by Harper Bliss
“You’ll come to the opening, won’t you?”
“Rocco wouldn’t speak to me for weeks if I failed to show up.”
“He adores you,” Katherine says, and something about it, maybe the way she says it, jars me to the point that I feel my limbs stiffen.
I shrug, hoping to end this conversation, this inane chit-chat. Before Katherine has the chance to open her mouth again, I point at the ceiling. “I have a couple of holes to fill up there before the painter can get to work.”
“Of course.”
I get back to it, positioning the ladder, and putting the tools I need within reach, but Katherine doesn’t move. I feel her stare on me.
Before I climb the ladder I try to give her a look which I hope conveys that I don’t appreciate being watched like that.
“I do admire a strong woman,” she says, and smiles with lips that are too red for this place. All the walls are still bright white, there’s dust everywhere, and I’m dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a couple of holes running down the side, yet here Katherine stands, all smiles, in impossibly glam attire, with her red lips and red fingernails. She doesn’t fit in here or, at the very least, her presence irks me. But I can hardly ask her to leave.
I start climbing the ladder but, for some reason, it sways and I lose my balance for a second. I’m only two rungs up and I try to regain my footing, but it’s hard to refocus when you have two dark eyes boring into you like that.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath as I, very inelegantly, jump off the ladder and have to take a step back to stabilize myself. I look down and notice a piece of cardboard under one of the legs of the ladder.
“Are you all right?” Katherine has the audacity to grab me by the arm. I shrug her hand off me immediately.
“If you could just leave me to finish my work in peace,” I snap.
“Sure.” She withdraws her hand while our gazes meet. Hers is soft and caring. Mine, I hope, is thunderous and menacing. I want her as far away from me as possible.
I kick away the unbalancing scrap of cardboard and reposition the ladder, using all my concentration this time, not allowing Katherine-the-ex-call girl to mess up my focus, cursing myself inwardly because it’s stupid little mistakes like not properly securing a ladder that cause the most accidents in my line of work.
Before I attempt to climb up again, I make sure Katherine is far enough away. She’s walking away from the ladder, her back to me, her hips swaying like she’s on a bloody catwalk instead of a building site. The airs and graces of this woman. And what kind of clientele will she attract to this place? This coffee shop that has been my nephew’s dream for so long. I do hope word doesn’t get out about her previous job. Although, truth be told, Rocco’s friends would probably be drawn to her for that very reason. They probably all know and coo around her as though she’s the Queen of Sheba, while all she is… I halt my train of thought. Getting worked up while ascending a ladder is never a good idea. I take a deep breath and focus on the holes that need filling.
Chapter Nine
Kat
“One more week,” I say.
Rocco stands facing me and claps his hands together. “I know, K.Jo, can you believe it?”
We’ve been counting down the days forever, or so it seems, yet it still feels good. And it only gets better as the number of days decreases.
Rocco gives a big, exaggerated sigh. “The painters will be out in two days and then, finally, I can work my magic.” He jumps up and down, which is always a funny sight because he’s such a short muscle queen. He bulges his right biceps. “And with all the stuff Auntie Hera made me carry, I think I’ve grown some extra muscle to put into it.” He turns to watch Hera, who’s standing on top of the ladder she nearly fell from earlier.
Both her arms are up, one against the ceiling to steady herself, the other applying some sort of putty to smooth out the last dents. Her T-shirt has ridden up and I can make out the skin of her belly.
“Your aunt really doesn’t like me, does she? I thought I could charm my way into her good graces, but I get the feeling it hasn’t worked.”
“I bet that doesn’t happen to you a lot.” Rocco bumps his hip into mine lightly. “That you can’t charm someone into liking you.” He flutters his lashes at me. “This place will be teeming with lesbians wanting to bask in some of your irresistible K.Jo charm, girl. For that alone, this coffee shop will be a gold mine.”
