And Playing the Role of Herself...

by K E Lane

  I winced slightly at how callous that sounded. "Well…yeah. You could have any woman you want. Or two. Or six…" I quirked a grin to take the sting out of my next words. "I think you're a nice guy, Josh - really, I do - but I have a hard time believing a guy would give up the possibility of all those fawning women because their lesbian best friend needed a date. Once or twice, maybe, but for two years?"

  He actually smiled at that. "No," he said with a soft laugh, "I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Believe it or not, the reason is actually because of those fawning women." He glanced in his rear view mirror, and then at me quickly before focusing his attention back on the road. "I'm twenty-nine years old, Caid. In tennis, I'm practically an old man. There's a very small window of opportunity when you've put enough years into the game to have the benefit of experience, and you're still young enough for your body to do what you want it to." He gestured with one hand to himself. "I'm in that window now. I don't make it into the top five in the next year or two, it's not going to happen. Doing the 'thing me and Robyn do', as you call it, allows me to keep my focus. I do what is expected of me to keep the sponsors and advertisers happy, but I don't have to worry about getting involved with someone, and getting distracted, which I know from past experience messes with my head. We keep each other out of trouble, with the benefit of spending time with someone we enjoy being with."

  I pondered that for a moment, and then hesitantly asked, "Do you still love her?"

  He glanced at me in confusion. "Of course I love her. She's my best friend…" His eyes widened in sudden understanding. He turned his attention back to the road. "Ohhh…you mean, am I in love with her? That whole straight-boy-pining-away-after-his-lesbian-best-friend thing?"

  Well, when you put it that way, it did sound kind of cliché…

  At my slow nod, he smiled wryly. "No, I'm not in love with her. I used to be, a long, long time ago. And I like to think she was in love with me, too." He slowed a little and looked over at me. "Lord knows it would certainly be simpler if we were both still in love with each other, but we're not." He glanced in his rear view mirror, and then at me. "I'm not competition, Caid. As long as you make Robyn happy, I'm on your side."

  I shook my head, starting to protest, "That's not what I meant…" I stopped myself and sighed. "Oh hell, maybe it was. You two are just so close - you know each other so completely, and all I have are these little…pieces of her. It's frustrating."

  We were quiet for a minute before he reached over and patted my knee. "If it makes a difference, Caid, she doesn't give those pieces up easily and she's given more to you than anyone else has gotten in a long time."

  I turned my body to face front again, thinking of the brief glimpses I'd gotten behind dark, guarded eyes. "I want them all," I said quietly, watching the traffic around us. "I want every last piece."

  He squeezed my knee and I looked over at him. "Good," he said, a smile spreading on his face. "Good."

  Conversation moved onto different topics and we quickly regained the comfort level we had shared the night I joined he and Robyn for dinner. The twenty minute trip went by swiftly, and soon we were pulling into a parking spot on Main Street in Santa Monica.

  We walked a few blocks, commenting on the art displays in various windows until we arrived at a restaurant called Sophie's where Josh held open the door and gestured for me to enter. Inside was an airy, brightly painted, café-style restaurant decorated in a curious mix of South-Western and Mediterranean décor; I glanced around, appreciating the mix of colors and textures and the appetizing smells wafting through the air.

  Along one wall was a long counter with several glass cases displaying an array of desserts and other goodies, and behind the register at the end of the counter stood an elegant woman with dark hair shot through with silver, writing in a notepad. She looked up when we entered, her piercing dark eyes taking me in and then traveling to Josh. Her face lit up in an open, welcoming smile, and the jolt of recognition left me momentarily speechless.

  "Joshua!" She moved from behind the counter and the two kissed each other on both cheeks and embraced.

  "Buenas tardes, Sophie." He stepped back and gave her a warm smile. "This is an unexpected pleasure. What are you doing down here? Checking up on your temperamental chef?"

  The woman laughed and patted Josh on the arm. "Eh, you know my Patricia. She does as she pleases, no matter what her mamá says." Her English was precise and slightly accented. "No, Marcy is on holiday for a few days and I have volunteered to help until she returns." She paused, and then winked. "And to keep an eye on my temperamental chef."

  The two shared a laughed, and the woman looked over at me curiously. "Where are your manners, Joshua?" She prodded him with an elbow. "Who is your friend?"

  Looking properly chastised, Josh placed his hand on my back and gestured to the woman. "I'm sorry. Sophie, this is my friend, Caidence Harris. Caid, this is Sophie Ward, Robyn's…"

  "Mother." I finished for him, reaching out to grasp Sophie's outstretched hand. "Encantada, Senora."

  Mom would be so proud that her emphasis on languages finally paid off.

  Sophie raised an eyebrow at my greeting, and the gesture so achingly familiar that I couldn't stop a tiny laugh of delight. She frowned slightly, and I hurried to apologize. "I'm sorry, Senora, for laughing, but I've just realized where Robyn got…" I raised my own eyebrow and tapped it with my finger, "…that."

  Her frown turned into a wide smile. "You know my Sabina?"

  "Ah…Sabina?"

  "Sabina is Robyn's first name," Josh explained. "Robyn is actually her middle name."

