True Colors

by Yolanda Wallace

  “Which one?”

  “Who cares? I wouldn’t throw either of them out of the house for eating crackers in bed, that’s for sure.”

  Robby recognized the Secret Service agent as Lily Peterson, a member of Taylor’s detail. She had never met the soldier before, but she looked vaguely familiar. Wait. Wasn’t she the one who had been all over the news for the past week? Harper Hutchinson. Yeah, that was her name.

  “She fills out a uniform even better in person than she does on TV,” Megan said. “I wonder what she looks like out of it.”

  As Taylor and her companions found a table, a knot of jealousy formed in Robby’s stomach. Or was it trepidation? Taylor was about to discover one of her secrets. Robby hadn’t told her she worked at Virginia’s, Logan Circle’s most notorious lesbian bar. Though most of the women she dated didn’t mind her tending bar at Virginia’s, all of them took issue with her dancing on top of it. But Taylor was so wrapped up in her conversation with G.I. Jane, the Rockettes could have put on the most elaborate high-kicking floor show in their repertoire, and she wouldn’t have noticed. Robby wondered how long her luck would hold out.

  “Probably not long enough.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Taylor nursed her drink. She couldn’t tell if Harper was nervous or anxious or both. Even though Lily was guarding their table, Harper’s whole body tensed every time someone drew near.

  A beautiful redhead made a beeline for their table, her eyes locked on Harper as if she intended to plant a flag and stake her claim. Taylor nudged Harper’s foot to get her attention, then flicked her eyes in the newcomer’s direction. When Harper turned to watch her approach, the woman grimaced and did an abrupt about-face.

  Harper absently rubbed her scars. Taylor had forgotten they were there, but Harper evidently hadn’t. “That’s going to take some getting used to,” she said. “Being judged and being found wanting.” She took a long pull from her bottle of beer.

  “Would you like to go somewhere else?”

  “No.” Harper lowered her hand. “I get the same reaction everywhere I go. I was hoping it wouldn’t be quite as pronounced here in an allegedly tolerant environment, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “Would you like another one?” Taylor asked after Harper finished her drink.

  “Yes, but I’d better have something to eat first. Otherwise, I might be a bit wobbly when your father calls on me to stand and do my beauty queen impression tonight.” She demonstrated a well-practiced wave that would have made Miss America proud.

  “This I’ve got to see.”

  Harper checked her watch. “You will in about four hours.”

  “I haven’t decided if I’ll be attending tonight’s address. Or watching the broadcast on TV, for that matter.”

  “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”

  Taylor laughed around a sigh of relief. Harper, leaning back in her seat, finally seemed to have relaxed. “That’s the kind of thing my brother would say.”

  “So I remind you of your brother?”

  “You don’t remind me of anyone. You’re definitely one of a kind.”

  Harper frowned. “I don’t know how to take that.”

  “I’m hoping you take it as a compliment.”

  Harper reached for a menu and began to scan the listed offerings. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Taylor swirled the contents of her glass, mixing the vodka and grapefruit juice. “Yes. Are you?”

  “You know how some people list their dating status on social media as ‘It’s Complicated’? For me, complicated would be an upgrade.”

  “That’s surprising.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re…amazing.”

  “You flatter me.”

  “With good reason. You are amazing. For more reasons than the shiny new medal you have stashed in your pocket.” Taylor stopped gushing when Harper blushed and looked away. “What are your plans for the future? Are you going to make the military your career?”

  “My father wishes I would—it certainly worked out for him—but I think it’s time I stopped following in his footsteps and started carving my own path.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “When my current hitch ends, I’m going to move back home and become a Buckeye in every sense of the word.”

  “Ohio State will be lucky to have you.”

  Harper submitted Taylor to a silent appraisal. “Why are we here?” she asked when she was done.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This feels like a job interview. I’m tempted to ask if you’d like to see references from my previous employers.”

  “I’m looking at them.” Taylor indicated the service medals adorning Harper’s uniform.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Either Secretary of Defense or Secretary of Veterans Affairs.”

  “Why not Secretary of State?” Harper asked, playing along.

  “That job has Portia’s name all over it. I’d want her to be my Colin Powell. You could be Donald Rumsfeld.”

  Harper’s smile faltered. “When we started this line of conversation, I thought we were playing a fun parlor game along the lines of what you would do if you won the lottery, or which three celebrities you’d want to fuck, marry, or kill. Why do I get the feeling you’re not kidding?”

  “Because I might not be. Instead of waiting for other people to make a difference, maybe it’s time I did it myself. Would you like to come along for the ride?”

  “I’m tempted to say yes just to have a front row seat, but I’d like to earn my degree and check out the job market before I make a commitment.”

  “Don’t worry. You have plenty of time to make up your mind. And I have plenty of time to change mine.”

  “So you’re planning for the future, not the present.”

  “Yes, but it’s never too early to get all your ducks in a row.”

  Harper set her menu down. “Tell me what you have in mind.”

