"NO! I mean, no, I don't, Ryan. I, uhm, can't think of a thing I'd like to ask."
"Oh, I thought you were … curious."
Coco turned her dark, intense eyes on Jamie and let her mouth slide into a fantastically attractive smile. Her white teeth gleamed in the dull light, and she asked, "Yeah, Ryan said you were thinking about trying something new."
Her smile was mesmerizing, and Jamie found herself powerless not to return the grin. Shaking her head, the blonde forced herself to say, "No, no help needed. Just fine here … yep … just fine."
"Come on," the dark beauty urged, "Don't be shy. Take off your shirt and let me get a good look at you."
"What?"
"Yeah, Jamie," Ryan urged. "Let Coco take a look." She hopped off her chair and removed Jamie's shirt before the smaller woman could lodge a word of protest.
Coco leaned back and assessed her thoughtfully, finally nodding with satisfaction. "I think you look fine."
"Thanks," Jamie said weakly, simultaneously plotting Ryan's demise.
"Do you take any supplements? Amino acids, Creatine?"
"Huh?"
"Do you take supplements?" she asked again. "It's hard to build bulk if you don't."
Looking from Ryan to Coco and back again, she repeated, "Huh?"
"Jamie," Ryan soothed, now placing her hands on her shoulders, "Coco was Ms. California Bodybuilder 1999. If you want to build up your arms, you really should listen to her." Looking at their new friend, Ryan asked, "What do you take?"
Coco laughed heartily and said, "You're kidding, right? I don't give out my secrets to anyone. Besides, just because something works for me, doesn't mean it'll work for you." She smiled at Jamie. "You're just getting started, but there's no reason you can't bulk up if you really want to. Just do it safely. A pretty girl like you doesn't want to mess up her body with steroids."
Jamie was still staring at her, her mouth slightly open.
"Oh, she won't," Ryan said. "She's far too precious to me to ever let her do something like that."
Coco smiled at the pair and cast another look outside. "Hey, my wife's here. Gotta go. See you, and good luck," she added, extending her hand to shake Jamie's limp mitt.
The pair watched the woman leave, then Jamie got up and went to the bar, buying herself another beer. When she returned, Ryan was unsuccessfully trying to compose her face, the grin leaking out of the corners of her mouth. Jamie sat down and sipped on her beer, finally putting it down on the ledge and gazing at her partner.
Big blue eyes batted ingenuously. "Am I in trouble?"
Taking another long sip, Jamie looked at her thoughtfully. "I wasn't raised like you were, Ryan. Mia teases me a lot, and Jack teased me quite a bit, but no one has really exposed me to practical jokes. I'll admit that I probably don't know the proper rules, but those are the breaks." She leaned forward so that their noses touched lightly. "I'm not only going to get you back … I'm going to get you back at least … at least … twice as bad. And I don't want to hear a word of complaint." Tapping her on the chest with a finger, Jamie vowed, "You have been warned."
Ryan gulped noticeably. "Like when you paid that woman to make it look like I was cheating on you?"
"Child's play." Jamie smirked. "That didn't come near to what I'm going to do to you." She leaned back and cocked her head. "I know that you won't stop playing your little games-it's too ingrained. So I'm not even going to ask you to stop. Even though I might remind you that in Las Vegas you promised you wouldn't pull another one. I just want you to recognize the consequences of your actions. You'd better make sure your joke is worth the payback, babe."
Ryan nodded soberly, finally saying, "This one was worth a lot. You might have to remind me of that after you humiliate me in front of the whole city, but this one was sweet."
"Enjoy! Soak it all up-revel in it, love. Perhaps you'll take some cold comfort from it in the future." Taking another sip of beer, she turned her stool to gaze out the window again. "Now, where were we?" She looked up and down the street, then pointed, "Pretty redhead, nine o'clock."
Ryan grasped her partner's beer and took a drink. "Nah, not your type."
As the woman moved closer, Jamie had to agree with her. Chuckling, she asked, "How do you know my type better than I do?"
