Captain of Industry

by Karin Kallmaker

  “Why do I even like you?”

  “Charming personality, remember?”

  Suzanne next gave her attention to the party planner with her ever-blinking timeline. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Jennifer was chatting with the sculptor now. The pajamas were too long without heels. All those years folded in the package hadn’t helped the creases much either. Not that she’d admit that she’d kept the second pair from all those years ago, just because.

  She should have gotten rid of them after she moved out of the house in Santa Cruz.

  There was no time to dwell on the past, but dwell she did over another glass of wine, through the few teaser auctions of interesting—and expensive—collectibles the women from Sotheby’s had brought, and through the appetizer course. Jennifer seemed in high spirits, though she was lamenting that she already had pings from social media featuring her wardrobe malfunction.

  “Thank you, everyone, for that. Lord knows I needed two more ways to be notorious.”

  Helen Baynor, the Broadway maven who’d been lucky enough to marry Laura Izmani, was just as warm and funny and dynamic in person as the Broadway scuttlebutt said she was. She lifted her glass to Jennifer. “In our profession I’ve long learned to believe ten percent of what I read about anyone. I hope for that same mercy from others.”

  Jennifer gave a chagrined shrug. “Ten percent is probably low in my case. There are people here who would go state’s evidence in a heartbeat.”

  Suzanne managed not to snort. After Santa Cruz she’d deleted all the search bots that had brought her updates about Jennifer and her career. The breakup with Selena Ryan had spilled over into the LGBT news, and that was how she’d heard about any of it. She had been nowhere near happy that Jennifer had been caught having an affair with another woman. It hadn’t been her, so screw Jennifer and the high heels she’d walked in on. Whenever Jennifer’s name had come up in a headline or movie teaser, Suzanne had deleted, blocked and moved on.

  It had been in no way amusing to see the same twist of bitterness in another woman’s eyes and realize they could form a Jennifer Lamont Blue Screen of Death club. How many others were there? Or were she and Selena Ryan the lucky ones?

  She lost the sense of the conversations around her, but everyone seemed to be having a good time. She knew she shouldn’t let her mind wander, but the shock of seeing Jennifer tonight had been as profound as the shock of literally bumping into her in the restroom of a San Francisco theater almost a decade ago. Memories she’d tried so hard to archive forever came back to her in full digital resolution.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nine Years Earlier

  It had been a long line, as usual, to get to a stall in the ladies’ room. Suzanne pushed the door open and realized too late that it wasn’t empty. The next moment she stood rooted, blinking into Jennifer Lamont’s eyes. Startled recognition made both women catch their breath.

  After all this time Suzanne had not expected their paths to cross. And certainly not in a restroom. Don’t look at the counter, she warned herself, but the memory of that first time, in the Manhattan restroom, turned molten in her brain.

  “How are you?” It was a stupid question but at least she’d found the strength to speak. Was Jennifer as flushed as Suzanne felt?

  “Fine.” Jennifer was wearing one of those form-fitting dresses with one shoulder bare that looked as if a puff of air would melt it.

  “What’s it been, ten years? Since New York?” She was ridiculously glad she was wearing a new suit and had had her hair cut recently, even if it had been at her stylist’s insistence.

  “Eleven years at Christmas.” Jennifer looked as if she regretted admitting she knew. “Look, you wanted to use—”

  “Yes, there’s a line.” Suzanne paused half-in, half-out of the stall.

  “There always is for the ladies’ room.”

  Jennifer was going to walk away. Suzanne found herself asking, “Buy you a drink at intermission?”

  The sweep of Jennifer’s gaze said that she was aware that people were listening. “I’d like that.”

  The snaking bathroom line cleared out of the path of Jennifer’s high heels. Some things never changed, Suzanne thought.

  As sponsors of the venue, CommonTech Inc. had a block of seats for the premiere of the play The Color Purple. Suzanne bought a round of drinks for the employees who’d donated Bayshore cleanup time and earned the night out, but as they reached their seats Annemarie gave her a quizzical look.

