by Bryce Oakley
Were several cats in her future? Was this the first step to becoming a cat lady?
She liked cats, but she had never considered that as a life path for herself before.
She was going to die alone, among cats and newspapers.
She was shaken from her thoughts and turmoil as Sabrina walked down the steps. She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized, long-sleeved t-shirt that fit tightly over her chest.
Without the mud in her hair and the scowl on her face, Sabrina Meloy looked surprisingly beautiful.
She also looked unsurprisingly bewildered by Domino’s home.
“I suppose you’ve got your work cut out for you here,” Domino said, standing and shoving her hands in her pockets.
Sabrina walked into the kitchen and opened the oven. “Well, she wasn’t lying. There are shoes in there.”
Domino cleared her throat. “Yeah, I just… you know, with touring, and then with writing… I just…” Her voice trailed off lamely. The home was past the point of excuses.
“I think what surprises me the most is the lack of anything that screams that this is your home,” Sabrina said, looking around as though she was taking mental pictures of everything.
“What do you mean? All of my stuff is here,” Domino said, gesturing to the pile of clothes on her dining table.
“Yeah, but those could be anyone’s clothes. What makes this your home versus, say, Zoey’s home? Or my home?” Sabrina said.
“Well, do you store boots in your oven?” Domino asked, crossing her arms and raising a brow.
Sabrina paused, blinking at her. “You know, I can’t argue with that.”
Domino grinned, sweeping an arm across the room as though she was Vanna White. “Uniquely my own,” she said.
Sabrina narrowed her eyes, pressing her lips together in thought. “Not totally what I mean,” she said.
Domino had the feeling that Sabrina just realized it wasn’t going to be as easy as she might have thought.
“Let’s try a different angle. What do you love about your home?” Sabrina said, sitting down on a chair at the table.
Domino looked around. “Uh,” she stalled, raking a hand through the back of her hair. She sighed. “I don’t… I don’t really know. What do people usually say for that?”
“You know, for being an extremely talented lyricist, you’re really struggling with words here,” Sabrina said.
“Hey, thanks,” Domino said with a grin. “You think I’m talented.”
“That’s the part you…” Sabrina said, taking a deep breath as her voice trailed off. “Okay. Let’s start small. You own a home.”
Domino nodded, secretly growing more and more amused as Sabrina grew less and less patient.
“Why do you own a home? Why not live with your sister? Or your parents? Or your other bandmates? Or your gir–– or anyone else?” Sabrina said, taking a notebook out of the bag she had propped on a dining chair beside her.
Domino grinned, watching as Sabrina began to blush. Was it just because Domino felt intense guilt about nearly running her over or was Sabrina extremely cute as she got flustered?
“Right. My own place. I own it because…” Domino pondered the question. She owned it because Billie owned a house and Domino needed her own place, where she could relax and unwind after tours, or have a space where she could write, or have friends gather.
She glanced around the dining room, which opened into the living room and kitchen. The open-concept hadn’t been a huge selling point when she had bought the place, but now, she absolutely loved how she could be grabbing things from the kitchen but still be in the middle of the action, or that she could fit all of her friends in the living room to watch movies or play board games or just sit around and drink and talk.
Sabrina watched her patiently, jotting down notes in her book.
“I needed my own place,” Domino said, shrugging.
Sabrina closed one eye in thought, scrunching up her nose. “Is that all?”
“I thought you just organized my closet and stuff,” Domino said, tilting her head. “What’s with the interior design chat?”
“Well, the first step to an organized home is to figure out exactly why you need organization,” Sabrina said.
“Because my boots are in the oven?” Domino joked.
Sabrina took a long, deep breath. “Do you trust me?”
Domino blinked, then raised a brow skeptically. “Why do you ask?”
And why did she have the feeling that whatever Sabrina said next was going to be slightly terrifying?