"I don't. My eyes are just a little better than yours."
"Are not."
"Are too. What's the most distant sign you can read?"
Jamie sighed, realizing that the competition was never over with the dark beauty at her side, but that was just how she liked it.
It was still fairly early when they left the bar, and since the night was clear, Ryan guided her bike to one of her favorite spots to view the city. Corona Heights Park was located between the Castro and Buena Vista Park, and was usually very quiet late at night.
They walked hand in hand, crossing the cropped grass to find some large rocks to lean against. Because the night was clear, it was also very chilly, with the wind blowing vigorously. Ryan sat on one of the rocks, with Jamie in front of her, her heavy leather jacket protecting her from the worst of the chill. Snuggling against the cold, they watched in silence as the city below them went about its business-unaware that it was being observed.
"Ryan?" the smaller woman asked after a long while.
"Hmm?" The voice tickled her ear.
"You didn't think I was serious, did you?"
There was a quality to Jamie's voice that caused Ryan to shift her body so that she could see her face. "Serious?"
"Yeah." The blonde head nodded quickly, then she hesitantly added, "About being with someone else … about being with you and someone else."
Tightening her hold around her lover's body, Ryan began to shake her head, saying, "No, no, no and no! You're the last person in the world who would ever want to do that!" Leaning back just a bit to let Jamie see her face, she added, "I'm the second to the last, by the way. I can't think of anything we'd enjoy less."
She had such a look of distaste on her face that Jamie had to laugh despite her unease. "Are you sure? Because I'd never … ever …"
Ryan silenced her with a gentle kiss. "I'm sure. The thought that you might be serious never crossed my mind. I really had fun tonight. I love seeing you develop and refine your taste in whom you find attractive-and that's all that you were doing. We were just playing, and fantasizing about things that we would never, ever do. That's what makes it a fantasy."
Jamie nodded, the concerned look still on her face. "Okay. I just thought that maybe that's why you played the joke. I thought maybe you were mad at me, or hurt, and that you were trying to teach me a lesson."
Ryan's eyes closed, and she leaned her head back and filled her lungs with the fresh, clean air. "Jamie," she finally whispered, "I'm so sorry for playing that joke on you."
Jamie looked down at the ground and said, "When you do things like that, it doesn't feel like a joke. It feels like you're trying to make me look foolish, or gullible or to embarrass me." Gazing at Ryan with guileless green eyes, she quietly asked, "Why do you want to embarrass me?"
Suddenly, tears were flowing down Ryan's cheeks, the cold wind chilling the hot tears before they traveled an inch. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm so sorry."
Jamie held her tight, whispering, "Don't cry, sweetheart. Please, don't cry."
"But I hurt you. I hurt you … intentionally."
"Did you do it to hurt me?"
"No! Of course not! But I messed with your mind, and that hurt you. It's the same thing."
"No, it's not. It's really not." Jamie hugged Ryan tight and said, "We just don't speak the same language here. I usually know you're teasing when you do things like that, but it makes me want to hurt you to get back at you. I hate to feel like that; I just don't know how to control my reaction. You O'Flahertys all know it's a game, and you respond in kind. But I want to go nuclear on you-and that scares me."
"We don't all know it's a game. Donal doesn't think practical jokes are funny
… at all."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Over time we stopped making him the brunt of jokes. He just couldn't take it. He broke Declan's nose because of a really harmless prank in high school."
"What was the prank?" Jamie asked, knowing that Ryan's version of harmless and hers might differ significantly.
"They were both on their high school basketball team. Actually, Dermot was on the team, too, and knowing him, he's probably the one who came up with the idea. Anyway, it was a pretty conservative Catholic boys' school, and they wouldn't let them wear the big, baggy uniforms. Before the game, Donal was dawdling a little, like he always does, and either Dec or Dermot hid Donal's real uniform and left him an unused one that must have been an extra-small. Well, as you can imagine, Donal was never an extra small anything, but since they'd hidden every other uniform, he had to put on this tiny thing and run out onto the court when he was introduced. It looked like the darn thing was spray-painted on him!" She threw her head back and laughed, her tears forgotten in the face of this hilarious image.
