LipstickLeslee

by Titania Leslee

  Of course he’d been right. Everyone knew I’d never be caught stone-dead on that stage, so the rare appearance would cause that buzz, and it did bring in about double our usual crowd during special events. But I should have thought of an alternative. I should have known he wouldn’t stick to his “no names” and “no TV stations” claim.

  And most importantly of all, I should have never involved Melanie in this mess.

  * * * * *

  I pulled into the hotel parking lot by 11:15 p.m. and climbed out of my car. It was still snowing, but the maintenance crew had already cleared some of the snow from the lot, so I was able to walk easily on my heels to the back employee entrance. I’d decided to dress in my best business suit—the only one I owned with a skirt rather than the usual pants I wore to work. I’d also applied some mascara, blush and lipstick, which was very unusual for me whether on or off the job. Maybe if I came in looking crisp, businesslike and feminine, I’d remind Henry that I was capable of playing the part and giving his hotel that high-class atmosphere he always insisted on.

  Don’t count on it, Leslee. You know Henry’s a self-absorbed jerk.

  My hand trembled as I pulled open the door, stepped inside and tried to ignore the voice of truth echoing in my mind. The usual scent of floral air freshener mixed with lobby coffee hit me as soon as the door shut behind me. The speakers played the elevator-tune version of The Nutcracker overhead, and up the hallway to my right I could hear the chatter coming from the lobby where the front desk checked in late-arriving guests. I followed the brightly carpeted corridor to my left with its scattering of wingback chairs, large poinsettias and expensive wall paintings, toward Henry’s plush office in the executive suite.

  I reached the tall double doors made of thick oak and outlined in a twist of gold- and-silver tinsel. My hand shook again as I reached for the brass knob and turned it. I stepped into the waiting area where a fat, elaborately decorated Christmas tree sat in a corner among chairs lining three of the four papered walls. His secretary’s desk was positioned on the fourth wall. The computer, mail baskets and penholders on the heavy maple surface were in neat order, and a foot-tall set of Santa and Mrs. Santa stood on the edge greeting visitors. Given the late hour, the secretary’s chair was empty as I’d expected, but that didn’t diminish the message that this desk guarded the man in the office beyond. Though the door was ajar, which was unusual, I didn’t dare venture beyond that desk until I was given permission, so I lowered myself into the nearest seat to wait.

  I hadn’t been sitting for more than ten seconds when Henry sauntered out of his office. He stood behind his secretary’s desk with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out, but he was your typical short man with “tall-man syndrome”. He glared at me and jammed his thumb over his shoulder. “Get in my office. Now.” He whirled around on his buffed, expensive dress shoes and stalked back into his domain.

  My legs were like rubber bands as I crossed the fancy carpeting, passed behind the secretary’s territory and stopped in the doorway to Henry’s realm.

  “Sit down,” he grumbled without looking up. What a Scrooge. His bald head was lowered, the smooth skin shiny under the overhead lighting. He scribbled on some forms spread across the wide desk while he sat in an executive leather chair that dwarfed him. Huh, maybe he more resembled a Santa’s elf than Scrooge.

  I’d only been in here once, during my interview years ago, so it wasn’t all that familiar to me. I shuffled forward, glanced around at the rich furnishings, various trinkets and artwork, and lowered myself into the first of two wing-backed chairs set before his desk like execution seats. I caught a whiff of his expensive cologne. It made my stomach churn.

  He held his pen poised above the paper and scowled at me over the top of his bifocals. His beady black eyes gleamed devil-like at me. “Move over to the other chair. I’m expecting Melanie too.”

  Melanie? Oh please, no.

  I hardly had time to lament that fact when a rap sounded on his open door. I didn’t turn though. I knew it was her. Wished it wasn’t. Wished I’d never gotten her into this mess. But it was too late. Here we were at this place in time, unable to change the past or the outcome that was about to be laid before us.

  I shifted over to the next chair to offer her the first one, but not because Henry had ordered me to. I did it as a courtesy gesture for Melanie.

