And Playing the Role of Herself...

by K E Lane

  There was a moment of silence, and then a low, husky voice asked, "Am I interrupting something?"

  I didn't think it was possible, but my heart rate picked up even more, and it took me a moment before I could respond. "I'm at the gym. Trying to work off some…frustration," I panted finally. I knew the smile on my face was giving Shawn some ideas, but I couldn't help it. "Where are you? I thought you had a dinner thing tonight."

  Robyn had called while I was on my way to the airport with Perry and James, telling me the bad news that her presence was required tonight at a dinner party at her agent's house, and she didn't know when she would be home. Perry and James were in the car with me so I couldn't yell and scream in frustration as I'd wanted to, but the moment I'd dropped them off, I'd called Shawn and asked for a workout that would leave me exhausted and wanting my mommy.

  I could hear the smile in her voice when she answered my question. "I told Mark I'm not feeling well. I think I might have gotten food poisoning this afternoon. So…I find myself suddenly free for the evening."

  I sat up. "Tell me you're not kidding."

  She laughed. "I'm not kidding. When can you get over here? I'll cook you dinner."

  "Give me an hour," I said, reaching for my towel and ignoring Shawn's look of disapproval. "Tops."

  She laughed again, low and breathless. The sound tickled down my spine as though she were here, touching me. "Hurry."

  I snapped the phone shut and stood, giving Shawn a smile that made him blink. "Looks like I won't need that workout after all."

  ##

  I slammed the car door and headed up the drive, forcing myself to walk instead of sprint like I wanted to. I felt giddy with anticipation, like a teenager with a first crush, and when Robyn opened the door in a sleeveless, button-down shirt, long denim shorts and no shoes, the smile I gave her made my face ache.

  Her return smile was dazzling, her eyes shining with welcome. "Hey, you."

  "Hey." I suddenly felt shy, wanting to hug her but not knowing if it would be welcome.

  She put an end my wondering by tugging me into the house by the hand, shutting the door behind us, and pulling me tightly against her.

  I sighed and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying face in her neck. "I missed you."

  She tightened the embrace and rubbed her face against my hair. "I missed you too, baby," she whispered. "It's crazy how much."

  We stood, just holding each other and not speaking, as long minutes passed. Finally she pulled back, cradling my face in her hands, and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. I leaned into the kiss, savoring it for what it was; not a kiss for passion's sake, but rather a reconnection - an affirmation - of things already said.

  "Come on," she said eventually, stepping away but not letting go of my hand. "Let me get you a glass of wine and you can watch me cook you something fabulous."

  I followed her downstairs and into the kitchen where she seated me on a barstool along a counter in her kitchen and handed me a glass of white wine.

  "Can I help?" I asked

  "Nope…sorry, I'm a bit territorial about my kitchen," she answered with a smile that said she wasn't sorry at all.

  I made a mental note to not mess about in her kitchen.

  "You like shrimp, I hope?" At my nod she pulled a bowl of medium-sized shrimp out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter, then splashed olive oil into a pan, added a bowlful of sliced garlic and set it to heat.

  We talked of random things as she pulled various cups of liquid out of the refrigerator, transferred the cooked garlic to a paper towel, and briskly tossed the shrimp with salt and pepper, moving with a confidence and economy of motion that nudged something in my memory.

  When I was twenty, I spent the summer on the wait staff of an upscale resort outside Rice Lake, serving pricy dinners to sun burnt tourists. The overall atmosphere of the kitchen had been hectic and chaotic, but the area around the head chef, Jean-Marie, had always seemed calm, and I had admired the way he inhabited the space around him, as though the pots, pans, knives and other utensils were an extension of his person.

  Robyn moved around her kitchen the same way; as though her actions were second nature, an extension of herself.

  "You've done this before," I commented, and she raised an inquisitive eyebrow in my direction, not pausing in her preparations. I gestured at the sauté pan now filled with shrimp that she was absently shaking with casual flicks of her wrists. "Cooking. Where'd you learn?"

  She smiled, her face softening. "My mom was a chef…still is, actually, although now she mostly handles front-of-the-house. She and my sister are both restaurateurs - they have restaurants in Santa Barbara and Santa Monica." She gave the shrimp another expert flip. "My sisters and I knew our way around a kitchen before we were out of elementary school."

  "Tell me about your family," I requested, realizing that I knew almost nothing about her. We had talked, certainly, but never about our pasts or families.

  She scooped the shrimp out onto a platter and placed the pan back on the burner, adding the garlic back into the pan along with a plateful of some kind of chilies and stirring absently. "My family." She smiled again with obvious fondness. "Well, I have three sisters - one older and two younger. Trish, that's the oldest, is part-owner of the restaurants with Mom. She runs the place in Santa Monica, and lives there with her boyfriend Enrique; Diane, she's two years younger than me - she works in a law firm in San Francisco, and Lori - the baby. She's a stay-at-home mom with two little boys and a third on the way. She and her husband Will live in Santa Barbara, near my parents."

