by Fiona Zedde
Nikki rolled her eyes. "As far as Lydia is concerned if someone's not dancing 'til the wee hours of the morning or meeting scores of eligible people then there is no good time."
"Damn right." Lydia lightly tapped Nikki's foot. "Speaking of as you put it, meeting scores of eligible people, can I kidnap you lovely ladies and gentleman"-she tugged at Xavier's naked foot-"and take you to the reggae show in Queenstown?"
The little boy squeaked, "Yes!" then looked at his mother. "Can we?"
Nikki didn't waste any time thinking about it. "Sure. Victor can fend for himself when he gets home tonight."
The fairground was packed. Its crowd, consisting of a fairly mixed group of younger and older people, seemed friendly; unlike the last time Lydia and Sinclair had been out together. Kids ran through the grassy area, chasing and calling out to each other in loud excited voices.
"We don't have to stay that long," Lydia said, linking hands with Xavier and Nikki. Sinclair tried to walk a little behind the three of them, but Nikki grabbed her hand.
"Stay close, daughter." Her eyes danced with laughter.
Sinclair squeezed her hand and smiled. "I'm all grown up, you know."
"Yeah, but you're a grown woman who could easily get lost in this mob."
Sinclair wrinkled her nose at Nikki but kept up anyway. At six in the evening the sun was still high and brilliant in the Friday sky. Vendors, with their carts overflowing with every variety of juices and desserts, lined the avenue leading to the stage. Xavier dragged his group of women toward the carts, eyeing the flaky pies and cakes with more than casual interest.
"I think he's more excited about the food than about the people onstage," Lydia said as they pulled him away from yet another stand.
"If we walked faster then he wouldn't be able to see all these goodies," Sinclair said, although she was getting tempted herself.
They sped up but had to stop when Xavier saw a group of his school friends. The couple chaperoning them looked harried, turning around every few seconds to make sure that all five of the children weren't getting into any trouble. Xavier jumped in the midst of his friends and started chattering away like a little magpie.
"My name is Alton," the man introduced himself to Nikki over the children's heads. "Father to those two, uncle to the rest." His companion hovered nearby, looking worried. "That's Kathleen over there."
"I'm Nikki. All three of these are my children."
Lydia laughed at his expression. "Stepchildren, she means. At least us two. That one over there is Sinclair. I'm Lydia."
"Good to meet you," Alton said with a smile. "I was just about to say that you don't look your age, Nikki."
"She looks every day of her twenty-two years, so don't you dare try to tell her otherwise." Lydia slipped her arm around her stepmother's waist, chortling.
"Alton, help me out here, please." Kathleen's desperate voice interrupted their lovefest.
"Excuse me." Alton went to help gather the fleeing children.
"Come on, Xavie. You can visit with your friends later." Nikki took his hand and waved at Alton and his brood, then they were off again.
"They were nice people," Nikki said.
"Yeah, that Alton guy kept staring at your breasts the whole time."
"Shh!" Nikki shushed Lydia, pointing to her son.
"Sorry to burst your parental bubble, but he already knows what breasts are."
"He does not!" She looked at Sinclair for support, but her stepdaughter merely shrugged and walked ahead.
Lydia grinned and gave her brother a hundred-dollar bill to buy the ice-cream cake he was so obviously ogling. They all waited while he got his cake and the change before forging their way through the crowd to get to the main stage.
Two hours later, with darkness coming swiftly on the heels of the falling sun, they piled into the convertible and headed for home.
"That was the best!" Xavier hopped up and down in the backseat, straining against his seatbelt. "Spragga jumped so high and sing so fast!"
"That's what he got paid to do." Lydia guided the car through traffic, smiling.
"We had a really good time, Lydia," Nikki said, resting her fingers lightly on her son's neck. "Thanks for coming by to get us."
"No problem."
Lydia seemed to have needed the distraction of their company as much as Xavier had needed this outing. She looked a little tired.
"Everything been all right with you, Lydia?"