  Her heels made a muffled clip on the carpet as she moved closer. I caught the aroma of her perfume before I saw her out of the corner of my eye where she stood next to the chair but didn’t sit down. Smart girl. I couldn’t help myself. I glanced up at her. She was dressed the same as me, in a crisp business suit with a snug skirt and white blouse beneath the jacket. Her leather briefcase was strapped over her shoulder just as it had been when I’d interviewed her so long ago. She looked crisp, all business.

  And sexy as hell.

  She avoided my gaze and primly lowered herself into the chair next to me when Henry waved a hand silently, ordering her to sit.

  Henry cleared his throat, tossed down his pen and spun in his chair to the credenza behind him. He punched some buttons on a stack of equipment and pointed a remote at a television mounted near the ceiling in the corner behind him.

  “Feel like a good movie?” he asked, though it was apparent it wasn’t a question requiring an answer when the Pussycat’s news report played on the screen.

  Melanie’s swift intake of breath told me she hadn’t yet heard about the contest being broadcast on a local television network. I peered over at her. Her hand was pressed to her chest, blocking my view of her cleavage in the button-up blouse. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were bugged, glued to the flat-screen television.

  “What¼” She darted a look at me that could have killed. Her eyes were full of unshed moisture though they were narrowed with resentment and ambushed surprise. She uncrossed her legs, re-crossed them, squirmed in her seat and panted. I feared she’d hyperventilate if she didn’t calm down.

  “I’m sorry, Melanie,” I said, longing to reach over and take her in my arms, but she looked away, presenting me with her striking profile. The stab of rejection hurt like hell, but I managed to continue. “I swear I didn’t know. I just found out myself. I’m assuming it was Charles’ idea to pull in more customers. I was told it would be announced on the radio only, and with no names. The bastard lied as usual.”

  She finally snapped her gaze back to mine. Resentment darkened the brown of her eyes. Her voice came out squeaky through clenched teeth as if she struggled to keep from exploding. “You’re assuming? You mean you haven’t choked that son of bitch yet? Well screw it. I will. I’m going to kill that motherf—”

  “Melanie,” Henry shouted.

  “What?”

  “That’ll be enough.”

  Melanie ignored him and twisted in her seat to face me. She gripped the arm of the chair so tightly her knuckles whitened. “How could you have ever married such an ass? It sickens me. And it pisses me off that you allowed that arrogant idiot to even—”

  “You’re fired. Both of you.” Henry slapped a piece of paper down in front of each of us. I glanced at it, but Melanie’s words hung in my head, overpowering Henry’s sneering statements.

  I swung my knees around so I could face Melanie. She looked gorgeous with her cheeks flaming red and her eyes shooting daggers at me. Her mouth was drawn in a snarl, although it still drew my attention and had my own mouth watering to cover my lips with hers and devour her.

  “I married him before I came out. In fact, the ‘arrogant idiot’ was instrumental in helping me to face who and what I really am. Maybe in a roundabout way, his actions will be key in helping you to do the same thing¼”

  She leaned closer and narrowed her gaze so much that I could barely see the brilliant color of them. “I. Am. Not. A. Lesbian.”

  “Coulda fooled me,” Henry said under his breath. He’d since leaned back in his chair, hands laced behind his head, and now propped his fancy shoes on t
he desk. “The way you two got it on on stage,” he said with a whistle, “looked to me like you’re both lesbians and way into each other.”

  Melanie gasped. “Shut the hell up, Henry.”

  He nodded and grinned. “I suppose now that you’re no longer an employee, you have every right to say what you want to me. Well, let me clarify…you’ll technically no longer be an employee after Monday, so that’s when you can say what you want to me.”

  “What?” Melanie croaked.

  “What?” I repeated.

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you two listening? I said you’re fired—well, after you complete the Ronson-Monroe wedding reception this weekend and the Link Electronics conference the following Monday.” He gestured toward the papers he’d slid in front of us. “These’re your walking papers, which detail the timeline and what to expect. Beyond Monday, we’ve provided you with a generous one-month severance package including salary and benefits. When December is up, you’re cut off.”

