Games We Play

by Cynthia Dane

  “When will you be home?”

  “You mean Chicago?”

  “No, I mean Venus. Of course I mean Chicago. Did you move?”

  “I’m flying back in three days.”

  “What do you know? I’m flying back there around that time too.”

  “I bet you are!” Stalker. Aaron was changing his schedule to intersect hers as they spoke. “If you don’t have anything else to say to me, I’m hanging up and taking a shower. See you in Chicago. We’ll go over the meetings I had here when I get back.”

  She hung up before he could say anything else. Sure enough, texts started clogging up her phone as Sloan dragged her ass into the bathroom. Clothes came off. Showerheads turned on. Her phone continued to buzz on her nightstand, a constant reminder that she did a good job by going full-on lesbian so many years ago.

  Men weren’t shit.

  ***

  “Is the McCarthy order ready yet?” Enid, the owner and head baker at Rose City Bakery, opened the door to the back kitchen and barked like a yappy little dog. “They’re coming by at three to pick up the kid’s cake!”

  Leah looked back down at the cake she was decorating. Orange fringe only dotted half the circumference. Beside her, Gina prepared to write Happy Birthday, Connor!

  “Should be ready within the hour, ma’am!”

  “It’s a little after two, so hop to it!”

  The door slammed shut. Leah and her coworkers rolled their eyes before getting back to work. A sheet describing what the clients wanted hung up before them. Some ten-year-old boy was having the birthday of the year and got the sheet cake to go with it.

  They weren’t the best bakery in Portland. Hell, they were hardly second-tier. While they were a step above a supermarket bakery, Leah couldn’t say that this was the career she dreamed of when she went to culinary school and dedicated her education to learning the finer points of baking. She hadn’t spent every night watching reruns of cake decorating shows and YouTube clips of amateur decorators because she wanted to work at Rose Fucking City, let alone for a tyrant like Enid. Maybe if she spent more time curating a nicer clientele, we would be happier to decorate Connor’s cakes. That would require paying more than two dollars above minimum wage. The only reason this was better than working for a supermarket bakery was because the benefits package was at least decent.

  “Leah!” Enid burst through the door again. “Your mom’s on the phone!”

  Leah handed the cake over to her coworker. After taking off her gloves and washing her hands, Leah went up front and picked up the phone. “Mom?”

  The woman never wasted time. “I need you to pick up Karlie right now.”

  “What? What’s wrong?” Leah rarely tasted her own adrenaline, but all she had to hear were the words “Karlie” and “pick her up right now” and she immediately assumed the worst. “Something happen at school?”

  “I don’t know. Lincoln’s office called me saying that she’s complaining of menstrual cramps. I can’t leave work out here in Beaverton to take care of her. You’re not too far from the school. You need to do it.”

  “I’m at work too! Can’t she pop a Midol or something?” At the same time, Leah knew her little sister wouldn’t call if she wasn’t in genuine distress, and Karlie was notorious for having debilitating periods if she didn’t take her birth control.

  “Get her or not. It’s your responsibility now.” Leah’s mother hung up.

  The dial tone beeped in Leah’s ear before she hung up as well. My responsibility. That’s right. Karlie was her responsibility, and had been since the day she was born. She may have been the daughter of Ray and Janet Vaughn on paper, but Leah knew that she was the real parent around there.

  My responsibility.

  Leah called the school and asked to talk to her sister. Karlie whimpered over the line that her cramps hurt so badly that she had already thrown up once and couldn’t get another ibuprofen down. Even the nurse expressed concern that Karlie should go straight to a doctor’s office. “She’s not faking,” the nurse said on the phone. “We can keep her here for a little while, but school will be out soon and I’m not confident she’ll get home without help.”

  The McCarthy order called to Leah in the back kitchen. The birthday message had been spelled out, and it was Leah’s job to finish the fringe and other details. The clients would be by in half an hour to pick it up, and the bakery couldn’t afford yet another 2-star Yelp! Review that claimed they were the slowest bakers around. Hell, Leah couldn’t afford it! Enid always said that she could replace them with one ad in the paper. Bakers and chefs with enough training were a dime a dozen in Portland. Up there with baristas and strippers.