"Good. Everything is good." She looked back at Nikki in the rearview mirror as if still trying to convince her.
At home they put Xavier and Nikki to bed, poured two glasses of something stronger than carrot juice and sat on the verandah. Sinclair was the first to speak.
"So is everything really OK, Lydia?"
"Not really. But you know people are always saying that, if you say that something is, then it will be."
"Right." Sinclair was unconvinced. "So what's wrong?"
"You know that Hunter and I broke up last week, right?"
Sinclair stiffened. Had it only been a week? "I didn't know for sure, but I suspected when Papa made such a big deal about you not bringing her to the beach cookout."
"Did you?" Lydia sipped her Grand Marnier. "I guess I wasn't being as subtle as I thought."
"What happened?"
"The details aren't that important. We hadn't really been talking for a few days, then I tracked her down at the party to get some things out in the air. I let it slip about why I couldn't let her touch me and she broke it off." She sighed. "I thought I'd be relieved, but I'm not."
"Do you want her back?"
"No. It's not even that. She's the best looking woman on this island. The most eligible dyke bachelor so to speak, but I-" she sighed. "I do want her back."
"Does she know that?"
"No, not yet. But I'm going to let her know this week."
"Don't you think you're being a little flighty?"
"What do you mean? It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind, isn't it?"
"Not when it means jerking somebody around emotionally." Would Hunter jump at the chance to have Lydia back if she was willing to put out?
They both looked up as the door opened and Nikki came out of the house rubbing her eyes. She had the telephone in her hand. "It's for you, Sinclair."
"Thanks. Excuse me, Lydia."
She took the phone and walked into the house behind Nikki. The younger woman slid her a quick look but said nothing before disappearing into her bedroom door.
"Hello?"
"You didn't call."
Sinclair leaned back against the kitchen wall, smiling stupidly. "Is that why you tracked me down?"
"I was going to come over, but I thought two nights in a row might be a little bit much."
"A bit much for what?" Sinclair's voice was breathless, low. She forgot about Lydia waiting for her on the verandah.
"Not that. Definitely not that. I just didn't want to turn your father's house into my personal playroom."
"Logic. Sometimes it sucks." She took a trembling breath. "I want to see you. In the daylight. I know you have work to do, though."
"That's what all-nighters are for."
"I thought we already had one of those."
"Very funny, Ms. Sinclair. Tomorrow. I can pick you up tomorrow. We can spend the day together, go sightseeing or something."
Sightseeing? "That sounds fine."
"Don't sound so excited. I'll make it worth your while."
"I'm sure you will." She heard a noise from outside. "By the way, Lydia is here."
"She's not invited on our field trip."
"She-oh, never mind. I guess she'll talk to you about it herself. I'm not going to get in the middle of things." Though it might be a little late for that.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'll see you tomorrow."
Hunter made a rude noise. "Fine. Tomorrow."
She hung up the pho
ne and went back out to Lydia.
"Hmm, you certainly look sparkly and new," her sister said, raising her glass. "Must have been quite a phone call."
"It was." Sinclair picked up her glass and took a sip. "So what are you up to for the rest of the night?"
After a smirking look she shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it beyond the visit here. I've been seeing a woman in the valley on and off, so I might go see her tonight. She's always good for a bit of fun."
"So you want Hunter and this girl, too? What's that about?"
"Don't be so judgmental, Sinclair. This woman was giving me what I couldn't get from Hunter. It was never emotional between us."
"And that makes it all right?"
"It does, believe me. I'm sure Hunter is getting her kitty stroked by someone else. She isn't moping around waiting for me. Della's probably never stopped getting her regular dose of Hunter in the two years since she's been here."
"That's not fair. Just because you've been cheating on the relationship doesn't mean that Hunter had been too."
"Why do you care so much anyway? You don't know Hunter well enough to know that she wouldn't cheat on me. According to the dyke news around here, when Hunter and Della were together they were all over each other. Della was always letting everybody know how she was getting her sex, how often, and how good it was. If all that was true, how could she give that up?"
