Speakeasy

by Bowen, Sarina

  Not for the first time I feel like May can read me pretty well. That ought to make me feel strange, but it just doesn’t. “There’s always somebody in the mood for a party, that’s all.”

  “A party in your bed?” she asks, her eyebrows lifting.

  “Sometimes.” But that’s all I want to say on the matter. “Selena only wants to party with you lately.” I have to make it a joke, because I think May would drop me if she thought I was getting too attached.

  May snorts. “Selena. Where do I come up with this shit?”

  “How is Selena, anyway? Have you talked her into bed yet? Or are you two still drinking cocoa and making eyes across the dining table.”

  “Oh, she’s my bitch now,” May says, and I let out a sudden laugh. “Selena has discovered the glories of lesbian sex.”

  “Really.” I move closer to her. “Tell me everything.”

  May’s eyes gleam with humor as she snuggles closer to my body. “She has a boob fetish now. She’s always touching mine. And when she’s alone, she just plays with her own. You know, the way men think women must always want to do.”

  I snort. “Go on.”

  “She loves role play, and so I got her a nurse’s uniform.”

  My stomach shakes with laughter. “How about pillow fights?” Those feature prominently in lesbian porn.

  “Oh, sure. We roll around in a cloud of feathers sometimes. And we braid each other’s hair before we realize we’d rather be sixty-nining.

  “So Selena has long hair? I think I’ve seen this video.” I tip the bottle up.

  She elbows me. “No, silly. We braid each other’s pubic hair.”

  And I almost choke on the last swallow of beer. “You are such a goof,” I say as I cough.

  “Come on. Real lesbians can braid each other’s armpit hair. No—leg hair.”

  “Now who’s digging the clichés? It’s not just me.” I give her a squeeze. “Now tell me your fantasy. Not mine. Where is it going with Selena?”

  May sighs. “That’s the thing. I don’t know anymore.”

  “Trouble in paradise? She’s not your type?”

  “I thought she was.” May wraps an arm around my waist and strokes my stomach. “I thought I could find someone who wanted the same things I did. It seemed easier with women. Like—sharing our shoes was a shortcut to seeing everything the same way. And then it wasn’t. And I don’t feel like trying anymore.”

  “Oh.” I stroke her smooth arm. “That’s just the anger talking. You’ll probably stop feeling that way after a while.”

  “Maybe.” She kisses my hand. “I think relationships just aren’t for me. When that’s the goal, it just blows up in my face. I had this whole plan for Daniela and I. She used to make noises like she was onboard, and then she just stopped.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “I wanted to get married eventually. And she wasn’t into that.”

  “Hmm. Not everybody is.” I’ve never felt the urge to get married, either.

  “Right. But she knew I wanted to adopt a baby from China. And she used to tell me that she wanted that, too. But I think she was just nodding along so I’d shut up.”

  “Why China?”

  May shrugs. “It’s a little easier than adopting elsewhere. During law school I had an internship in family law, where I worked on adoptions. There are these websites where you can see babies.” She lifts her face off my chest. “There are actual infants right this second who need a home. I mean—lesbians have babies the natural way all the time. But adoption just feels right to me.”

  “Well…” I clear my throat because I’m way out of my depth now. “Daniela wasn’t the right girl for the job. But it doesn’t mean you can’t still get there eventually.”

  “I know. And I have time. But she made me gun-shy. Like whenever I want something, it turns to dust in my hands.”

  “Unfortunately, I know the feeling.” The Gin Mill feels so perilous to me lately. If I make one wrong move, everything I’ve worked for could disappear.

  “We should sleep,” May whispers. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

  “Good plan,” I agree.

  She gets up to brush her teeth, and then I do the same. When all the lights are off, we climb back into bed.

  Wordlessly, I pull May closer to my body, until we’re snuggled up tightly together. Before now, I couldn’t sleep so well with a woman in my bed. I always worried about sending the wrong signal. And it made me feel like I had to play host all the time and be “on” when maybe I just needed to relax.

