by Lyn Denison
“Which was hardly your fault, Angie,” Shann said, trying to reassure her.
“I know that now, but it caused me a lot of heartache when I was a child. The turning point in my life was coming to live with Ann and Mike. I do wish I could have met my grandparents though. And I’m very grateful to them for providing me with the opportunity to try to make a go of this.” Angie sighed. “So what about you, Shann? Do you enjoy doing what you do?”
“Well, in the past I’ve had a few jobs I didn’t much care for, but they were a means to an end,” Shann told her. “As in, Corey and I had to eat. But mostly, I found something to enjoy with my various jobs.”
“No. I mean your songwriting.”
“Now that I’ve always loved, and I’m so lucky it’s starting to pay off.”
“I knew back then it was your passion. You were always strumming your guitar.”
“I guess I drove everyone nuts.”
“Not me.” Angie’s fingers returned to twisting her empty cup. “I used to sneak over and listen to you most afternoons.”
“Sneak over where?”
“Over the fence. I had a spot behind a grevillea bush underneath your bedroom window. I loved your songs. As I told you the other night, I was one of your biggest fans.”
Shann didn’t know what to say as a glow of pleasure grew inside her. “I . . . you sat listening?”
Angie nodded. “I told Ann and Leigh you’d be famous one day.”
“I wish you’d told me.” Shann laughed. “I could have used some encouragement. My parents thought it was a mammoth waste of time I could have used studying.” So much so that Shann had confined her guitar practice to the hours after school and before her father and Ruth came home from work. And while Leigh was at sports practice. Leigh hadn’t cared for Shann’s guitar playing either and had once accused Shann of caring more about her precious guitar than she did about Leigh. “I lacked a lot of self confidence back then,” she finished flatly.
“I don’t know why. You were fantastic, and I’m not surprised at your success.”
“There’s been a certain amount of luck involved,” Shann began.
“Luck? Luck doesn’t come into it unless you have talent. And no matter how much you downplay it, Shann, you do have talent. You always did.”
“Thanks. But if I hadn’t been lucky enough to do The Kelly Boys theme I’d still be a struggling songwriter,” Shann said honestly.
“How did that come about?”
“As I said, luck. Just being in the right place at the right time. I was taking a songwriting course. I’d felt I was a bit stale, couldn’t come up with anything new or fresh, and Corey saw the ad for the course in the paper. So I applied, got a place, and was thoroughly enjoying it. The teacher was quite well known and did a lot of television work. He told us about the proposed show and gave us the project to write a theme song. He really liked mine and passed it on to a friend who was working on the show and,” Shann shrugged, “the rest is history. I was lucky.”
“And you wrote a fantastic song,” Angie said sincerely. “I particularly watched the show the other night so I’m speaking with full knowledge, so to speak.”
“Well, thanks. That’s nice of you to say that.”
“Sorry to interrupt, Angie.” A young woman had approached them and stood apologetically beside their table. “That distributor you wanted to talk to is on the phone.”
Angie looked as though she was about to refuse to take the call, and Shann stood up, glancing at her wristwatch. “I should be going anyway. Liz will be wondering where I am. Thanks for the coffee.”
“My pleasure.” Angie stood up too, and a rueful smiled lifted the corners of her mouth.
Her very kissable mouth. The thought hit Shann like a blow to the solar plexus. This attraction she felt for the other woman was getting way out of hand. She knew she’d have to put a stop to it before she did or said something they might both regret. Perhaps it was better if she made sure she didn’t see any more of Angie than she had to. And at that particular thought something painful shifted in the region of her heart.
“Call in any time. For coffee or whatever,” Angie added softly and then smiled. “I have a fairly reasonable boss. However, I should get this call. It was good to see you. Bye, Shann.”
Shann hurried outside, jumped into her car and headed the short distance home. As she turned into the driveway she realized she was humming the tune of the song she was working on. And she felt more alive than she had in years. She knew she’d not been as attracted to anyone in a very long time.