  A few cupfuls of liquid went into the pan, along with the already cooked shrimp and some spices. She turned the flame down a bit before turning to pull two plates out of a cupboard above her head and unplugging a rice cooker that had been quietly steaming away on the corner of the counter. "Mom…like I said, she's a chef and runs the restaurant in Santa Barbara, and my dad used to model - that's how I got into it - and now he plays a lot of golf and tennis and occasionally helps out at the restaurant."

  "So that's where you grew up? Santa Barbara?" I asked, watching the play of muscles under the tan skin of her forearm as she flipped and stirred the contents of the pan a few more times before removing it from the heat. I let my eyes travel from her forearms up over the swell of breast, the long, elegant neck, sharp chin, full lips, straight nose, finally resting on obsidian eyes that stared at me with a heat that caused my breath to hitch.

  We stared at each other, conversation forgotten, until finally Robyn blinked and looked away, drawing a shaky breath. "Christ, Caid…those eyes are lethal."

  She stood for a moment more, staring at the stove, and then pulled a few large spoons out of a drawer and began doling out generous portions of brown rice topped with the shrimp and chili mixture, along with greens and cooked carrots, onto the two plates. Looking over her shoulder at me, her expression now bland, she picked up the two plates and nodded towards her wineglass on the counter. "Could you bring mine, and the bottle?"

  I nodded and did as she asked, tucking the bottle under my arm and picking up her glass before following her out of the kitchen and into what I'd guess was the living room - the huge room with the wall of two story windows looking out over the flickering lights of the San Gabriele valley that were just starting to come on. A small table had been set up near the windows, with a deep burgundy tablecloth, two place settings, and two tall candles.

  She set the two plates down and took the wine bottle from under my arm, placing it in a ceramic wine cooler on one end of the table. Then she took her wine glass from my hand and placed it on the table, gesturing for me to sit down while she lit the candles. Finally she sat down across from me and put her napkin in her lap, meeting my gaze for the first time in several minutes.

  "This is nice, Robyn. Thank you," I offered, trying to get us back to the ease we shared in the kitchen before she caught me staring.

  "I hope you like it - it's something my mom was twe
aking for the restaurant last time I went home. Please," she waved at my plate, "eat."

  I leaned over the plate, breathing in deeply, and grinned. "If the smell is anything to go by, it'll be fabulous, as promised." I picked up my fork and took a bite. "Oh, God." I closed my eyes and chewed slowly, savoring the heat of the chilies along with the sweet of the shrimp. It was, indeed, fabulous. "This is wonderful."

  I opened my eyes and found her leaning back in her chair, watching me with a slight smile on her face.

  I paused mid-chew and swallowed. "Aren't you eating?"

  She smiled fully now, teasing and light. "It's more fun to watch you. Most people I cook for don't appreciate it quite as much as you seem to. Nice to see so much enthusiasm."

  "Well," I speared another piece of shrimp, "then the people you've cooked for are idiots. Honestly, Robyn, this is fantastic." I put the shrimp in my mouth and again closed my eyes at the burst of flavor. I chewed for a moment, and swallowed. "You can cook for me anytime."

  She gave me a delighted smile and picked up her fork.

  I learned more about Robyn over dinner; I'd always been good at getting people to talk to me, and Robyn, it turned out, liked to talk. She grew up in Santa Barbara and had a dizzying number of aunts, uncles and cousins still in the area; she was close with all her sisters but from how she spoke about Diane, the two of them were especially close; she broke her arm and three ribs falling out of a tree when she was seven, lost her virginity to Duane Resin on prom night when she was seventeen, and most of her family, like the rest of the world, had no idea that she was gay.

  I'd practically licked my plate clean while she talked, and I picked up my wine and leaned back in my chair, pleasantly full. "So only Diane knows?"

  She nodded, playing with her food. "I know…sounds strange, doesn't it? It just always seemed easier not to say anything…and it never really mattered. I never wanted to bring anyone home to meet the family, I guess."

  I digested that, wondering what it meant for us. The fear that I was going to end up being just another "thing" in an apparently long list of things once again surfaced, and I squashed it as best I could.

  "There's a little more, if you'd like it," Robyn said finally, after a long silence.

  I shook my head and smiled. "I'm stuffed, thank you. That was great."

  I followed her into the kitchen with my plate and silverware; she took the items out of my hands and turned to put them in the sink with hers. I'd wanted to touch her all through dinner, and I finally gave in to temptation, stepping up behind her and snaking my arms loosely around her slim waist, resting my chin on her shoulder.

  "Dinner was wonderful," I murmured in her ear, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of her hair. "And so are you." She leaned back against me, placing her hands over mine. I kissed her cheek, and then trailed my lips to her ear, nibbling gently. "You taste good, too."

  I could feel her smile, and she turned in my embrace, settling her arms on my shoulders, her hands joined behind my head. "How do you manage to be so sweet," she said, kissing me softly before pulling back, "and so goddamn sexy at the same time?"