  But May is different. She listens to me like a true friend, and when we’re not burning up the sheets I find myself telling her whatever’s in my head. She’s going through a rough time, and when she curls up next to me at night, I like the sound of her even breathing. I feel like I’m sheltering her, not entertaining her.

  That sounds silly. She doesn’t really need a place to sleep. But she does need a friend. And I feel really happy about being that person. Whether she’s moaning in my arms or relaxing on my chest, I feel close to her.

  It’s nice. Unexpected, but strangely satisfying. May Shipley scratches an itch that I didn’t know I had.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Selena: Time for a joke?

  May: Always.

  Selena: Three vampires walk into a bar. The first one says, "I’ll have a pint of blood." The second one says, "I’ll have one, too." The third one says, "I’ll have a pint of plasma." The bartender says, "So, that’ll be two Bloods and a Blood Lite?"

  May: Wow. I don’t know what to say.

  Selena: That good, huh?

  May: :)

  Selena: Question for you about an email I just got. Could it be that I’ve been invited to a baby shower? That has to be an error.

  May: Selena! You should be thrilled. Chicks dig baby showers.

  Selena: You’re limiting my womanhood by assuming my interest in cis female reproduction.

  May: Wow. You’re right. My bad.

  Selena: No, seriously. The invitation is a mistake, right? Who would invite me to a baby shower?

  May: You’re invited because A) your sister is throwing it, and B) it’s a Jack and Jill.

  Selena: ???

  May: A shower for both men and women.

  Selena: That’s just wrong. Except for *real* showers with both men and women. Rawrrr. Those are awesome.

  May: I predict no nudity at this thing but there’ll be food. Lots of food. And I’m sure alcohol. Not that people mention that to me.

  Selena: Should I come?

  May: Always. Rawrrr.

  Selena: Oh baby. But I meant to the shower. You’re going to be there, right?

  May: Yes. And naturally I will be keeping my clothes on the entire time.

  Selena: Pity.

  May: Of course you’re welcome to come. Show up. You know what I mean.

  Selena: So long as I don’t tell anyone about our extracurricular activities.

  May: You won’t even be tempted to do that. Baby showers make everyone nosy about your personal life. Picture a wedding on steroids.

  Selena: The last time I went to a wedding I asked you to dance.

  May: I noticed that. I assumed it was because you felt sorry for me that Daniela was acting like a superbitch.

  Selena: When you and I dance, it’s never out of pity.

  May: That’s true NOW.

  Selena: Fine. At the wedding I asked you to dance for a different reason.

  May: Is it because I had on the same dress as four other women and you got confused?

  Selena: No. It’s because it let me cut in on my sister’s boyfriend and I don’t like him.

  May: He is a very good dancer, though. Like, ninja level.

  Selena: So you’re saying it’s really you who got punished when I asked you to dance?

  May: :)

  Selena: My apologies.

  May: I’m over it. But did you notice you just said: I don’t like my sister’s bo
yfriend. You meant you didn’t USED to like him, right? You must like him okay by now.

  Selena: He got my sister pregnant.

  May: And she seems pretty happy about that. Also, he’s a good dad who is giving up his career in a few months to be with them.

  Selena: None of that really matters because he got my sister pregnant and I will never get over it.

  May: Never?

  Selena: Probably not. No.

  May: Way to hold a grudge.

  Selena: It’s built in to a guy’s DNA.

  May: What else is built in to your DNA.

  Selena: This.

  [Insert a suggestive photo of Alec unzipping his fly.]

  May: That is just mean. I can’t see you tonight. But now I want to.

  Selena: You can’t? *Whines*

  May: Sorry.

  Selena: *Pouts*

  May: I can’t disappear every night. Besides I need my sleep.

  Selena: A horse walks into a bar. The bartender says, "So. Why the long face?"

  May: Good night, Selena.

  Selena: Good night, babydoll.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alec

  When I open the front door to my sister’s house, the first thing I see is a giant bouquet of shiny balloons in pink and blue. Oof. I can’t believe I’m skipping out on part of a Saturday bartending shift to attend a fucking baby shower.

