by Lyn Gardner
Kate broke out of Brodie’s grasp. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
“My pleasure,” Brodie said, giving Kate a slow once-over. “But just because you don’t have the guts to live the life you want, don’t punish your sister because she does.” After skewering Kate with one more contemptuous look, Brodie turned and walked to the door.
“I hate you!”
Brodie stiffened, and in three strides, she was on top of Kate. Shoving her against the wall, she grabbed Kate’s face and kissed her with all her might. Brodie ground her mouth against Kate’s, and forcing her tongue between Kate’s lips, Brodie took what she wanted as Kate half-heartedly struggled to get away.
When Brodie finally pulled back, she knew what was coming, and she welcomed the pain of it. Another slap stung her face, and this one left her lip, split and bleeding. The metallic tinge of blood invaded her mouth as Brodie headed for the door, and as she was about to leave, she looked back at Kate and wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. “If you think I believe anything you’ve said tonight, you’re wrong. The only reason you didn’t stand up for Devon is that if you did, if you had defended her right to live her own goddamned life, it would have legitimized what you feel for me…and you’re too bloody afraid to admit that.”
Chapter Sixteen
After her argument with Kate on Thursday night, Brodie had worn a permanent scowl for three days. She didn’t go clubbing on Friday or even leave her flat until Monday morning, preferring to spend her time mentally kicking herself for being such a prat. Brodie knew she was right in coming to Devon’s defense, but the way she had gone about it was wrong, and she didn’t know how to correct it. Brodie sighed, and taking a sip of her coffee, she was about to try focusing on her work when she heard a tap on her door. She looked up and couldn’t help but grin, seeing Stevie standing in the doorway.
Two years earlier, with their business thriving, Ethan and Brodie agreed it was time to hire someone to manage appointments, pay the bills, and sort out all the everyday tasks that took the time they didn’t have to spare. Stevie Diamond was one of the applicants they had interviewed, and while Brodie knew her brother had no issue with her sexuality, she had never worn it on her sleeve. Stevie, on the other hand, draped himself in it. From his turquoise platform shoes to his ultra-tight leopard-print trousers and spandex shirt, he was as gay as gay could be, and flouncing into Brodie’s office the day of his interview like a feather in the breeze, he perched himself on a chair and freely spoke about himself.
Having earned degrees in Accounting and Finance as well as Business Administration, Stevie’s intention had always been to follow in his parents’ footsteps. The son of a banker and accountant, Stevie had grown up with numbers, and he had also grown up with two loving parents who had faced their own amount of discrimination through the years. The power of their love had carried them through it all because they adored their child, and they accepted Stevie’s sexuality without batting an eye. He was their son. He was who he was supposed to be, and his parents never faulted him for it. Unfortunately, many in the job market didn’t feel the same.
Even though his college record was impeccable and his manners were respectful and professional, Stevie lost out on one position after another. In his heart, he knew it was due to his flamboyance. He also knew he wasn’t going to change who he was. Instead, with his parents’ encouragement and support, Stevie plodded from one job interview to the next, hoping someone would eventually see past his eyeliner and effeminate ways. When he sauntered into Brodie’s office that morning and saw a small Pride flag on a shelf, Stevie thought he’d finally found the person who’d look past his eccentricities. Needless to say, he and Brodie were both surprised when they found they weren’t alone.
Ethan’s love for his sister was unshakable. His chest was forever puffed simply because he adored Brodie for all she was and all she stood for. Yet, he had never fully understood her strength until one afternoon a few months before Stevie’s interview when Ethan’s eyes were forever opened.
