by JLee Meyer
Staring into the distance, she said, “Heather was killed in a drive-by shooting. An innocent bystander, on her way to work with kids who loved her and needed her. Just…dead.”
Ember started sobbing, and Irina opened her arms and said, “Come here, child. Right now.”
Ember fell on her knees and clung to Irina, her body racked with the agony of a loss she had neither grieved nor told anyone else about. After a few moments she quieted, then found her chair and scrubbed her face with her hands to get rid of the tears. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she somehow looked lighter.
“Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks, Mrs. C, you always know what to do.” Her voice reflected the mutual warmth and love they had developed and it made Irina’s heart sing. But there were two questions left unanswered, and now was the opportunity.
“Ember, I’m sorry for your tragic loss, but why, exactly, did you leave your home?”
Anger suffused Ember’s features. “I told my dad about Heather, and he barely remembered her. He said he was sorry and went back to his newspaper. Then I said I was going to get a job and he laughed at me. He told me I wouldn’t have a clue about how to actually do anything. I was better off going to a good university and marrying a rich man. He hadn’t even noticed I didn’t date boys.”
Irina hesitated. “Did you date girls? Did your friends know you thought of yourself as a lesbian?”
Blushing, Ember studied her nails. “No. Heather was the only one who knew. She was, too. It was another secret we shared.”
Deciding to leave the subject alone, Irina asked her last question. “Ember, what is your family name? I know it isn’t Jones, because when we first met, you mentioned a different one.”
A look of suspicion crossed Ember’s face but then her shoulders relaxed. “Lanier. My last name is Lanier. I paid for fake ID papers. Spent a bunch of my money on it, too. I don’t know where I thought more money was coming from.”
“You’ve done well for yourself. You have a job, a place to stay, you go to school, and you have good friends. I should think you have proved your father incorrect about your ability to survive. Why not call him? He must be worried about you.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I doubt he’s paid too much attention.”
“Then why change your name? I think you knew he would look for you.”
Shrugging, Ember stood and hefted her backpack onto a shoulder. “I guess that’s true. But I’m not ready to go back. I like my new life. Oh, I wanted to tell you. Remember that kid who stole your purse when we first met?”
Nonplussed as to where this question was going, Irina only nodded.
“Well, his name is Joey G and he’s all clean and sober now and goes to Cal. I’m going to go to his place after class and play computer games. He’s a caretaker for a warehouse south of Market Street and lives there, too. See you later.”
Still a little teary, Ember sailed out the door, the very picture of vibrant youth. Irina could see that she blamed her father for Heather’s death, but she suspected it wouldn’t be long before she saw the error in that logic and forgave him enough to contact him. She fervently hoped he had tried to find her, for Ember’s sake.
She would miss her young companion when the time came for her to leave, but for now, in case she needed her and because of the others, she would finish this bureaucratic nightmare and hope that the end was near. Forty years was long enough to wait. And after that?
“Seraphina and I will have a talk because I think it is safe. I wonder how the years have changed her. I wonder if she’s remembered our promise.”
All of the activity and sense of purpose had reinvigorated Irina. She felt better than she had in years. She rarely used her walker now and woke up excited for each day. It was good to be of service, to repay kindness shown so long ago. She no longer had to wait for the moment, it had arrived. And she was ready.
*
Stef was deep in an erotic fantasy involving Laurel and her and a tub full of whipped cream when she heard a soft knock and looked up to see Agnes Brady shuffling nervously in the doorway. She was expected, as she always came by to pick up the payment each month. The envelope was on the reception desk, and it was unusual for her to peek in Stef’s office. Under the present circumstances, Stef thought she had some nerve.
Fighting to be civil, she said, “Ms. Brady, how may I help you? The check should be on the corner of the desk out there.”
She pretended to become engrossed in her computer screen in hopes the woman would go away. She really didn’t want to start screaming this early in the day, especially since her body was still reacting to that damned fantasy. Stupid whipped cream. She was wet.
