by Dee, Bonnie
She rubbed his back, long, soothing, comforting strokes.
Slowly returning from rapture to consciousness, he remembered he was supposed to be the tutor, the considerate, careful lover. He lifted his head to look at Gretchen through tousled bangs. “Was I too rough?”
“No. Not at all.” She stretched luxuriantly beneath him and smiled, sleepy-eyed. “So…that’s sex.”
“That’s about it.” He rolled off her to lie by her side.
“I could get used to it.” Her smiled widened, and she made a soft, purring sound in her throat. “Mmm.”
Jake kissed her shoulder, then laid his head on the pillow and gazed at her profile. With the afterglow receding and now that it was too late to take it back, he began to second-guess the deflowering. If Gretchen had been waiting all her life to have sex, how had she suddenly decided he was the one to give it up to? Would she be sorry once she’d thought about it? Did she imagine he was someone different, someone better than he actually was?
“Thirsty?” He got up and padded into the bathroom, where he disposed of the used condom and filled a glass with water. He drank it down, staring into his reflection’s eyes a few seconds as he thought about what might happen next. She could expect some commitment from him. Was he ready for that? He refilled the glass and took it to Gretchen.
She drained it. “Whoa! I’ve never been so thirsty and so…” She trailed off, leaving the thought incomplete as she lay back on the bed, stretching her arms over her head. Her breasts rose high on her chest and flattened from gravity, but the pink nipples still stood up like little mountain peaks.
Jake’s cock managed a weak twitch in response as he lay beside her.
A few quiet moments passed before Gretchen spoke. “So, are we a couple now?” Her voice was light and teasing, but he knew she really wanted an answer.
Jake stared at his hand resting on her stomach. “I don’t know. Do you want to be?”
“I asked you first. What do you want?”
“Figured we’d just see what happens next.” He stared at the contrast of the two tones of their skin, his pale hand spread across her even paler stomach. He was afraid to look into her eyes and see what they asked of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be involved with Gretchen, but he knew he’d inevitably disappoint her. She’d realize what a fuck-up he was and she’d end up hating him. Better to keep things light as long as possible.
Gretchen was silent a long moment. The afternoon rain continued to beat against the windowpane, the only sound in the silence. “All right.”
Jake felt a rush of gratitude that she didn’t push it. In fact, her acceptance made him want to explain himself better.
“I really like you, Gretchen.” Worship you. “But, my track record with relationships sucks.” He searched for words that didn’t come easy to him. “People start making promises and somebody gets hurt. I want to be with you right now anyway,” he finished, hoping it would be enough.
Gretchen made a quiet sound and covered his hand with hers. After another silent moment, she broke the tension.
“How about another guitar lesson?”
Jake looked into her eyes and leaned to kiss her lips, cool from the water she’d drunk. “Absolutely. I believe in nude guitar lessons.”
He went to fetch his acoustic guitar.
Gretchen sat cross-legged on the bed, holding the steel-string Yamaha. Jake knelt behind her, his hand molding her fingers around the fret board as he showed her how to make a bar chord. Cold rain lashed against the windowpane, but curved around his lover in the nest of blankets, Jake was warm, content and happier than he ever remembered being.
Michael stood in front of the window, staring at the rain sluicing down on the parking lot outside the hotel. He was restless and bored.
Behind him, Logan flipped through TV channels. “I’m bored.” He echoed Michael’s thought. “Let’s go have a drink.”
Turning from the window, Michael collapsed in a chair and picked up the book he’d been staring at blindly for most of the afternoon.
Logan stood and took his place at the window. “It’s too wet to go out. ‘Too cold to play ball. So we sat in the house. We did nothing at all.’ How about some Cat in the Hat action? Let’s go get smashed and make some wild and crazy fun.”
Michael glanced up from the book he wasn’t reading. “Go ask Steve or Chris. I’m reading this book.”
“You’re boring. You never want to do anything.” Logan turned from the window and searched among the strewn clothes and trash on the floor for his shoes. “You’re such a monk.”