Brodie had been running late and asked Ethan to stop by the office to meet some clients so they could sign their contract. It would have been Spaces by Shaw’s largest contract to date, and Ethan was prompt and courteous. He ushered the couple into Brodie’s office to sign the papers, but as they took their seats, the wife noticed a photograph on the wall. It was a picture of Brodie taken at a Pride parade a few weeks before, and in it, she was wrapped in a rainbow flag. Within seconds, the couple was on their feet, and after spewing vileness and hatred at Ethan, they tore up the contract and stormed out of the office. Ethan was gutted, and it had nothing to do with the pieces of paper littering the floor. He had never tasted judgment before, never faced the wrath of the ignorant whose beliefs were so warped he wanted to vomit. Ethan told himself then and there, from that day forward, he would make sure their clients would be open-minded, or they wouldn’t be their clients, and Stevie Diamond was his answer. Not only did he have the manners, education, and intelligence they were looking for, Stevie was a billboard…and the sign he wore was proud.
Today, Stevie was wearing tight leather trousers with a long-sleeved, tailored shirt, and the bold pink and burgundy flowered print hugged his torso like a second skin. In his right ear was a row of gold studs, and in his left was a line of silver, and on his feet were suede tasseled loafers, the shade of which matched the burgundy in his shirt. He had several chains draped around his neck, and as always, his cologne was crisp, and his toffee-colored afro was perfectly styled, the loose curls on the top soft and natural while the sides were faded. Like the shade of his hair, his skin tone was a blend of his father’s Jamaican roots and his mother’s Swedish heritage. The amber held in its undertone a coppery hue that almost shimmered, and with eyes the color of the sky, Stevie turned the heads of many, straight and gay.
Stevie’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw Brodie’s face. “Oh my, Lord, what happened to you?” he said, sashaying to the desk. “Has The Loft reopened, or have you joined an after-hours fight club?”
“No to both,” Brodie said with a laugh. “This was courtesy of a…hell, I don’t even know what she is or was.”
“You must be speaking about Kate,” Stevie said, and flopping into a chair, he set his iPad on the desk. “She’s the only slugger in your past.”
“And how in the hell would you know that?”
“People talk,” Stevie said, nonchalantly checking out his recently buffed fingernails. “And if you think you’ll pry their name out of me, you can’t. I plan to take it to my grave.”
Brodie laughed again. “It was either Gina or Cassidy because they’re the only ones who know Kate once tried to slap me, and honestly, it doesn’t really matter.”
“By that cut on your lip, it appears she finally connected, though.”
“Yeah, not that I didn’t deserve it.”
“No one deserves to get hit. Violence is never the answer unless, of course, you’re talking about whoever came up with twerking. That bastard should be beaten within an inch of their life.”
Brodie’s eyes creased at the corners. “I’d have to agree.”
“So…” Stevie said, dangling one leg over the other. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Since when are you my shoulder to cry on?”
“Do you want to cry?”
“No, I want to work and get this…this bloody woman out of my head.”
“And out of your heart by the looks of it.”
Brodie took a deep breath and leaning back in her chair, she let it out slowly. “Have you ever fallen for a straight bloke?”
Stevie splayed his fingers against his chest. “Oh, please, honey, tell me you didn’t. That’s the ultimate in crotch death or, in your case, vag death.”
“It’s not dead,” Brodie said, smiling. “Just wounded…like my heart.”
“I’ve been there, felt that, and I got past it. We all do, and so will you. It just takes time, and I h
ighly recommend massive amounts of alcohol. I drowned two of my exes that way. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
“And the worst part about it is, I think I ruined any chance we could ever even be friends.”
“Thus, the bruise on your face?”
“Yes,” Brodie said, nodding. “She did something to Cassidy I didn’t like, so I went over to her place in all my holier-than-thou dyke glory, spewing fairness and equality. Instead of trying to talk to Kate or listen to what she had to say, I was literally shoving my opinions down her throat. In a way, I guess I was trying to hurt her as much as she’s hurt me. By the time I got home, I’d realized I’d been a stupid cow, a total, total prat, and I want to apologize, I need to apologize, but I have a feeling it would either fall on deaf ears, or she’d arrest me for stalking.”
“That’s right, she’s a copper.”
“Yeah.”
“What about Cass—Devon? I’m not going to ask what happened, but is she okay?”