  “What’s got you all wound up?”

  Suzanne considered not telling her. Annemarie had already heard the entire Jennifer left, Jennifer doesn’t return my calls, Jennifer sent back my gift whining that had gone on longer after New York than Suzanne was willing to remember. She was pretty sure if the word Jennifer came out of her mouth Annemarie would rip the arm off her theater seat and beat Suzanne to death with it. So she just pointed.

  “What?” Annemarie peered through her cat’s eye glasses. “Who is…” Her voice faded away to a hiss.

  There was a pregnant silence as Suzanne ignored Annemarie’s scrutiny.

  “We can leave from the other side when it’s over.” Annemarie’s fingers tightened on the small leather messenger bag she used as her fancy-going-out purse. She usually kept a notebook, wallet, snacks and a small bottle of water in it, so if deployed as a weapon it would likely hurt quite a lot. “We already peed so we can just stay in our seats during intermission.”

  “I’m supposed to buy her a drink then.”

  “The cat! Did she just, like, demand a drink for old times’ sake?”

  “I offered. It’s been ten years. We’ve both moved on.”

  “You are such a moron.” Annemarie wagged a finger in Suzanne’s face. “Love is not supposed to hurt.”

  “Unless you’re into that.”

  “Which you aren’t. And you know what I mean. Walking around like a shadow for a year over someone you’d only known for a few days?” Annemarie lowered her voice. “If you like that kind of hurting you need to see a shrink.”

  The lights were lowering and the crowd grew expectantly quiet. Just as the curtain bobbed in preparation for rising, Annemarie whispered, “If you go out with that woman again don’t even talk to me.”

  The first act was brilliant, Suzanne could tell. But her mind still wandered and she hated the feeling. Jennifer meant distraction and incoherence. Inability to focus, loss of priorities. Pain. She meant pain.

  And pleasure. Suzanne’s skin tightened at the thought of winding fingers into Jennifer’s hair while her other hand explored and played until Jennifer trembled with release. Had anyone else seen her like that? Suzanne hadn’t even realized until right then how much it mattered to her to at least be—if nothing else—the best thing Jennifer had ever felt. To have left a mark.

  It was fortunate Annemarie couldn’t hear her thoughts. A successful out lesbian tech geek moneymaker in the roller coaster of the last couple of years, and she was pining over some model? Who’d been in a couple of not-very-good movies? Moronic.

  Annemarie was right. She was always right. Just ask her.

  Applause woke Suzanne to the fact that she hadn’t heard a word of the last scene. She spared herself asking Annemarie to move her knees by waiting for the aisle to clear in the other direction. Annemarie mouthed loser at her and added a finger-and-thumb “L” to her forehead in case there was any chance Suzanne misunderstood.

  She mostly expected Jennifer not to appear. She’d probably said yes to get out of the situation. Nevertheless, Suzanne secured two drinks from the bar and removed herself from the crush. Jennifer was more likely to see her if she waited near the picture window that framed a view of the streetcars on Market Street. At least she made herself turn away from the crowd. She wasn’t going to linger hopefully.

  It didn’t matter that her back was to the room—she could hear Jennifer’s approach. Within the hubbub of conversations there was a rising note of surprise and
interest. A face most people recognized from a satiric Super Bowl ad and countless cosmetics and clothing commercials was catching their attention. Then hushed whispers rippled through the crowd, getting closer and closer. She ought to think of it as the approach of danger, not the precursor to the sound of sheets rustling and cries in the night.

  “Suzanne?”

  She turned, remembered all over again how much she liked how tall Jennifer was, and knew nothing had changed. While she herself was sweating under her jacket Jennifer walked like it was sex. “I wasn’t sure you were serious.”

  “I wasn’t sure you were either. Thank you.” Jennifer took the cocktail glass and sipped. Then her full, deep red lips curved in what seemed like a genuine smile. “Club soda and lime. You remembered.”

