Games We Play

by Cynthia Dane

  “You always look so serious these days,” Karlie said with a sigh. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to start dating, sis.”

  “Well…” Leah had put her stationery away, but now peered into her typewriter bag. “If you don’t trust me to keep your secret about Stan, I might offer you some leverage against me, should I go squealing to Mom.”

  Karlie grinned. “What’s her name, huh?”

  Leah looked around the quiet café before responding. “Margaret.”

  “Whoa. Is she older than you? That’s some grandma name.”

  Leah wrinkled her nose, not that she disagreed. Yet Sloan carries both of her names well. She looked like a Margaret. Not a Maggie, but a Margaret. Cool, confident, mature, and ready to fuck someone up if they got in the way. “She’s that awful forty you keep talking about.”

  “Whoa, but at your age, having an older girlfriend is totally cool, right? Not like at my age. It’s gross, right?” Karlie parroted those words well, but her sister wasn’t convinced she understood why they were true. What I would give to be this naïve again. “She your girlfriend?”

  Leah shrugged. “It’s not serious. We’re casually dating.”

  That grin was cheekier than any teen’s had a right to be. “Is that who you were with this weekend? You didn’t come home Saturday night. You were totally at her place boning.”

  Play it cool, Leah. You’re the older, wiser, more life experienced sister. Yeah, right. “Yes. I was totally boning her all weekend.” Leah had never espoused a haughtier sniff as when she plopped her Kate Spade bag on the table. “She bought me this on Sunday. She’s loaded.”

  Squealing, Karlie grabbed her sister’s bag with renewed interest. She had already fawned over it when Leah brought it home Sunday, but now that she knew it was a lover’s token? The teasing and squealing would be relentless. The gender of Leah’s lover didn’t matter. As long as she had a little sister, said sibling would be over the moon to talk about love and lust as a big, mature adult. Because I totally feel mature when I’m with Sloan. That was the word!

  “So she’s your sugar mama, huh?”

  “Think I’m too old to have a sugar mama, per se. More like I have a really rich friend with certain benefits.”

  “Oh my gawd.” Karlie played with the buttons on the side of the bag. “How did you get so lucky? Does she have a little brother?”

  “Not until you’re twenty-one.” I wonder if Sloan does have siblings, though. She had brought up almost nothing about her childhood or personal life. Hell, she barely talked about her professional life. It had been two weeks, and Leah still wasn’t sure what Sloan did for a living. Something about traveling around the world brokering deals. What were those deals, though? Was she buying people out? Investments? Overseeing mergers? Did Leah care?

  No.

  “Can’t believe my big sis finally has a girlfriend.” Karlie cupped her chin in her hands. “She’s gotten so big…”

  “What about you, huh? You and Stan here gonna be a thing?”

  “As if.”

  That meant yes.

  While Karlie finished up her homework, Leah rearranged her purse so it lined up with the sunset occurring outside the café window. The glare off the glass was enough to make the chain strap sparkle. All she needed was a warm filter to make it more romantic.

  She texted the picture to Sloan, with the message, “I’ve been trying to write some words to you all afternoon, but can’t seem to say what I mean. So, have this to know that I’ve been thinking of you.”

  That wasn’t the only photo she sent. The next was a selfie with a big smile – but the photo cut off at her nose and focused on the ample cleavage in her blouse.

  What got her off more? Boldly sending sexually suggestive photos to her lover, or imagining Sloan’s face when she opened the attachment?

  Did it matter?

  “Sis,” Karlie said, peering above her laptop, “you’re embarrassing us all.”

  Karlie was the only one embarrassed. Leah lived for the response she received ten minutes later.

  “Why are you doing this to me? Don’t you know that I’m in a meeting? You’re making me want to walk out on these professionals and come find you right now.”

  “Why are you texting in the middle of a big meeting?”

  “Maybe I excused myself to the bathroom so I could tell you to spank yourself on my behalf.”

  “I’ll work on that right now.”