“Well, you seem like maybe you need a bit of… guidance,” Sabrina said, frowning in thought. “So why don’t we make a deal? I don’t sue you for running me down like a madwoman earlier, and I get to do whatever I want to organize this place? No space is off limits. And after, I get to use whatever I want for my portfolio.”
Domino laughed in surprise. She was rarely surprised, but Sabrina seemed to be just the woman to throw her off her game.
“Sue me?” Domino repeated, trying to wrap her head around the idea. Something in Sabrina’s wry smile made Dom think the woman was joking, but she couldn’t quite tell.
“Paramedic bills, dry cleaning bills, my shoe was broken, I missed an important client meeting,” Sabrina said, tapping the tip of each of her fingers as she continued. “Not to mention major emotional distress. How am I ever going to cross safely at a crosswalk again?”
There was something very sly about this Sabrina woman. Domino felt as though she never quite knew what was going to come out of her mouth next. The second that Domino thought she had a good read on Sabrina, something completely out of the blue came out of the woman’s mouth.
And Domino was intrigued by it.
“I’ll pay for it all, I already said that I would,” Domino said.
“Well, how about you let me make a project out of your house, instead? And I get to blog about the whole thing?” Sabrina asked. “And then I will be able to move on from the tragedy earlier today.”
“You’re really the type to make the most out of a bad situation, aren’t you?” Domino asked, grinning. “Your guilt trip is incredible. Catholic mother?”
“Catholic and Puerto Rican,” Sabrina said with a grin.
Domino grinned wider. Who was this woman? “Show me what you’ve done first. I know Zoey trusts you, but Zoey also just got me into a huge mess with Billie, so I’m a little gun-shy.”
Sabrina paused for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Zoey is good people.” She grabbed an iPad out of her bag and set it on the table in front of Domino.
Sabrina opened up a portfolio app, and Domino was surprised by Sabrina’s immediate attention to detail. “You’re like a house elf with a label maker,” she remarked.
Photograph after photograph showed carefully labeled shelves, meticulously placed clear bins, and picture-perfect stacks of shoes, clothes, dishes, food... Were those dolls?
Sabrina cleared her throat and swiped past the dolls quickly.
“Okay, so you know how to put things away,” Domino said, relaxing back into the chair she was sitting in, slinging an arm over the back. “But are you going to make me throw a bunch of stuff away?”
Sabrina shrugged. “I don’t care if your style is minimalism or maximalism.”
“Is maximalism a thing?” Domino asked, looking around her home.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Sabrina said with a laugh.
“Well, I don’t want to get sued and you know your way around a sock drawer, so,” Domino said, holding out her hand to shake. “We have a deal.”
Sabrina’s eyes twinkled with what seemed to be excitement and, if Domino was reading it right, a bit of mischief. She almost expected the woman do steeple her fingers together like a cartoon villain.
“So, where do you — uh, we — start?” Domino said, completely unsure of herself for second time that day.
Sabrina had a way about her that made Domino nervous, relaxed,
and curious at the same time. Domino usually had a good read on people — at least, as far as she cared to — but Sabrina was constantly surprising her.
And that made Domino want to get to know what made Sabrina Meloy tick all the more.
* * *
Domino sat on the patio, staring out toward the ocean. Her keyboard stand sat mockingly before her, and she took a deep breath to resist slamming her hands down on the keys. She scribbled out the newest line in her notebook.
Everything she wrote was awful. It was all garbage.
She raked a hand through her hair and leaned back.
Her phone rang. It was a welcome distraction from the torture of trying to write.
"Saved by the bell," she murmured before flipping it over to see who was calling.
Not exactly saving her from torture. It was her sister, Billie.
She cleared her throat and pressed the green button, holding it up to her ear. "Hey, everything okay?" She asked. Billie rarely called her in the last month, so when she did, Domino could only assume that something was terribly wrong.
"Everything's fine," Billie said quickly. "What are you up to?"