  Sophie waved her hand in a graceful, dismissive gesture. "Eh, she prefers Robyn, but she will always be Sabina to me." She leaned in and added conspiratorially, "And it drives her loco, so of course I call her that."

  I smiled, easily picturing the exasperated look on Robyn's face. "I can imagine, Senora, how that would definitely drive Robyn loco."

  Sophie raised an eyebrow again and looked at me speculatively. "Please, call me Sophie. And I will call you Caidence," she announced. "So tell me, Caidence. How is it that you know my daughter?"

  I'm completely, utterly, helplessly in love with her…

  I cleared my throat. "She and I work together. Well, sometimes we work together."

  "You work on this lawyer, defense show with her?"

  "No. I mean, yes. Sometimes." I shook my head at my sudden inability to communicate. "I work on a different show, but sometimes I work on Robyn's show, and sometimes she works on mine."

  "Ah…the police show. 9th Patrol, is it?"

  "9th Precinct." I said automatically, and then felt slightly silly for correcting her.

  She nodded slowly, her eyes sweeping me from head to toe. "You are the friend who became lost," she said bluntly.

  I kept the explanations to myself and replied with a simple, "Yes."

  "My Sabina, she was very upset. I have never seen her so…" she searched for a word, "distraught. I am very glad you were found, and I am very glad to meet you. We do not meet Sabina's friends often, so it is good to meet a friend of my hija who she must care for very much." She glanced at Josh. "It is good, Joshua, that you brought Caidence to meet me. Thank you." She stepped between us and linked an arm through each of ours. "Now come. I will seat you, and Patricia will make you something special."

  She seated us in a private corner and brought a bottle of wine before hurrying off to seat another group who had just arrived. It was still early - only five-thirty - and the restaurant wasn't full, so Sophie came by our table often over the next half hour, asking me questions about my family and work, and telling an hilarious story about catching Josh and Robyn in a rather…compromising position when the family had visited Robyn one weekend while she was at UCLA.

  "And then Lori, in the way only teenagers can, told her sister that Joshua, he had a very nice ass..."

  "Sophie!" Josh flushed an interesting shade of red and excused himself,
murmuring something about seeing someone he knew. Sophie and I watched him stride quickly across the room before turning to each other, smiling.

  "He is such a good boy," she said fondly, looking over to where he was talking to a couple seated on the other side of the restaurant. "My hija is very lucky to have him in her life."

  "Yes." I swirled my wine, watching the deep, red color coat the glass. "They are lucky to have each other. They are both very special."

  I felt a light hand on my arm and looked up into dark, intelligent eyes so like Robyn's. "I think, Caidence, that she is lucky to have you, also. You care for her very much."

  I hesitated, and nodded. "Yes, very much," I said quietly.

  "Yes, I can see. You smile always when you talk about her, and your eyes…they show much. It is good, what I see. Sabina…she has not been happy for some time. Yes, she is famous, and knows many people, and likes what she does…but she has lost her smile. I would like to see her smile again." She patted my arm and stood up. "I think, Caidence, that perhaps you can make her smile again."

  I stopped swirling my wine and stared at her. Did Sophie just give me approval to be in a relationship with her daughter?

  "I…" I looked up into her face and saw nothing but openness and warmth, and a hint of amusement. "I would like to try," I said carefully, watching for any change of expression, "if she will let me."

  She smiled widely, and reached across the table for the wine bottle, deftly filling my glass. "Bueno. If she is smart, she will let you, but sometimes, she is stubborn. She gets that, of course, from her father." She set the wine bottle down and placed a hand on my shoulder. "You will have patience with my Sabina, eh, Caidence Harris?"

  I could only nod, overwhelmed by the conversation and not sure whether to be elated or terrified.

  "We will keep this conversation between you and I, yes? When Sabina is ready, she will talk to me." She moved her hand from my shoulder to cup my cheek and stared into my face, nodding briskly. "Yes, you are very pretty. My Sabina always did have excellent taste." She patted my cheek and walked off, leaving me blinking and speechless.

  I slumped back in my chair, absently sipping my wine and staring sightlessly out the restaurant's front window, thinking over the conversation. I was sure I wasn't reading anything into it. Robyn's mother knew she was a lesbian, seemed fine with it, and wanted me to make her daughter happy. But Robyn didn't know her mother knew, and her mother didn't want her to know that she knew, and wanted Robyn to tell her herself…

  I sighed. Christ. Ward family dynamics just got weirder…

  "My mother is quite taken with you."

  I nearly spit out a mouthful of wine as a woman in a white, short-collared chef uniform appeared seemingly from nowhere and slipped into the chair Sophie had recently vacated.

  I swallowed deliberately and set down my glass. "Trish, hello. Nice to see you again." I nodded and gave her a friendly smile, hoping she didn't hold the other morning against me. "Your mother is quite charming, and I'm quite taken with her as well."

  "Yes, Mamá can be very charming." Her expression was bland, the smile pleasant. "She likes to see the good in people."

  "Trish, about the other morning…"

  She leaned forward abruptly, her face now anything but pleasant. "I'm not fooled by you, not for one minute. I know what you want from my sister."

