by Tonya Muir
I hold her close, feeling very protective of her right now. Between stalkers, serial killers and anthrax nut flakes, we’ve been having a rough couple weeks. And all I want is her to feel safe in my arms. I kiss the top of her head and close my eyes, content to doze and just hold her.
I jump a few moments later when I feel a hand someplace I certainly don’t have one. I open my eyes and look into her now very playful face.
"Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? You lured me into an ambush," I chide, loving every moment of it.
She nods again then attaches her lips to my neck as her hands begin roaming my body. Oh yeah, this is good. She seems to enjoy making love first thing in the morning. Not that I particularly care what time of the day she chooses.
"Ah, Kels…" I roll over on my back and enjoy the feeling of being loved by this woman. "So nice," I manage as my eyes slip closed, my hands rubbing up and down her back.
The knock on the door to our room is a huge fucking distraction. Can’t people read a goddamn do not disturb sign? I whimper when she pauses. Don’t stop, Kels. Please, don’t stop.
"Kelsey, I know you’re in there. Open the door!" The woman’s voice is harsh.
"Ah, fuck!" Kels groans. She slaps the mattress then rolls out of bed, pulling on a robe.
"What is going on?" I’m so totally frustrated right now I can’t think. Why is she stopping?
"It’s my mother," Kels explains, tying off her robe.
"Your mother?" Jesus H. Christ! Suddenly, I feel like I should be jumping into my clothes and looking for the nearest exit. Which, of course, would be out the door she’s knocking on. I wonder if she’d think I was just delivering room service.
Service with a smile.
Kels comes and kneels next to the bed, and gives me a long, lingering kiss. She brushes my hair back from my face. "Relax. I came out to my mother years ago, just to piss her off. If I’m really lucky, I’ll get a big Christmas present and she’ll have a stroke when she sees you." She examines me and pulls the sheet up around my very nude body reluctantly. "Just follow my lead."
I nod dumbly, tucking the sheet around me. "I can do that." As if I have a choice.
"Good."
What the hell is it with her family and friends anyhow? Every time she starts doing wonderful things to my body, they manage to ruin it.
There is another demanding knock on the door.
"Kelsey Diane! Open this door, right now!"
Diane? Huh, I didn’t know that. I like it. It’s pretty. Well, hell, she’s pretty.
She smiles a truly evil smile and opens the door. The woman breezes into the room, completely oblivious to my presence. She starts speaking as she pulls off her gloves.
"It’s about time, Kelsey. Did you plan on keeping me waiting in the hall all day?"
I can feel my brows coming together as I watch this woman. She’s so fucking self-absorbed and I don’t like her tone of voice with Kels. At all.
"Merry Christmas, Mother. What are you doing here?" Kels moves into the bathroom and retrieves a robe for me. She walks past her mother, who is peeling off her coat, and gives me the robe, but signals me to stay put. She sits at the foot of the bed and waits for the woman to focus.
"I called that place you work for in Los Angeles and they told me you were in…" Her tirade comes to a sudden stop when she finally takes in the picture before her. The look of shock, horror and disapproval is clear. She turns her back to us. "Kelsey, get dressed this minute! How dare you! "
"How dare I?" She’s on her feet, gesturing with her hands. "Oh, please, Mother! You stormed in here. Live with the consequences of your own actions. And you could at least be civil and let me introduce you to Harper."
She turns back around, squaring her shoulders, looking down at me. The look on her face is indicative of an extremely unpleasant odor.
I simply wait her out. I have to fight back the smirk and the ‘Hi, Mom’ that wants to cross my lips.
"Mother, this is Harper, my partner" she pauses as she smiles at me, "in every way. Harper, this is my mother, Katherine Stanton."
I’m really not quite sure what to say, so I simply nod. I know Kels is dragging this out for the pleasure of torturing this woman. Look up the word ‘Bitch’ in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Kels’ mother.
Mother Stanton nods stiffly back at me. And I used to think Kels was uptight.