"Just writing the next great American song," Domino lied.
"Oh yeah? How's that coming, Bruce Springsteen?" Billie asked. Domino knew her sister better than anyone –– sometimes even herself. She knew when Billie was being polite for the sake of being polite, which was often, since Billie was the best person she knew.
A few months before, Billie had gotten into a big fight with her girlfriend, Vero, over a misunderstanding. Except then, Domino thought that Vero had cheated, and Domino had gone a bit overboard in trying to protect her sister.
It had almost cost Billie and Vero their happiness.
Domino had only done what she thought was right –– she worshipped Billie, and seeing her sister hurt was physically painful..
Billie and Vero were back together, thankfully, but with zero thanks to Domino.
Since then, Billie and Domino's relationship had been a bit strained. Billie had always been slow to forgive –– she had once given Domino the silent treatment for three months for ruining her favorite Carebear when they were kids –– but they were working on it.
After all, they had to, for the sake of the band.
"Well, you know, it's coming along," Domino lied again.
"Anything I can hear yet?" Billie asked, her voice hopeful.
Guilt hit Domino square in the chest. "Not yet, but soon," she said.
"Are you doing that thing where you tell me you're writing but you're actually just staring out into space on your patio?" Billie asked with equal parts amusement and scolding in her voice. It was one of her rare gifts, being able to blend two of the most opposite emotions.
"What? No, of course not," Domino said, looking around to see where Billie might be creeping in the bushes down below.
"Anyway, I'm just calling to say that Matt will be back in town next weekend so we're having a family dinner," Billie announced.
Matt was their older brother. Domino was the youngest of five –– she and Billie had three older brothers: Joey, Matt, and Simon. They weren't close with their family, but they weren't on bad terms. Her parents were just so different from her. They were formal and stuck-up and not someone she'd want to spend time with in any context other than family.
The one thing she would give her parents credit for was handling both of their daughters being lesbians. They never even batted an eye when she and Billie had both come out in the span of a year. They handled them being rock stars with much less grace.
"Oh, cool, it'll be good to see him again," Domino said, picking at a stray thread at the hole in the knee of her jeans.
"Yeah, and he’s bringing Holly," Billie continued.
"Wow, the whole gang's coming," Domino joked. "Is Mom freaking out about hosting so many people?"
"Of course, but I did just want to warn you that I'm bringing Vero," Billie said.
"Warn me?" Domino questioned. Typically, she and Billie were the single siblings who stuck together through the family dinners. They even had a secret signal for We're definitely going to gossip about this thing later.
"Well, it's just going to be a lot of couples," Billie continued.
"Ah," Domino said, catching her meaning. "So I'm like the seventh wheel."
"No, don't think about it like that," Billie said, but her tone of voice was a bit too placating.
"It's fine. I'm glad you warned me," Domino said.
"You can bring whoever you're dating, if you want," Billie said quickly.
Domino laughed. "Oh, you got jokes now?" She hadn't seriously dated anyone in... well, ever. She just didn't do commitment. She could barely commit to having her house professionally organized.
The image of Sabrina wearing her sweatpants appeared in her mind. She was quite possibly the only woman who could make sweatpants look sexy.
Billie sighed. "I didn't mean it like a joke," she said.
"If I was dating someone, you would know it," Domino said. "Anyway, text me the details and I'll be there. Unless you'll be around and we'll ride together?"
"I'll have to meet you there. Vero and I will be coming right from Ontario," Billie explained.
"Canada or the airport in the middle of nowhere?" Domino joked. Their parents lived in Yorba Linda, a suburb made famous by Richard Nixon. Of all people, Nixon was their claim to fame. There was even a Nixon museum. That's all anyone needed to know about Yorba Linda.
"Very funny," Billie said.
"How's Colorado?" Domino asked.
"Fucking cold," Billie groaned.
Domino heard a crashing noise in the background of Billie's phone.