This idea that she and Laurel had concocted, about not being physically intimate until Laurel had moved all her possessions out of that woman’s house, was so dumb she couldn’t believe it. She had to sleep next to the most beautiful woman she’d ever met, one she’d already fallen in love with and declared that love to, and they weren’t going to have sex? How stupid was that? A loud sneeze and congested cough pulled her back to Agnes Brady. Why was she still here?
Agnes dragged a very old and wet tissue from her pocket to mop up where she had sprayed when she sneezed. Ew. Stef passed a box of tissues to her and kept a sensible distance while she noisily blew her nose from what sounded like the bottom of one of her lungs.
Agnes wheezed, “Oh, thank you. I hope you don’t catch this stuff, it’s no fun.” She grabbed another tissue and dabbed ineffectually at the globules of sputum she’d deposited on the desk.
Note to self: boil desk.
“Oh, don’t worry. I never get sick,” Stef declared with a phony smile.
“I had to come by to…to apologize to you. I didn’t know, when they were talking about the acceleration clause, that they were referring to this hotel.” Her watery eyes pleaded for understanding.
Stef felt her own eyes narrow in response. “Is that why you looked so guilty every time you came by to get the check? Because you didn’t even suspect?”
Looking even more miserable, Agnes admitted, “I did suspect, but I was too cowardly to ask. I’ve worked for them for a few years and it hasn’t been a good experience. They’re not good people. But I wanted to be a lawyer someday, and I help support my family so I need the money. My mom isn’t well.”
Stef relented. It was hard to stay angry in the face of such a heartfelt apology. Besides, now she was curious. That, and she wanted to return to her musings. “Okay. Is there anything else, Agnes?”
“Well, yes.” Agnes shuffled some more and her pale skin turned pink. “I was wondering if you could put in a good word for me with Lefty.” She sneezed again, but this time caught most of it. From the look of her she was quite communicable.
“Lefty who?” The name sounded familiar.
“Lefty Petrovsky.” The expectant way she said it suggested Stef should not only recognize the name but be seeking an autograph as well.
“She’s part of Jock Reynolds’s crew, right?” Was this distraction really necessary?
Agnes’s sickly pallor colored again. “Yes, I met her a few months ago when I took a tour of the remodel. She’s been ignoring me since this whole thing happened.” She sounded completely dejected.
“Have you talked to her about it? Maybe she doesn’t understand.” Stef wasn’t sure she understood, either. Could someone please get rid of this walking flu bug and let me get back to, um, business?
“I tried, but she won’t listen. She worships Jock and Ms. Phelps and thinks I personally am trying to dismantle the hotel. I tried to explain I’m just an assistant, but she won’t take my calls.”
“I really don’t see how I can help. I’m not trying to be mean, I assure you.” I’m thinking I should whip the cream myself. Yes, organic cream with vanilla and a touch of sugar. That way when I lick it off Laurel...
“I quit my job.” Agnes lapsed into another coughing spell.
“And
you want me to tell Lefty for you?”
Agnes nodded with feverish gratitude. “And I want to apply for a job with you.”
Stef rid herself of the vision of Laurel’s breasts covered in organic whipped cream with just her nipples peeking out. It wasn’t easy. “Why would you do that? We have no money, which, I think you know.”
“Yes, I know. You’re going to need a good attorney and someone to assist in the litigation. I’m very good and very thorough. I can save you money.”
Something felt a little off. “Wait, back up. What do you mean, I’ll need a good attorney? I thought that was obvious.”
“You probably know this already, but the Bohemian Club plans to have the original sale of the hotel to you voided. They’re trying to declare Seraphina Drake Holloway incompetent. Then any action she took as trustee of the Holloway family trust will be null. Including the sale of the hotel. That’s why I quit.”
Stunned, Stef could only stare. “Agnes, I’m pretty sure that anything you’ve overheard is confidential. If those guys find out you’ve warned us and they decide to pursue it, your chances of getting into a good law school will disappear. Consider carefully.”
