by Gayle Keo
Yuna brought a healthy dollop of ice cream to her lips. “That's it?”
“No, but for me that was enough to be hesitant.”
Yuna swallowed. “Hun, I know you are used to things being a little different. In New York shit comes up. No big deal. You gotta forgive or you aren't ever going to get a man.”
“I would have been more than willing,” Melody flopped unto the couch, wondering why she'd even bothered to start this conversation. Yuna was always knit-picking every choice that Melody made. “But he decided to be really rude the moment he showed up. He was angry that I was putting in an order.”
Yuna hunfed and, to Melody's mild surprised, said, “What did he expect? For you to keep waiting on your dinner? Man, no one keep me from eating when I get hungry. I got that blood sugar thing.”
Melody nodded, “Yeah, I know. But to make it worse he started getting really rude with the waitress Called her names. I thought...I dunno what I thought, really, but I had to step in. Caused a scene. But It just did not make me want to see him again.”
Yuna shrugged a shoulder. “Fair 'nuff. You gonna keep using that dating site?”
“Probably. On the plus side I got a free dinner out of it all.”
“How? Did he still pay?”
“Heck no, the manager had to escort him out for being belligerent. The waitress, however, she wouldn't let me pay.”
“Well that was nice of her,” Yuna said with her brows narrowed. Melody got the feeling her roommate wasn't used to people being nice. “What did she want?”
“She didn't want anything. She was just saying thank you.”
“Uh-huh, and does this paragon of waitresses have a name?”
Melody dug around in her pocket and pulled out a crumpled napkin. On the flattest part was a pen scribbled caricature of her date that night with water dripping off of his face. Beneath that was the name and a phone number encompassed by a thick lined heart.
“Tara Bradly.”
Yuna paused. The spoon, halfway to her mouth, clattered against the counter loudly. “Are you for real?”
“That's what it says.”
Yuna dashed around the counter and nabbed the napkin out of Melody's hand. She brought it up to her pert nose and scanned the picture and the name that went with it.
“Hey!”
“Wait!” Yuna snapped at her.
Melody did, but only because it seemed childish to get into a tug of war match over a very delicate napkin. She didn't want to ruin it.
“Holy crap,” Yuna said, slapping the napkin down on the countertop, “holy crap.”
“What is it?”
“You got Tara Bradly's phone number.”
Melody was sure her confusion was apparent. “I believe I already told you that.”
Yuna shook her head hard enough to make her braids clatter around her face. “No, no, no. You aren't hearing me. You didn't get just any Tara Bradly's number, you got the Tara Bradly phone number.”
Melody just stood there and blinked. Yuna was looking at her with big brown eyes, lined with Cleopatra black.
“Wait here.”
Yuna dashed across the apartment and disappeared inside a room whose door was liberally decorated with bands that Melody had never heard of. Yuna was in the music business. Rather, she was trying to be in the music business. She was working a job currently that was just above intern but not much else.
When she dashed back out she was clutching a small long poster, the size and shape that might have fitted into a locker or something similar.
“Is this the girl?”
Melody took the picture and tilted it this way and that. Lighting caught across its shiny finish and at first she had a problem picking out individual faces. The image was artistic, just the side views of each of the member of a band the ad called 'Instant Girl' in shining silver letters.
Then she saw the piercing in a brow, the one that had been missing from the dinner, and the ladder of hoops that crawled up one ear. Her eyes trailed over the distinct nose and the impish curl of lacquered lips.
“There she is,” Melody pointed.
Yuna made a noise and bounced in place. “You met her, she gave you her number!”
“Is this band some kind of big deal? I never heard of them.”
“They are really big with the indie crowd. They don't belong to a label and they do all their own music. I can't believe she's a waitress.”
Melody looked down at the picture. It was definitely the waitress, just with more makeup and all of her piercings.
“She's a lesbian you know.”
Melody blinked. “Pardon?”
