True Colors

by Yolanda Wallace

  Sierra. Her first love. And her last one. Taylor had met her at Mizzou. The rare fix-up that had actually worked. They had dated for a year. Long enough for Taylor to start thinking about the future, but not long enough to plan one.

  When she had taken Sierra home to Kansas City, and her mother had made one snide comment after another about their relationship, thoughts of a future with Sierra had vanished. So had Sierra.

  Now here Taylor was again. Thinking about the future. Thinking about Robby. Thinking too much.

  “It’s just dinner,” she told herself as she headed to the workout room to burn off some of her nervous energy. “It’s not time to pack the U-Haul yet.”

  When she walked in the room, she found Steven hitting the weights.

  “Will Miles be joining you this evening?” he asked as he braced his elbow on the inside of his knee and slowly lifted the twenty-pound barbell in his hand. A vee of sweat soaked the front of his T-shirt. “I only ask because I want to make sure the guards at the gate have all the information they need.”

  Taylor smiled to herself as she programmed the treadmill for a five-mile run. Steven’s explanation seemed a bit too pat. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “He seems like an interesting guy,” Steven said noncommittally.

  “Have you asked him out yet?”

  Steven met her eye for the first time since Miles’s name was mentioned. For such a big man, he looked as vulnerable as a little boy. He had reason to be concerned. Especially if the far right was able to convince her father to reinstate the ban on gays in the military and repeal some of the anti-discrimination bills that had been enacted to prevent LGBTQ employees from losing their jobs solely on the basis of their sexual orientation or gender presentation.

  The cultural climate had changed so much between the previous administration and the current one. Pessimists foretold dark days ahead, and Taylor wasn’t finding much reason for optimism.

  “Relax,” she said. “You and I are in the same boat, remember?”

  Steven’s broad shoulders drooped as the tension seeped out of them. “I’ve been focused on my career for so long, I haven’t had time for a social life. I haven’t been on a date since basic training. The scene has changed so much since then I wouldn’t know what to do. It would be like trying to have a conversation in a language I don’t speak.”

  “I had the same problem when I tried to teach my grandmother how to send a text. Now she uses more emojis than I do. Why don’t you start by asking Miles for a drink, and take it from there? I’m not planning on going anywhere tonight, so I won’t need you to protect me. Why don’t you appoint someone else to babysit me for a few hours and make some plans of your own?”

  Steven paused in the middle of a bicep curl. “You know what? I think I will.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Robby couldn’t stop smiling. It had been way too long since she and Miles had prepped for dates together. He had invited her to his townhouse to help him decide what to wear. She had brought several items of her own so he could do the same thing. They had split a bottle of wine and laughed like school kids while they sifted through each other’s outfits.

  She hadn’t been able to talk him out of wearing a bowtie, but she had managed to convince him to exchange his usual tweed vest and corduroy pants for a cardigan sweater and a pair of skinny jeans. She had decided to go with what she liked to call her ’50s pinup girl look—a tight black pencil skirt and matching shrug coupled with a red bustier and a pair of fuck-me heels. Not the outfit she would choose for a state dinner, but perfect for an intimate meal for two.

  When they finished getting dressed, she and Miles had toasted their images as they stood arm-in-arm in front of his full-length mirror. “We look hot,” he had said.

  As she sat in an idling taxi outside the White House, she hoped Taylor agreed with his assessment.

  “You’ve got to decide what she is to you,” she told herself as the guard at the security gate checked her credentials. “Is she simply a source of inside information, or do you want her to be something more?”

  Even though she hadn’t filled Taylor in on her entire history with Sheridan, she had opened up to her like she had no one else. Not even Miles. There was just something about Taylor that inspired trust, though she doubted anyone would be able to say the same about her.

  “Okay, you’re free to go.” The security guard returned Robby’s ID. “And here comes your welcoming committee.”

  Robby’s breath caught when she followed the guard’s line of sight.

  Flanked by two Secret Service agents, Taylor was strutting down the driveway like she owned it. She walked like an athlete, her long stride filled with coiled power. She was wearing the same black pea coat she had sported the last time she had come to the shop. A dark gray turtleneck peeked out of the turned-up collar. Black jeans and a pair of battered Doc Martens completed her outfit.

  Robby stepped out of the cab and walked toward Taylor, who lifted her hand in greeting. Taylor’s whole face lit up when she smiled. Robby felt her stomach do a funny little flip each time she witnessed the transformation. What she wouldn’t give to be able to see it every day.

  Taylor greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I could have sent a car for you and saved you the expense of cab fare.”

  “Pay now or pay later.” Robby weighed the cost of a cab ride against a “free” ride in a gas-guzzling, taxpayer-subsidized SUV. “I vote for later.”

  She put her hand on Taylor’s proffered arm. Taylor’s bicep was as big as a baseball and about as solid as one. Robby remembered the last time she had touched Taylor’s hard body. When they had lain half-naked on her couch and Robby had come oh-so-close to forgetting her primary rule: don’t sleep with the people you write about. But when Taylor kissed her like she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, touched her like she was the sexiest thing on two legs, the rules didn’t matter. Would tonight be the night the rulebook went out the window?