  Leah put her phone away and suggested to Karlie that they head home before their parents returned from work. It was either that or squirm in her seat.

  Chapter 13

  Sloan returned to her meeting with a glow to her cheeks. She knew she was glowing because half the room rolled their eyes to witness it.

  “Have a good call?” Erica Mann, the only person to piss off more people in the past year than Sloan could do herself, slumped down her chair, tie askew and boots threatening to slip off her tired feet. They had been in a meeting for the past ninety minutes. What nobody warned the assistants and bodyguards in the room, however, was that Erica Mann and Margaret Sloan were the two women in America who could turn a trite business meeting into a verbal brawl. To think! A year ago, we were the one man and one woman who could do that! Even Sloan had been shocked to discover that Erica was a woman in disguise as a man, but she was also the fastest businesswoman to take advantage of it. Hence this meeting, already scheduled months in advanced.

  “Magnificent.” Sloan collapsed into her chair, imagining how she would text Leah to punish herself later. That’s what you get for making me leave my meeting to indulge you. Sloan didn’t have to. It probably wasn’t Leah’s intention. But she did, and that deserved something, didn’t it? Too bad I can’t be there for it. Should she make Leah use the nipple clamps? Deny herself orgasm? So many possibilities! Too bad Sloan still wasn’t sure what Leah was familiar with and what she might be willing to do this early in their agreement.

  At least Sloan had an agreement with someone, though. Texting and meeting up with Leah had made her realize how tired she was of escort roulette. There was something to be said for getting to intimately know another woman and taking advantage of her likes and kinks.

  You know all about that, don’t you, Mann? Erica and Sloan had shared many of the same escorts over the years, although the two of them had never hooked up. Most of the higher echelon, whether male or female, kept to the same circles of professional women because it was the safe bet. Excellent service, no bullshit, and women who were guaranteed to not divulge what the spouse of so-and-so was doing? Why wouldn’t Sloan amass references from business associates and call up the same agencies and free-agent women everyone else did?

  “Great. Let’s get back to those numbers you love to crunch so much.”

  Number crunching was more Ayla’s thing, and Sloan looked to her assistant to make sure the 35-year-old mother of three had the spreadsheets and calculations ready to go. On the other side of the table, Erica’s girlfriend and stand-in personal assistant slammed down a stack of papers. Is that the diamond tennis bracelet I gave you this New Year’s, Erica? How tacky. How power-play.

  Sloan knew she wasn’t the most popular gal-pal around. Definitely not in her social circles! Yet she had been put out to hear that she wasn’t invited to Erica Mann’s New Year’s soiree in the Californian countryside. So what did I do? Crash the party. She arrived long after most of the other female guests had left, but the point had been made. “You didn’t invite me, Erica? When I was the first one to reach out to you when a little birdie told me you were coming out as the woman you had always hid beneath your suits? Fuck you. I’m here anyway.” The tennis bracelet had been her peace offering, one of those old-fashioned manners girls like them learned when they were little. Wanted to make nice with a woman in high society? Give her jewelry, vintage bags, or memberships to the local clubs and spas. (Or buy her a servant, but that was a little too old-fashioned now.) But maybe Erica had missed out on that lesson wh
en she grew up as a boy named Eric, because her girlfriend now sported that expensive bracelet on her wrists.

  Again, it was a power play. Erica had done that on purpose, to see how Sloan responded. I barely acknowledge it. Which meant it shocked me. Damn. Right into Mann’s hand.

  Except Erica had accepted her business-related offers, so here they were, brokering investments and looking at a nice, lucrative relationship that would last at least a few years. Aaron hadn’t hesitated to sign off on it. He commended me for taking the initiative with Erica, because he swore nobody would want to work with her, political correctness be damned.

  Ayla was the first one to get up and leave the conference room at the end of the meeting. Sloan had given her that order. Nobody else had received the message, however.

  “If it’s all right with you,” Sloan said, “I’d like to chat about something. In private.” She glanced at Erica’s girlfriend, who stiffened her shoulders and made a face that implied Sloan treaded dangerous waters. “Oh, God, not like that. Untwist your panties, sweetie, because I’m only interested in your girlfriend’s money.”