“Like, seriously, full on girl-on-girl lesbian. Her last girlfriend was some make-up model. There was a picture of it in the pride paper.”
Melody blinked. Yuna was bisexual and would probably know a lot better than her who was 'out'. Yet she glanced at the napkin once more.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I thought you were straight?”
“I am,” Melody promised.
Yuna glanced at the napkin. The name and the little heart around it were boldly visible. “How straight, exactly?”
*****
Yuna made a gift of one of Instant Girl's CD's via her iPod; and sent Melody off to enjoy a bath and music so that Yuna could clean up the living room. Melody was not going to argue. She could do with scalding off the presence of a major jerk, and have a clean space to return to afterwards.
She poured herself a glass of much needed wine and added a precious handful of bath salts to the water. The scent of lavender and sage filled the room along with a thick layer of steam. Melody stripped out of her clothes and stared in the mirror.
Yuna's words followed her. 'how straight?' she had asked. Melody had expected to give a very quick response, but Tara's face swam in front of her and she found it hard to say that she wasn't happy that she had a way of getting a hold of the other woman.
What did that mean? It could, of course, just mean that she was lonely. She wanted friends. That would be perfectly normal. She was hundreds of miles away from home and not exactly living her dream.
Her dream was to be on Broadway. Not on stage, goodness no, she wanted to be in the make-up department making art of of people's faces. She loved make-up. She loved how a few subtle flicks of the right shade could completely change the depth of ones eyes, or the pout of someone's lips. Done right it could soft (or harden, if that's what you were going for) someone's cheekbones. You could give yourself a tan or take one away.
She loved it.
While the bath filled she took a look at her own made up face, pleased that her smoldering evening look had made it through the night. Some people said that blonde's couldn't get away with black eye-shadow, that it was too witchy for their coloring. Melody thought you just had to handle it right.
With one last look at her big blue eyes made even bigger by the dollops of color she pulled her thick tresses back and began the short, but necessary, task of cleaning the makeup off her face.
Beneath all the pigmentation Melody looked every inch the sweet southern girl. Her face, made pink with scrubbing, was just pale enough to see the smattering of freckles that skipped across her nose. She was a few years past the quintessential cheerleader look that had been her high school norm, but she liked the woman she was becoming...at least physically.
She deposited her cleaning cloths in the waste bucket, tugged off her clothes, and plopped down in the water.
Maybe it was her blue-eyed, blonde haired looks that were bringing in all the losers. Everyone seemed to think that pretty blondes were dumb. Melody wasn't dumb. Sure, she wasn't very worldly, but she wasn't a complete idiot. They still had the internet in Georgia.
Had Tara been flirting with her when she gave the number? Or had she just been being grateful? There was the heart to consider. Hearts were romantic, weren't they? And Tara had bought Melody dinner.
“Girl,” she muttered to herself, “you are
seriously over thinking things.”
She sunk deeper into the water until the froth from the salts swam against her chin. The bath was hot enough that her now exposed knees looked like pink buyes thrust above the surface.
Her eyes closed, and a memory of Tara smiling at her danced across the back of her eyelids. She was pretty, Melody remembered, and she smelled really nice. A tiny flicker of an unnamable sensation slid through her belly. An image of Tara running one of those dark nails across Melody's lips made the sensation swell.
She shook her head. This was stupid. Melody wasn't gay. She wasn't bisexual. She was straight. She was twenty four years old. Shouldn't she knew by now who and what she liked? This was just a stupid fantasy brought on by a bad night, a little wine, and a roommate who wanted to make mountains out of a canyon.
With that thought firmly in mind Melody plucked her iPod up and scrolled through her songs until she found something familiar; bubbly pop music with themes of new romance and best friends for life.
She was just beginning to relax when Yuna knocked on the door.
“Hey, Hey! You gotta see this!”
Melody sat bolt upright. “What's wrong.”
“Can I come in?”
Melody tugged the shower curtain most of the way closed, so that only her head was peaking out. “Sure.”