  Taylor took Robby’s overcoat when they entered the foyer. “Thanks for coming.”

  Robby looked around. “Nice digs.”

  “Would you like the grand tour?”

  “Please.”

  Taylor placed her hand in the small of Robby’s back and took her on a circuit of the ground floor. Her bodyguards followed closely behind. Though they tried to be unobtrusive, Robby couldn’t help but be aware of their stern presence.

  I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Steven.

  “How many floors are there?” she asked as the elevator doors slid shut.

  Taylor pressed the button for the second floor. “Four above ground, two in the basement.”

  “Is that where the super-secret underground bunker is located?”

  “No, it’s where you’ll find the basketball court and the theater. As for the super-secret underground bunker, I can’t confirm or deny its existence.”

  “No wonder James Bond gets so much action. Subterfuge is sexy.”

  Taylor showed her so many rooms Robby lost track. Red, Blue, Green. East, West. Map, China, Vermeil.

  “We’re going to need bread crumbs to find our way out of here,” she said as they stood on the third floor watching snow fall outside the solarium window.

  One of the Secret Service agents cleared her throat when Taylor wandered too close to the reinforced glass. Taylor dutifully backed away, even though the glass was supposed to be bulletproof.

  “Don’t worry,” she assured Robby. “I have a GPS unit stashed around here somewhere.”

  “I doubt you’ll need it. As I recall, you didn’t have any problems finding your way around last night.”

  “As I recall, neither did you.”

  Taylor directed Robby to a small dining area. Eight taper candles surrounded a floral centerpiece. A Caesar salad rested on each of the two place settings. A wonderful aroma wafted out of the kitchenette on the other side of the room.

  Robby spread her napkin in her lap.
“My compliments to the chef.”

  Taylor took her seat. “I’ll tell her you said so.”

  “You didn’t do the honors?”

  “I left the food preparation to the experts. I can barely boil water, let alone craft an appetizer, entrée, and dessert. I wanted you to be impressed, not stricken with food poisoning.”

  Robby took a bite of her salad. “Mission accomplished.”

  “Am I forgiven?”

  “I’m not sure. We haven’t gotten to dessert yet.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to what happens after dessert.”

  “What might that be?” Robby squeezed her legs shut to stem the rising tide of her arousal.

  “Another round of Twenty Questions. This time, I get to ask the first one.”

  Robby instantly deflated. She wanted to be the one asking the questions, not the one answering them. “Then I’ll be sure to make dinner last as long as possible.”

  “You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

  “Does anyone?”

  “I could name a few, yes. Some are even related to me.” Taylor held up her hand as if swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “Would it help if I promise that nothing you confide in me tonight will leave this room?”

  Taylor was too tenacious. It wouldn’t be long before she stumbled onto the truth, either with Steven’s help or without it. Robby didn’t want to help her further her cause, but she couldn’t stonewall her forever. “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about your relationship with Sheridan.”

  “There’s nothing left to be said.”

  “Sure there is. Namely, how could a woman who seems to be as bright as she is be stupid enough to let you walk away?”

  Robby took a sip of her wine. Talking about Sheridan always required fortification. “Technically, I didn’t walk. She ran. Right into someone else’s waiting arms.”

  “She left you for another woman?”

  Robby took another sip of her Chardonnay. Sheridan had wined her and dined her, dragged her feet when Robby pressed for a commitment, then traded up when someone better had come along.

  When Sheridan met Ana Fernandez, the daughter of the most prominent businesswoman in Argentina, she had left Robby high and dry. Left her craving a lavish lifestyle she couldn’t afford but couldn’t live without.

  “She and I come from two different worlds. People from mine don’t get to live in hers. I discovered that the hard way.”

  Taylor clasped her hand. “You’re welcome in my world anytime.”

  Robby appreciated the sentiment, but she felt certain Taylor would rescind her invitation if she knew Robby was the person responsible for spilling all her secrets.

  “Who’s the one that got away for you?” she asked. “Or should I say the one you wish you had never met?”

  “Laura Martin,” Taylor replied without hesitation. “The first girl I ever fell for. It was a high school crush on steroids. She was toxic, but I couldn’t get enough of her.”

  “Was the sex that good?”

  Taylor laughed. “When you’re seventeen, there’s no such thing as bad sex.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Robby’s memories of her high school grope sessions were less than fond. So were her memories of high school. She had spent those years relegated to the outsiders’ table. Sometimes, she felt as if she were still there.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Taylor cleared the salad plates and returned carrying two steaming plates of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. The perfect comfort food to combat the frigid temperatures outside. Then it was back to the Q-and-A routine.

  “You said you’re one of three kids. Do you have sisters, brothers, or both?” Taylor asked.

  “I have an older sister and a younger brother. As the middle child, I was often the swing vote when the time came to make family decisions.”