  I want to hate her, Suzanne thought. I’d be better off. “For old times’ sake.”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “We’re just old acquaintances catching up.”

  She stirred her drink with a tiny plastic stick shaped like a sword. “What shall we talk about?”

  “Politics.”

  Jennifer gave her a look worthy of Annemarie at her most scathing. “Seriously?”

  “Then you pick.”

  “The rise of Firewire and peer-to-peer networking?”

  Suzanne couldn’t help a bark of laughter. “Do you even know what that means?”

  “Of course I don’t, but I said it in a movie. It’s the smartest line I’ve ever had and I got to wear a lab coat. It didn’t close over my cleavage but it wasn’t a bikini.”

  “I must have missed that one.”

  “You’ll see a movie I’m in?”

  “If my date picks it.” Suzanne instantly regretted the words, but maybe it was good for Jennifer to know she hadn’t been pining.

  “Ouch.” Jennifer didn’t show a reaction beyond the tightening of her fingers around the glass. “So you’re seeing someone? The woman you’re with?”

  “That’s Annemarie.”

  “Ah, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a picture of the power behind the throne.”

  She searched Jennifer’s expression for sarcasm, but there was only studied, polite interest. Jennifer flicked her gaze toward the room and Suzanne did likewise. Two women had the new iPhone toy pointed their direction.

  Her lips hardly moving, Jennifer asked, “Can those things record what we’re saying?”

  “At this distance they’re taking pictures.”

  Jennifer’s expression became fixed in a highly photogenic smile. “I really don’t want to have this conversation with an audience.”

  “Are we having this conversation?”

  “Would you like to? Be old acquaintances catching up?”

  “That’s not what I want at all.” The admission escaped her with too much force.

  Jennifer’s drink trembled just enough for the ice cubes to clink against the glass. “We can’t just pick up where we left off.”

  The two women were now consulting their phone displays, no doubt picking a picture to upload. She hoped the sunlight from the window made it murky. “Whatever we do, we need more privacy than this. I don’t know how you stand it. The staring. I get my share, but it’s a chosen audience. This is different.”

  “Means to an end. I am all about means to an end.”

  “And I’m not particularly useful.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  They shared a long look that began as wariness and ended with Suzanne holding her breath.

  Jennifer was the first to look away, making a show of putting down the cocktail glass. “I’m only in town for a media blitz on this movie I’m in. My roles are tiny but they like to get the supermodel in front of the photographers. What else is new?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m leaving for LA tomorrow afternoon for an audition in an indie film. It’s a small but highly respected production company. A leading dramatic role, so it would be a definite pace changer.”

  “Sounds promising.”

  “It could be. My agent sees it as a stepping stone. There’s also far-off rumors of a damsel-in-distress love interest part in an action film—big budget, mainstream.”

  “It sounds like things are moving along for you then.” Too slowly, Suzanne thought. It wasn’t the way the old Jennifer had seemed to have it planned. Ten years just to get a hint of a sidekick girl role? Her face was known all over the world, but as a model and not an actor. How long would she keep trying with so little to show for it?

  Flickers in the lights signaled the impending end of intermission.

  Jennifer’s facade cracked slightly around her eyes. “You remembered my drink. Do you remem—”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything. Are you seeing anyone?”

  “I’m seen with people, but not seeing anyone.”

  “Tonight?”

  “The production company’s media tour assistant found these tickets. Part of being visible while they’re paying the expenses. At least it’s a very good play.”

  “I’m sure it is. I’ve been distracted.” The lights flickered again but Suzanne was certain Jennifer had shivered. “Come for a drive with me.”

  Jennifer gave her a glance that held a simmer of panic. “Is that a euphemism?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  “No.” She swallowed. “Yes. You are so unfair.”

  “What did I do?”

  “You—” Jennifer turned a finger stab at Suzanne’s necktie into smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle. “You. Looking so… You.”