  I snapped up the paper and scanned it. “You call one month ‘generous’?”

  “Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe this,” Melanie groaned and slumped in her seat. But she didn’t slump long. Instead, she sat up ramrod straight and pointed a finger in my face. “This is all your fault, Leslee. All your fault. You’ve ruined my career. This’ll follow me from city to city, reference to reference and all across the damn internet. I’ll never achieve my GM aspirations now, and all because I agreed to help a supposed friend pull off a stupid lesbian contest.”

  “Didn’t look to me like you thought it was ‘stupid’,” Henry said with a sardonic sneer. He jiggled his eyebrows and rewound the DVR so it would play the contest over again. “See there? Looks more like you were both totally into each other. I’d say you’re either an excellent actress, or you’re gay but still in the closet.”

  I slapped my hand on the paper, wadded it up and shot to my feet. “Fuck you, Henry. I’m already out. Have been since my divorce. Where the hell have you been? Holed up in this posh office here with your head up your ass or your hand down your pants?”

  Henry’s thin nostrils flared. “You have no right to speak to me that way.”

  “I’d say she does.” Melanie stood next to me and folded her arms under her chest in a huff. “I mean, who are you to her anymore? You’re not her boss. You’re not her friend. So I say lay it on him, Leslee.”

  He frowned and thumbed through his desktop calendar. “Um, no. I’m delaying your being fired for now. Monday, remember? Yeah, I’m both of your bosses until Monday. Then you can feel free to lay all you want on me.”

  Although Melanie’s earlier anger had hurt like a stab in the gut, her current alliance soothed that pain and gave me hope and a growing sense of power against this egotistical ex-boss.

  “Screw Monday, screw the Ronson-Monroe wedding reception, screw the Link Electronics conference and screw you, Henry.” I ripped up the paper and sprinkled the pieces across his desk.

  Melanie followed my lead and did the same with her walking papers. “Yeah, what she said.”

  Henry shot to his feet, his big leather chair clunking against the fancy credenza behind his desk. He was so short he had to look up at us both. “You goddamn disgusting lesbian bitches. If I’d have known you were gay, I’d never have hired you.” He pointed to the door. “Get out of my sight. Now! And don’t either of you ever step foot in my hotel again, you got that?”

  A vague knot of dread tightened in my belly. Pussycat’s teetered on possible bankruptcy, so I’d cut my salary there to help prevent or at best delay the process and pay off some creditors. With the exception of my savings, my salary from the hotel was all I really had to pay my own rent and expenses.

  What would I do now?

  Well, it was too late. I could’ve used that severance, but I’d already let my temper get the best of me and backed myself into a corner. I had a fleeting moment of considering apologizing and begging for my job back, or at least the severance, but Melanie stopped me from groveling.

  “Fine by me. Good riddance. And oh, by the way, Henry, good luck on that wedding and conference.” She lifted her pert nose, sniffed with a haughty air and marched in quick, clicky steps to the door. “On those days, be sure and leave that expensive suit at home and wear your waiter’s apron instead. Come on, Leslee, let’s get the hell out of this dweeb’s precious hotel.”

  I shot one last look at Henry. He had his hands on his hips and that “aw, shit, I hadn’t thought of that” look on his face.

  I said a few parting words. “Thank you for the opportunity to work for Starling. But I’ll have to agree with her. Good riddance.”

  I spun on my heels and followed her down the corridor. She looked damn good in that tight skirt, hips swaying, long hair bouncing with her quick steps. I did my best to catch up with her, stumbling a time or two on the stupid heels.

  “Melanie. Wait,” I called out to her.

  She didn’t stop, turn or make any indication that she heard me. She just kept barreling right on to the employee door and shoved it open.

  I finally caught up to her in the parking lot just when she reached her car. I closed my hand around her arm and tugged until she faced me.

  “What?” she growled, avoiding my gaze.

  “I’m sorry, Mel. Real sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.” Emotions bombarded me, regret, sorrow, anger, panic that I was losing her before I’d even had her. And oddly enough, elation that I got this opportunity to stand this close to her, to smell her perfume, to see her one last time and etch her beautiful face in my mind.