Jamie, however, just looked at her, shaking her head. "He must have been mortified."
Ryan's laughter died down, then stopped altogether. "You really don't think that's funny?"
"No." The blonde head shook. "I just feel sorry for Donal. He's such a proud guy-he must have wanted to crawl in a hole and die."
Looking at her with confusion, Ryan said, "That's the point of the joke. The guy's supposed to be embarrassed. Then he figures out how to do the same thing to you."
"Is that what Donal did?"
"No, he sure didn't. He waited until halftime and sucker-punched Dec when he ran into the locker room. Popped him a good one. Dec didn't even see it coming. Of course, Donal got suspended," she said quietly, suddenly seeing that the situation didn't seem nearly as funny as it had before she'd started to analyze it. "Uhm …" She scratched the back of her head and said, "Maybe Da was right when he used to say, 'It's only a game until someone loses an eye.'"
Eyes widening in surprise, Jamie said, "Well, that's a little extreme, but I understand his point. Jokes like that can get out of hand."
Ryan nodded. "You can get me back for what I did tonight. I don't care if you put a bare-assed picture of me up on a BART billboard so that every person crossing the Trans-Bay tunnel sees it. But once we're even, I'm gonna try really hard not to pull another joke on you. If you don't think it's funny, it's just cruel."
"Thank you. And I don't think I'll pay you back. I wouldn't do it for a joke-I'd do it just to be mean, and that's not how I want to be with you."
"Okay," Ryan said quietly. "Although I'd prefer it if you'd just get me back. Now I'll have this hanging over my head."
Shrugging her shoulders, Jamie smiled at Ryan and said, "Them's the breaks, sparky."
"You're going to not get me back just to torture me, aren't you?" Ryan asked in amazement. "That's … that's cruel!"
"Could be." Jamie smiled again. "I'll never tell."
"You're truly diabolical," the taller woman sighed. "I never can win with you."
"Nope. Sure can't. Might as well stop trying."
Ryan gripped Jamie's hand and pulled her to her feet, then wrapped her in a warm hug. "Yeah, like that's gonna happen."
Part Ten
On Wednesday morning, Jim got up and called Kayla, not particularly surprised when she didn't answer either of her numbers. He couldn't afford to be seen knocking on her door, begging to be let inside, so he left for work at the usual time, surprised to see her already at her desk when he arrived. She didn't look up as he passed, and he didn't want to let anyone else know they were fighting, so he went into his office and closed the door, determined to let her make the first move.
Ryan was walking out of her French class when her cell phone rang. Her heart started racing when the caller ID showed "Maeve Driscoll." "Hi. Anything wrong?" she asked, the words coming out nearly as one.
"No, sweetheart," he father's calm voice said. "I wanted to call to see how you were feeling after that horrible vote yesterday."
She let out a breath. "Oh. You've never called me on my cell phone. I assumed something terrible had happened."
"It did," he said. "A bunch of idiots have been given the right to decide who the benefits and obligations of citizenship should go to. That's a very bad thing, darlin'."
Tears stung Ryan's eyes. "You know," she said, her voice shaking, "knowing that my family understands that makes everything better. I mean that, Da. It makes everything better."
"This has been hard for you, hasn't it?"
"Yeah," she said, trying not to let other people see her cry. "I've felt pretty … I don't know … I guess lonely is the right word."
"You're not home enough," Martin said. "You don't do well when you're away from home too often."
"I know. Believe me, I know. I'm not home enough. I'm not spending enough time with Jamie. I'm not working on my independent study enough. I'm pulled in too many directions, Da. Things just aren't clicking for me."
"What can I do, love?"
Ryan sighed, her breath catching as it left her lungs. "I don't know. If I knew, I'd do something about it. I overextended myself … again … and now I'm paying for it."
"Would it help if we came over to your house for dinner more often, sweetheart? It breaks my heart to hear you sound so sad."