  Take it and run, a little voice inside said. She hasn’t forgotten you at all and that was what you said would make you happy, right? You know other women will treat you better. “We could leave now or after the play.”

  “Now.” Jennifer muttered a low curse. “Now. I shouldn’t.” She fumbled a newish Blackberry out of her small turquoise purse that was a shock of color in contrast to the vivid red dress. “Let me just tell the assistant she’s on her own.”

  “She won’t worry?” The crowd had thinned out and they were almost alone, except for the curious bartender and a few stragglers looking over their shoulders.

  “No, it’ll give her a chance to relax.”

  Suzanne likewise tapped out a message, sent it, and had an immediate answer back: You stupid shit. I knew it.

  “You have the strangest look on your face,” Jennifer observed.

  She looked up from Annemarie’s message. “I owe someone her favorite barbecued Shirayaki roll.” She looked down at the black stilettos that no amount of money would ever induce her to wear. “Can you walk in those or should I fetch the car and pick you up in front of the building?”

  Jennifer took a half step back, dripping with attitude. “Did you seriously just ask me if I know how to walk in my Louboutins?”

  “I know you can work your shoes. Do you want those red soles to touch pavement for more than a few steps? I suspect not.”

  The attitude made a lightning change into a smile of concession. “You’re right.”

  “I’ll be downstairs at the main doors in about five minutes.”

  The wait for the valet was spent mentally agreeing with Annemarie and calling herself names. She half-hoped Jennifer didn’t show. This was madness.

  Jennifer was waiting at the curb as Suzanne brought the car around to the front of the theater. A security guard almost hurt himself getting to the passenger door before Jennifer touched it and Jennifer repaid him with a smile more easy and genuine than any Suzanne had received so far.

  “I knew it would be a BMW,” Jennifer said.

  “It’s small and easy to park.”

  “Why did you drive at all? They don’t have cabs in San Francisco? Or do all those hills make it impossible to walk anywhere?”

  “I live in Santa Cruz, south of San Jose, but not as far as Monterey. The office is what’s here in the city. I’d take you to visit the office, but it’s profoundly boring to look at. It does have a spectacular view and that’s about
it.”

  “Let’s not then.”

  “If it was midsummer we could see the sunset from Twin Peaks, but it’s just about done at this time of year.” She turned in the direction of the southbound freeway.

  “It’s already chilly in New York at night. Why Santa Cruz?”

  “The quiet. A long beach to walk on. Near enough to my family. The escape from some of the light pollution. When I’m lazy there’s a helicopter service from the closest airport.”

  “Wow. Living large.”

  “Just a way to get from point A to point B sometimes. Where shall we go?”

  “Show me the beach.”

  “The beach it is.”

  Jennifer added quietly, “This is a bad idea.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The cool autumn night air was everything Suzanne loved about San Francisco. Breathing it in was cleansing and relaxing. Or would have been if Jennifer hadn’t been seated next to her. She wound through the streets in the direction of Highway 1 because it was a stunning drive even at night. It gave her time to think better of what might happen later. Was she really going to take Jennifer to her home?

  At the main stoplight in Half Moon Bay she triggered the convertible top. “I think we’re far enough away from the bright lights that no one will recognize you. Traffic will be very light from here on out.”

  Jennifer had found a scarf in her handbag and was wrapping it over her hair. “Am I smelling the ocean?”

  “You are. I pull off south of here sometimes to think.”

  “I can picture you doing that.”

  Suzanne pointed upward.

  Jennifer let out a little gasp. “Look at those stars! I see what you mean. The moon is beautiful tonight too. Nearly full.”

  Don’t look at her, Suzanne thought. You really don’t need to remember her face bathed in moonlight.

  With the heat set to high and blasting onto their feet, it wasn’t too cold in the car, especially at the slower speeds that the twisting, winding highway demanded. Raising her voice to be heard she said, “I should have offered to stop for something hot before we left Half Moon Bay. There’s nothing out here but beaches and nurseries. In the spring the orchards and flowers are stunning.”