  Leah’s eyes glazed over. She forgot the cake and her sister’s plight in that single instance. God, what a great birthday. She held onto those little memories of two nights ago before rushing through the McCarthy order and asking if she could run over to Lincoln High School to pick up Karlie and take her home.

  Enid was less than impressed.

  “I can make sure everything’s ready by myself,” Leah’s coworker insisted. “If her sister’s not feeling well, then she should go take care of her.”

  “Don’t you have parents to take care of their child?”

  My responsibility. “My mom works in Beaverton, and my dad is out of town for business too. I’m the only one close enough to do it.” Leah was already pulling her belongings out of her locker. “You can either dock my pay or I can come back later and finish up some work. Get a jump on tomorrow’s cupcakes.” Wouldn’t be the first time Leah did that. She would rather be home soaking in the tub and thinking about that incredible night with a woman named Sloan, but the thing about being thirty was that the whole “responsibility” thing took precedence. “Either way, I’ve gotta go.”

  Enid had a few more words for her, but as soon as they bumped into the McCarthy’s out front, Enid transformed into the nicest, most professional woman to ever bake a cake in Portland. Leah spared them a smile as she shuffled out the door and turned west.

  Lincoln High School was a seven-minute walk away, depending on traffic lights. Rush hour was getting a jump, however, and Leah had plenty of time to get on the phone with Melissa before she reached the downtown Portland high school campus.

  “Hey, birthday girl!” Melissa sniffed at the end of her greeting. Birthday girl. That has such a nice ring to it. Leah loved how Sloan had called her that more than once Saturday night. While she fingered me and sucked my nipples. Whoo! It didn’t take much to excite Leah, but that? That? She grinned like an idiot as she crossed 10th Street and the streetcar honked at her. “Are we still calling you Birthday Girl? When does the party stop, exactly?”

  “I dunno, Mel, I feel like we ended on an awesome note Saturday night.”

  “The tequila shots?”

  Yeah, sure. That’s when she became too drunk to remember much of anything else. Both Leah and Melissa had spent most of their Sunday sleeping off the hangovers. Leah hadn’t been drunk when Sloan got her hands on her, but it was the first big idea to cross Leah’s mind when she rejoined her birthday party. “More like that present you scored me!” It was the first time she brought it up. “Where’d you find a woman like that, Mel?”

  “What are you talking about?” Melissa laughed. “You mean the strippergram?”

  “No! I mean the woman at the club.”

  “Huh. I don’t recall.”

  “Were you really that drunk?”

  “Possibly. Gina says I made out with some guy with a literal neckbeard while you were gone, and you know Sober Melissa would never.”

  This doesn’t make sense. She would’ve hired Sloan hours before touching alcohol. Maybe the drinks had wiped that part of her memory, though. Or maybe they would be coy about it for the rest of their lives. What friend wanted to admit that she hired a sex worker for another friend? Some things had to remain sacred.

  “Anyway, thanks for the crazy night, Mel.” Leah reached the school
grounds. Some students were already lining up to catch the 15 bus while others hustled down the sidewalk. “I gotta go. Talk to you later.”

  Leah found her sister in the nurse’s office, crumpled on a cot and tears streaming down her face. A pang the size of Leah’s heart thundered in her chest when she saw her little sister in such a sad state. Karlie’s eyes likewise lit up when she recognized her big sister come to take care of her.

  Karlie was a good girl, for the most part. Certainly more well-behaved than Leah had been at a younger age. She rarely partied. It helped that Karlie was assistant editor of a fiction journal and ran two charity rallies during her tenure as a high school student. Not bad work standing out in a school that had thousands of students. Including me. I went here, once. Back when Leah wasn’t sure she would be able to go to high school at all.

  Having a hot rendezvous with Sloan wasn’t the first crazy and irresponsible thing Leah had done but it had been the first one in many years.

