Serious Potential

by Maggie Cummings

  She knew her friend didn’t buy her story but could tell that somehow, even through Meg’s string of half-truths, Lexi completely understood.

  *

  Meg had to hustle to make the two-thirty boat into the city. There was no time to shower, so she put more product in her short messy hair, ran a few swipes of deodorant under her arms, and threw on a clean T-shirt and shorts.

  She stood by the open door of her Ford Escape Hybrid, brushing over the outside of her pockets to make sure she had the essentials. Wallet, check. Phone, check. Keys in her hand, good to go. She was just about to sidle into the driver’s seat to chauffeur herself to the Staten Island Ferry, when her neighbors Rose and Teddy flagged her down from across the street. Teddy’s cousin Reina was with them, a beach towel slung over her shoulder. Meg started out of the driveway slowly, pulling alongside them.

  “Girl, where you running off to in this heat?” Teddy asked good-naturedly.

  “I have to head into the city. Long story.” Meg shook her head, hoping if she breezed over it there wouldn’t be any follow-up questions.

  “You’re coming back for the barbecue later, right?”

  Meg scrunched her face dramatically. “Doubtful. I’ll do my best, though.” She couldn’t help but notice Reina looked genuinely dismayed at her response. Hmm, interesting. “I’ll see what I can do,” she lied. “I’m off. Have fun, guys.” She shifted into drive and zipped down the street.

  She had a ferry to catch.

  *

  The Vengeance Seven was a completely ridiculous gruesome romp but the theater was ice cold, and Sasha and Meg relished the relief. Sasha spent the two hours alternating shrieks and giggles and on three occasions she grabbed onto the short sleeve of Meg’s tee, ducking her head into Meg’s arm to shield her eyes. Meg derived far too much pleasure from these moments, which she was sure came purely from Sasha’s attempt to avoid the gratuitous bloodshed. Each time it happened, Meg laughed out loud, harder than was necessary, attempting to cover her deep enjoyment of Sasha’s casual touch.

  After the show they walked a few blocks in the thick heat before taking to the High Line to continue their way-too-serious discussion of whether or not the villain truly got his comeuppance, and the likelihood of the lone survivor’s chances at a normal life. As they admired the wild grasses and flowers along the converted train trestle, they switched to talking about work, family, friends, and the summer. Roughly at the midpoint of the elevated park, Meg caught sight of a cute little Mexican place on the corner, half a block up. Swallowing her nerves, she faced Sasha.

  “Feel like grabbing a drink?”

  “Yes.” Sasha accompanied her answer with a firm nod almost as though she had been waiting for Meg to ask.

  Ten minutes later they were seated in the open air, each armed with a cold beer, debating appetizers. When Sasha excused herself to use the ladies’ room, Meg took the opportunity to answer a string of texts from Lexi that included a heartfelt mea culpa over the Mia-Becca invite. Lexi also expressed genuine concern about Meg’s whereabouts and emotional state. Meg typed back quickly that she wasn’t mad at all and she was having a good day. She decided to prove her point with a photo. She was smiling big, holding the phone at arm’s length trying to get the right angle for a good selfie when Sasha returned, eyeing Meg’s actions curiously.

  “Just trying to convince my friend that I’m not by myself wallowing.” Seeing that her explanation didn’t entirely make sense, she blinked dramatically and shook her head. “Just trust me.”

  “I can do better than that.” Sasha nodded. “I can help.” She took the phone from Meg’s outstretched hand, but instead of taking the picture, she waved expectantly at a member of the waitstaff as she said to Meg over her shoulder, “I have a better idea.”

  When the waiter approached, Sasha sweetly asked him to take their picture. She handed him the phone and stepped around the table behind Meg’s chair. Sasha bent down, wrapped her arms across Meg’s chest from behind, and leaned next to Meg, their cheeks brushing up against one another. Meg heard the click of the phone’s camera several times before the waiter handed it back to her with a coy smile.

  “Send her that.” Sasha settled back into her chair smiling. “This way she sees you’re not alone.”

