“Well, something crawled down the drain and died.” Tambor was insistent about her theory.
“I would suggest not leaning over the drain cover with a match to check.” Sam wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be right back.” She went toward her office and unlocked the janitor’s closet just inside the admin building. She quickly filled a bucket with water. Sam returned to the men’s room and looked at Kelly. “How long have you two been debating this?”
Kelly glanced at her wide black sports watch. “She started screaming when I went off the clock fifteen minutes ago.” Kelly grinned. “I thought the real emergency was to quiet her down before enough of the tenants were in the building for her to start a panic.”
Sam nodded and said with a wink, “You’re a good woman.” She took careful aim and poured the water slowly into the drain, finally looking up at Tambor as the bucket emptied. “Sweetie, talk to the cleaning crew. They’re using mop buckets to clean the tile and emptying them in the big sink in the janitor’s closet, which is fine, but they’re not pouring any water down the floor drains. The trap dries out and sewer gas comes into the building.” Sure enough, the odor had lessened already. “Let’s crank the fans up in the industrial spaces and open the doors for a little while to air the building out.”
Tambor shook her head. “No can do, boss lady.”
Sam raised her eyebrows.
“The fan in the left room sounds like a cat’s caught in it,” Tambor explained.
Sam closed her eyes and counted to ten. She didn’t appreciate Kelly’s chuckle.
“Have you called the maintenance contractor to check the fan?” Sam asked Tambor.
“I wanted to talk with you first. I forget about it until it cuts on when I’m back there, then the tenant trips the breaker to shut it off.” Tambor tried to make it sound as though a logical progression.
“So he’s operating in un-air-conditioned space with no roof fan to vent the heat that builds during the day?” Sam asked.
“He keeps the drive-thru door open. He just can’t go anywhere unless I stand watch for him. I told him not to bother you.” Tambor nodded to herself.
Sam rubbed her forehead. “Call the HVAC guys. It’s probably worn bearings.”
Tambor nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I was just waiting until we had several things for them to fix. It costs the same to get them here whether they fix one thing or five.” She started to walk away. “Oh. Good morning.”
Sam knew none of this was deliberate. Tambor just had a different way of processing information. She was also great with numbers and sequences, amazing Sam with her ability to look at a company’s balance sheet and locate inconsistencies.
Sam waited until Tambor was out of hearing and looked at Kelly appealingly. “May I go home with you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kelly smiled at her. “You look great today, by the way.”
Sam glanced down. She did like this dress—navy, fairly snug, with a low neck and unnecessary white buttons halfway down the front. Her makeup was as subtle as Ava’s. “I’d rather be dressed like you.”
Kelly wore matching tan work pants and shirt that fit her with a comfortable bagginess. The cotton was ironed so that it held a crisp set throughout Kelly’s shift, giving her away as ex-military. Her hiking boots were dark brown suede. Kelly did a brief tap dance. “I wear these just for you—Redhead.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”
Kelly chuckled. “But it took your mind off your emergencies.”
“Yes, it did.” Sam wondered again if she should try a relationship with Kelly. Physically, they were so good together, and it had been such fun finding that out. Philosophically, they were at opposite ends of the spectrum on everything from politics (Kelly a staunch Green Party disciple and Sam a liberal Democrat) to recreational drug use (Kelly for and Sam against). Sam genuinely liked and respected Kelly, maybe too much. They just seemed to feel more like very good friends than long-term partners.
“You were thinking about us again, weren’t you?” Kelly looked very satisfied with herself.
“Busted. I’m such a ho.” Sam covered her eyes with her hand, then peeked between her fingers at Kelly.
Kelly laughed loud enough to be heard at the front of the building. “Nothing I like better than a horny ho.” She ran her hand over Sam’s butt as she left the restroom. “Later.” It was said with a definite promise.
“I know you two aren’t still talking about floor drains.” Tambor’s voice carried from the front offices. “Your first meeting is in twenty minutes. You better get your coffee while you can.”
“That’s right.” Kelly glided backward along the hallway. “You better get some while you can.”
Sam waved her off. What was wrong with her? Her mind kept slipping to the distraction offered by sex. Didn’t she want more from a woman?
CHAPTER SIX
All Sam wanted was a little peace and quiet. She was tired—tired of the minor crises at work, tired of being hot every time she went outdoors, and, most of all, tired of herself. Her world was exactly as she had made it, so why did it feel so empty? She usually counted on Tambor and Kelly to keep her mood up at work, but they had begun the week by bickering about the floor drain incident and ended the week by barely speaking to each other. When Sam tried to talk to each of them alone, she was told in no uncertain terms to mind her own business. “Why not just slap me?” Sam glanced around her garage, not yet motivated to leave the cocoon of her car.
She spied the lawnmower in the corner. She had mowed grass the previous weekend as promised, only to hit a rock in Ava’s yard that shut down the mower before she finished. She was guessing that the shear pin in the blade assembly was damaged—more than she wanted to try to repair. The push mower would have to be taken to the shop—another chore Sam loved, or not.