"Harper, darling," Kels turns to me, "why don’t you go grab a shower while I visit with Mother?" She offers an evil smile, wrinkling her nose at me. Ah, this would be my cue to scandalize Mother.
I get out of bed. Kels knows I never put on my robe without a good stretch first. Why should this morning be any different? Mother comes in, Mother deals with life as she finds it. I can almost see the aneurysm taking form in the woman’s head when I stretch. My Little Roo really does have a mean streak.
Note to self: Never, ever piss Kels off.
I put on my robe. I am then rewarded with a long, deep kiss and sent to the showers like a good team player. Damn, I’m glad I joined this team. The others aren’t nearly as much fun. I let a little chuckle escape as I close the bathroom door.
I start off with a cold shower. I need it. Ice cubes coming out and hitting my body would be about right for this occasion. Or I could ask Kels’ mom to join me. That’d freeze the water on anyone’s ass.
Ew, what a thought, Harper.
I shake my head to rid myself of horrific images and I begin to slowly warm the water and get down to the business of getting clean. Kels’ singing of a Kermit the Frog song the other day now has me humming "Rubber Ducky" as I lather myself up.
After a few rousing choruses of my new favorite song, I hear the door to our room slam. I begin rinsing so I can go make sure Kels is all right when I hear the bathroom door open and close. Very soon I find myself pressed against the shower wall by a very feisty Little Roo.
"You okay?" I manage to croak out before I’m lost to her touch again.
"Merry Christmas," she replies before beginning a heated, torturous exploration of my body.
I look down at Kels who appears to have only one goal in mind at the moment. A goal I can most definitely live with. "Oh, Christ!" I extend my hands, bracing myself against the shower walls to keep from collapsing right here.
Where in the hell is this coming from? She’s like a woman possessed.
Don’t ask stupid questions, Harper, just go with it.
As I slowly slide down the wall after one of the more amazing experiences in my life, I pull her into my arms. I imagine what this would be like out in the rain, in the middle of a sweet-smelling field. God, we’ll have to try that some time.
"She called me a whore," she whispers quietly, completely ending any fantasies I am concocting at the moment.
I’m going to hurt the bitch before this is over. I tighten my hold on Kels. "You know that’s not true." Now, if Mother Stanton only knew who her daughter was sleeping with. I’d like to see her call me a whore to my face. Somehow, I think Mother Stanton’s ‘bravery’ is rather situational. The bitch.
"Five people. I’ve had five lovers in my life." She clings to me there in the bottom of the shower.
"It’s all right, sweetheart," I whisper in her ear, holding her as close as possible. "You’re one of the finest people I know. And I’m so glad to be a part of your life." The words are out before I can censor them. Though, I don’t know if I want to. She needs to hear this, and, I believe, she needs to hear it from me.
And, with any luck, Kels, you’ll never have a sixth lover. If I have anything to say about it.
Episode Twenty-One: Three – Two - One
We look like prunes.
Of course, that’s to be expected. We were in the shower for nearly an hour. Fortunately, hotels have endless supplies of hot water, so we’re not hypothermic prunes right now.
Kels has calmed down some. Music and food seem to have helped. I found a decent jazz st
ation on the radio and had room service bring up enough food for a small army. Emotional scenes always make me ravenous.
After Robie had his first son, while Christian and Rene slept happily in the hospital room, he and I went to a nearby Denny’s and ate three Grand Slam breakfasts. Each. God, I was so sick after that. But, at the moment, I just couldn’t get enough in me. It was like all of my energy had been spent on this huge emotion, and it had to be replenished. Kinda like now.
Kels is bundled up in the hotel robe, her feet tucked under her, and her damp hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She is an absolute vision of loveliness. If this is what it means to be in a steady relationship, I like it. Just being with her calms me. I don’t feel as if I have anything to prove to her. And, because of that, all I want is to prove myself.
Geez, I gotta call Mama and talk this over soon, I think.
I hate seeing the preoccupied look on Kels’ features, though. And I think I know how to get rid of it.
