"She's not—" CJ was already out of earshot.
Dizzied by the loop-de-loop of emotions during the last few minutes, Karita gave Pam a cheery wave and nabbed the last vacant table for them. Acutely aware of the moment CJ disappeared into the warm afternoon, Karita took a deep breath, willing the fluttery feeling in her chest to subside. It was all animal attraction, and nothing more. She unwrapped her falafel and couldn't help but take a big bite. Food would settle her stomach and that would be the end of her ridiculous thoughts; a swirl of potent pheromones wasn't going to make her consider that maybe she didn't have the first clue about love.
Pam joined her after ordering. "You look like you're starving."
"It's tahini sauce, it's like an appetite aphrodisiac for me. One whiff and I gotta have it. You are looking much better this week." It was true. Pam's hair was pulled back in a colorful clip, and her eyes had some of their usual sparkle.
"Thanks. I feel better, that's for sure. Talking to you last week really helped."
"I had an additional thought for you—just popped into my head when I got here."
"Yeah? Go for it."
"How good a lawyer is Susan House?"
"Good enough." Pam shrugged. "Marty is the brains of the outfit, though."
"I wouldn't know how to judge, but the thought I had was she spends so much time telling all the associates how worthless they are, that maybe she does it because she needs to feel better about her own skills. It's not a terribly brilliant thought," Karita added hurriedly. "It's just that when people are insecure about themselves they mistakenly think they raise themselves by standing on other people. Maybe you threatened her more than just a secret gay love affair. Maybe you threatened her as a lawyer."
"Oh, well—I hadn't thought of that." Pam's name was called and she left the table with a frown of concentration that was quite cute.
Karita ate more slowly, not wanting to finish before Pam even joined her. As soon as Pam was seated again, she apologized. "I should have waited for you."
"I understand. Unlike me, you only have an hour."
"More like forty-five minutes."
"Then you can watch me eat and I'll walk you back to the office" Pam dug into her bowl of chili. "Anyway, thanks for the idea about Susan. Even if it's not true, it's comforting to think it might be."
"Glad to be of help. How are your plans coming along? Still moving?"
"Maybe not. I have two interviews tomorrow for associate jobs."
"That's great!"
"Well, I have to thank the wicked witch—she did send me a good letter of recommendation which means I can list her as a reference. I'm sure she'll be gritting her teeth to do it if someone calls her. So for now, my folks said they'll cover my rent for a bit on the hope I land something right away. They've been spectacular about it all."
Karita grinned. "Maybe, just maybe, they love you?"
"Maybe they do. My mom sent me an article on artificial insemination, which I take to mean she still expects grandbabies."
"Do you want to be a parent?" Karita hadn't yet given it a lot of consideration. She loved children, though. In a few more years, maybe when she was thirty, she could give it some real thought.
"Given my student loans I can't say it's high in my priorities. But eventually, I think I'd like a family." Pam stared at her sandwich, then shot her a fleeting glance.
There was a little silence, during which Karita was abruptly reminded of her coffee date with Brent. She had the feeling that she'd missed the moment when she ought to have used the "good to be friends" speech on Pam. "I was an only child, and raised by my grandmother. She kept a roof over our heads by providing day care for neighbors, so there were always kids underfoot. Maybe that's why I'm waiting a while. At the end of the day I have only myself to feed and clothe and I'm pretty easy to please."
"Your grandmother sounds like an amazing woman." Pam stirred her still steaming chili.
"Oh, she was. We lived in the house she'd bought with my grandfather when they first married, and while they lived there the neighborhood changed—lots of Vietnamese immigrants. By the time I went to kindergarten I was the only white-skinned blonde in the school. Even though nobody singled me out or bullied me, I apparently came home weeping day after day because I was so different. Why didn't I have a mom and a dad? Why was my hair so thin? Why were my eyes so boring? She came up with a solution."
"Which was?" Pam's eyes had definitely regained their sparkle.
Karita felt an "uh-oh" in the pit of her stomach. "She told me I really was different. It was to be our secret, because nobody else would understand. I was an elf, you see, and if I practiced, I would be able to do magic."
"Oh, how cute!"
Karita chewed the last bite of her falafel, dabbed her mouth and managed a chargined smile. "She predicted I already had a little magic, and if I repeated a charm she taught me, we'd see for sure. It was a charm to be happy and if it worked I probably wouldn't cry the next day at school. And it worked. Worked—like a charm."