Yuna was carrying her mac-book. The back of it was covered in music note stickers and the names of the bands that inspired her. She Plunked the computer on the toilet seat and tilted it until Melody could see what it was.
It was Tara. Or at least, it was a video of Tara. The big 'play' button was plastered in the center of the video, marring Tara's face, but it was definitely her. She was still wearing her waitresses uniform, at least most of it. The tie had disappeared and so had the little apron. The dark vest was unbuttoned, but hung on her shoulders.
“What's this?”
“The blog for Instant Girl, all the members are on it and can upload stuff, but Tara is the most active. Maybe because she's the lead singer, but they all put stuff up. She uploaded like...twenty minutes ago.”
Melody found that her heart felt like a trapped bird inside of her chest. “Oh?”
“Watch!”
Yuna hit a button and the screen came to life. Tara plopped onto a tall bar stool like chair with a reclined back.
“Okay,” Tara's voice crackled out of the speakers, “So check this. I was working my pay-the-bills job when this super hot chick walks in. I mean like...I cannot even tell you guys how gorgeous she was. She had that...cheer leading captain mixed with the preacher's daughter look going on, but she was all wrapped up in this tight little black dress. I mean....”
“That's you,” Yuna said, tapping her hand against the shower curtain..
“I am either one of those things. My father is a deacon.” Melody slid another inch beneath the water.
Yuna snorted and turned her attention back to the video.
“...you get the idea. Anywho. She get's a table in my sectin and I was flippin' the hell out because I was like 'yes, here's my chance', and then it hits me. She's waiting for someone. Damn...damn damn damn. Oh well. I mean, I'll flirt. I love flirting. But I wasn't going to poach if she was already with someone. I do have some morals. Anyway. The time starts ticking by. Five minutes, ten minutes. She's looking at her phone and glancing at the door and I see her start to get worried. And I'm starting to get mixed feelings, right? I mean, on the one hand it would be an injustice to this whole world for someone that pretty to get stood up. Buuuut, if she gets stood up I'm like...right there. I can be the knight coming to rescue the fair maiden from a night of emotional turmoil. I'm down with that.”
Melody blushed deeply. She should be ashamed that someone was thinking about her like some kind of damsel in distress. She rolled her eyes, but her lips kept wanting to make a smile.
“So anyway,” recorded Tara went on, “After about twenty minutes I decide to ask if if she wants to order. If nothing else I figure I can chat her up, maybe find out if she swings my way. I mean, even if she doesn't I can offer her an excellent choice of menu options to help her enjoy her evening without some lame date. So I walk over and she turns these big blue eyes on me and I swear to fucking god my heart just stopped right there. It just...” Tara slapped her hand against her chest and her eyes fluttered close. For a moment she looked ridiculously dramatic, but it seemed to work.
“Did you feel your heart stop?” Yuna asked.
Melody shook her head. “No...but I thought she smelled really nice.”
“Good enough.”
Was it? Melody wondered. Here this beautiful woman was, claiming to have some kind of existential out of body experience, and all Melody had felt was curiosity and pleasant olfactory awareness.
Tara was plucking a guitar from some place off screen. It wasn't the kind of guitar that Melody would have paired with the woman. She would have thought sleek and shiny and modern, but this was none of those things. Melody, despite her name, didn't know anything about music. Despite that, even she could see it was older and well loved.
Tara's them strummed the strings. She twisted the little nubs at the end of the guitar neck to tune something, and did it again. It sounded light and airy.
“Yeah,” Tara said, “that's how she made my heart feel. Just like that.” She played the sound again and Melody felt a blush that had nothing to do with the heat of her bathtub climb up her cheeks.
“Oh wow,” she whispered, her lips close enough to the water to cause ripples.
“She likes you.” Yuna smirked.
“Oh wow,” Melody repeated, unable to figure out anything else to say.