  Guess that answered my question about whether she was still pissed about the other morning. And for fuck sake - did her whole family know about us?

  "Josh is with Robyn," she continued fiercely, "and you weaseling in on him while she's gone isn't going to work."

  …and that answered that question.

  There were several ways I could have handled the situation and of course, I chose the worst way possible. I laughed. Still reeling from my conversation with her mother, the incongruity of Trish's accusation struck me as funny and I laughed.

  I stopped myself almost immediately, but the damage was done. Trish's eyes narrowed, sparking with anger and she leaned in even closer. "Stay away from Josh," she hissed through gritted teeth, and then whirled and stalked away, ignoring my attempts to call her back to apologize.

  "Well, shit." I slumped back in my chair, glancing around and noting our altercation had drawn some attention. I forced a polite smile and nodded at the on-lookers, casually looked around for Josh, relieved to see him crossing back to our table with a worried expression on his face.

  "What was that?" He sat down in his chair and looked in the direction Trish had gone.

  I rubbed my forehead and then ran a hand through my hair. "That was Robyn's sister telling me in no uncertain terms that she is not going to allow me to weasel my way into your bed while Robyn is gone."

  "You're shitting me." He turned his head to stare at me, his mouth slightly open.

  "I shit you not. I seriously think she might come back with a meat cleaver or something. She was pretty pissed off. And I didn't make things any better by laughing at her."

  He winced. "You laughed at Trish?"

  I shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry - she accused me of wanting to get into my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend's pants. Right after her mother told me she thought I could give Robyn her smile back. It just seemed…funny. At least at the time." I finished lamely.

  "Damn, I'd better go talk to her." He started to stand and then stopped and sunk back into his chair. "Wait. Her mother told you what!?"

  I shook my head. "Never mind - it was kind of a private conversation and I shouldn't go into it. But believe me, it made what Trish said seem funny."

  I could tell he wanted to press me for more details, but a waiter had arrived with a flat skillet piled high with a rice, seafood and vegetable mixture along with a basket of tortillas and small bowls of pureed gazpacho.

  "The chef's special paella for two and Sophie's gazpacho…" the server announced with flair as he set the sizzling skillet in the middle of the table and set warm, empty plates in front of us. After dishing us both up generous portions, he stepped back. "My name is Tom, please let me know if you need anything else."

  We asked for a large Pellegrino to split and I immediately picked up my fork and started eating, more relieved than I should have been that the paella was for two; I doubted Trish would try to poison Josh along with me.

  After the first bite I let out a contented sigh. Great cooking, as well as great looks, ran in the Ward family, and I happily dug in for more, enjoying each and every bite for its subtle difference in flavor and wondering what spices she used.

  "Those Ward girls can cook, can't they?" I mumbled, rather impolitely, around a half-chewed mouthful of rice when I noticed in embarrassment that Josh hadn't picked up his fork yet but was instead just watching me eat with a tiny grin on his face.

  I finished chewing, swallowed, and took a sip of water. "What?"

  He gave a quiet laugh. "When I saw Robyn last, in Florida, we were talking about you - we didn't talk about much else, to be honest - but anyway…she was extolling your many virtues, and then she got this really goofy smile on her face, and when I asked her what she was smiling about, she said she loved how you ate. Said you ate like you truly enjoyed it, and like every bite was special, and it really turned…" he stopped, looking slightly uncomfortable, and cleared his throat "Um…anyway, now I see what she meant."

  I looked down at my food, not bothering to hide my own goofy grin, ridiculously pleased that not only had she talked about me favorably, but that a quirk of mine that annoyed more than a few people was something she actually…liked.

  He picked up his fork with a smile and took a bite, chewing slowly. "Mmm. Yes, those Ward girls sure can cook."

  We ate our meal slowly, talking about Wimbledon, which he was leaving for on Monday, recent movies we'd seen, and my worry over how the 9P finale would change facets of my life I'd rather not change. He told me stories about run-ins he and Robyn had had with the press, and talked about his recent visit to her; about how excited she'd been to be
working with Lynne Wesson, and that Lonnie Colchev was an arrogant prick, just like people said.

  Talking about her made me miss her, and I sighed discontentedly. "Damn I miss her. I wish she'd at least call me a little more often."

  He took my hand across the table. "I know, Caid. Just give her a little more time. I think she's going to realize soon that she's more distracted from missing you than she would be if you two were talking, or even if you'd visit."

  "I hope you're right. God, I'd love to see her, but I'd be happy with just a damn phone call."

  "Just be patient with her, she'll come around."

  I smiled. "That seems to everyone's advice when it comes to Robyn." And patience has never been a particular strength of mine. Guess I'll have to learn some, because I'm not letting this go.

  The restaurant filled up with Friday night diners and we were approached by a few autograph seekers, but in general, we weren't bothered. By the time we finally decided to leave, darkness was falling and the restaurant was packed. I argued good-naturedly with Sophie about the bill while Josh went into the kitchen to try to reassure Trish that I was not looking to jump his bones, but from the slight frown on his face when he returned, I wasn't very hopeful that he'd been successful.