I chuckle. “As long as they don’t know about my previous career. That has a tendency to turn people against me.” I nod at Hera. “I’ve asked her to remodel my kitchen, by the way.”
“Ooh, someone’s not ready to throw in the towel just yet.” He winks at me. “Is it really so important to you that my aunt likes you?”
I shake my head. “My kitchen just really needs a do-over and you know how hard it is to find a builder you can trust. I’ve seen Hera at work. She’s thorough, fast, and reliable. She may not like me, but I’m convinced she’ll do a good job regardless. That’s all.”
Rocco nods. “As long as you don’t get any romantic ideas in your head about her. That ship has sailed for Auntie Hera and not even a woman of your quality and grace could ever change her mind about that.”
I huff out some air. “Romantic? Are you crazy?” My turn to slam my hip against his. “The woman practically has to force herself to say hello to me.”
“Just saying,” Rocco says, in that nonchalant way of his. He probably didn’t mean anything by it. He’s the kind to blurt out silly things like that.
I look over at Hera again. She has descended from the ladder and is casting her gaze about the place. I can’t fault her work ethic. She worked long days and has delivered on time. As far as I can tell, her job’s done, and it’s only mid-day.
“I think Hera’s finished.”
“Yay.” Rocco does a simultaneous hand-clap and jump. “Can it be true, Auntie?” he yells. “Have you finished?”
“Just a few bits and bobs,” Hera says in her usual low growl.
“Shall we take her to lunch to celebrate?” Rocco asks.
“You take your aunt to lunch. I get the feeling she wouldn’t enjoy her meal all that much if she had to share a table with me.”
“Oh, come on, Kat, be the bigger person,” he pleads. “Do it for me, your best friend and business partner. I want to have lunch with my two favorite girls.”
“Your mother wouldn’t be very pleased if she heard that,” I reply.
“My mother didn’t just renovate our coffee shop in record time. She’s probably at home filing her nails.”
“Ask Hera if she wants me to come. If she does, I will. If she doesn’t, you’ll have to respect her decision.”
“Will do, darling.” Rocco shimmies over to Hera, who has started gathering her tools.
I watch them as he whispers to her. Hera glances at me and I give her a smile, because why not try to get her to thaw a little more? Rocco’s probably emotionally blackmailing her and, hard as nails she may be with me, it’s so obvious she has a massive soft spot for him—and can’t say no to him.
Rocco turns to me and gives me a thumbs-up. I’m not sure whether I should be delighted that he was able to make a tiny bit of an inroad on my behalf, or deflated at the prospect of having Hera stare at me with nothing but contempt for the duration of a meal. Although, I could really have sworn that contempt’s not all I’ve spotted in her gaze.
I think things are far more complicated than that.
Chapter Ten
Hera
I’m not sure how, or why, I find myself having lunch with Katherine. Ah yes, my darling nephew. From the moment my sister Hilda had suspicions her son might be gay, she urged me to spend time with him. Hence, Rocco and I have been growing closer since he was ten years old and Hilda found him strutting around the house in her high heels with her lipstick plastered clumsily onto his lips.
I was the one to assure him that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him and tha
t he was no less a person than anyone else. Conversations like that tend to create a bond.
Once again, I found myself unable to say no to him. So here I am. Rocco’s sitting across from me and Katherine’s seated next to him. Even though Rocco’s been helping me apply the final touches to the coffee shop, and loading all my dusty gear into my truck, he still looks as though he’s fresh from the shower. Foreseeing as he is, he always has a freshly ironed T-shirt in his car. I guess when you have the conviction to iron your T-shirts, it’s only a small step to always having a spare at hand.
Rocco and I have gone for meals dressed the way we are countless times, but it has never made me feel out of sorts. That’s who he is and this, faded jeans and spotty well-worn T-shirt, is who I am.
It’s Katherine’s presence that is unsettling me again. While we peer at the menu, I decide my best bet to make it through this lunch is to opt for silence.