  Sloan waited for everyone but Erica to clear out. She withdrew a cigarette and pretended to enjoy it for what it was, since God knew everywhere was “smoke free” now. Who knew I would miss the ‘90s so much? These conference rooms would be filled with toxic fumes, and nobody would give a shit. Now they were full of so much recycled air that she wanted to choke.

  “All right.” Erica kept a careful eye on Sloan’s cigarette after everyone had left. Well, almost everyone. Did two bodyguards standing right outside the door count as everyone leaving? “What do you want now? I’m guessing it’s some kind of favor. Or do you want to give me a warning? I know how free you are with your advice.”

  Sloan pretended she didn’t hear any of that. She also pretended to ignore the no smoking signs by lighting up and taking a long, satisfying drag of her cigarette. Erica rolled her eyes. “I have a proposition for you. Off the record, but mutually beneficial.”

  “Oh? Dare I ask?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s not personal.” Sloan had no idea where the rumor that she was as cutthroat in sexual pursuits as she was in business came from. “Not that kind of personal. More like… I grease some of your wheels, and I get a nice back scratch.”

  “Maxine Woodward already called and warned me that you might want to exchange favors with me. Cut to the chase, please.”

  Without an ashtray provided, Sloan was forced to pull out the one she carried in her bag. A girl must do what she must in 2018. Ashes were a luxury nowadays. “I want to give you money for your personal project in the countryside.” She took another drag, remembering how satisfying it was to march up to Erica Mann’s ranch. “In return, you’re going to owe me a teensy-weensy favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “Oh…” Sloan kicked back in her swivel chair and blew a trail of smoke toward the ceiling. “One that won’t put you out too much, but you might make some enemies. Specifically, in Chicago. I’m hoping that you’re not planning on expanding too much business in the Midwest, because I have some bastards that need taking out.”

  “Why?” Erica crossed her arms. “Why do you need my help, specifically?”

  “Let’s say I’m reaching out to women who might understand the predicament I’m in.” She narrowed her eyes at Erica. “Why do you think I was so quick to reach out to you as soon as I heard about your shocking truth? It wasn’t for purely for financial reasons, although that was a good chunk of it. I wanted to make sure you knew that we were on the same side.”

  “What do you want?”

  This was too reminiscent of her meeting with Maxine. “In a couple of months, you’re going to pull all of these investments you made into Giles & Sloan and redirect them to my own business I’m about to start. Think of it as a hot feminist move. The media would be on your side.” She tapped her cigarette against her tray. “But the Giles side of the business would blacklist your pretty face in Chicago and Detroit.”

  Erica uncrossed her arms. “Give me one good reason to agree to that but doesn’t include you giving me money. I must think long term here.”

  “Oh, of course. Aren’t too many people willing to take a chance on you right now, huh?”

  Arms recrossed.

  “Imagine the upcoming year and beyond, if you insist on thinking so long term. So many think pieces will be coming out about you, and how you shook up the gendered notions of our fucking business culture we’re suckered into. Look at you. Such a pioneer. Such a discussion in the flesh! You’ll be doing the university lecture circuit before you know it.”

  “Get to the damn point.”

  “You want those journalists and bloggers on your side. Social media has changed the whole fucking world. Used to be you could get away with whatever business decisions you made. Now you have to play the PC game, and I don’t mean on your laptop.”

  “I have an excellent public relations supervisor. Hell, I have a whole team. Should social media take a turn against me, I’m not worried about my work prospects, at least.”

  “Of course not! But don’t you care about the community?”

  Erica bristled. Good. “What community?”

  “You know, sweetie.” Sloan tapped more ashes off her cigarette. “LGBT. Queer. Lesbian, Dykes-R-Us… we’re such a pesky, sensitive bunch when it comes to how our fellow community members conduct themselves. Do you think all these new friends you’re making would still be your friends if they found out you sided against me when I leave Giles & Sloan?”