Michael thought of Jennifer Sorenson in Chicago and smiled. “Just discriminating.”
“Later, dude.” Logan paused in the doorway. “I can’t believe I’m bored with a day off. I’d actually rather be onstage this afternoon.”
“It’s an addiction,” Michael agreed.
Logan shut the door behind him, and Michael shut his book. He got up and walked over to the window again, imagining how he’d spend a long, lazy afternoon with Jennifer if she were here. He didn’t really miss the woman, hadn’t called to talk to her since he left Chicago, but at least she’d been something to do.
What he needed was exercise. He should use the weight room and swim laps in the hotel pool, grubby and noxious with chlorine fumes as it was. Michael grabbed a T-shirt off the floor and slipped it over his head, glanced down at the sweat shorts he wore and decided they’d do. He stepped into a pair of flip-flops and made sure he had his key card.
Padding down the hall, he reached the alcove where a couple of vending machines stood, humming quietly. Elena was there, filling a bucket with ice.
Michael perked up. She was the most interesting thing he’d seen all day, especially wearing a stretched out tank top with no bra underneath. He could see the sharp points of her nipples pressed against the fabric. One strap had slipped down, baring the curve of her shoulder. He swallowed then dragged his gaze to her face before she caught him staring at her tits. “Hey.”
“Oh. Hi.” Her brown eyes widened like a startled doe’s. A shard of ice fell from the machine and skittered across the floor.
Michael bent to retrieve it. “Having a party?”
Elena stared at him blankly a moment, then at the ice. “Oh! No. I’m icing my foot. My toe still hurts from when Denny stomped on it last performance.” She indicated her sock-clad foot.
“Oh.” Michael tossed the ice chip back and forth between his hands for a moment before throwing it into her bucket. Considering how much time they spent in each other’s company, talking with her shouldn’t be this awkward.
Elena held the dripping bucket.
Michael struggled to think of something to say. He gestured down the hall. “I’m, uh, going to the weight room.”
She nodded. “Well…I’d better get back to my…” She pointed the opposite direction and started to walk past him, clearly favoring her left foot.
“Wow, you’re really hobbling. Did you get that looked at? Your toe might be broken.”
“I doubt it. Probably just bruised.”
“Let me take a look.” Michael took the ice bucket from Elena’s hands, giving her no choice, and walked with her to her room.
He held the door for her then followed her into the room. Quiet acoustic guitar music played on the stereo. Cara wasn’t there.
“Sit down on the edge of the bed,” he ordered.
“Are you a doctor now?” Elena said, but did as he bid.
Setting the ice bucket on the floor, he knelt at her feet, lifted her foot and peeled off the fuzzy rainbow striped sock. “Christ! That looks terrible.” Cradling her heel in his palm, he grasped the black and blue big toe between his thumb and forefinger and moved it gently.
Elena hissed and tried to jerk her foot away. “Ow! Don’t touch it!”
“Let me tape it. That’s all a doctor would do if it’s broken.”
“Except you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m just going to put a
n ice pack on it to make the swelling go down.”
Michael cradled her small, warm foot in his hand a moment longer then set it gently on the floor. “I’ll make you an ice pack.”
In the bathroom, he dampened a washcloth and wrapped crushed ice in it, then brought it out to her. After arranging pillows at the head of the bed for her to lean against, he elevated her foot on another couple of pillows and positioned the makeshift pack on her foot.
“There.” Michael sat on the edge of the bed, holding the ice in place on her foot. “Do you want the TV remote?”
“No. I’m fine. Thanks.” Her voice was quiet and sounded almost shy, not the usual bossy, brassy Elena he was used to. She smiled at him, then glanced away. Her bashfulness was adorable and somehow made him feel more confident.
Michael searched for a reason to prolong his stay. “Do you want to play cards?”
“Um. Sure. I think Cara has a deck in her nightstand.”
