Games We Play

by Cynthia Dane

  Maxine held her palm out to Erica. With a mighty sigh, the richest woman in the room pulled out her wallet and slapped three hundred dollars into Maxine’s hand.

  “What’s that for?”

  “I bet her that you would admit to loving Aaron Giles sometime today,” Maxine said.

  “You’re both disgusting.”

  “Not as disgusting as you probably feel right now.” Maxine crossed both arms on the table, her elbows digging deep enough into the wood to make every proper lady in the room cringe. To think, she was the only one there to grow up filthy rich enough for finishing school, and was socialized as a lady! “Spill. Tell us everything that’s been going on with you.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you need to get it off your chest,” Erica interjected, “and we want it off your chest before we talk serious business later.”

  “This is some girl-talk bash, huh?”

  “I know you’re not used to it, dear,” Maxine said, hand on Sloan’s, “but neither is she. It’ll be good practice for you both.”

  “Fuck off, Woodward.”

  “You first, Sloan.”

  They had a minor stare down before Sloan gave up with a sigh. Slowly, as if it took the power of both of these women to spin it out of her, she told the emotional tale that she shared with Leah two days before. Only now she wasn’t allowed to smoke her way through it.

  Somehow, it wasn’t any easier. Just because she knew what words to say, and because she had rehearsed it to the point she almost convinced herself everything made sense, didn’t mean the likes of Maxine and Erica would respond the way normal people did. One of them knew how to live a double life, and the other knew way too much about toxic, abusive marriages, but together? Neither Maxine nor Erica knew what it was like to suffer with both.

  Nor could they understand the shame she now felt, thanks to being a lesbian married to a man. No wonder Leah wanted out. I wouldn’t want to be mixed up in this, either.

  “Damn,” Maxine said after Sloan finished muttering her spiel, “Damn. That is not an envious position to be in.”

  “No shit.” Sloan hadn’t realized until that moment that half the peanuts were gone. Did she really eat them all? She didn’t remember the others having their share… “I have no idea what to do. Divorcing him is going to be hard enough, thanks to the business I’m probably going to destroy in the process. Now I’ve got a girlfriend who I guess isn’t my girlfriend anymore. She made it pretty clear that she didn’t want anything to do with me. She said I…” No, the others paid way too much attention for Sloan’s liking. They were actually listening. She didn’t need them to listen! “She said I used her. You know what? She’s right. I did use her.”

  She expected the other women to chastise her. “How could you do something like that? Don’t you know how that would feel the other way around? Women get enough shit from men – we don’t need it from women, too!” Instead, she met two pairs of sympathetic eyes.

  “You’re right,” Maxine said. “You were using her. We’ve all been there. I’m probably the guiltiest of all.”

  Don’t try to spin this so you were using me when you went through your ridiculous promiscuity phase. Sloan would rather drink herself to death than listen to that. If anything, Sloan had been using Maxine as much as the other way around. That’s what made it so great that night! And absolutely necessary for them to never do it again.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Sloan said. “I don’t need that distraction in my life while I take care of business. I can try finding another girlfriend after this is…” She laughed. “No I won’t. I’ll go right back to my old ways.”

  It was Erica’s turn to say something. “At least you’ll be keeping every high-end escort in America in business. I left a big blow to them this past year when I finally settled down.”

  “How droll that beautiful humor of yours is, Mann,” Sloan said.

  “Am I lying, though?”

  Was that a smack to Sloan’s ego, or Erica once again showing that she didn’t know when to quit? “God fucking knows! Right now the only way I’m recovering from this is if I take that bastard to the cleaners and live the best fucking life I can. I’m almost in my forties. What the fuck have I got to lose at this point? Maybe I’ll be that badass bitch in her late fifties who fucks women half her age and lives on the beach in southern California.”

  Maxine shook her head. “You’ll get lonely before long. You sure you don’t want to try getting Leah back?”