  “I wasn’t aware that my gender and sexuality obligated me to always side with the likes of you.”

  “It doesn’t! Free country, and all, but you better think long and hard about who you piss off this year. You’re on probation. You’re an unknown entity. You’re one major fuckup away from making the butches and femmes cry, ‘I knew there was something shady about her!’”

  Erica shifted in her seat. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a deeply unpleasant person?”

  “Every day.”

  Erica rose from her chair, eyes still on Sloan’s as she slowly rounded the table and fixed her jacket around her shoulders. Going so soon? “Fine. I’ll side with you, but it’s not because I like you or think you’re making a smart move.”

  “Were you making a smart move when you cast off your masculine trappings and informed the world that you’re ripe for sexual harassment and discrimination?”

  Sloan brought her cigarette back to her lips. Erica snatched the stick of tobacco and slammed it into the ashtray.

  “No smoking.”

  Sloan remained in her seat, fighting back to the urge to react, while Erica wrapped her scarf around her throat and joined her bodyguard in the hallway. They exchanged muffled words before leaving the building.

  Sloan’s fingers drummed upon the table by the time Sean joined her in the conference room.

  “Am I the most unpleasant person you know?” she asked her chauffer.

  “No,” he was quick to say. Yet before Sloan could assume he was merely keeping his job, he explained, “That honor would go to my mother. You’re the second most unpleasant person I know.”

  She laughed. “So why do you work for me?”

  “Because unpleasant isn’t always a bad thing. I prefer my life to stay interesting, and you keep it interesting.”

  “Interesting, but without daily risk of bullets flying in our direction?”

  “I did that in my former life. I’m over it.”

  “You prefer the kind of interesting that makes you laugh while you’re going to sleep at night, huh?”

  “Daily life with you provides plenty of opportunities for that, ma’am.”

  “See? Your honestly with me means I can trust you with my life, Sean. Now, try not to be such an ass in the future. I am your employer, after all.”

  “Of course.” He paused for effect. “So, are we taking the company plane to Portland anytime
soon? Ms. Vaughn may be the only person in America who doesn’t have you on her ‘most unpleasant people’ list.”

  “Give her time.” Sloan emptied her ashtray into the nearest trashcan. “She hasn’t known me for long.”

  Chapter 14

  “I’ll need you for the Holland order,” Enid said with finality. She pointed to the empty square in the bakery’s communal calendar. “You’re the only one who can pull off that level of detail on a cake that small.”

  Leah nodded. That’s the fourth cake I have to decorate on my own this week. For as little as she made, she would expect to do half that much work, considering some of those projects could take more than one day. Not that Gina’s list was empty. She was the master “cookie monster,” and there was a huge Valentine’s Day order for an upcoming matchmaking event. Every time Gina looked at how much work she had to do, she sighed. Enid no doubt charged extra for some of these last-minute orders, but did her employees see any of those cents? Nope. They got their standard hourly rate, and they were happy to get their paychecks every other week. Yeah. Happy. That’s the word. One day, Leah would have her own bakery. She didn’t know how the hell she would save for it, but one day.

  “Great.” Enid got up, paperwork in her arms. “Meeting adjourned, girls. Oh, Leah, I need you to cover up front for the first couple of hours while I finish up the Lewis wedding cake.”

  “Of course,” Leah said through gritted teeth. Manning the cold case and register meant she would have less time to get started on her first cake decorating mission. The morning crew had already baked the cakes. One girl had been nice enough to prep some of the frosting, but all the good that did Leah when she didn’t have the time to go back there and throw herself into creative energy. Nope. She was the Queen of Retail for the next two hours.

  I wish I had never taken this so-called promotion. She started as one of those early morning crew members. They came long before the bakery opened. Every pastry imaginable was made there on site and sold to passersby who wanted to hop in for a quick breakfast or lunch. The morning crew was also responsible for baking most of the cakes Leah had to decorate when she came in at nine.