  “Did you get lost in the shuffle growing up, or was your family close-knit?”

  “My siblings and I were incredibly close when we were younger.”

  “And now?”

  “Not so much.”

  “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say they don’t approve of the direction my life has taken.” As the official line went, they didn’t want to hear from her until she stopped chasing a pipe dream and exhibited some signs of maturity.

  “That sounds familiar.”

  Taylor looked at her with so much empathy Robby wished she had done more to deserve it. “What did your parents say when you came out to them?”

  “My mother didn’t say much of anything. She stared at me like a deer in headlights. She still gets the same look every time I try to broach the subject. Needless to say, we don’t usually get very far. My father treated my announcement like an unwelcome intrusion into his perfectly ordered life. He made coming out feel like it was about him instead of me. Instead of congratulating me for coming to terms with my sexuality, he treated me to a discourse on how the news might affect his presidential aspirations. I didn’t expect my parents to turn cartwheels when I told them I was a lesbian, but I thought they’d be happy for me. The same way they were happy for TJ when he said he and Paula were getting married. And later when they said they were having kids. I didn’t get any of that. All I got was the cold shoulder. Okay, lukewarm. We still had to smile pretty for the cameras and look like a happy family. The same way we’re doing now.”

  Taylor blanched as if she had said too much. Robby pressed her advantage.

  “Your family’s having issues?”

  “Like all families, we’re a work in progress. Every time I think my dad’s starting to come around, he does or says something that proves me wrong.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “I keep telling myself that if the Berlin Wall can come tumbling down, so can the one between me and my mother. Unfortunately, I think it’s going to take a lot more than a few impassioned speeches to make that happen.”

  “What will it take?”

  “This is going to sound crazy, but the blogger behind The pH Factor is becoming my best friend.”

  “What do you mean?” Robby perked up. By mining Taylor’s life for her own personal gain, was she doing Taylor a favor in the process?

  “My mother can’t pretend I don’t have a love life if it’s splashed all over the Internet. Hopefully, one of the posts will open a dialogue and she and I will finally sit down for a long-overdue conversation.”

  Taylor grew quiet. Robby, normally never at a loss for words, struggled to think of something to say.

  “Have you ever noticed that when lesbians get together,” she said at last, “they always talk about either of two things—their coming-out stories or their ex-girlfriends.”

  “We’ve done both.”

  “Yes,” Robby said pointedly, “we have.”

  Taylor visibly brightened. “Would you like me to change the subject?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay. Then tell me how you met Miles.”

  “The same way you did. I wandered into the shop one day.”

  “And?”

  Taylor leaned her elbows on the table as if she were hanging on Robby’s every word. Robby basked in her undivided attention. Taylor made her feel like she was the center of the universe instead of a useless satellite orbiting around the fringes.

  “He had just inherited the store and was still finding his way around. I saw a vintage smoking jacket I couldn’t live without. When he rang up my purchase, he left off one of the zeroes. I didn’t say anything at the time, but guilt made me pay him a return visit and point out the mistake. We’ve been friends ever since.”

  “You seem like two peas in a pod.”

  “We are. I think we get along so well because we’re such complete opposites. He’s a lesbian trapped in a gay man’s body and I’m a drag queen trapped in a lesbian’s. He likes comfortable shoes and committed
relationships. I like six-inch heels, high fashion, and gossip.”

  “Is that why you’re a fan of The pH Factor? Because you love gossip?”

  Open mouth, insert foot. That’s what happens when you get too comfortable. You need to tread carefully, Robby, or you’re going to give yourself away.

  Taylor offered to pour her some more wine, but Robby covered her glass with her hand. “I think I’ve had enough.” She reached for her water glass instead. She was buzzing—and it had nothing to do with the wine-poached peaches Taylor served for dessert. She had gotten to know her subject more than she had expected to, and she had shared much more of herself than she had intended.

  She tried to focus. She was supposed to be on a fact-finding mission, not a date. She needed to keep her wits about her. But as she looked into Taylor’s caring eyes, she thought she might have met her match. In more ways than one.

  She dragged a warm wine and cinnamon-infused peach through the slowly melting vanilla bean ice cream accompanying it. “I take it you’re not a fan of gossip.”

  “I can’t stand people who try to make themselves look bigger by walking on the bodies of others.”

  The muscles in Taylor’s jaw crawled. Robby’s cue to lighten the mood.

  “I don’t need to walk on other people to give myself a lift. That’s what the six-inch heels are for.”

  “Then why do you read that junk?”

  “For the same reason people go to the movies: for escape.”

  “What are you running from?”

  “You’ve seen my apartment. It’s not exactly the Taj Mahal. I live there because it’s free. And free is all I can afford until I cure my addiction to designer clothes.”

  “So that explains—”

  “Explains what?” Taylor looked uncomfortable, but Robby didn’t let the subject drop. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Taylor ran her hands through her hair. “It’s time for full disclosure. Before our first date, Steven did a background check on you. He came away concerned by what he called your ‘debt issues.’”