  So this is what it’s like to get old.

  As I wipe my feet on the doormat, I survey the scene. Zara’s living room is full of people, most of them familiar. But everyone has either a pink or blue clothespin stuck on his shirt, as if it’s some hot new accessory item.

  My first thought is—How soon can I leave?

  But then I scan the room, and my consciousness snags on a group of people near Zara’s fireplace. I glimpse only the back of May’s head. But that’s enough, it seems. The urge to leave just vanishes. And when the bodies between us shift, I can see that she’s wearing a sweater dress that clings in all the right places. I’m suddenly very sorry that I insisted on closing my bar tonight. I’d rather spend the night with May.

  It’s not just attraction, though. She hasn’t even spotted me, but I feel a different kind of connection to her than I’m used to. As if she’s my person, and I’m hers.

  I’ve never had a person before. Maybe this is what all the songs on the radio are about.

  It’s nothing I know how to express, though. And I don’t think May would want to hear it right now. So when I pull out my phone and shoot off a text, I say something ordinary. Selena thinks you look hawt tonight. Three snaps at least.

  After hitting send, I make myself look away from her. I head over to greet the expectant couple. Audrey looks very round and very happy. I kiss her smiling cheek and then shake Griffin’s hand. “You’re looking awfully relaxed for a guy who isn’t going to sleep much in the next year.”

  “I don’t sleep now,” he points out. “A guy with cows is used to getting up early.”

  “Fair enough.” I hand the gift bag I’m holding to his glowing wife.

  “Ooh!” she says. “What did you bring the baby?”

  “Baby clothes. Honestly, I have no idea. My mother picked it out.”

  They both roar. “Honest Alec,” Audrey says, wiping her eyes. “That’s what Zara calls you.”

  “That’s the nicest thing Zara has ever called me,” I point out, and they laugh again. Although it’s true. I’m honest to a fault. My role in our family is the forgotten middle child. I never had anything to fear from honesty because nobody was ever paying attention to me, anyway.

  Speaking of my family, I spy my sister arranging trays of food on her dining table in the next room. Now we’re talking. “Looks like my sister did some cooking. Can I bring you guys anything?”

  “I’ll make us a plate,” Griff says to his wife. And then he follows me into the dining room, where I greet Zara with a pony-tail tug. Then I grab a mini quiche off a plate and shove it in my mouth.

  “Alec! You showed!”

  “I heard there was food,” I say through a mouthful.

  “Classy,” my sister complains.

  “You know it. How come everyone’s wearing one of those…” I gesture at a jar of those weird clothespins. “Except for you, Z.”

  “Oh, I lost mine already. It’s a game. If someone catches you saying the word baby, they get your pin. The person who collects the most wins.”

  “That’s it? So easy. I never use that word.”

  She smirks as she reaches for a blue pin, then affixes it to my shirt pocket. “Sure you do. ‘Hey baby want to come upstairs and see my hot tub?’”

  Well, ouch. And Griffin cracks up.

  “Good luck.” Zara pats my shoulder. “The prize is a week of free coffee at the Busy Bean.”

  “I’m so there!” My sister makes me pay for my coffee, just like I charge my siblings for their beer. When you have four siblings, you can’t just give away the merchandise.

  “Take a plate, will you?” she scolds as I grab a mini pig-in-a-blanket. “You’re getting crumbs on my table.” She thrusts a plate at me, and I load it up with food.

  Munching, I duck back into the crowded living room. My eyes go straight to May again. I’m so aware of her, and that’s new for me. I’ve always loved women, but my interest usually fades after I get them into my bed.

  Right now, though, I want to know what May and Lark are discussing, and where they went out for dinner earlier. I want more of May than the naked parts.

  Although the naked parts are pretty great.

  May must feel me looking at her, because she turns her head suddenly. Busted. I wink. She gives me a secretive smile and looks away, trying to be discreet.