“So there I was, trying to help her choose an apetizer and all that when the captain of the Frat Boys from Gymnasium Testosterone University walks in. I mean. He's like...six foot four, two hundred and forty pounds. All of it muscle.” Tara strummed three chords giving off a dark and dramatic twang. “He's beefy and he's looking ready for a fight. He spots me leaning over his date and the act, as they say, is totally up. I can't say anything. I mean, I was being flirty. I mean...not big flirty but a little flirty so I am expecting him to go all cave-man me and tell me to get away from his woman or something. But he doesn't, he starts taking it out on her. Acting like she should have waited for him. Like, I was so surprised that I was struck completely mute...which is kind of a neat trick where yours truly was concerned.”
“She tells the story better than you do,” Yuna cut in as Tara played a few more notes on her guitar.
“Hush.” Melody rolled over in the water and wrapped her arms over the smooth porcelain of the tub. Her eyes were riveted on the screen. It was one thing to have experienced the moment. It was another thing entirely to hear someone else experience the exact same moment.
“He starts laying in and I finally manage to shake the stupid out of my mouth and say something, he brings out the 'D' word and suddenly everyone was paying attention. I mean everyone.”
“Did he really?” Yuna asked.
“He did, I didn't think it was very nice.”
“You thought right.”
Melody slapped the pause button. “I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“I've heard women use...uhhh...that word...in reference to themselves or even others and no one got bent out of shape about it. Why was it a big deal then? Like, I know it was a big deal. I could feel it but...”
“Oh my sweet innocent Georgia peach.” Yuna sighed with amusement. “Like, you ever call yourself a bitch?”
“No,” Melody responded, “but I think I see where you are going with it.”
“Good. See, because I call myself a bitch all the time. I even call some of my best friends bitches. They do the same with me. It's like some kind of term of endearment. But the moment that some ass-hat, jerk-wad, twat-waffle calls me a bitch...that's a problem.”
“So it's not really the word, it's what they mean when they say it.”
“P
retty much.”
“Huh,” Melody said and clicked the button again.
“I was ready to fight this dude. I mean, I was ready to loose my job. It wasn't just that he called me a dyke. It was the way he was treating this girl. She had sat there patiently waiting for him and then he walks in without even an apology and starts flipping out. I mean, can someone say red flag?” Tara strummed out some quick and angry notes. Her fingers danced up the neck of the guitar and Melody found that it was hypnotic to watch the woman play.
“She's good,” Melody admitted.
“You haven't heard her sing yet.”
Melody realized that she'd really like to, but she didn't say that out loud. She just kept listening to the video.
“Anyway, there I was, gearing up for a fight when this tiny little vixen just jumps up and stands face to face with him. Okay, it was more like face to navel, but you get the idea. She tosses back her hair and she delivers this spiel that could have come straight out of Scarlet O'Hara's mouth. It was gorgeous. Like, I gotta admit, I was a little turned on.”
Melody dunked her head under the water completely and shook her head. Those few little words had lit a very unexpected fire in some interesting places. Oh boy...or rather...oh girl.
When she reemerged Yuna was eyeing her. “You okay? Do you need to lay down?”
“I'm good.”
“Sweetie, if someone that fine had said I turned them on, I'd be calling them. Like...right now.”
“It's late,” Melody said, glancing at the little clock on the computer. “It's like...eleven thirty.”
“The girl is a performer. I bet she sees the sun come up most nights.”
Melody shook her head. “Is there more?”
“Yup.”
The video continued with a few more choice descriptions on Tara's part, but it was pretty much the same as Melody had remembered it. Then it continued.
“So, this is a work in progress, but it is inspired by this girl tonight. I don't expect her to be listening. Man I don't even know her name. But if anyone happens to know a pretty southern girl who had a crappy date tonight, pass this along. It's a work in progress.”
Tara started to play. Her elegant fingers slid up and down the guitar strings as she strummed, half cupping the guitar to the slender line of her body. The tune was light, but powerful, like a modern version of an old ballad; and melody found herself interested. And then Tara began to sing.