I wander over to my suitcase and unzip it. There, where I had hidden it yesterday, is the robin’s egg blue of a Tiffany bag. We may be on a story, we may be in NYC, we may be facing anthrax exposure, but, dammit, we’re gonna celebrate our first Christmas together properly.
Hiding it behind my back, I go over and sit beside Kels. "You okay?"
"You’d think it wouldn’t bother me anymore," she sighs. "I’ve been browbeaten by that woman for thirty-two years now, and fought back for the last fifteen, and yet, she still can make me feel like crap."
"It’s because you love her, despite it all. You’re her daughter."
"Why couldn’t I have your mother?"
I smile and caress her cheek. "You can share mine, how’s that? And I’ll share yours. That’ll keep it from being quite so bad on you. How’s that for fair?"
She kisses my wrist. "I think you’re getting the short end of the stick. But, thank you."
"Nah, you can’t thank me until you open this up." Given the opening, I present the bag with a flourish. "Merry Christmas, Kels."
She blinks and stares at the bag in her hands for a long moment. I’m almost afraid she’s going to start crying again. Instead, she jumps out of her chair and hurries over to her suitcase.
I really hope to hell she’s not leaving.
My fears are allayed when she turns around with a brightly wrapped box and hands it to me. "Merry Christmas, Harper."
I take the box happily, glad she isn’t bolting, and glad she thought of me. This could be the best wrapped piece of gum and it wouldn’t matter. As long as she gave me something, it’s perfect.
"You first," I urge.
She, for once, doesn’t argue. She removes a flat, square, black, velvet box from the bag and looks at me expectantly. "This isn’t …?" her voice trails off. She knows it’s not a ring, based on box size. I assume she’s protesting the cost. Doesn’t matter. I have more money than I can spend. And I like spending it on her.
She opens the lid and gasps, her hand goes to her throat, where the enclosed necklace will soon lay against her skin. "It’s gorgeous, Harper. Thank you."
"You like?"
She nods and lifts it out of the box. It’s a sprouting diamond necklace, made of platinum, with two carat of total diamond weight. "Will you?" she asks.
"Be glad to." I step behind her and clasp the necklace around her throat, letting it fall gently against her skin. Leaning forward, I can’t help but kiss the base of her neck.
I step back around and smile at the sight. "God, you’re beautiful."
"Open yours," she replies, blushing.
I obey her, ripping open the package, not caring about saving the wrapping paper. I have never understood that weird custom either. I’ve yet to see someone reuse the paper. So, why the hell go to all that work? What I find inside is a Rolex.
I’ve always loved these timepieces. I know instantly the model – it’s a Rolex President – with a platinum case and baguette diamond markers for the hours.
We have a theme here: platinum and diamonds.
Hopefully that means we’ll last until our diamond anniversary. I could handle sixty years with this woman.
* * *
"Je suis desoleé, Mama!" I hear her protest when I return to our room.
Oooh, somebody’s in trouble and is having to apologize. I laugh at her as I close the door. She tosses her hands in the air exactly the same way her mother did in New Orleans.
"We’re working!" She pauses and listens, holding the receiver away from her ear. "I know, I know. But you know how it is." From the grimace Harper makes, I assume Mama doesn’t know how it is. "Yes, Mama, family comes first, second and last. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Je me suis bien trompeé." She hangs her head. "You know I love you, Mama."
I fall on the bed and try to muffle my laughter against the pillow. I’ve never seen such a hangdog expression on Harper’s face.
Harper reaches over and shakes me, using the waistband of my jeans to toss me around. I peek out to find her sticking her tongue out at me.
"Oui, Mama, Kels is here with me. You want to talk to her?"
I shake my head, she nods hers. Oh, I’m gonna hurt her.
"Attend, maman." She shoulders the receiver. "Okay, you smart ass, get over here and take your medicine too. I already had mine."