Sam had swallowed her pride and better judgment and knocked on Haley’s door. KD was all too glad to come to the rescue, insisting on mowing the rest of Ava’s grass instead of lending Sam their mower and implying Sam was too girly for such chores anyway. Sam choked back that KD had never offered to mow Ava’s grass before. Sam caught only a glimpse of Haley. Haley’s lips looked back to normal, the stitches almost unrecognizable, but Sam could have sworn Haley had a black eye. Haley had waved and retreated farther into the house upon seeing KD at the door with Sam.
“Maybe I need to take a vacation.” Sam considered where she might like to go as she climbed the stairs to the first floor of her house—a beach trip to the Outer Banks after Labor Day when the crowds were gone or P-town in October for Women’s Week.
She paused halfway up the steps. She heard movement from the kitchen. Sam eased down the treads and returned to the garage. She spied the bag of golf clubs in the corner and grabbed a wood. As she started up the stairs again, she pulled her cell phone out of her bag, poised to call 911 if necessary. She’d take a quick look and duck back down the stairs if she needed reinforcements.
Sam sniffed. What was that odor? She eased the door at the head of the stairs open and peered around the corner into the kitchen. “Sheesh, you scared me.” She looked at the golf club gripped in her hand. “Need me to stir anything?”
Paul glanced over his shoulder and pulled his earbuds out. “Yea, my best bud’s home.” He grinned at her, then realized her mood was not the same as his. “Didn’t you get my message at the office?”
Sam went to the table near the front door and set her briefcase down. The mail waited for her in neat stacks, sorted into bills or junk. Large flip-flops covered with rainbow peace symbols had been kicked off just inside the door. She returned to the kitchen.
Paul stood at the stove in cutoff blue jeans, polo shirt, and bare feet. He was four inches taller than Sam and one year older. Paul stayed in shape with aerobics and swimming. He was lanky with black hair and green eyes. He styled his hair with a side part and swooping front that tended to droop over his eyes. He liked the fact that he was often compared to a young Gregory Pe
ck.
“I left a message at both buildings to let you know that I was crashing your kitchen tonight. Sorry if my timing is off.” He shrugged and kept working between saucepans on the stovetop.
“Everyone was in a bad mood today. I started letting calls go directly to voice mail after lunch and figured I would check them tonight when my own mood was better.” Sam stepped out of her shoes.
“I’ve been watching the cooking channel and wanted to try some new Low Country recipes on you before I make them for Scott. You don’t mind, do you?” Paul glanced over his shoulder.
Sam didn’t want to think about or discuss Scott Boone. He and Paul had been seeing each other for almost three years. Scott had also recently celebrated his tenth anniversary with his wife and had two children in grade school. Paul deserved better.
Sam firmly believed that in a past life, or maybe one yet to come, she and Paul were husband and wife; she just wasn’t sure of their previous genders. If they had been straight in this life, she would have married Paul. They complemented each other mentally and physically and often went out together to try restaurants or catch a movie. In public, they were often assumed to be an established couple. Sam had known Paul for years. They had each other’s spare house and car keys and traded errands or chores without a thought as to who did what last. Paul was truly as close as Sam would come in this life to a husband.
Paul and Scott were open in their relationship. Scott went home to his supposedly unsuspecting wife while Paul occasionally dated other men. Sam told herself that it was their choice, but it still set with her the wrong way, and she didn’t hesitate to tell Paul. Paul always countered with the number of times Sam had U-Hauled with someone too soon, then had a mess to untangle and disengage from. Paul’s theory was that all relationships were fleeting and lasted only several years at best so why move in together.
Sam sighed. “I don’t mind being cooked for at all, sweetie. I keep telling you and Ava to try recipes out on me all you want to. God knows I’m exercising enough, and you don’t want Ava’s take on that.”
Paul laughed until he choked. “Does it have to do with your current celibacy?”
“Bitch.”
“Go change clothes.” He looked at the clock on the microwave. “You have fifteen minutes before this is done.” He motioned for her to wait and went to the fridge and removed a chilled glass of champagne for her. “I almost forgot.”
“Whoa, fancy, what’s up with this?”
Paul sighed. “Truth?”
Sam sipped and nodded. She cared less and less about work.
Paul grinned. “I finished the new book last night, and it’s good. I can just feel it in my bones, as Ava would say. I’m really getting to know my character.”
“The Atticus Finch attorney who solves crimes both in and out of court while all the men fall for him?” Sam baited Paul.
“It’s not based on me.”
Sam blew air between her lips. Paul had loved the review that called him the gay man’s John Grisham. He had hit his writing stride after coming out and had eight books in print.
“Well, maybe it’s a little of me. My parents wanted me to go to law school, but I stuck with banking.” Paul pointed to the clock. “Ten minutes.”
Sam had first met Paul when they went through an executive training program with the state’s largest bank headquartered in Richmond almost twenty years ago when Paul was married and wrestling with being a straight family man. Sam had decided she wanted to be more of a business adviser, and Paul decided he wanted no more responsibility than logging money in and out. Being a teller allowed him set hours, time to write, and easily approved vacations for literary conferences—all bones of contention with his then-wife.