Sinclair resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't know. Like you said, you've known these people longer than I have so your guess is much better than mine." She stood, draining the rest of her drink. "I'm going to turn in for the night."
"Isn't it a little early for you?"
Sinclair's evil twin spoke up. "Usually, but I didn't get much sleep last night."
After Lydia left, Sinclair stayed on the verandah a little longer, absorbing the night's quiet and the faint twinges of unease she felt about her sister and Hunter. She blinked at the moon wondering if this was what they called dyke drama?
Sinclair rode the early morning bus that Nikki normally rode to work. This time she was alone, sitting up front near the driver so she wouldn't pass her stop. Her fellow passengers were silent, swaying in an early morning stupor with the bus's movements, staring straight ahead or out the open windows at the passing landscape.
"Here you go, miss." The driver stopped the bus and pointed down the road. "Take that road to the left and it will take you straight to Rincon Street."
"Thanks." She got off the bus and stepped away from the road to wait for it to pass on its way higher up the hill. This was a stop below where Nikki usually got off and, according to the driver, should get her to Hunter's street faster. Ten minutes later, she knocked at Hunter's door. It was six thirty in the morning.
"Don't you look all touristy," Hunter said when she opened the door.
Sinclair grinned and twirled on the doorstep, giving her a glimpse of her loose floral sundress and the matching widebrimmed hat she wore tilted low over one eye.
"I came early on the off chance that you were here and awake. I hope you don't mind."
"Not even a little bit." Hunter tugged her into the house and kissed her quickly on the mouth, lending Sinclair the faint flavor of mint tea from her tongue. "Come in."
Hunter waved her into the hallway and into the immaculate living room. "I'm doing some work in the study. Give me ten minutes to wrap up and I'll be right back."
"Take your time." Sinclair dropped her hat and bag on the coffee table. When Hunter came back almost a half an hour later, she was propped up on the sofa with her shoes off, reading a history book about the Nanny and the Maroons.
"Did I mention how great you look?" Hunter asked, dropping to her knees beside the sofa.
"No, not yet." Sinclair marked her page with the attached red ribbon and set the book aside.
"Well, let me just say," she kissed Sinclair's knee, "that you look," then the other, "fabulous." Hunter's mouth pressed briefly against the top of her thighs. "Do you feel like breakfast?"
"Like being breakfast?" Sinclair's thighs parted slightly at the thought. "Or having breakfast with you?"
"Either. Both." Hunter put her arms around Sinclair's hips and drew her to the edge of the couch. "You pick, food or fucking." Hunter nibbled on her pouty lower lip.
"What do you think?" She slid her legs around Hunter's waist. "Feed me." Laughter bubbled easily to her lips.
"Slut." Hunter tasted her mouth again. "Come into the kitchen and help me."
Between the two of them they managed to put together a more than decent meal. Meaning that Sinclair provided distracting pinches and kisses to Hunter's butt, back, and neck while the besieged woman made scrambled eggs, seasoned potatoes, and hominy corn porridge flavored with coconut milk, nutmeg, and vanilla.
"You are so useful," Sinclair said later as they sat at the kitchen table sharing their breakfast. "Talented hands for every room in the house. I like that."
"I hope you can show me just how much. Later on." Hunter blew her a kiss over a spoonful of porridge.
After breakfast the dark woman showered and dressed, then they left the house to go on the promised sightseeing trip.
"This is going to be fun," Hunter insisted as they drove up the hill toward Fairfax Castle. The national landmark was a place referred to in all the guidebooks as exotic and mysterious, and one of the most beautiful lookout spots on the island.
"Some Englishman apparently built the place in the image of his ancestral home, complete with stone walls, servants quarters, and a little upstairs prison for his certifiable wife." At Sinclair's startled expression, Hunter laughed. "I'm not even joking. It says so right there in the guidebook. Look." She pointed to the folded brochure in Sinclair's hands. "And the best part is that they have tours of the place every two hours."