  “Let’s get you home, sunshine.” That was Leah’s pet name for her sister, used since the day the squealing, helpless infant was brought home from the hospital. “Can you walk?”

  “Yeah…” Karlie swung her arm around her sister’s torso and put most of her weight on Leah. “I’m so sorry, LeeLee.” Another pet name that was as old as their relationship. “You had to leave work, right?”

  “Shh. It’s fine. My boss understands.” Yeah, right. Leah would be lucky to still have a job when she got back to Rose City Bakery. Safeway is hiring, right? Hmm, maybe New Seasons would be better. “Let’s go home. We’ll put you to bed and you can watch The OC reruns.”

  Karlie managed a wan smile. “Thanks, LeeLee.”

  Due to Karlie’s maladies, it took them twice as long to reach the threshold of their old house on the outskirts of downtown Portland. An hour had passed by that point. It wasn’t pointless to go back to work after tucking Karlie into bed with a heating pad and enough chocolate to give her ten cavities, but it meant putting in a late night in the bakery kitchen. Whatever. My responsibility. Leah didn’t hold it against Karlie. The girl never asked for anything that happened to her big sister.

  Leah locked the door to the house on her way out. She phoned Gina at the bakery and said she was heading back in. The sun had only begun to set on that chilly winter day, but with any luck, Leah would make it back before night completely descended.

  She was near Powell’s City of Books when fate dumped a torrent of bullshit on her unsuspecting head.

  Chapter 4

  “Asshole!”

  A black Mercedes almost ran over a pedestrian illegally crossing at 10th and Couch. Leah leaped out of the way. It didn’t help that the streetcar attempted to make a stop, and the driver was probably spooked enough to slam on the breaks.

  “Jesus, you freak!” The man, in a baggy trench coat and carrying a stuffed knapsack over his shoulder, flipped off the Mercedes as he continued across the street. “Shoulda let you hit me so I could sue your ass!”

  He had stopped and bent over to scream that at the front grill. The driver of the Mercedes rolled down his window and revealed a shiny black cap and pristine white gloves. Wow. That’s fancy for these parts. Leah ignored the light changing colors so she could watch another day in Portland unfold.

  “Is there a problem, sir?”

  The streetcar rolled by. Pedestrians ignored the confrontation in favor of continuing their way. The other cars, however, honked and smacked their hands against steering wheels.

  “Yeah, I got a problem!” The man was back in the middle of the street, waving his arms around and almost losing his trousers in the process. “Got a problem with you bougie fucks actin’ like you own these fucking streets! Suck my dick!”

  The driver in the professional duds kept a wary eye on the man as he marched down the street, yelling every obscenity in his well-read arsenal. “Fuck you bucks!” was Leah’s favorite.

  Only in this town. She continued across the street, in time for the driver to hit the gas on the Mercedes and attempt to hit her next.

  Time came to a terrible slow. Was that what it was like to see one’s life flash before their eyes? Well, it wasn’t impressive. Leah could say that much later, when the shock wore off and she could laugh about the terrifying moment. Yet when the bumper of the Mercedes touched her thighs and frightened her into the middle of the intersection? Nope!

  “Holy shit!” cried someone waiting at the streetcar stop. “That fucker hit two people!”

  Leah leaped up. “I’m fine!” The car had barely touched her, but the driver went right into damage control as he hopped out of the car and rounded the front bumper, gloved hands outstretched to hers.

  Time was still slow. One moment Leah was in the middle of the street, and the next? Sitting on the sidewalk while the driver pulled the Mercedes over. He stuck his head out the window when the backdoor opened and the passenger stepped out to smooth this over.

  “I swear I’m fi…”

  Leah looked up. Standing before her, wearing an Italian three-piece suit and a lined coat straight from movies set in New York, was a woman who looked remarkably like the one who had given Leah the birthday of her life.

  “Are you injured?”

  That voice! Even in the crisp, cold air it sounded as hot as it had Saturday night. This can’t be Sloan. It can’t be. What escort wore an outfit like this? Drove a car like that? With a driver who had a face that screamed he was ex-secret service? Leah’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t been at a loss for words when she was tapped by a luxury vehicle, but she was now!