"I am sad." Even though she was right outside her classroom building, she broke down, tears flowing freely down her face. Through sharp gasps and hiccups she said, "I feel like I'm screwing everything up. I'm not able to concentrate like I used to. I still haven't made sense of my project, and if I don't finish it I won't graduate."
"There, there, sweetheart," Martin soothed. "If you can't finish it, you'll finish it this summer. It's not the end of the world. Don't let little things like that get you down. You've had a very stressful year, Siobhan. Taking care of yourself has to be your biggest priority."
"Yeah," she said, the bitterness obvious. "I'm the hot-house flower."
"No, you're not," he said. "You've never been fragile or delicate, and you're not now. You just have to listen to your body and your heart, darlin'. And you have to let me know when you're not feeling well. It's my job to help you through hard times."
"I'm an adult, Da. I have to be able to take care of myself."
"Nonsense! You're my baby, and you will be as long as I'm breathing. Let your ancient old father feel like he's needed."
"Okay," she said, unable to keep from smiling. "I'd love for you and Aunt Maeve to come for dinner the first night you have off."
"When do you get home?"
"Around 6:30 or 7:00 most nights."
"We'll be there tonight. Tell Jamie we'll bring dinner, so she doesn't have to do a thing."
"Really? Tonight?" The excitement in her voice was infectious.
"Yes. Tonight. Hurry home, sweetheart. Your father misses you."
Jim and Kayla kept a cool distance all day. When he asked her to join him for a conference call with Bob Washington, the Democratic nominee for his senate post, she looked like she was on the verge of refusing, but she went along and even contributed a few things to the discussion.
By the time Jim was ready to leave, she was already gone, and he didn't hear another word from her until almost ten o'clock. Kayla knocked on his door and entered without a word when he answered. Walking over to his wet-bar, she poured herself a scotch and sat down. "How long have we been seeing each other?"
"Uhm … about a year and a half," Jim guessed.
"That sounds about right." She nodded thoughtfully. "I'd say we should know each other pretty well by now, shouldn't we?"
He looked at her warily. "Yes, I think we do."
Tilting her head, Kayla looked at him for a moment. "What do my parents do for a living?"
"Ahh … for a living?" Jim repeated, searching his mind for a clue.
"Yeah. What do they do for a living?"
"Uhm … I think your father is a doc
tor of some kind. But I don't recall what your mother does."
"Not much," Kayla snapped. "Being dead limits your professional opportunities." She raised her glass to her lips and drained it.
He blinked slowly, stunned. "I'm so sorry; I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't know," she said, her voice cold. "You didn't know because it's my life-not yours. If it doesn't directly impact you, you don't give a crap!"
"Kayla! That's not true!"
"How many siblings do I have? Where did I grow up? Did my father remarry? What are my interests? What are my long-term goals?"
She fired the questions at him so quickly that he barely had time to comprehend them, much less answer them. "Just because I don't know those things it doesn't mean I don't want to know," Jim maintained. "You're very guarded around me, you know. I just … I don't want to pry."
"Fine," she snapped. "I'll tell you the answers to these complex questions. My father is a psychiatrist. My mother died when I was two. She was in an auto accident." At Jim's shocked expression, she continued. "She had been drinking, and she drove off Mulholland Drive on her way home." Narrowing her eyes, she said, "I grew up in the Hollywood Hills, for your information."
"That's just horrible," he said, trying to be empathetic.
"No, the Hills are actually very nice," she snapped, being intentionally obtuse. "I don't remember my mother, but from all reports, she and my father had a very unhappy marriage. He regrets having married her."
He started to speak then held back. But when she didn't continue, he said. "That's not a very kind thing to say about your late wife."
Giving him a look that questioned his intelligence, she said, "He regrets it because he knew he was wrong to marry her. He's gay." She let that hang there for a moment, then added, "He tried to ignore the truth, thinking he'd be able to make a go of it, but it didn't work out. They were both very unhappy, and she drank and ran around with other men, trying to make him jealous."
Nurture Page 14