Michael checked in the drawer, moving aside a vibrator with a grimace to get to the Shrek-emblazoned deck. He sat on the edge of the bed, smoothed the blue bedspread between them and shuffled the cards.
“What do you want to play?”
“I don’t know a lot of card games. Rummy?” she suggested.
“Gin is almost the same, but better.” He explained the rules as he dealt.
Elena quickly got the hang of it. She examined her hand and discarded a three. “So, how are things back home? Have you talked to your father yet?”
Michael wished he’d never mentioned being estranged from his family. He shrugged and picked up her three. “No. Not likely to either.”
“That’s too bad. I hope you can work things out. Family’s family. My mom drives me crazy, but I never stay mad at her for long.”
“Mm.” He didn’t bother to explain that his situation was beyond a single disagreement. There was a fundamental distance between him and his parents that had been there as long as he could remember. The current rift was less about his career choice than his parents’ ongoing disappointment in him and his decision to stop trying to win their approval.
“How’s your mom?” he asked. “Gin.” He laid out his cards and added the points.
“Working too hard as always. I wish I could get her to slow down, convince her to work fewer hours.” Elena shook her head. “My earliest memory of my mom is her sewing on her machine while I played with blocks on the floor nearby. She used to take in mending until she built up the capital to buy her first tailor shop.”
Elena picked up the deck and shuffled. Michael watched her slender hands deftly manipulate the cards.
“Now she has three locations and less time to herself than ever. I don’t think she remembers how to relax. That’s my mom.” She dealt their hands with a decisive snap of each card. “Did I tell you I got an e-mail from Trinka?”
“Yeah? How’s she doing?”
“Getting around better, but it’ll be a long while before she can dance again. I told her we all miss her and that Renée is a total bitch.”
“And that’s on a good day.”
“Poor Gretchen’s already homesick and doesn’t need to be living with a spoiled diva on top of it. I don’t think she’s dealing too well. I’m worried about her.”
“She’s got Jake.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. He’s a bad influence. You should talk to him. Tell him to stop giving her shit.”
“Me? I don’t even know him. I’ve hardly ever spoken to the guy. Why don’t you talk to Gretchen instead?”
“Denny and I have both tried, but she shut us down. She doesn’t want to admit her drug use might be getting a little out of hand. But if you pointed out to Jake that he’s not being helpful by feeding her Xanax—”
“I don’t think so.”
“He might listen to you. He’d respect you ’cause you guys are alike.”
“How am I like a drug-dealing, antisocial loner?” He stared at her over his hand.
“I just meant you’re aloof…distant.” She studied the card she’d picked up, then discarded it.
“Aloof?”
She looked up from her cards. “More like reserved. The kind of person who could suggest things to Jake without pissing him off. Maybe say something about how inexperienced Gretchen is and how he’s influencing her.”
“No problem. I’ll get right on it.”
“I’m serious.” Elena winced as her foot shifted on the pillows. “At first I didn’t think we should interfere either, but Gretchen seems to be worse lately. Her moods are erratic. I don’t know what all he’s got her into.”
Michael shook his head. “I’m not going to say anything to Jake. It’s not my business. Talk to Peters if you’re worried. He’s the stage manager. It’s his job to take care of situations like this.”
Elena frowned. “No. As Gretchen’s friends, we should handle it quietly. I’m not ‘going to the principal’ with it. But fine, don’t talk to Jake. Stupid of me to ask. You wouldn’t want to become involved or put yourself out for someone.”
Declining to point out that he’d just helped her to her room and tended to her foot, Michael scooped up the scattered cards on the bed. It hurt that she thought of him as selfish. “I don’t want to fight. Can’t we hang out without arguing for once?”
“Sure.” Elena turned her attention to rearranging her cards.
For the next few minutes the soft guitar music and quiet snap of cards as they laid them down were the only sounds in the room.
“I’m not aloof.” Michael discarded a five of spades.
Elena drew from the pile. “I said ‘reserved’.”