“I talked to her on the phone yesterday. She’s fine. Gina’s keeping her busy looking at flats and making plans. She was heading down to the Hirshfeld’s cottage today, and since Gina’s off, they plan to make a day of it,” Brodie said, glancing at the iPad Stevie had placed on her desk. “But enough about this. You and I both have jobs to do, which is why I’m assuming you came in here?”
“Yes,” Stevie said, picking up the tablet. Opening the cover, he lightly tapped on the screen. “I wanted to let you know that the invoices for the Wilson’s renovation have been paid, Donald Morgan called first thing and rescheduled his meeting with you tomorrow to discuss that loft conversion for two o’clock instead of three, and you’re supposed to meet up with Ethan at one today over at the Patels.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like keeping busy will be a problem this week,” Brodie said, grinning.
“Not just the week. You also have that party on Saturday, and before you try to get out of it, you made me promise not to let you.”
“Damn, I forgot about that. I need to get them a housewarming gift of some sort. Put a reminder in the planner and sync it to my phone, will you please?”
“Already done,” Stevie said, popping to his feet. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” Brodie said, looking Stevie in the eye. “Thank you.”
“For what? I’m just doing my job.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. I don’t have a lot of people I’m comfortable enough with to talk about my personal life, so thanks for lending the ear…and the shoulder. It helped.”
“So, you feel better?”
“No,” Brodie said with a snort. “But like you said, there’s always alcohol.”
***
Gina opened the cooler bag and unwrapping one of the two sandwiches they had bought at a local shop, she handed it to Devon. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, I’m starving,” Devon said, taking the food.
“That’s a nice change.”
“What is?” Devon said before taking a huge bite of her sandwich.
“You’ve been either skipping meals or pecking at them like a bird since you got back from your mother’s. It’s good to see your appetite is coming back.”
Devon held up a finger, chewing wildly to clear what was in her mouth. “I had a lot on my mind,” she said, reaching for a napkin. “And now I don’t.”
“No?”
“No, because this is exactly what I needed.”
“If I knew you liked BLTs so much, I would have made you one last week,” Gina said, unwrapping her chicken club.
“I’m not talking about food. I’m talking about this,” Devon said with a wave of her arm. “I’m talking about sitting on this beach with you, about the sun and the salty air, and about being your partner. That’s why I did what I did, and I don’t regret it. If Mum never comes around, which I seriously doubt she will, then she’s missing out on my life. She’s missing out on family holidays. She’s missing out on us…maybe even grandchildren?”
The sparkle in Gina’s eyes had nothing to do with the sun reflecting off the water. “That’s definitely a possibility,” she said, leaning over to give Devon a quick kiss. As she pulled back, her eyes lost their luster. “But what about Kate?”
“Kate’s not homophobic. She’s just in denial,” Devon said, before taking a small bite of her sandwich. “She’s in love with Brodie and—”
“Love is a pretty strong word.”
“I know, and so is the emotion attached to it,” Devon said, gazing at Gina. “But how else do you explain the way Kate reacted that morning. First, she got jealous over Talia, and then she tried to make Brodie out as some sort of villain as if by changing my mind about Brodie, it would somehow validate Kate’s inability to accept her own feelings toward the woman. It’s like what homophobes do to us, you know? Standing on the sidelines, squawking crap and pointing fingers, when behind closed doors, they’re as gay as we are.”
“Deniability 101.”
“Exactly.”
Gina unzipped the cooler bag again and handed another can of cola to Devon. “So, are you going to take the first step or wait until Kate decides to apologize?”
“I’m going to wait for Kate to come to her senses. I love her. She’s my sister, and she’s the only family I have now, present company excluded, but I didn’t do anything wrong. She did, and once she pulls her head out of her arse, she’ll see that.”
“It might take a while. We both know Kate’s as pigheaded as the day is long.”
“Yeah, but that’s not her fault. She can’t help herself.”