“This occasion calls for a good bottle of wine,” Rocco exclaims. “K.Jo, you do the honors and choose.” He looks up at me. “She has exquisite taste.”
“I bet she does,” I say, before I can even stop myself. I can’t stop the corners of my mouth from drawing down either. Being near this woman puts my teeth on edge. Thank goodness it’s Wednesday and I have a session with Jill later today. Although I may not mention Katherine at all. The job’s done. It’s time to put her out of my mind once and for all.
Katherine glares at me over the menu she’s holding. She doesn’t say anything, just gives me a look I quickly turn away from.
A waiter comes around and we place our order. Katherine orders a New Zealand pinot gris. I sneaked a peek at the wine list myself, even though my opinion wasn’t called for, and I probably would have picked that one as well.
Rocco, an expert at keeping conversations going if ever there was one, has barely had time to open his mouth when the wine is delivered to our table.
Katherine only makes a small display of tasting it and quickly approves it. Once we’ve all been poured a glass, Rocco holds up his.
“To you, Auntie. We’re so happy with the work you’ve done. You hear such horror stories of builders who only do a half-assed job or never meet a project’s deadline, but you finished half a day early, and definitely didn’t do a half-assed job. Thank you for being so reliable.” He turns to Katherine and offers her the widest smile. “You’re in business with a very reliable breed,” he says.
“Thank you both.” Katherine winks at Rocco then holds her glass out to me. Her red fingernails stand out to me again. What is it about her nails and makeup that gets under my skin so much? “For everything.”
“With all this praise, you’d start thinking I did this job for free. You are paying me, aren’t you?” I joke while quickly lifting my glass a fraction. I don’t hold it out any farther to clink rims with them for fear my hand may be trembling too much.
“Of course, the usual family rate,” Rocco says.
“What’s your next job?” Katherine asks.
If she’s going to ask me direct questions, it’ll be hard to stick to silence.
“I’m not sure yet. When you’ve been out of commission for a while people forget about you.” I shrug. “It’s normal when you’ve had to say no a couple of times. But word will spread soon enough. Builders are always needed and there are never enough of us to make people’s renovation dreams come true. It’s how the world turns.”
“Sounds like a very good profession to be in,” Katherine says. “What made you become a builder? I guess it’s more common now for a woman to choose that profession, but I can imagine that back in the day, it must have caused some looks.”
“I still get plenty of looks.” I take a sip from the wine, which is light and crisp and just the way I like it. “But I worked with my father for a long time before I took over his business when he retired. You tend to run into the same people a lot.” I lean back in my chair. “Clients are something else, of course. The majority hardly bat an eyelid when a woman turns up on their doorstep, but some really can’t deal with it. And then there are those who don’t notice I’m a woman at all.” I throw in a chuckle.
“We all have to live in this world,” Katherine says. “Which is rife with prejudice.” She locks her gaze on mine for an instant. Is she trying to send me a message?
“That may be so, Kat,” Rocco interjects. I’m surprised he’s managed to let us speak for this long without intervening. “But Auntie Hera made sure I was ready to face any prejudice when it was time to come out. Plus, she made my coming out to my parents a piece of cake.”
I wave off Rocco’s comment. “Your mother knew long before you did.”
“And in all fairness, darling,” Katherine adds, “you’ve worked in a gym for most of your professional life. Being gay is practically a requirement for an instructor in a Bondi gym.” She gives him a smile that lights up her face.
“What is this?” Rocco says. “I was trying to have a genuine heartfelt moment and all I get is the lezzers ganging up on me.” He sighs dramatically. “I’ve always vehemently fought what Auntie Hera has told me all my life. That of all the variations of gender and orientation, gay men and lesbian women have the least in common, except the battles we’ve had to fight side by side. Right now, for the first time ever, I’m starting to believe you were right.” He paints on a smirk.
I can’t help but laugh at his silly indignation. Rocco has always had a knack for making a point in the most dramatic fashion. He gets that from his mother, for sure. Sometimes, when he was at my house as an adolescent, it was like being around my teenage sister all over again.