  “Why would I? She made up her mind. If she wants out…”

  “You said so yourself,” Erica interjected, “she told you that she loved you. Love doesn’t die because you find out an unfortunate truth.” She sat back in her seat. “Thank God, too. Otherwise I’d be as single as ever too.”

  “Yes, yes, we’re all idiots at love in our own, special ways.” Maxine smacked the back of Erica’s shoulder. “At least you’ve got one thing going for you that Erica didn’t, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re gay… Leah’s gay… time to get your lady back.”

  Sloan sighed. Do I really want that? Not an hour had gone by without thinking about Leah, the woman she slowly opened her mind to dating over the long term. Her first girlfriend since college. Her first shot at love since she realized her marriage was a sham.

  I jumped right into it. Why? Because they were so unrealistically compatible. Sloan wanted to take out her frustrations with her marriage on a woman who loved getting a little rough in the bedroom. By chance, she ended up with Leah, the very woman who was willing to make Sloan’s domination dreams come true. In the end, though, I can’t healthily give her what she wants. Everything I do in the bedroom has been tainted by Aaron.

  “Hey, we’re not saying it’s going to be easy,” Maxine said. “But we may know a few tips for you to get her back without totally embarrassing yourself.”

  “Why do you have to say it like that?”

  “Because, whether you mean to or not, you do a bang-up job of embarrassing yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  Maxine motioned to the big bag beneath Erica’s chair. “If you want to get her back, though, there’s probably something you should know first.”

  Sloan was afraid to say anything. Even when Erica pulled out a small stack of folders from the depths of her bag. They looked like certified background checks.

  “Don’t tell me you did the same digging my husband did,” Sloan said. “I already know she’s got a Honduran grandmother. Or maybe it was Venezuelan. Honestly, I don’t remember, but I can’t say I give a shit.”

  The background check landed in front of Sloan. “My head of security did it for me,” Erica said. “Trust me. He has access to documents and personnel you’ve never heard of.”

  “Why did you do this?”

  “Oh, I run background checks on everyone I do business with, and their lovers. Never know what you might find.”

  Sloan was still not in a hurry to flip the folder open. “Why?”

  “Why, what? Why am I sharing this with you?” Erica stole her drink back. She had no issue putting her mouth where Sloan’s had been a moment before. Thanks for the power play, Mann. Did she pick that up when she posed as a man, or was that her shitty nature too? “Maybe it’s because I would’ve wanted to know this about my girlfriend, had it been an issue. Who knows? Maybe it’ll help you figure out an angle to get her back.”

  “It’s a little shocking,” Maxine admitted. “For some reason we thought you already knew. We’re guessing she never told you.”

  “I swear to God, if it has to do with her medical history…”

  “I mean, technically…”

  Sloan sucked in her breath and flipped open the cover of the folder. She was not prepared to find out what her girlfriend had been hiding for years.

  Chapter 28

  Lunch at Rose City Bakery was a hit or miss affair. Sometimes, Leah was afforded the grand opportunity of s
tepping out for a whole half hour to eat her lunch either at the nearby park or in a café not too far away. But, most of the time, she was stuck in the tiny staff room in the back of the bakery, where she stuffed her lunch down her throat and went right back to work without any extra pay. When I have a deadline staring me down, do I really get much choice?

  That bright Monday morning was her first day back at work after her mini-vacation. Karlie still was not talking to their mother (and it would take a few months for Leah to stop thinking of Janet as Karlie’s mother) but had agreed to keep the peace while she applied to colleges and finished up her senior year of high school. Leah was finally to a point where she stopped crying every time she thought of Margaret Sloan.

  Not that she felt great about it, of course, but going back to work, where nobody asked her questions and she could take her mind off things for a few hours, was a boon. Even better when she could go outside and enjoy the fleeting sunshine during her lunch break. She took her bagged lunch to the park and sat on a bench that was not covered in rain for once.