“Uh-huh.” Sam went to her bedroom and changed into sweats. She looked longingly at her bed, wishing she could stretch out for just a few minutes. She sipped more champagne and went back to the kitchen for a refill. “Damn.”
Paul had shoved aside the newspapers on the dining room table and set two places complete with dessert forks and bread plates. He pointed to the covered serving dishes. “Shrimp and grits, sweet potato pone, and hoppin’ John. Of course, pecan pie for dessert.” He grinned as he said pecan with a long e.
“Okay, I can figure out all but the hoppin’ one.”
Paul smiled. “Black-eyed peas, bacon, onion, and rice.”
“It all smells delicious.” Sam groaned.
Paul held the chair out for her.
“Okay, that’s a bit of overkill.” Sam adjusted her napkin over the lap of her shorts.
“Just enjoy. Pretend we’re in Savannah again,” Paul said.
They had decided on a road trip the previous spring and ended up in Savannah marveling at the unique town squares and taking in all they could find related to Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. It had been wonderful. Sam had been thrilled to not only eat at Paula Deen’s restaurant, but meet the famous cook herself. Paul teased her the rest of the trip about her crush.
“We need to do something like that again soon,” Sam said. “Maybe we can talk Haley into going with us.”
“Sans KD?” Paul shivered.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Not going to happen,” Paul said.
“Why is that?” Sam asked.
Paul paused in serving their plates. “Duh!” he said. “KD controls everything in Haley’s life, including her bank accounts.” He lowered his voice with the last phrase.
“Oh, shit.” Sam stared at the food.
“Oh, yeah. Ask me if I was surprised you had to rush her to the ER. I’m just sorry you didn’t bang on the door and take my butt with you. That situation could have turned really ugly if KD had followed you two.” He nudged her. “Eat before it’s cold. I need your critique.”
Sam tasted the food. “Sheesh, I don’t know who is the best cook, you or Ava, but I hope you both keep experimenting.”
Paul nodded. “I love Ava’s recipes, reminds me of home.”
Sam, Paul, and Ava were all native Virginians—another factor that contributed to their friendship. Sam was from a small community west of Richmond, Paul from northern Virginia, and Ava from central Virginia.
Sam and Paul focused on the food for a few minutes. Paul took a break first. “Big plans for the weekend?” He studied the dishes, debating which to have seconds of.
Sam patted her mouth with her napkin. “We’ll see. I’ll be burning up the Internet with several women I’ve met on Match. Hopefully, I’ll have a date in a week or two.”
“Oh, Lord, what are you trying to set up?” Paul cringed.
“Oh, ye of little faith.” Sam held her hand up to stop his retort. “I figure I can’t go wrong with a daylight date.”
“Hiking?” Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s so lesbian.”
“I love to hike. I’ve wanted to go back to the James River Park, but someone who shall remain nameless has refused. It’s right here at us. This woman hikes all the time, maybe she can get me back into shape. Ten-day forecast looks good for a cool spell in late August, maybe in the low eighties.”
Paul whistled. “I hear you. Just be sure to take your cell phone and find out where you’re leaving cars in case you need me to pick you up midway.” He didn’t sound encouraging.
“Few serial killers are women,” Sam reminded him.
Paul shook his head. “The women who do it are smart enough not to be caught by dumbass men.”
Sam laughed and waited for Paul to join in. He stared at her, totally serious.
“You haven’t mentioned the big event,” Paul said.
Sam glanced at the wall calendar. “Shit, it’s only a week away. I’m pleasantly surprised you’re thinking about it.” They cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. “I thought I owed you big for agreeing to go with me.”
“I take being an escort to a twenty-fifth high school reunion dance very seriously. Wait until you see me in my new tux. I’ve only worn it once for this past New Year�
��s Eve ball, and, honey, can I dance.” Paul shook his butt as he washed the saucepans.
“Oh, my. You’ll have to help me with my makeup and outfit. I can’t let you put me to shame.” Sam covered the leftovers and actually had decent food in her refrigerator for a change.
“Remind me. Are we doing the straight masquerade or going as the bickering gay-les duo?”
Sam laughed. “I’m flaunting being a lesbian. I was too low-key about it in high school. I just didn’t date rather than come out.”
“Chicken shit.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“You are lesbian, hear you roar.” Paul ducked Sam’s roundhouse punch.
“Amen.” Sam split the last of the champagne between their glasses and raised hers for a toast.
“Come on. I want to check your dance moves. I’ve only seen you shuffle around with other lesbians who can’t keep time.” He held out his hand and led her into the open area she usually reserved for the Wii. His earbuds dangled around his neck. He cranked up the volume on his iPod.
“You expect me to dance to Cher?” Sam asked.
“She sure does.” Paul twisted his hips.
“What the hell.” Sam followed his lead, and they did a decent imitation of swing dancing.
“Now if I can just do that with real clothes on,” Sam said, out of breath as they finished.
“If I’ve heard that once...” Paul danced toward the front door and waved as he exited the house.
“Great,” Sam said. “Now I can’t get Cher out of my head.” She practiced steps until she realized she was tired enough to sleep. Paul never let her down as a good companion for Friday night.
Just A Little Romance Page 4