  Meg was virtually speechless. This whole afternoon, from the series of touches at the movie theater to Sasha’s spontaneous embrace for the photo—coming from anyone else, Meg would be sure this was flirting. She didn’t even allow herself to consider it further, selecting the picture she looked the least surprised in and sending it to Lexi with the caption, Having fun. She put her phone away and suppressed a smile knowing her minimalist detail was sure to elicit a flurry of new texts from Lexi.

  “So why does your friend think you are wallowing?” Sasha asked, punctuating her question with a swig of her beer.

  Meg hung her head a little letting out a playful sigh. “It’s a long story,” she answered with a smile.

  Sasha held the mood. “I have a full drink. And food on the way. Lay it on me.”

  Meg didn’t hold back. She started by telling Sasha about all of her friends at the development and how they knew each other. She went into detail about who had dated whom, who wanted to date each other, and who were still friends despite having slept together. She finished with the rundown of her own two-year relationship with Becca, her fling with Mia, and how Mia and Becca had ended up dating each other.

  “Look, I don’t even care most of the time. They actually seem really happy together.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’m just a little jealous, I guess.” She shrugged slightly, surprised at her own candor. “I want what they have.” She held her hands up. “I mean, not with either one of them,” she added for clarification.

  Sasha looked right at her. “I’m still floored you’re single.”

  Meg tilted her head at the comment and opened her mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance as the waiter arrived with their entrees. Placing their plates down, he bent toward the table. “I’m sorry to interrupt you ladies.” He was heavy on the sibilant S as he continued. “It seems the two gentlemen at the bar would like to buy you a round of drinks.”

  Meg looked over and saw them through the wide-open window. She was about to ask Sasha, but Sasha was already answering. “Tell them thanks but no, thanks.” Her voice was stern but friendly.

  The waiter looked between them and smirked. “I told them they were wasting their time, but they insisted I ask,” he explained.

  “It’s no problem.” Sasha smiled her beautiful broad smile. “I actually could use another drink, though.” She looked over at Meg. “Meg?”

  “Sure,” Meg responded, eying her bottle, which was still a quarter full.

  Sasha reached for the waiter’s arm. “Just make sure it’s on our bill.”

  The waiter winked at her. “Got it, hon.” He smiled with satisfaction as he went to retrieve their drinks and deliver the rejection to the men inside, who were still ogling them.

  Meg was appreciating the exchange as much as the waiter, but suddenly she felt bad knowing the three of them were in on a joke, only Sasha wasn’t really in on it. Even though there was a huge part of her that was enjoying the confusion, her guilt won out. Meg bit her lip but was unable to remain silent. “They think we’re together,” she blurted.

  “What?” Sasha laughed, confused by the outburst.

  Meg hunched forward in her chair. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her temples. “The waiter. Probably the guys at the bar too.” She met Sasha’s eyes. “They think we’re a couple.”

  “Okay.”

  Meg gritted her teeth, nervous about Sasha’s reaction once she fully caught on to what she was saying. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  Meg looked around her. “You know…that they think you’re a lesbian.” She looked down at her food and then up again. “You know, because you’re here with me. And the drinks, and the whole picture thing before,” she added.
“I’m just, I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. I don’t care.” Sasha separated the triangles of her cheese quesadilla, allowing it to cool. “Doesn’t bother me.”

  “Really?” Meg asked, clearly surprised.

  “Really.”

  They locked eyes for a split second before Meg forced herself to look away for fear that Sasha could see right through her. Meg was afraid her thoughts were written all over her face and she worried Sasha would realize right then and there that Meg was into her. Like really, really into her. Meg changed the subject immediately, praying her voice came out calm.

  “So, no boyfriend, huh?”

  It was a loaded question but Sasha didn’t really answer it anyway. She simply shook her head and when she finished chewing she flipped the question around on Meg. “What about you? Did you ever date boys?” She shifted her blue eyes up at Meg, obviously curious about the answer.

  “Not really.” Meg smiled.