But attracted to Angie Callahan? She still couldn’t believe that the shy, retiring teen had blossomed into an attractive, vivacious young woman. Yet when she thought about it, Angie had always been special. She’d overcome her less-than-perfect childhood and simply got on with life. But Angie Callahan. It was too difficult. Wasn’t it?
She acknowledged that small—very small—rational voice inside her that told her she should simply cool it, keep as much distance as possible between herself and the other woman. The whole thing was fraught with emotional pitfalls, not the least being that Angie was Leigh’s cousin.
She switched off the engine and sat for a moment looking at the house next door. Shann had spent a lot of years totally in love with Leigh Callahan, but Leigh had been lost to her all those years ago. If she’d ever had Leigh, said that same small voice inside her. Now Leigh was married with a family. She’d rejected Shann when she was at her lowest ebb, and Shann told herself she’d put that painful part of her life behind her. She had to move on. She was single and so, it would seem, was Angie.
Was Angie a lesbian? The word butch echoed inside her again. Had that been a hint from Angie? Or a warning? Shann had no way of knowing and unless she asked Angie herself how would she know?
We need a mark, Shann reflected irreverently as she climbed from the car and collected her purchases from the boot. Perhaps a large L in the middle of the forehead that only another lesbian could see. Or a secret handshake like the Masons. Now something like that would make it easier.
Shann laughed at herself as she jogged up the steps. Maybe there was some secret symbol or sign, and she’d been away from the scene so long she didn’t know about it. She’d have to call Gina and ask her.
Later after she’d settled her father in his room for a nap and she’d satisfied herself that Liz was also resting on the veranda, Shann went into the bedroom with the handheld phone and dialed Gina’s number.
Gina Carlisle was the first out lesbian Shann had met. She owned a bar in town, and it was here that Shann had made her singing debut.
It started when Shann had seen a sign for a position as a kitchen hand on the notice board in the area’s first alternative café. The small coffee shop served organic food, sold crystals and played very different music. New Age hippies, her father labeled them. Shann sometimes called in there and the fact that her parents frowned on the place made it far more exciting. So when she saw the job advertised, she rang and got an interview.
“You won’t be working out in the bar,” said the owner, “but I want someone over eighteen.”
Shann guiltily fingered the fake ID she had in her pocket. “I had my birthday last week,” she said, refraining from mentioning it was her seventeenth and not her eighteenth. Because she was tall she rarely had trouble appearing older than she was. As yet she’d never been asked to show the ID that a friend of Leigh’s had acquired for them. “I have ID.”
She just had to be confident, she told herself as she knocked on the back entrance of The Blue Moon. The door opened and Shann smiled at the huge woman who was eyeing her suspiciously.
“I have an appointment with Gina Carlisle at four p.m.,” Shann told her.
The woman, Jess, the cook, Shann later learned, looked Shann up and down again before opening the door wide and motioning her inside. “Second door on the left.”
Shann swallowed and strode down the hallway. She took a deep breat
h. Be confident, she reminded herself as she rapped on the door.
“Come in.” Gina Carlisle stood up as Shann stepped into the room. She was barely five feet tall, with dark hair and olive skin. She also did nothing to disguise her voluptuous figure. Blue jeans hugged her rounded hips and the low neckline of her sleeveless shirt barely covered the swell of her full breasts.
At the time Gina was on the right side of forty, and her dark eyes narrowed as she sized Shann up. “Wow! You’re a tall one,” she said.
“I’m five-ten,” Shann told her.
“Well, sit down and let’s get started.” She reseated herself and looked levelly across the desk as she began firing questions about Shann’s previous work experience. She took down phone numbers to check Shann’s references and named an hourly rate that was slightly higher than the going amount.
“Well, if your references check out the job’s yours,” Gina said after what seemed to Shann to be fairly casual conversation rather than an interview. “As long as you’re not concerned about working here.”
“Concerned?” Shann frowned, perplexed. “About what?”
“You do know this is a lesbian bar?”