I push myself up on my elbows and take the phone from her. Harper, relieved to be off the firing line, leans back against the headboard, and stretches out her legs on the bed. Not being stupid, I crawl over and rest my head on her thigh. Immediately her hand is in my hair, stroking it. This is nice.
"Hi, Mama. Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas to you, douce fille. How is my daughter treating you this Christmas day?"
"Very well, Mama. You should see the necklace she gave me. Ooo la la." I feel Harper chuckle under me and she scratches the base of my neck.
"When are you and my baby coming home? It doesn’t feel like a holiday without you here. Robie is moping around without his playmate and we have a seat in the kitchen waiting for you."
I laugh at the scene described. I wish we were there. "Soon, Mama. We just need to finish up this story. Maybe we can at least stop by on our way back to Los Angeles." I roll over on my back and look up at Harper, to find her smiling and nodding enthusiastically. "We could take you and Papa and Robie and Rene out to dinner to celebrate the New Year."
"Good. We’ll expect you soon then. You kiss my baby girl for me and tell her I love her."
"Oui, Mama. Good-bye." I hand the phone back to Harper who closes it and sets it on the nightstand.
"You’re going to spoil her," she warns. "You give in once, you give in forever."
"Oh, come here, baby girl," I tease, holding open my arms. "Mama told me to give you a kiss."
I’m sure she had a different kind of kiss in mind, but I believe in improvising.
* * *
Other than a few, small Christmas trees on an occasional desk, you wouldn’t know it’s a holiday. The FBI field office is an absolutely flurry of activity when Harper and I arrive. Of course, besides our own personal nut flake, there are several hundred others that they’re looking for as well. APB’s keep coming over the wire, getting sent out to agents in the field and distributed to local law enforcement. We could very well end up with two or three stories before it’s over.
A sad commentary on my profession: while I hope to God that everything goes smoothly, and the only things Harper and I cover are the end of the year and then each other, I really wouldn’t be heartbroken to get a nice piece out of the chaos either. I can’t help but chuckle to myself, now how warped does that sound?
Hope for the best. Expect the worst. And be there to get it on film when it happens.
As I take my seat at the desk Kyle provided for us, I glance over at Harper who is once again attached to her cell phone, ranting at poor Jims about something. She is totally amazing to watch. She can get things done using the cell phone that would put Kissinger to shame.
"Jims, you’re a bright kid, regardless of what you do to your hair. You’ll find a way."
I watch her take that deep breath and hold it, before she lets it out slowly. Oh, he’s arguing with her. Dumb, Jimmy, just plain dumb, and you know it. I hope she keeps it down to a roar when she lets loose.
"Just do it!" She slams the cell shut. I think it’s her third one since she came to the station. They keep meeting an untimely demise at her hand.
I have discovered I do admire and love the way she works. She simply takes charge and gets things done. No questions, no arguments. Do it, and do it to her satisfaction, and you’ll be just fine. Do it wrong, and you will find yourself a permanent name on her list for a very long time. She has a long list and an even longer memory from what I can gather.
I’m absolutely sure that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with her.
Wow. Who’d have ever thought this day would come? I am in love with Harper Lee Kingsley. And I’m not insane. Well, at least, I don’t think so. Of course, I don’t think most insane people realize they’re bonkers, but I digress.
I came to this definite conclusion at the bottom of our shower this morning. And now all I have to do is find the guts to tell her. I think. I mean, I guess she deserves to know. It’s just I don’t want her to panic. She told me she does that if she thinks about these things too much. But, Hell’s bells, I simply need to find a way without scaring her off.
I wonder what that would be. Because I can’t imagine one. This is a woman who has spent her entire life going from woman to woman. I’ve had five lovers in my life, she had five lovers last week. Well, not last week, but probably the week before Thanksgiving that was true. The fact that she hasn’t left me already is amazing in and of itself.
To talk about being in love … I don’t know.
She growls a little, crossing her arms and staring down at me, her cue that I haven’t been paying attention. Oops, that’s bad too. Focus, Kels, you have to make sure there is a later so you can tell her.