  I gave her a pleased smile and leaned in to brush our lips together again, meaning for the kiss to be brief but quickly losing myself in the softness of her lips and the feel of her tongue stroking hesitantly against mine. Her hands went into my hair, encouraging me, and she purred deep in her throat when I pushed her hips against the counter and deepened the kiss. We kissed for several long moments before pulling apart, breathing heavily.

  I leaned into her, touching our foreheads together as I caught my breath. "You're one hell of a kisser, Ms. Ward."

  She gave a breathy laugh and ran long fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. "Oh, honey…I'd say you have some skills of your own."

  We stood quietly against each other for a few moments more, and then she grasped my hand and slid out from between the counter and me, leading me into the other room and gesturing for me to sit on a large leather couch in front of the fireplace. I sat down and watched as she put on some soft, instrumental guitar music and turned on the gas fireplace before retrieving our wineglasses and coming back to the couch.

  "A fire when it's eighty degrees outside?" I teased, and she paused as she handed me my wine.

  "Do you mind? It doesn't put out that much heat and I like watching it…"

  "I was just teasing," I interrupted her. "It's nice."

  She smiled, and lowered herself onto the other end of the couch, tucking her feet under her.

  I hid a frown at her being so far away - I wanted to touch her, but if she felt the need for some distance, I didn't want to push. We watched the fire for a while, and I had to agree with her; it was nice to watch a fire, regardless of the time of year.

  "So what about you?" she asked eventually. "Turnabout is fair play…tell me about your family. I know you have an extremely handsome twenty-two year old brother…any other siblings lying around?"

  I paused, swirling my wine, before answering. "Just one…I have an older brother, Sebastian. He's a tax attorney - lives in Tampa."

  There was no warmth in my voice, and she raised her eyebrows. "You don't get along." It was statement, not a question.

  "That would be putting it mildly." I took a sip of wine, trying to think of how best to describe the antagonism between my eldest brother and me. "Would you like the short version, or the long version?"

  "I'm not in a hurry to be anywhere…why don't we go with the long version?"

  "Okay," I said with a wry smile. "Just remember that you asked for it." I paused for a moment, wondering where to begin. "My father is a doctor…in the late sixties, a family practitioner in Milwaukee. He had married his high school sweetheart and opened up his own practice -everything was going along nicely until, as a favor, he hired the daughter of a family friend to help around the office…a year later he'd divorced his wife and married his young employee, who was pregnant."

  "So, young employee was…"

  "My mom," I answered with a quick nod. "The whole thing was something of a scandal, I guess, since mom was only eighteen, so dad sold the practice and moved his young bride and new baby to Madison, where he set up shop again, and they had another kid," I pointed to myself, "and they lived in, what seemed to me when I was young, happy bliss until I was about twelve. That's when they found out that mom was pregnant again. Mom was thrilled, but dad wasn't so happy - they started fighting constantly - but things progressed as they usually do, and eventually Perry was born."

  I held my glass to my chest and drew my feet up under me as Robyn had done. "A few weeks after Perry's first birthday, dad filed for divorce and ran off to Chicago with his twenty-four year old receptionist. Dad was nothing if not consistent," I said, unable to keep the trace of bitterness out of my voice.

  "Oh, Caid…that must have been awful." She scooted over until our knees were touching and took my hand, her eyes full of empathy.

  I stroked my thumb across her knuckles, liking the feel of her hand in mine, and way our hands looked together. "It was…hard for us all, but it was especially hard on Sebastian. Mom asked for full custody, and dad didn't fight it, basically removing himself completely from our lives. Sebastian worshiped dad, and after he left, Sebastian just…he completely changed. He was angry all the time, screaming and yelling at mom and me, saying it was our fault, getting into trouble, picking fights…" I shook my head in memory. "That was a really fun time, let me tell you."

  She squeezed my hand. "So he never really got over it?"

  "Nope, he never did…" I looked into the fire. "And then he married into a rich, incredibly religious fundamentalist Tampa family, and went from being an angry, hurt kid to a bigoted, self-righteous asshole." I shook my head. "It's hard to love someone who hates everything about you, and Sebastian has made it very clear that my job, my life…everything about me is evil. Jesus," I said with a pained laugh, "when he finds out I've…that I'm a lesbian, he will seriously blow a g
asket." I shuddered at the thought, and Robyn squeezed my hand again.

  "I'm sorry, Caid," she said simply.

  I smiled wryly and finished the rest of my wine in a gulp. "Me too."

  "Do you ever…see your father? I can't believe someone would just cut their kids off like that."

  "Hard to believe, isn't it? When he first left, I was pretty angry too, but unlike Sebastian, I was angry at dad, and not mom. He left when I was thirteen, and I didn't see him again until I was twenty-one…now I see him once or twice a year, I guess. Sebastian might see him more, I don't know - dad is definitely a topic I don't want to discuss with him. Perry has met him a few times, but mom remarried a couple of years after dad left, and as far as Perry's concerned, his dad is Larry, mom's current husband."

  She shook her head, stroking my hand. "I'm sorry," she said again, and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. "I wish you hadn't gone through that."