  Taylor ordered a plate of chili cheese fries and another round of drinks, then spent the next half hour trying to channel her inner politician—minus the prepackaged sound bites. Instead of working from a list of talking points, she spoke from her heart. Harper seemed receptive to her ideas, and even offered a few of her own. Taylor didn’t know if they would end up as colleagues one day, but she felt certain they would always be friends.

  “Thank you for giving me a chance to feel normal for a while,” Harper said after they finished brainstorming. “I needed it.”

  “So did I.” A blast of music followed by a loud roar made Taylor’s eardrums vibrate. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s show time,” Lily said as the crowd surged forward.

  Her back to her audience, a woman in black jeans and a black tank top climbed on the bar. Klieg lights glittered off the rhinestone-crusted belt circling her waist. Her lustrous black hair fell past her shapely shoulders. She moved slowly and sensuously, her gyrations perfectly synchronized to the languid rhythm of the song playing in the background.

  Taylor recognized her even before she turned and faced her. Before she turned and stared right at her as if she were performing only for her.

  “She’s beautiful,” Harper said as Robby danced on the bar. “Do you know her?”

  Taylor drained her drink. “That’s open for debate.”

  * * *

  Robby’s pockets were filled with cash, but her heart felt strangely empty. Taylor’s eyes had been glued to her during her performance, but as soon as Robby hit her final pose, Taylor and Harper had gathered their things and left. Taylor hadn’t looked back. High from the adrenaline rush of performing and devastated by Taylor’s apparent rejection, Robby had watched them walk away.

  She had hoped her feelings for Taylor would begin to wane after she took Taylor to bed. They had increased exponentially instead. Even now, she wanted to feel Taylor’s hands on her skin, taste her lips as they pressed aga
inst hers. She wanted to know everything about her. From her favorite color to her favorite meal to her views on the news of the day. And she didn’t want to know for the benefit of her blog. She wanted to know for her own sake. She wanted to know because she was falling for Taylor Crenshaw.

  The sad part was nothing could come of it. As long as Candy was calling the shots, Robby wouldn’t be allowed to live her life on her own terms.

  She felt a twisted sense of déjà vu. Except instead of being trapped in a relationship with someone who refused to acknowledge her, she was the one actively trying to keep her identity secret.

  She was so close to getting everything she had ever dreamed of, but was the financial success worth the sacrifices she had made to reach this point?

  Everything could have been so different if she had been honest with Taylor from the beginning. If she had told Taylor about her blog, Candy wouldn’t have leverage over her. And if she had spilled the beans about her job at Virginia’s, Taylor wouldn’t have been blindsided like she was tonight.

  If she had seized any of the many opportunities she had been given, she and Taylor might not have become lovers, but at least they would have known exactly where they stood. Now she was where she had always been: on the outside looking in.

  She placed two bottles of beer on the bar and pocketed the pair of dollar bills her customer left as a tip. She looked up at the TVs mounted above the bar. Terry Crenshaw was addressing the nation on each of the four main networks, along with public television and all the cable news outlets.

  Robby pointed the remote at the TV and raised the volume just in time to hear President Crenshaw introduce Harper as his honored guest. When he was done tossing laurels at her feet, she stood and waved to the assembled politicians, who, in turn, gave her a standing ovation.

  Taylor stood next to Harper. Even though she was smiling, she looked miserable. Her hangdog expression made Robby feel even more despondent. Because even though she wanted to point fingers at other people, she had only herself to blame.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Taylor kept her head up and her eyes forward as she dribbled a basketball against the hardwood floor. She spun three hundred sixty degrees as she crossed the half court line. Then she sprinted forward, her left arm outstretched to ward off an imaginary defender. The bouncing ball returned to her splayed fingers time and again like a yo-yo on a string. When she reached the three-point line, she stopped, squared her feet, and launched herself into the shot. She flicked her wrist on the follow-through, leaving her arm suspended in the air as the ball arced toward the basket. The net barely moved when the ball swished through the hoop.

  TJ grabbed the ball before it bounced out of bounds. “You’ve still got your shooting touch, I see.”

  “Lucky shot,” Taylor said with a shrug.

  “Right.” TJ tried to hit a reverse layup but missed badly. He had flown in at the last minute to watch their father’s maiden State of the Union address in person. He and Paula had arrived shortly before the speech began and would be taking the redeye back to St. Louis the following morning. A look of concern crossed his face as he tossed Taylor the ball. “I knew I’d find you here.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  “You always shoot hoops when you’re troubled.”

  Taylor headed to the bench, where she dried her face with a towel and chugged some bottled water. “What makes you think I’m troubled?”

  “Because I know you better than anyone else does.” He sat next to her. “What’s wrong? Don’t say ‘nothing’ because I can tell there’s something on your mind. Are Mom and Dad giving you a hard time, is your dissertation kicking your ass, or are things not going as well with Robby as you would like?”

  “All of the above. And then some.”

  Taylor had way too much on her plate. Whenever she and Diana finalized their plans for lunch, she knew exactly what Diana was going to say. Diana would advise her to bury the skeletons in her closet so deep no one could ever find them, and she would ask her to clean up her love life. A euphemism for dumping Robby and finding someone more “suitable.” She felt guilty for knowing what Diana would require of her—and for actually considering doing what she wanted. Less than two weeks in DC and she had already been assimilated.