  For the first time, the whole discretion thing really annoys me. This whole house is filled with couples standing around together. I know May and I aren’t a real couple, but that doesn’t mean I should feel like a stalker over here on the other side of the room.

  My subconscious prods me. Maybe she doesn’t want people to know she’s slumming with one of the Rossi boys.

  My subconscious is such a dick.

  Christ, I’m in a dubious mood. I’ll shake a few more hands and then look for an exit point.

  “Time for the baby-bottle game!” Audrey says as Zara puts a tray down beside her.

  “You just said the B-word,” Griffin points out.

  “Oh, man!” With an eye roll she unclips the pin on her sweater and passes it to Griffin. “That went quick. Okay, kids. All you have to do is match the beers in these bottles to their names.” She whisks a cloth off the tray and—inexplicably—there are eight baby bottles standing there with various beers inside.

  Weirdest fucking party ever.

  “Winner picks his beer first,” Audrey says, which makes a little more sense. Except I can see from where I’m standing that the beverage table is well-stocked already.

  “Alec, this is a game you can win,” my sister says, handing me a half sheet of paper with eight beers listed on it.

  “You’d better believe it. This is kid stuff right here.” I take a pen and squint at the bottles. Number five is clearly the Coors Light. Nothing else is that flaccid color…

  “Hey, care for a veggie?”

  May’s voice is soft, and I feel her presence like a warm breeze. “Food? Always,” I say, giving her a smile.

  She holds up a tray. “Do you like these?” She points at one end of it.

  “Sure, doll,” I say. “But if you’re trying to get me to say another word for mini carrots, it won’t work.”

  “Damn it,” she grumbles, grabbing a baby carrot. “Can’t you be more gullible?”

  “People always underestimate me,” I complain, filling out my beer list.

  “Not me,” she says under her breath. “I know the precise extent of your assets.”

  I bark out a laugh so suddenly that heads swivel to see what’s so funny.

  May smiles down at her feet. “I got y
our text. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I say, matching up two more beers. “That dress suits you. Can I peel it off you later?”

  “Didn’t you say you had to close the bar?”

  “I’d blow it off for you,” I say quietly. I shouldn’t, but I will.

  She looks torn. “I already offered to help Griff and Audrey take the baby gifts home,” she says, looking at her own beer list. “Can I cheat off your homework? I have to play this game at a disadvantage. Which one is the stout and which is the porter?”

  “That’s easy,” I murmur. She’s close enough that her scent is making me crazy. “The stout gives better head.”

  She snickers. “There are filthy jokes about beer? Why am I even surprised?”

  “You’ve got the wheat beer and the lager backwards.”

  “Damn it. Thanks.” May walks away from me after that, which cuts me. I eat some more of my sister’s food and try not to check the time. If I can’t chat up May, I really have no use for this party.

  “Next game, gentlemen!” This time it’s Zachariah who’s waving people over. “The beanbag toss.”

  Everyone chuckles, and then I see why. The beanbags have a very peculiar shape, with googly eyes and a tail. They’re sperm. And the target is a hole!

  “I didn’t expect dirty games at a baby shower,” I say, getting in line behind Griffin. “This is totally my event. Betcha can’t beat me.” Man, it’s fun to bait the ex-football star.

  “Get wrecked,” he says. “I’m obviously very good at pitching my swimmers.”

  “And I’m not?” Across the room, May’s eyes widen. Her expression says, Please don’t talk about your dick with my brother.

  Right. Bad idea.

  Luckily, I’m an ace at the manly sport of tossing beanbags. My first turn goes three-for-three, and when one of Griffin’s slides off the side, I cackle, which makes him glare at me.

  “Your whole life has been leading up to this great moment,” Zara says. “You are weirdly good at this game.”

  “It must be hereditary. Five kids in our family.”

  My sister rolls her eyes, and Griffin ignores me. Same as it ever was.

  My second turn goes just as well—three sperm go zinging into the hole. “I’m so turned on right now,” I joke. “What’s the prize for this? Oh wait, a b—” I catch myself just in time. “—fatherhood.”