  She also had a wonderful data signal, which was also a rarity around that neighborhood. The bakery had wi-fi she could use, but whenever she ventured around the block, she was lucky if she could receive texts, let alone browse Facebook and the news.

  She had forgotten that she had set her Google alerts to certain names in the past few weeks. How was she supposed to remember that Margaret Sloan was on her list, when that woman barely made tabloid news to begin with? The only time Sloan showed up in Leah’s Google alerts was when those pictures of them on Valentine’s Day made their debut. After that? Silence. Quite the feat for a woman as rich and influential as her.

  Not on Monday, though. Leah woke up her phone and found a big, bright alert that said, “Margaret Sloan, of Giles & Sloan, Files for Divorce from Estranged Husband Aaron Giles.”

  Leah stared at the alert before digging up the nerve to click on it. The link was to one of the more “respectable” gossip magazines, which meant the information was probably true, or at least verified to the best of the publication’s knowledge.

  Too bad Leah wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of photos, since most readers wouldn’t know who the hell Margaret Sloan was, and needed visual references like her official work photo that appeared on the Giles & Sloan website – and a few tabloid photos of her and Aaron Giles.

  And “her mysterious female date.”

  “Aaron Giles is the only man connected to Ms. Sloan’s love life since the public first discovered her,” the article explained. “Ms. Sloan has always been a controversial figure in LGBT communities, both online and off, due to her continuing to identify as a lesbian both before her marriage, and after she claims it dissolved in everything but legalities, ‘years ago.’”

  “Well, yes,” Leah muttered. “A lot of people aren’t going to like that.”

  “A spokesperson for Ms. Sloan has gone on record to say she is pursuing an amicable split while looking to relocate elsewhere in her native city of Chicago. Currently, she and her estranged husband share a three-level penthouse. The spokesperson confirmed that the couple have been living in separate wings for over five years, and that both ‘have vibrant, busy personal lives outside of each other.’”

  There were no comments from Mr. Giles’ side. Leah lingered on the photo from Valentine’s Day. God. I looked so happy. Was that only a week ago? Leah, in her pink cupcake dress, laughed at one of Sloan’s bad jokes. She couldn’t help but see the dimple of a smile on her ex-girlfriend’s face.

  The caption read, “As recently as Feb. 14th, Margaret Sloan was seen on a date with an unknown woman at one of Chicago’s most exclusive restaurants.” Nobody speculated on who Leah was. Sloan was a known womanizer who would soon be seen with someone else.

  That thought should’ve bothered Leah, but something else bothered her more. I was really an ass to her. Time slowed as she gazed across the park, where nobody but a man and his dog appeared to mar her tranquil sight. I should’ve listened more. Instead I… Instead, Leah had projected her own issues upon Sloan, and didn’t like what she had seen.

  What was the breaking point? Leah had taken the explanation well enough, until a certain point when she simply could not deal anymore. The sad thing? It took her a few minutes of contemplation to remember, because her brain had expunged most of it on the flight back to Portland.

  She broke up with him because of how he reacted to her being pregnant. Leah held her phone to her chest and stared through the canopy of trees. No wonder I checked out. That hit way too close to home.

  Leah still hadn’t been sure if she would ever tell Sloan the truth about Karlie. How could she explain that her little sister was actually her daughter? It didn’t work that way. Sloan would have judged her. Told her the same horrible shit Janet had over the years. Where was the personal responsibility?

  Where were my choices, for God’s sake?

  Leah could no longer say what she would have chosen as a scared and pregnant twelve-year-old if given viable choices. Because she never had a say about what happened after showing her mother the pregnancy test. She never made the conscious decision to give birth to Karlie, let alone giving her up to her grandmother.

  Sloan was old enough – let alone educated enough – to know what her options were right away. She made a decision. She followed through. She dealt with the consequences, even if it meant ending her marriage.

  Maybe Leah’s problem wasn’t that Sloan had kept her marriage a secret. Maybe it was the fact she could do things Leah never could.