Agnes’s set her jaw. “I don’t care. You and the women who work for you are so nice, and those people are so scummy. I know the rules, but sometimes you just have to do the right thing. If you can use a secretary or anything at all, I’ll take it.”
Stef stared at her. “Is this all about Lefty?”
Agnes shook her head, then wiped her nose again. “Of course not. But between your urging and my noble deed, maybe she’ll find me irresistible. Can’t hurt, right?”
*
Stef walked numbly down the hall toward Irina Castic’s rooms. She gazed longingly at her own door, not yet able to rid herself of the vision of a naked Laurel covered discreetly in whipped cream.
Mrs. C seemed to be expecting her. She had a pot of tea prepared and served them both before a word was spoken. When Stef was through with her explanations, she sat back in her chair and stared at a place over Stef’s shoulder. “Well, we must discover if there is any substance to this claim. What else did Miss Brady say?”
“That Seraphina’s son, Clayton B. Holloway the Third, has put her in a private facility for the very wealthy. We can’t get to her easily, I’m afraid. They have a lot of security at those places.” Stef felt weary. It seemed like no matter where she turned, there was someone there to block her.
“Perhaps I could visit my dear old friend,” Mrs. C said.
“You know Mrs. Holloway?”
“Very well, although we haven’t seen each other for many years.”
“Agnes says she can’t have any visitors unless they check with her son first.”
They sipped tea in silence for a moment.
Mrs. C asked, “How old are you, dear?”
Her bright blue eyes were full of intention, and Stef answered immediately. “Thirty-four. Why?”
“I’ll need a child or a grandchild. One who, like Seraphina’s son, is shopping for a place to dump off dear, rich Granny while she spends her money. I think you’ll do very well.” Her smile was full of mischief.
“Nice. But don’t they check your portfolio?”
“Give me another day, and then you can make the call. They’ll see us.”
Stef had no idea what Mrs. C, who had lived in the hotel for so many years and was penniless, was going to do, but she felt better immediately.
“Now go and check on Laurel. I think she needs you.” Mrs. C’s smile made Stef blush. She could feel her cheeks tingle. “Oh, please take those two bags of papers to her. I believe she will find them useful.”
Stef nodded and hefted the bags, thankful that she had an excuse to see Laurel at last. It had been at least four hours. So much had happened that she wanted to share with her. She fought the urge to check and see if Sika had any whipping cream in the refrigerator.
*
Laurel was restless.
She was going to go back to class tomorrow, not at all sure how she would be received. Ember had reported concern among the students for her absence and absolutely not one word of explanation from the faculty. There’d been a notice on her office door that classes were cancelled for one week. She assumed Rochelle had made up an excuse, because she hadn’t called. No more covering up for Rochelle; that was her new promise to herself.
Sighing, Laurel knew she would have to face Rochelle soon. She needed her clothes, her things. She was grateful that she had forgotten her laptop in her car and therefore had it, but her class notes and a lot of other student information were on her desktop computer at the house. Stef had been more than generous, and had even converted the room where the project was housed into a temporary office for her. She’d offered to have a bed put there as well, but they dismissed that idea almost immediately, agreeing that they at least needed to sleep in the same bed.
That was the main reason she had to face Rochelle. She wanted to keep her agreement that she would end her relationship with Rochelle before starting a new one with Stef. But really, hadn’t she already done that? Wasn’t moving her things out just a formality? Rochelle had already accused her of sleeping with Stef, screamed it at her when she was attacking her. As far as Laurel was concerned, there was little left to be said, but she wanted to do whatever would make Stef comfortable.
She could understand Stef’s doubts, and her desire to see complete closure. Women often went back and forth as they were trying to leave a relationship. Obviously Stef didn’t trust Laurel enough to accept that it was over, and there was no chance that she would change her mind, unless she made the “divorce” final in every possible way. That meant getting her stuff out of that house. The day couldn’t come soon enough, as far as Laurel was concerned.
