone getting a dishonorable discharge from the military when they’ve done nothing wrong. Moving on from that would be difficult.”
Ally gave her a comforting squeeze on the arm and a gentle cranberry-flavored kiss on the lips. “I don’t think it’s going to be something you’ll have to consider, honey. From what you’ve said, the wind is blowing in your favor.”
Morgan smiled into Ally’s eyes. “It must be. I met you.”
“Ooh, what a smooth talker!” Ally kissed her again, more firmly this time. “So, what’s the final outcome?”
“Well, believe it or not, they’ve decided to ‘suck it and see.’”
Ally’s eyes widened. “Suck it and see?”
“Mm-hmm.” Morgan nodded, her smile quickly turning into a grin. She was sure she’d had the same wide-eyed expression as Ally did now when Maxwell announced it may be best if, for the moment—while they continued to gauge viewer reaction and monitor advertising revenues—she return to the screen in her full capacity. “‘We’ve never dealt with a situation like this before so I guess we should just suck it and see.’” Morgan did her best to imitate Maxwell’s heavy, gruff tone. But as usual her acting skills let her down. “A somewhat ‘interesting’ turn of phrase, don’t you think?”