  It didn’t change Leah’s feelings of, course. Those were as valid as her confusion toward her sister-daughter and how she came to be born, but she could’ve changed how she reacted to the news. Even if she decided that she and Sloan would never be compatible enough for a long-term relationship, she could’ve at least offered her temporary support. No woman wanted to get a divorce with nobody on her side.

  She’s not finally getting a divorce for me, is she? Leah hadn’t heard from her ex since she left Chicago. Sloan was apparently so busy filing this divorce that she didn’t have time to get Leah back. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to…

  Leah turned on her phone again. A few more Google alerts trailed behind, as more news outlets picked up on the sudden divorce of the business world’s most well-known couple?. Had everyone but Leah known about the marriage? How could she have known? It never showed up when she searched for Sloan’s name. The woman had scrubbed the net of her information so well that not even Leah could find out about the marriage.

  She hadn’t done that to con women into sleeping with her, right? Sloan was rich and confident enough to get mistresses if she wanted them badly enough. No. Instead, she pursued sex with women who would never become attached to her. She wouldn’t become attached to them, either. Her views of relationships had become so tainted that she wasn’t capable of anything but professional relationships in the bedroom.

  Until I came along.

  Perhaps Leah had been too hard on Sloan, after all. She should’ve at least heard her out, or let their emotions settle while keeping the relationship open-ended. Instead, Leah had thrown the bracelet back in Sloan’s face.

  It was too late now, though. Leah had broken up with her. That was that. If Sloan hadn’t come for her since then, she never would. Why would she? She could have any woman she wanted. She could find someone else to explore her aggressions with.

  At the end of the day, she still used me. Maybe not in any way she intended to use Leah, but Leah was completely in the right to say it wasn’t okay. She may have been more reserved than the average woman she knew, but she still knew how to say no. She wasn’t a doormat. She wasn’t a therapy doll.

  She was Leah Vaughn, and she had a life to live.

  The grass crunched beneath her feet when she stood and wandered back to work. I’m only thirty. I have my whole life ahead of me. She spent so much time obsessing over Karlie’s potential future, that she barely
took the time to realize that she still had a long, fulfilling life ahead of her as well.

  ***

  A million reasons lay between Sloan and Aaron to never, ever ride in the back of a car together again. The petition for a divorce had been filed. Their lawyers were already at each other’s throats.

  Except they had a dinner to go to, and with traffic the way it was after five, it simply made good business sense to take a car together.

  They didn’t speak, although Aaron stewed on his side of the seat like a toddler in timeout. The man was so pissed that his wife dared to file for divorce, that Sloan was half-afraid that him opening his mouth would result in a demonic scream of death. She had forgotten her earplugs.

  “New wig for a new you?” he finally grunted.

  Sloan laughed, because what an idiot! “This is my real hair, nimrod. I haven’t shaved it in a few weeks.”

  “I see.” He crossed his arms in a huff. “You look ridiculous. Could you possibly try to look gayer?”

  “Sorry if you’re intimidated by a woman with a buzzcut. I know you’re concerned for the temperature of my scalp, but I assure you that I have grown back enough hair to keep it warm.”

  “Jesus, Mags.” Aaron slammed his elbow against the car door. “Do you have to dress like this for Mrs. Kingsley’s dinner? Half of Chicago’s social elite will be there. It’s bad enough they all know we’re getting a divorce. Is now really the time to declare how big of a dyke you are?”

  “What better time is there than now?” The best way to ignore looking at his ugly face was for Sloan to pull out her compact and spruce up her makeup. She had gone heavy on the eyeliner and bold with the lipstick. A woman had to do what she must when she had no hair to distract someone’s eye. Eventually, I’ll lay off the makeup and really scare people. She looked forward to that day. Right now, she was more concerned with looking her magazine cover best when next to the man she would soon call her ex-husband. “I’m officially back on the market. The young and sexually available women of Chicago need to know what they can look forward to when they bang your wife.”