A knock on the door brought her back to the present and Stef peeked in, her expression warm and inviting. She plopped two heavy and somewhat bedraggled-looking shopping bags on the floor by the couch. “Mrs. C asked me to bring these to you. Said you might want them.”
Laurel elbowed herself upright and made room on the couch for Stef. Smiling up at her, she said, “I wonder if those are the minutes of the Elysium Society meetings.”
Stef took the notepad from her lap and put it aside, scooting to sit next to her. Touching her face gently, she asked, “How are you feeling?” She continued to fuss, pushing some of Laurel’s hair away from her cheeks.
“Much better. My lip is almost healed. Thanks to you.” Laurel pulled Stef to her and they shared a sweet, soft and lingering kiss. Laurel felt her heartbeat pick up and could tell from Stef’s breathing that the same was happening to her.
“Stefanie?”
“I’m sorry.” Stef looked at her guiltily. “I know we have an—”
Laurel put her fingers on Stef’s lips to shush her. “About that agreement.” She searched Stef’s apprehensive face, hoping she wouldn’t disappoint her. “It’s not going to work.”
A chill passed across Stef’s features like a cloud obscuring the sun. “You’re going back to her?”
“No, absolutely not.” As Stef’s shoulders dropped in relief, Laurel said, “There’s something I want you to know. In my heart, I left Rochelle a long time ago. The day she did this to me, she screamed at me that I was…fucking you. What I should have screamed right back at her was that I wanted to. With all my heart, and not just to have an affair.”
Stef’s eyes shone. “What are you saying?”
“I should have told her I loved you, and I would give anything to make love with you. Instead, I denied it. I was relieved that we hadn’t done anything.” Laurel sighed. “I’m making a mess out of this, aren’t I? Some professor I am. Can’t even beg for sex without confusing the one person in the world I want to have sex with.” The thought crossed her mind that she’d ended a phrase with a preposition. She had even screwed that up.
Stef took her hands. “Are you saying we can chuck that idiotic agreement? Think about this, bec
ause you’re going back to school tomorrow. You might see Rochelle, and if I have anything to say about it, you’ll look different.”
Laurel mused aloud, “Look different? What are you talking about, are you planning on covering me with hickeys?”
Smiling, Stef checked her watch. “We have four hours before I’m supposed to be in a meeting with Sika. Then we have all night. I’ve been fantasizing about making love to you ever since the first time I saw you.”
Taking Stef’s face between her hands, Laurel looked directly in her eyes. “So have I.” She kissed her softly, then deeply, pulling her close.
Stef responded carefully at first, but Laurel knew she was holding back, trying not to hurt her. She helped her to her feet and led her to the bedroom. It was obvious that because of her injuries, Stef would let her lead. That would be a change, but Laurel was exhilarated and equally concerned that she’d do everything right.
That concern dissolved when Stef stood before her and pulled her pale yellow sweater over her head, revealing a lovely bra that Laurel wanted to tear off and toss into a shredder. Then, before Laurel’s eyes, she unfastened the bra and let it slide off her shoulders to reveal the most exquisite full breasts she had ever seen or could imagine. For the first time, Laurel let herself drink in the sight for as long as she wanted. Tears came to her eyes, and she licked her lips, mesmerized as Stef’s nipples tightened.
Somewhere she registered Stef’s voice. “If you don’t touch me soon, I’m going to disintegrate. Please, I need you.”
“My God. You are so...” She realized her hands were trembling when she reached for Stef and heard her moan.
Stef’s body felt exquisite, the toned muscles of her abdomen a sharp contrast to the soft heaven of her breasts. When she ran into the texture of cloth, Laurel fumbled and pulled ineffectually, almost whimpering in frustration.
Stef stilled her hands and stood back, stepping out of the remainder of her clothes. “Now you. Do you need help?”