"That's a wonderful story."
"It is." Karita agreed, wholeheartedly. The only problem had been that unlike Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny she'd never stopped believing in Karita the Elf. It had been private joke between her and Gran, learning new charms—Norwegian sounded so elvish—and thinking through situations based on how an elf would respond. She had read everything she could get her hands on about elves, trying to identify her origins. She had nurtured the belief in spite of all evidence to the contrary, because it did make her feel special. It was woven into who she was, the possibilities at least. "I often ask myself, when things are tough, what an elf would do."
"Well, maybe you're not an elf, but you worked some kind of magic on me last week. I was so depressed and then I felt so much better."
"Talking about something helps."
"Yeah, especially with a friend."
Karita was about to seize the opening, when Pam went on, "I hope you don't think this is sudden or anything, but would like to go out? Dinner or a movie or something?"
Too late…and maybe that was a good thing. It annoyed her that CJ popped into her mind. She could also hear the echo of her own words to Emily, that dating was how people discovered if they had things in common. "I, uh…"
"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought—oh, are you seeing someone? I didn't know."
"No, I'm not seeing anyone." She was free as a bird, and besides, Pam was interesting, and attractive and energetic and very nice to talk to. Why shouldn't they date a bit and see where it led? Why should she say no because of some kiss? "I was just surprised, I mean, I'm not a lawyer. I don't even have an undergraduate degree."
"What does that matter? Lawyers can be shits. What did you do instead of college?"
"I did finish a basic two-year degree, but I hated being in a classroom. So I joined the Peace Corps, and then I took care of my grandmother in her final illness. I inherited a little house from her up in Kittredge and moved here not quite two years ago. That's pretty much the whole life story." She scanned Pam's face carefully, hoping her bare bones recital didn't make Pam think fake.
"The Peace Corps—that sounds fascinating." Pam finished a large bite from her sandwich, then said, "Did you go to Africa or South America?"
"Because of the neighborhood where I grew up I speak basic conversational Vietnamese. Yeah, I know, what a gift I got out of initially feeling so out of place. So they sent me to teach English to kids in Vietnam. It was really interesting, and so worthwhile. I loved nearly every minute."
Pam's smile deepened. "Sounds like you got a lifetime of experience. College isn't for everybody. Besides, there's always next year if you want to do formal studies. Tell you what. Let's have dinner Saturday night and talk about you and your life and what you want. Because we already know I want to go on being a lawyer."
Karita found herself smiling. Lots of conflicting feelings were churning in her stomach, but Pam was undeniably engaging. "Okay, dinner. It's a date."
Cray Westmore and his partner, Alvin Canard, seemed charming enough. Both wore crisp and stylish trousers with open-collared shirts and blazers. But where Cray was in sedate gray and white, Alvin sported black and lilac. Even from thirty paces away, CJ could tell they were a couple.
CJ wasn't exactly used to "dyking it up." She had brushed out her tight, trim hair style but hated that result, so gelled it back into place with a little more angle to it than usual, but the mop of curls in the back was the same as every day. She would have to hope that the black jeans, red cowboy boots and cobalt blue polo shirt said, "Not dressing for the guys."
They made small talk as they went into the faux red-velvet crusted theater lobby. A small sign proclaimed, "If you're thinking you're in a whorehouse, good." CJ maneuvered herself into a corner where she could watch the doors. She didn't like crowds much, but the faces turned toward her were all unfamiliar.
CJ tipped her head meaningfully at the wine bar and Burnett quickly asked what everyone would like to drink and sped off to secure their requests.
"I don't want to talk about business tonight," CJ said into the little silence that fell. She gave Cray what she hoped was a sincere look. "But can I ask how long you've been designing restaurants? That's an interesting specialty."
"Actually, that's my fault," Alvin said. "I'm an interior designer—yes, I know." He shrugged expansively. "Faggot in fabrics, what a surprise. But I love restaurant design. I can't boil water, but I like making a space that evokes food."
Cray picked up the story seamlessly. "Once I saw Alvin working on a space and realized how much he loved it, I thought I'd had enough of designing apartments. I still do that—gotta pay the bills—but if I do the architectural design on a restaurant I have a good chance of watching Alvin at work. We make a fabulous team."
"Cray knows what I mean by the most random words, and he understands that to me, little differences matter."