  “Miss?” Sloan leaned down, hands clasping her knees. “Do you need me to call an ambulance? I am more than willing to help you after what we did.”

  “Sloan?”

  She jerked upright. Sunglasses whipped off her head, sending the bangs of her blond hair into the wind. Makeup, as bold as it was conservative, peered down at the top of Leah’s head. “Do I know you?”

  Is she serious? Perhaps it was uncouth to acknowledge each other in public, but after a night like Leah’s birthday? How could I not acknowledge the woman who made me come in ten minutes? While I was handcuffed to a chair?

  That domineering gaze sent an unwelcomed chill of anticipation down Leah’s spine. Maybe it was injured. God willing.

  “We met… the other night.”

  Sloan looked up and down the busy sidewalk before jerking her head toward her driver. The man was out and opening the back door to the Mercedes before his boss could say a word.

  “Let’s go.”

  What propelled Leah to get in that car? Was it her addled brain, still reeling from what had happened in the past five minutes? The need to get out of the cold and the public’s perception? Or, more likely, was it the cool and commanding way Sloan told her to get her ass in the back of a Mercedes? God knew she had a demeanor that begged to be obeyed. Leah was the kind of woman to obey, too.

  “Wow,” she said with a single breath once she was inside and the doors were closed. Leah had never been in a vehicle like this one. On the outside, it looked like a standard luxury vehicle. Maybe it had leather seats, an awesome sound system, and an engine they couldn’t get away with using in downtown Portland. It’s got all that and the kitchen sink! Sloan turned off the TV monitor playing news in the back of the driver’s headrest. A small bin in between the seats produced iced beverages, including the tiny bottle of water Sloan opened. Leah continued to hold her bag in her lap as she witnessed a privacy partition rise between the front and back seats with the touch of a button. It was like the movies!

  “Circle the blocks,” Sloan said to her driver, before the partition was all the way up. “I’ll tell you when this is done.”

  The driver said nothing. The car lurched back onto 10th Street – or was it Couch? – and Leah was alone with Sloan.

  Dangerous, wasn’t it? God only knew what they could get up to back there, assuming Leah had the money to buy it. I don’t. Why do I have to be so poor? Sloan d
idn’t look poor at all, though! She moved so comfortably in this vehicle that Leah could only deduce she owned it. Or at least had ownership over it. How much does she charge per hour? How much had Melissa wasted? Seriously!

  “What do you want?”

  Leah snapped out of her happy little reverie. “Excuse me?”

  Sloan was pointed toward her, slender legs crossed and hands folded around her knees. A navy-blue tie was clipped against her white blouse and beneath a tailored black jacket. She smelled of a different perfume from the other night. Both meant business, however. Subtle enough to be socially acceptable, but strong enough to call attention to her already commanding presence. Sloan only moved to fix her blond bangs. They were so sleek and soft that Leah marveled over the quality of conditioner this woman must use.

  “You want something. What is it?”

  Her short and succinct words were like an erotic punch to Leah’s gut. I must be dreaming this. She’s too good to be true. Then again, this was the woman who often chastised herself for being so swayed by bossy people. Could she help it if she were a natural follower, though? “What makes you think I want something from you?” Besides sex, maybe.

  “Because that was the least convincing display of Sue the Rich Bitch I’ve ever seen in this godforsaken state. I know how you Oregonians play.” Sloan scoffed. “The only question is… were you stalking me, waiting for the perfect moment to pull that stunt? Or did you happen to see me driving by and decided to chance your ass against my grill?”

  “I… honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Sloan rolled her gray eyes. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Mandy. Now tell me what you want so we can get this over with.”

  Leah cocked her head. “Mandy? Who’s Mandy?”

  The car made another turn. Were they circling Powell’s or The Henry? How many times had they stalked the streetcars up and down 10th and 11th Streets? Leah glanced out the windows and wondered where they were within the Pearl.