  “So you’ve just known you were gay forever?”

  Meg wiped the sweat from the fresh beer the waiter had just brought over. “Not forever.” She picked up the bottle and peeled off the cocktail napkin stuck to its base. “I don’t know, maybe forever.” She let out a little laugh at her own waffling. “I made out with boys in high school,” she said, taking a long sip of beer. “But my first real relationship was with a girl. With Tracy, actually, my friend who’s staying with me now.” Meg shrugged her shoulders and smiled mischievously. “All girls ever since.”

  Sasha sipped her beer. “What about Tracy now? Are you guys—”

  Meg laughed out loud. “Oh my God, no.” She raised her eyebrows. “That was a long, long time ago.” Meg smiled inwardly at the memory before she decided to turn the tables on Sasha in an attempt at light humor. “What about you”—she nodded with her chin—“you ever date girls?”

  “Not date. No.” Sasha took a second before continuing. She reached for her beer again. “I did, of course, participate in the requisite college experimenting.”

  Meg almost choked on her chicken taco. She wanted to ask a thousand questions but tried to play it cool. “I’m listening,” she said, playfully encouraging Sasha to continue.

  Sasha blushed a little as she pushed her hair away from her face. “It was mostly for my boyfriend’s benefit.” She looked slightly nervous as she explained. “My last year at Oxford, my boyfriend, his best friend, and his best friend’s girlfriend. We all hung out together. Mostly drinking.” She tilted her head to the side and lifted up one shoulder. “Sometimes we put on a little show for the boys. You know how it goes.”

  Meg had no idea how it went. She was dying for the details, but she didn’t want to seem overeager so she tried for casual. “And what happened to this boyfriend?”

  “Nothing. Didn’t last.” Sasha didn’t seem too bothered by the outcome of her relationship as she pulled off another piece of quesadilla and detached the cheese stringing down. “But, you know, no regrets,” she added with a smile before biting off the end.

  Meg was more than confused by Sasha’s admission and cavalier conversation about her experimentation and the fact that she had no regrets. She didn’t know if that referred to kissing a girl or breaking up with her boyfriend, or both. She was terrified to ask for clarification so she let it go when their talk switched seamlessly to work and their friends.

  After splitting the bill they walked to the corner, side by side, knowing they were headed in opposite directions. Meg told Sasha she’d had a great day. Sasha responded by saying she was glad Meg had called her. They exchanged a weird hug and parted ways. Meg didn’t dare turn around.

  Chapter Ten

  Tracy had been in New York for a month and had yet to spend even a few hours at the Kitchen—famous girl bar, lesbian landmark, and one of her all-time favorite places to pick up girls. On Tuesday she and Meg had made a plan to remedy that oversight during the coming weekend. By Friday, the whole crew was on board as well.

  Their original plan involved grabbing an early bite together before heading over to the Greenwich Village hot spot, but Meg had gotten stuck at work and pushed dinner entirely out of the plan. Tracy didn’t mind the change. She’d spent the afternoon playing pickup basketball with some rowdy teenagers at an event sponsored by her favorite charity and was happy to put in some extra volunteer hours while she waited. With the bonus time she even snuck in a quick run along the West Side waterfront before hitting the showers at Equinox.

  When Meg and Tracy finally met up at the Kitchen it was nine fifteen and the crowd was still sparse, giving them time for a quick drink together before the rest of their friends petered in.

  “How’d it go with Sasha this evening?” Tracy was quick with the sarcasm, while making eye contact with the bartender to place their order. “Make any headway?” she added without looking at Meg.

  “Very funny.”

  “I wasn’t kidding. Why didn’t you ask her to come for a drink?” She handed the cute brunette behind the bar her credit card and gave her a friendly smile as she clinked her vodka soda with Meg’s before taking the first sip.

  “I almost did actually.” Meg grabbed the short glass and squeezed the lime wedge, before poking it to the bottom with the thin black straw.

  “But?”

  “I thought it was too, I don’t know, weird, I guess.” She put the straw on the bar and took a sip of her drink, swallowing hard at the liquor that hadn’t quite blended yet.