“You said ‘aloof’ first.”
“You do tend to close yourself off. Sometimes I wonder if you feel anything.” Elena laid down a trio of queens and a run of spades. “Gin.”
His jaw clenched. “Not everyone expresses every single thought that passes through his mind. What makes you think I don’t have feelings?”
Elena folded her arms below her breasts. Her nipples pointed sharply against the fabric. Michael stared at her bruised foot instead.
“Okay. I’ll give you an example,” she said. “When I asked what you draw on to call up tears every performance, you said, ‘It’s just acting. It doesn’t mean anything’.”
“That’s right.”
“How cold does a person have to be to cry on command and feel nothing?”
He shook his head and gave her a thin smile. “Pretty cold, I guess.”
Stung by her papercut comments, he set down his cards and rose. “I should get going. There was some stuff I wanted to do this afternoon. Anything else you want before I leave? Juice from the vending machine? An aspirin?”
Elena unfolded her arms, and looked at him with worried eyes. Her voice softened. “I’m sorry. That was so rude. I’m too blunt. I always talk without thinking. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not. That would require feeling, which I’m told I don’t do.” Michael kept his tone level and almost made it out the door before his temper overtook him and he turned around.
“You’ve had a problem with me ever since we met. I’ve never said much, but if we’re going to dissect characters, I could mention some of your qualities.” He ticked off on his fingers. “Controlling, anal-retentive, stubborn, opinionated, bossy, know-it-all. It seems Renée’s not the only diva in the cast.”
With satisfaction, he noted her wide eyes and dropped jaw, before he strode from the room, mentally adding, And sexy as hell. The woman made Jennifer Sorenson seem bland as tapioca.
Scene Two: Kansas City
After the constant cold rain in St. Paul, Kansas City’s arid weather felt like heaven. They performed in the Starlight, one of only three outdoor theaters left in the entire country. Although planned in the Twenties, it hadn’t been finished until the Nineteen-fifties when Kansas City’s hundredth anniversary celebration revived community interest in the building. Backstage was tight and cramped, and the tec
h crew complained about the logistics of the venue, but Gretchen adored the ambiance of the open sky above. It added a new dimension to the show.
She couldn’t get used to the patchwork schedule of their performance dates. Before she’d been cast in Transitions, she’d assumed touring shows followed a logical geographic progression from one large city to the next, state by state. But in actuality show dates were all over the map based on availability of a suitable venue.
Gretchen sat on the edge of the bed under stage lights and a starry sky, gazing at Renée with love and longing. The lights cast the other woman’s reclining body in twilight blue while the spotlight focused on Gretchen, singing the yearning song, “My Lover’s Hands”. She stroked her palm over the slope of Renée’s shoulder, wishing she could pinch the bitch. Rising, she wandered to the dresser and plucked a flower from a bouquet Renée’s character, Jen, had given her earlier in the scene. Then Gretchen moved center stage into a rosy pink spotlight where she belted out the chorus of the song. Her voice rose to a crescendo, the final note trembling and echoing in the hushed air.
There was a moment’s appreciative pause, before the audience burst into loud applause. Gretchen sent a mental jeer at the critic who’d panned her in Variety. The applause felt like warm syrup poured all over her body, something she’d actually experienced since getting involved with Jake.
Gretchen and Renée exited the stage, hurrying to change before their next scene.
“You stepped on my last line in the proposal again,” Renée informed her.
Gretchen remained silent, since refusing to engage with her seemed to irritate Renée most. They’d been over the subject several times. When Gretchen had performed with Trinka, they’d decided the interruption made Audrey sound exuberant and eager in a way she never had been during her relationship with Bill. It was a detail they both agreed added to the character. But Renée hadn’t performed it that way on Broadway and didn’t intend to start.
Gretchen considered herself generally an even-tempered person who avoided confrontation so she’d conceded the point rather than start out her relationship with Renée on the wrong foot. Only occasionally she forgot and did it the old way.