Shann had had no idea, wasn’t aware that such places existed. Her mouth dried, and she swallowed, knowing a flush had colored her face. “Of course.” She rallied. “That’s no problem.”
Gina gave her another piercing look. “Okay. Unless you hear from me you can start tomorrow at five p.m. Jess out in the kitchen will tell you everything you need to know.”
It took a week for Shann to get up the nerve to venture out into the bar after her shift in the kitchen ended. She looked around, peering into the slightly dimmed lights. Women of all shapes, sizes, and ages danced together on the small dance floor or sat talking in groups at tables. Shann hastily looked away as two women began to kiss passionately in a darkened corner.
She walked nervously up to the bar and ordered a Coke with a slice of lemon from the attractive bartender. The woman had bare muscular arms with a tattooed pattern encircling one bicep.
“One Coke with a slice of lemon,” said the woman and, embarrassed, Shann paid for the drink. She’d only just got her license and her father allowed her to use her brother’s old car. She had no intention of being caught drunk driving. Apart from that Shann thought the taste of most alcohol was very overrated.
Shann took a sip and swiveled around on her stool so she could survey the room again. If she told Leigh about this place, would she come with her one night? Shann wasn’t confident Leigh would but how wonderfully freeing it would be to dance close to Leigh and not have to worry about anyone knocking on the door, interrupting them.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” said a deep, throaty voice beside Shann, and she nearly dropped her drink.
The woman who slipped onto the stool beside her wore black leather pants and a leather vest that fit snuggly over her breasts, the open top two buttons displaying an impressive cleavage. A diamond stud sparkled beneath her full bottom lip, and a silver ring hung from one eyebrow.
“Oh. I . . . no, I haven’t been here before,” Shann stammered, blushing furiously.
“No. You sure haven’t. I’d have remembered you,” said the woman, leaning closer to Shann, running her finger down Shann’s bare arm.
“Okay, Laurie. Knock it off.” Gina Carlisle walked up to them, and the other woman pouted.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to tread on your turf, Gina.” She turned to Shann with a rueful smirk. “Pity,” she said as she moved off to join a group of women.
Gina looked at Shann and shook her head. “I hope that’s not alcohol you’re drinking,” she said, and Shann hastily assured her it wasn’t and that she was driving home.
Sitting on the stool the other woman had vacated, Gina lit up a cigarette. “You know, I suspect I’d be in big trouble if anyone saw you in here, Shann Delaney. So how old are you really? No.” She held up her hand. “It’s best you don’t tell me.”
“I have my ID,” Shann began. “It’s a really good one. You can’t tell it’s—”
Gina held up her hand again. “Don’t tell me.”
“I really need the job, Gina.”
“What sort of trouble are you in, honey?” Gina asked.
“No trouble. Honestly. But I need the money. To make a good quality demo of some of my songs. I’m saving to do that. That’s all. I write songs.”
“What sort of songs?”
“All sorts but mainly modern country.”
“You don’t mean my baby done left me, my horse has gone lame, and mama’s in jail?”
Shann laughed. “Sort of. Without the horse and the lawless mama.”
Gina grinned. “Are you any good?”
“Yes,” Shann said. “I think, well, I hope so.”
“You have the look of that sexy Terri Clark, all dark hair and legs up to your eyes.” Gina drew on her cigarette. “We have a talent search here every Friday night at nine. Fifty dollars for the performer the crowd chooses. Then once a month on a Saturday night we have a final with a hundred-dollar pot. Why don’t you try it?”
“That would be great.” Shann bit her lip. “But what about, well, the ID?”
“So keep that on you and no alcohol. That way I can talk myself out of it if the cops decide to do a spot check.”
“Do I need to put my name down for the talent search?”
“No. I’ll tell them to expect you. Just turn up on Friday before nine p.m. And Shann, be selective who you talk to in here, just for my peace of mind. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Some of these women would eat you up and spit you out. And all puns are intended.”
Shann blushed again, and Gina patted her arm.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to some nice people.”