“How can you say that? Kate’s an adult. She’s responsible for her actions, and her actions were shit.”
“I know, but some things are hard to unlearn.”
“Honey, you’re not making any sense,” Gina said before taking a bite of her sandwich.
Devon took a long breath and setting her BLT aside, she swiveled to face Gina. “Kate’s never told you about our mum, has she?”
Gina stopped chewing. Even though she had gone home with Kate on a few college weekends, Devon was right. Outside the woman’s home, Kate rarely brought her up. Gina always believed it was just Kate’s way. She knew Kate was a private person, and it wasn’t until Gina began her relationship with Devon when she realized it was more than that. Both women called their mother once a month, and both visited a few times a year, but other than that, it was as if the woman didn’t exist. Gina quickly chewed what was left in her mouth and swallowed it down. “No…but then again, you don’t talk about her either.”
“That’s because there are some things you just want to forget, even though you can’t, no matter how hard you try.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know my parents are divorced—right?”
“Yeah, that’s one of the few things I do know. Why?”
“Well, after the divorce, things became strained between our mum and us. She changed. She was angry all the time, and her temper, her temper grew really short. She’d yell at us for the stupidest things, and then she’d yell about our father, how he’d never amount to anything without her, how foolish he was…how worthless he was. Doing all she could to turn us against him.”
“I’m glad it didn’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
“You called your dad a few weeks ago on his birthday. I was with you when you bought his present.”
“You’re right, I did, but Kate and I didn’t reconnect with our dad until we were in our twenties. When we were kids, he tried to stay in our lives, but Mum…Mum made that really hard. He’d come by and try to take us out for pizza or a movie, and Mum would bad-mouth him in front of us, saying awful things that kids shouldn’t hear, and on the few occasions she did allow him to take us out, when we got home, she’d spend the next week ridiculing him and us for being too stupid to see he was worthless. I guess it worked in a way because eventually, his weekly visits turned into monthly visits, and when his job
changed, Dad moved away. He always sent us cards and gifts for our birthdays or Christmas though. I guess it was his attempt to remain in our lives somehow, and it worked. It was because of those cards we had his address and when Kate moved to London, and I came to visit her, unbeknownst to Mum, we jumped on a plane, flew to Edinburgh…and re-introduced ourselves.”
“That must have been a tearful reunion.”
“It was,” Devon said, smiling. “And I had forgotten how much Kate looked like him which, in retrospect, helps to explain some stuff.”
“Like what?”
“I was only six when they got divorced, too young to really see that our mother was trying to turn us against our father, but Kate was nine. She was old enough to speak her mind, old enough to disagree with things she knew weren’t true, and she is the spitting image of Dad, and I think that just escalated their arguments. When Mum looked at Kate, she saw our dad, and things would go from bad to worse in one way or another.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mum liked things neat and tidy, so on most weekends while I was allowed to go outside and play, she’d force Kate to stay in, to clean the house and do the wash, and anything else Mum could think of. I guess she thought she’d wear Kate down, totally forgetting they both have the same stubborn streak, and when that didn’t work, she started belittling Kate like she’d done with our dad. I have to hand it to Kate, too, because she stood up to Mum so many times, protecting me from her wrath all the while knowing she’d have to be the one to back down or…or pay the price.”
“The price? Oh shit. Please don’t say she hit her.”
“It wasn’t a daily occurrence or anything like that, but yeah, Kate got slapped around more than once. She even took one for me.”
“What?”
“I was nine, and I broke one of my mother’s favorite Christmas ornaments. It was an accident. It just slipped from my fingers, but I knew Mum was going to be angry, and I started to cry. Kate told me not to worry and that everything was going to be okay, and when Mum came back into the room and saw it broken, she did what we both knew she was going to do. She went off the deep end, screaming about how thoughtless we were, how unappreciative we were to the only parent who loved us, and when she demanded to know who had done it, Kate stepped up and took the blame,” Devon said, tears overflowing her eyes. “I can still hear the sound of that slap.”