"What the..." Domino asked, hearing a scuffle, then laughter.
"Hey Domino," Vero said over the phone. Although Billie hadn't quite forgiven Domino, Vero had been as warm and kind as ever.
"What's this I hear about you bringing a date to dinner next weekend?"
Domino laughed. "You can't believe everything you read on the internet," she teased.
"Can't wait to meet her," Vero said with a giggle. Then, a little further away, she heard Vero say, "Stop tickling me!"
"Okay, you lovebirds, gonna let you go now," Domino said, rolling her eyes.
"K, bye," Billie said, her voice sounding far away as though the phone wasn't close to her ear.
Domino clicked the red button and sighed.
Gross.
She set down the phone and tapped on the keys. "All my friends are annoyingly in love," she sang, half-jokingly. "And I'm going to die alone with newspapers and cats."
She heard clapping noises and glanced over to see Mrs. Rosencrantz next door, sitting on her own patio a mere fifty yards away. "Sounds lovely, dear," she said.
Domino laughed, giving Mrs. Rosencrantz a wave, then retreated inside.
She felt agitated after hearing about the dinner party. A date? She never brought dates to anything. Her sister gets a girlfriend and suddenly Domino needed to be coupled up, too? She raked her fingers through her hair, huffing out a frustrated sigh.
She needed a distraction. She scrolled through her phone and settled on calling Julia, the one party animal who was always up for a good time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sabrina
Isla was sitting on the couch when Sabrina walked into the foyer, kicking off the flip-flops that Domino had let her take.
Sabrina looked up to find Isla mid-sip of a cup of tea, staring at her with wide eyes.
“You slept with Domino Rush,” Isla said, a mixture of reverence and scandal in her voice.
“What? No,” Sabrina said quickly, setting down her muddy bag and the plastic sack containing her ruined dress and heels.
“You saucy minx,” Isla said, setting down her tea.
“First of all, it’s like three in the afternoon,” Sabrina said, as though that proved a point.
“Yes, of course, no one has ever had sex
before the sun has set,” Isla said, nodding with mock understanding.
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Second, you think I have relations with my clients?”
Isla grinned. “Relations,” she repeated. “Sure, yeah, relations.”
Sabrina scowled at her. “If you must know, she hit me with her bike and made me fall and ruin my dress,” she said.
Isla stared at her with wide eyes.
Sabrina sat down on the couch, retelling the story. She ran her hands over the soft fabric of the sweatpants that Domino had loaned her, remembering the look on Domino’s face as she sat on the curb.
“Let me get this straight. You extorted her into becoming a bigger client?” Isla asked.
In essence, that was exactly what she had done. It had felt less slimy at the time.
Nothing Sabrina could do would ever come close to how much of a presence Domino had in a room. Domino had made Sabrina’s deal seem like less of a threat, more of a joking understanding.
Of course, she hadn’t really meant she’d sue Domino. Did she want to smack her when she realized her favorite dress was ruined? Sure. Did she want to flip a freaking farmhouse dining table when she saw that her favorite heels were broken? Of course.
And yet, something about Domino had simultaneously made her problems seem small, and her actions seem less… extortion-y.
“I can see you’re thinking about this quite a bit, so I’m going to go with yes, you blackmailed Domino Rush into letting you do whatever you want,” Isla said.
“Does that make me a bad person?” Sabrina asked, second-guessing her actions.
Isla burst out laughing. “You played the player,” she said. “I think it’s fantastic. Domino is like the most badass woman on the scene. And here you are, getting her to agree to whatever you want. How many women would want to be in your shoes, myself included?”
A pang of jealousy stabbed Sabrina in the chest with Isla’s comment. “She’s my client. That’s all,” she said.
Domino Rush was her client.
She hadn’t noticed how Domino was even more stunning up-close, and how Domino’s tanned, toned shoulders flexed as she leaned back in a chair, reaching to stretch her arm around the back of another.