  She leaned over and dribbled the basketball with her fingertips. When she was growing up, TJ had always been the person she shared all her problems with. So why couldn’t she tell him what was on her mind now? Simple. Because she wasn’t a kid any longer. It was time for her to start figuring things out on her own instead of running to her big brother for help.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  TJ reached over and mussed her hair the way he used to do when she was younger. “We might not live in the same city anymore, but you know you can still talk to me, don’t you?”

  “I know.” Taylor combed her hair with her fingers. “You never told me how hard it is deciding who you want to be when you grow up. Before I moved here, I had my life all planned out. Now I’m not so sure which career I want: the one I’ve been planning for years, or the one I can’t seem to avoid.”

  TJ snatched the ball from her and dribbled toward the basket. Taylor followed him onto the court, one of the few vestiges of the former administration her parents hadn’t removed. “I thought you’ve always known who you were and what direction you wanted to take in life,” he said as he took a shot.

  Taylor rebounded his missed skyhook and dribbled to the top of the key. “So did I,” she said, swishing another jumper.

  “What happened to change that?” TJ dribbled to the spot she had vacated as they began an impromptu game of H-O-R-S-E.

  “I met Robby Rawlins.”

  “Are you in love with her?” He clenched his fist when his jump shot bounced off the rim and dropped through the hoop.

  “I think I might be.” She moved behind the three-point line and nailed a trey.

  “Have you told her?” TJ missed his attempted three, earning an H.

  “No.” Taylor drove the lane and hit a spinning reverse layup.

  “Why not?” TJ garnered an O when he couldn’t match her acrobatic move.

  “Because every time I think I know her, I realize I haven’t even scratched the surface of who she is. It scares me how much more I have left to uncover. It scares me to think that everyone else is right about her and I might be wrong.”

  “But what if you’re not?” TJ earned an R after he missed a shot from the free throw line.

  “Then I would be able to say ‘I told you so,’ as opposed to hearing it. But I really don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  Taylor pounded the basketball against the court after she missed a left-handed layup. She had always had issues shooting with her off hand and tonight was no different.

  “So she didn’t tell you she’s a go-go dancer,” TJ said after he made the shot Taylor had missed. “There are worse professions she could have. What’s the big deal?”

  “She’s a liability.”

  “That’s an excuse, not an answer.”

  “What do you expect me to say? Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and I don’t want to get burned. Do you have any idea what Mom and Dad will say when they find out?”

  “Does it matter?” TJ brought the game to a halt as he cradled the basketball under his arm. “For someone who claims not to care what people think about her, you seem awfully concerned about public opinion. Screw what everyone else thinks, Taylor. Do you want to be with this woman or not?”

  Taylor thought about all the laughs she and Robby had shared and the meaningful conversations they’d had since they’d met. Had those moments been marginalized by the sight of Robby dancing on a bar for women waving money at her? No, not even close. But how could she and Robby make a life together when their foundation was filled with cracks? If Robby had kept her job at Virginia’s a secret, what else was she hiding?

  Steven cleared
his throat. Taylor had been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard him enter the room.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he said, “but I have the information you requested.”

  Taylor accepted the manila folder he offered her but didn’t examine the thick file inside. “Is there anything in here I should be worried about?” she asked hesitantly.

  Steven’s nod confirmed her worst fears. “Plenty.”

  * * *

  Robby sent an email and waited for a response. Judging from her previous encounters with Candy, she doubted she would have to wait long.

  Writing her blog wasn’t nearly as much fun now that someone else was in charge of the content. The thousand dollars Candy had offered to pay her each week wouldn’t provide nearly enough salve for her emotional trauma as she watched her pride and joy slowly change from the “gover-tainment” column she loved into a conservative op-ed page she didn’t recognize.

  The day’s activities had given her plenty of subject matter to choose from. Tonight marked a return to her blog’s standard fare. All gossip all the time. Whether Candy liked it or not.

  When she opened Candy’s reply and began to read the suggested revisions, her excitement quickly turned to dismay. She had written about Taylor and Harper’s visit to Virginia’s in straightforward terms. Candy’s amateurish attempts at cleverness came off as bullying at best. Body shaming at worst. Either way, Robby wasn’t having it. Furious, she picked up her cell phone.

  “I know I’m not supposed to call you, but—”

  “Then why are you?” Candy asked, her voice clipped.

  “I have issues with your changes. There’s no way I’m going to refer to a Medal of Honor winner in the terms you used.”

  “The way I see it, you don’t have a choice.”

  Robby stood her ground. “Actually, yes, I do.”

  “Shall I remind you what happens if you don’t do what I say?”

  “You can tell me what to write, but you can’t tell me how to write it. My professional reputation is on the line, not yours. I could lose everything whether you tell Taylor or not. If you want to tell her what you know, go ahead. I can’t stop you. But there’s no way I’m uploading the blog in its current state.”