Shann had played and sang at The Blue Moon talent search and impressed everyone enough to win her heat and then the final. Gina then offered her a permanent gig a couple of nights a week.
Now, ten years later Shann listened to the phone ringing.
“The Blue Moon,” said a gravelly voice.
“Is your chili still so hot it makes your eyes water for days, Jess?” Shann asked lightly.
“Who is this?”
“Sheez! How quickly they forget. It’s only been ten years.”
“Ten years? At my age I’m lucky to remember what happened yesterday, let alone ten years ago.”
“It’s Shann.”
“Shann Delaney?” she said incredulously. “Good God, kid. You back in town?”
“Yes. So how are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I lost weight then it found me again and brought along a parcel of relatives.” Jess laughed. “You coming in to see us?”
“That’s the general idea,” Shann told her. “Is Gina there?”
“Sure. Isn’t she always? You know Cassie died a couple of years ago?”
“Yes. I heard. How’s Gina coping?” Gina and Cassie had been together for twenty years.
“She just puts one foot in front of the other. Wish they could find a cure for this bloody cancer.”
“Amen to that,” Shann said with feeling.
“I’ll put you through to Gina. She’ll be pleased to hear from you. And Shann, you come over to see us soon.”
“I will, Jess.” Shann waited, heard a moment’s taped music then Gina’s voice came on the line.
“Shann Delaney. Where are you?”
Shann laughed. “Stretched out on my bed wearing tight blue jeans and a big smile.”
“You big teaser. When did you get back?”
“Last week. I’m helping the family out. My father and my older sister have both had surgery.”
“You’re playing nurse? To your family?”
“Dad and I have a sort of armed truce going. But I wanted him to meet Corey, and that’s working out really well. Ah, Gina, I was sorry to hear about Cassie.”
Gina sighed. “Yes. Life’s a bitch, isn’t it? Has
you wondering about the scheme of things, doesn’t it? Cassie never hurt a living soul.”
“No. She was one of the nicest, kindest people I’ve ever met.” Shann paused. “So how are you holding up?”
“Okay, honey. Part of me went with Cassie, but the rest of me keeps on plodding along.” She sighed. “So when are you coming in to see us? And will we get to meet Corey?”
“Sure you will. How about I bring him in one day after he finishes school? He’s dying to meet you.”
“He is? You’ve told him about, well, about us?”
“Of course. Corey’s a special boy, even if I do say so myself.”
“Shann, that’s wonderful. And why wouldn’t he be a special boy? He has a special mother, too.”
“I’ve missed you all, Gina.” Shann felt the rush of tears in her eyes.
“We’ve missed you, too. And are you going to do a couple of gigs for me?”
“If you like.”
“Good. I’ll make up some posters. Everyone will be stoked to have a real live star performer.”
“Star performer? You have bigger stars than me all the time, and you know it.”
“You’ll have to do the theme from The Kelly Boys.”
Shann groaned. “How did you hear about that?”
“Read it in the TV Week. I’m even hooked on the show now. I always tell the TV screen that I gave you your first big break.”
“You gave me more than that, Gina. You gave me a sense of self and a sense of belonging. I felt like some sort of freak until I met you.”
“A very cute little baby dyke freak,” Gina laughed. “Seriously, Shann. We’ll all be pleased to see you.”
“Liz’s husband has a few hours off tomorrow so I’ll come over after lunch if that’s all right with you. Say about two. I don’t have to collect Corey from school until four because he’s got soccer practice.”
“Two is fine. We’ll see you then, shall we?”
“Looking forward to it. Bye, Gina.”
“Bye, honey.”
Shann set down the receiver and smiled. It would be so good to get reacquainted with her friends.
A few days later, Shann asked Liz if she’d mind if she asked Amy to babysit Corey. “He’ll be in bed before I leave,” Shann told her. “I wouldn’t ask, but I know you said Rhys would be home. Otherwise I’d be worried if you and Dad were on your own.”