“Then I guess we should toast Hera once again,” Katherine says. “For encouraging you to become such a fabulous and unapologetic gay.”
“What’s there to apologize for anyway?” Rocco says, before taking a sip of wine.
“Absolutely nothing, when it comes to your sexual preference, at least.” I glance at Katherine. It was quite fun to gang up on my nephew for a minute, to jest with another woman like that.
“What do you mean by that exactly?” Katherine asks. Her gaze is glued to mine. “By the ‘at least’ in what you just said?”
Chapter Eleven
Kat
“I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at,” Hera says.
“I think it’s wonderful that you’ve been such a great role model for Rocco and I appreciate that coming out was much harder a mere decade ago, let alone thirty years ago. But how can you sit here basking in Rocco’s praise about you being so supportive when, all the while, you’re judging me?”
Damn. I didn’t mean to have a go at Hera. She hardly deserves it. In fact, apart from the clear judgment she’s been casting on me since the very first moment we met, I can so clearly tell she and Rocco are cut from the same good-natured cloth. But it’s perhaps that one glaring discrepancy in her personality that gets to me. Moreover, this is supposed to be a happy occasion. Us thanking her for a job well done, and celebrating another milestone in our journey toward our coffee shop dream. Yet Hera can’t help but ruin the moment with her snide little remarks. If she thinks she can just keep dropping them into conversation, and hope Rocco and I won’t notice, she has another thing coming. Granted, Rocco probably doesn’t notice, but I do. I’m too finely attuned to throwaway remarks like that venomous ‘at least’ that sprang from her lips.
I might be able to understand people’s reactions to what I do—we all live in the same world, governed by the same old conservative societal rules, after all—but that doesn’t mean I have to let everyone walk over me, least of all someone like Hera, who knows better than most what it feels like to have public opinion against you.
“Because one has nothing to do with the other,” Hera says, casually, as if it’s the most sense-making sentence ever spoken.
“Now, now, ladies,” Rocco says. “Look, lunch is coming. I understand we’re all a little hangry, what with all the hard work we’ve been doing. But salvation’s on the way.�
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Our dishes are brought to the table and, as I glance at Hera, I can almost see the wave of relief that washes over her. If she thinks she’s off the hook, she is, however, sorely mistaken. But I’ll let her have a few bites of her lamb chops first.
“Delicious,” Rocco says. “How’s your salmon, Kat?”
“Good.” My tone’s clipped. Too clipped. I look at Hera, and how she hesitantly cuts off a chunk of lamb. I’m probably radiating combativeness. I need to defuse the situation. “I’m sorry, Hera,” I say. “I was feeling a little under attack and my claws came out. It’s a gut reaction.”
Hera waves her fork in the air. “You and I may not agree on certain things, but we have the boy to consider.” She nods at Rocco. “He’s lived such a charmed life, let’s not break the spell.”
“Oh, great,” Rocco says. “For the record, yes, I want you two to get along for my sake, but that doesn’t mean you have to gang up on me and spout half-truths about me to do so.”
“Make your choice already,” Hera says. “I’ve told you many times. You can’t have everything you want in life.” I realize I actually haven’t seen her smile yet, not the kind of genuine smile she draws her lips into right now. It lights up her face and transforms her into another person. Maybe that’s who she was before Sam died. Or maybe that’s the kind of person she is when she’s not having lunch with former escorts.
“Tell me honestly, though, Hera.” I put my cutlery down. “Would you really take on the job of remodeling my kitchen? Or were you just nodding your head to get rid of me?”
Hera inhales deeply. “Truth be told, I had no intention of actually taking on the job.” That’s all she says.
“Had?” I ask.
“I don’t think I deserve the way you just spoke to me, but, then again, I don’t think you deserve the way I’ve been speaking to you either. So let’s call a truce and see where we go.”