  She readjusted her briefcase strap on her shoulder and cleared her throat. Her breath came out in a white cloud of fury and disgust. “Yeah, well me too, I guess.”

  Flakes of snow fell on her eyelashes and with the streetlamps slanting over her eyes, it softened her irises so they glittered like gold ornaments on a Christmas tree. Her cheeks and lips were pink, though I didn’t know if it was from anger, the cold or makeup. I thought back on that intimate moment when she’d painted my face before the contest. It brought a flood of desire to my lower belly, but I could tell by her aloofness that she wasn’t experiencing the same thing. No, it wasn’t exactly the right time to explore this drug in my veins further.

  “Could you¼ Would you come have coffee with me somewhere?”

  She shook her head.

  “A shot of tequila?” I asked, not liking the pathetic, desperate tone in my voice.

  She continued to avoid my gaze, yet when she clamped her lower lip between her teeth in indecision, hope assailed me. It didn’t last long, though. My hopes were dashed when she tugged her arm from my hold, pulled open her car door and climbed in.

  As she started the engine and leaned out to grab the door handle, she said, “No thanks. I need to go home and work on my résumé. And start packing since no hotels within a hundred miles of here will hire me after seeing that report.”

  I folded my arms and stepped back. Her words weighed heavy on my heart because it was my fault she was forced to redo her résumé and because it indicated she’d be moving.

  “Melanie, please. I’m sorry, so sorry. Please don’t leave. Please, can we just talk this over and figure out a way to—”

  “Goodbye, Leslee.” She slammed the door and drove away, tires crunching on snow.

  I stood there shivering, watching until her car turned the corner and disappeared from view. God, how my chest hurt. I swallowed a lump of emotion and swiped at the tears that spilled over my cheeks. Damn it, I should never have gotten involved with a hetero woman. It always spelled disaster for a true lesbian.

  I punched the unlock button on my key ring, climbed in my car and started the engine. But I couldn’t stop myself from falling over the steering wheel and sobbing like a wretched, lovesick teen.

  Because I knew I would take her back in a second, hetero or not.

  Chapter Seven

  Melanie: The Truth Comes Out of
the Closet

  It was early in the morning one day after nearly three weeks had passed. I still couldn’t find a job and I had no idea what I was going to do. Every hotel I applied to either ignored my application or verified, “Aren’t you that woman who was on the news dirty dancing in that lesbian bar?”

  The vacation pay I’d accrued was enough to cover my expenses for now, but it wouldn’t last forever. I contemplated cashing in the modest trust fund my father had willed to me, but I needed to verify if I’d take a tax hit, which I couldn’t afford. Besides, I’d always sworn that I would only use it for an investment, not drain it for day-to-day expenses.

  I widened my circle and sent out applications to hotels in cities in other states. Chicago, St. Louis, Memphis, Denver and even Tampa and Dallas. Why not? I had nothing left here. My father had passed away almost two years ago and left the farm to Savanah. I had no other family in the area, and Kaydee was so wrapped up in Savanah, I might as well be dead.

  But the thing that kept nagging at me and making me drag my feet was that I couldn’t seem to get Leslee out of my head. The image of her standing there in that parking lot with snow falling on her dark hair and the chill of the night pinkening her cheeks would be emblazoned in my brain forever. She’d looked beautiful and vulnerable all at once, and yet that streak of underlying strength that made Leslee, Leslee, had still been there¼though hanging by a thread. In that split second before I’d slammed the door and taken off, I’d come so close to leaping out of my car and taking her in my arms. I knew she had to be hurting too, and I knew her apology and regret at getting me involved in her mess was sincere.

  Yet my usual selfish nature and my damnable pride had seized me and I’d sped off in my typical dramatic fashion. The regret of my actions compounded as each day passed. It sat heavy in my gut as if I’d gorged on some disgusting meal that my body couldn’t digest. I slept later and later each day following nights of insomnia plagued by thoughts of Leslee and how well we’d fit together, how consumed I’d been with passion and emotion when I was in her arms.