"I didn't figure you for a history buff, Miss High-Tech."
"Oh, I am. And so much more." She chuckled and guided the jeep farther up the mountain.
Hunter was right. The view was breathtaking. From the top of Mount Rosanna to sea level the marker said it was 1,219 meters. Sinclair did a quick mental calculation. That was about 4,000 feet. Below them sat a sprawling vista of jungle plants, exotic houses built into the mountainside, and far, far out, the sea. They stood at the entrance to the castle, giggling like teenagers at the booth where a tiny man with tired eyes took their money and gave them flimsy paper tickets in return. He wore a drooping version of some sort of British uniform, dark blue with red stripes down the sides of the trousers that disappeared into knee-high black boots. Hunter dragged her away to follow the crowd walking away from them up the stone path to tour the tumble-down structure.
The place really was gorgeous, with long arches of marble marking each doorway, and thick green vines that slid up through all this impervious rock. It was a fairy-tale house, one that had more in the way of beauty than practicality. The beauty came from nature, the elements that had over time slipped in uninvited to make the marble and stone warmer, more approachable and photographable.
The tour guide, who introduced herself as Mavis, reminded Sinclair of one of her old teachers with her thick, flyaway hair pulled back into a bun and the dark-rimmed glasses shoved high on her nose.
"She's kinda sexy, isn't she?" Hunter whispered behind her.
"Stop it, she reminds me of the teacher I had in basic school."
The dark woman snickered. "You wanted to lick all over her, didn't you?"
"Shh! She's saying important things."
"This was built in the late seventeen hundreds when Lord Braithwaite realized that he would never be able to leave Jamaica for good." The woman's proper English and curvy behind really did make her very appealing. "Come with me upstairs-" Mavis's voice faded away under the sound of treading feet as she and the crowd of sightseers disappeared up the stone staircase.
"Doesn't that ass just make you want to follow it anywhere?" Hunter palmed Sinclair's ass from behind then stepped close briefly to press her brea
sts against her back.
"You are not nice," Sinclair murmured, rushing to catch up with the group. But it was too late, she didn't hear a thing the woman said. All her awareness was focused on Hunter, on her warmth behind her, the teasing hands that touched and fondled when no one was looking. They drifted higher into the stone castle until they stood in the madwoman's bedroom. Time and a cannon blast had opened up most of the room to the mountain air. Off the main room was a smaller anteroom with only two and a half of its walls remaining, one with barred windows looking down at the shifting waves of jungle greenery and the sea beyond it. In a back room that was only the size of a walk-in closet, there was more open space. The sky above radiated a brilliant blue.
"Down there," Hunter pointed to a speck of white in the distance, "is where I was born. In my Aunt Eunice's house. I came too soon so they had to make some adjustments."
"And you've been shaking things up ever since then, right?"
"How did you know?" Hunter chuckled and turned back to Mavis.
The tour guide pointed out the woman's mad scribblings that neither time nor war had diminished, scribblings that were etched deep into thick walls that would have made it impossible for anyone to hear her screams or her angry recriminations against the husband who had brought her here away from her genteel society in England. Mavis's matter-offact recounting of the woman's madness sent a collective shudder through the group of tourists. They could well imagine being isolated from their comforts, forced to tolerate primitive conditions.
"Does that make you shudder too, Ms. American?" Hunter asked.
"Not especially."
"Then what would?"
The question trickled down Sinclair's spine and settled firmly in the cradle of her hips.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen." Mavis paused at the top of the stairs. "Our next destination is the former slave quarters, a place that the mistress, as well as the master of this house, visited at regular intervals."
The group trooped down the stairs after her. Hunter grabbed Sinclair's hand when she started to follow.
"There's something she forgot to show you," she said.
Sinclair smiled. "What's that?"
"This." Hunter pulled her into the circle of her arms and kissed her.