  “What’s so weird about asking her to come out with your friends?” Tracy goaded. “You already went on a date with her.” Tracy had been teasing her all week after hearing about Meg’s outing with Sasha.

  “It wasn’t a date, jackass.”

  Tracy dropped her chin dramatically. “Movie. Dinner. Drinks.” She looked right at Meg. “That’s a date.”

  Meg had a hard time disagreeing with the logic. “Well, tell that to her,” she mumbled into her tumbler.

  “Oh, believe me, I will.” Tracy grinned, revealing her perfectly straight teeth. “If I ever get to meet her.”

  Before Meg could come up with a clever response, Lexi and Jesse cleared the archway into the back room and beelined for them. Betsy trailed them, half a step behind, monitoring her phone as she waded into the room. Meg couldn’t help but notice Tracy straighten up a little at the sight of Betsy. Watching closely, Meg saw her friend reflexively rub the back of her neck and smooth the front of her shirt. They were small, subtle preening gestures and Meg doubted anyone else noticed at all. But she had seen Tracy in action before. She knew the signs. Meg suppressed her smile and sipped her drink while listening to the others chat about their respective workdays. When Betsy excused herself to take a call outside, Meg watched Tracy make her move, waiting a scant few minutes before following her. It was on. Meg mentally crossed her fingers, hoping her two friends would find a connection.

  *

  Tracy’s timing was right on the money. By the time she made it through the crowd and exited the back door of the bar, Betsy was standing a few feet away finishing up her call.

  “Hey.” Tracy angled for Betsy’s attention the second she hung up.

  Betsy pressed the home button on her phone several times and looked up. “Hi,” she answered, still looking at her phone as she spoke.

  Tracy walked toward her, full of swagger. Betsy was standing near a railing that cordoned off an outdoor section of the bar that no one was taking advantage of at this early hour. She reached Betsy’s side, leaned back against the banister, slid her hands in her pockets, and looked up at the sky. “It’s gorgeous out here, huh?”

  Betsy crossed her arms, challenging Tracy’s intention with a look that was frisky but also cut through Tracy’s act. “I’m sorry, did you come out here to smoke? Or…” She let the question hang playfully between them.

  Not one to be intimidated, Tracy met Betsy’s eyes directly. “I came out here to talk to you.” She watched Betsy blush and look down at the ground to hide her smile. “Th
at your girlfriend?” Tracy gestured with her chin at the phone Betsy still held in her right hand.

  Betsy whipped her head around and looked behind her.

  “No, I meant on the phone,” Tracy clarified.

  Betsy let a little laugh slip out before she answered. “No. That was work.” She looked at Tracy. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Funny, ’cause when I just asked, you turned around as though she might be behind you.” Tracy tapped her finger on her lips in mock interrogation.

  “Yeah, sorry. That was…” Betsy slipped her hands in her back pockets and rocked her hips forward and back as she drifted off. She bit her lower lip, still holding in a smile. “My ex had this habit of showing up out of the blue.” She widened her eyes. “You might remember that from a few weeks ago.”

  “So that was your ex?” Tracy’s emphasis on the word was heavy, her intent obvious.

  “Yes.” Betsy stopped to look at her phone before continuing. “She was in town for a gig. We had a few final things to sort out.” She shrugged a little.

  “What does she play?” Tracy asked, knowing some of the details already.

  “Bass.” Betsy answered, squinting her eyes in question as to how Tracy had come into the particulars.

  Tracy gave a quick nod with her head toward the bar. “The girls were talking a little.” She pushed a lock of hair off her forehead but the humidity made it droop forward again immediately. “I would have pegged her anyway. She’s got the look.”

  “That’s right, you’re from LA.”

  Tracy nodded. “Safe to say I know the type. Crazy hours, on the road all the time.” She raised her eyebrows. “So you and the ex…you two are done? For sure?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Tracy cocked her head from side to side prying even further. “No lingering uncertainty about the future…”