"He says things like, ‘if you give the ceiling a little more oompa I can lose the burgundy and go winesap.'"
"They say women see umpteen more shades of color than men, but Cray never makes me feel like my caring about the difference between beige and ecru is silly."
CJ watched the two of them interact and knew they had to have been together at least a decade. How different their exchanges were from the stops and starts she had with Karita, or even had had with Abby when the subject wasn't sex. As the lobby of the theater continued to fill, she shifted closer to the couple. When there was a little lull, she offered, "I like taking clients to Elway's because from the door to the table to the menu, it is exactly what it appears to be."
"Oh," Alvin shrugged. "They could do so much better. But the design is consistent. All you have to do is drive by to crave a good, manly piece of meat."
"Don't go there, dear, you'll make CJ blush. So are you Burnett's boss?" Cray gave her an easy smile. "Do I need to talk him up, tell you how great he's been to work with so far?"
"I'm not his boss," CJ admitted. "More of a mentor."
"I've heard your name around."
"All good, I hope."
"Mostly." Cray still seemed at ease, but he was obviously choosing his words with care. "Maybe a few people think they got talked into more than they needed, but nobody seems to feel they got…what's the word I'm looking for?"
"Screwed?" CJ had no trouble figuring out where he was going. They weren't talking business, of course they weren't. "It's bad business to screw people. Real estate is all about word of mouth and repeat clients. So, as with anybody who works on a percentage—" She paused to nod at Alvin who tipped his head to acknowledge that he also earned his living based in part on sales. "I might point out the more expensive items on the menu, but nothing outside the client's capabilities to sustain."
"Burnett has been very easy to work with. So far whenever he gets in touch he has a reason, and if it's one thing I appreciate in the age of text, voice mail and e-mail, it's communication with a clear purpose."
CJ fled that away and smiled brightly at Burnett, who was managing to effortlessly carry four glasses of wine through the increasingly crowded lobby. Somewhere in his past he'd been a waiter. She didn't remember that on his résumé. "You know what I've been wondering? What kind of parent names their son Burnett?"
Burnett handed around the glasses. "Zinfandel, merlot, shiraz and cabernet. Better known as ‘that red wine from the box.' I was told it was cheap and easy, just like the show."
Cray and Alvin both laughed. They all clinked glasses and amiably agreed that the wine wasn't that bad.
With a nod at Burnett, Cray asked, "So what's the answer to CJ's question?"
"Ah, my parents. There's not enough wine in the box for that story. The last time I talked to them I told them that naming me Burnett had in fact made me gay. It was as sound a theory as theirs was about Satan."
"How long ago did you have that conversation?" CJ sipped sparingly from her glass. She didn't feel much like wine tonight and no way was she going to court another traffic situation with an officer of the law. There were now too many people in the lobby for her to keep track of, making her tense. Any old "friend" could be within feet of her before she saw them.
"Going on four years. My grandmother was very cool about it, though. How did your parents feel about your being gay, CJ?"
She shrugged. "My mother died when I was five." Before anybody could express sympathies, she went on with a smile, "and I didn't know I was gay at the time. My father has never given me any grief about being gay." It was absolutely true. Cassiopeia Juniper Rochambeau hadn't known she was gay. She'd even been in a girls' detention center for four years and hadn't had a clue. At a community college in upstate New York, CJ Roshe had finally figured out she really, really liked girls.
To her chagrin she missed something Alvin said, but laughed along with Cray and Burnett. The house lights flickered and they abandoned their glasses in favor of claiming their seats. Being gentlemen, they let her into the aisle first, which was fine as it put Burnett next to Cray and left CJ without the need to make small talk.
The next forty-five minutes were fun, as the revue presented everything from Queen to ABBA with sparkling costumes and broad comedy full of sexual entendres and quick jibes on current headlines. No doubt about it—gay men were gifted with acerbic wit and many of them looked better in high heels than CJ did. There wasn't a gay icon left out, but everything was presented with such camp that it was freshly fun and infectious. The two drag queens playing the women of ABBA, in tall latex boots and long platinum blond wigs, had nothing on Karita, however, at least in CJ's admittedly biased and decidedly foolish opinion. "Waterloo" was a bit too on the mark.
She excused herself to the ladies room at intermission and had little success at banishing the persistent memory of Karita leaning casually, elegantly, against the deli wall. Of the silken hair running over her fingers. Of a living, breathing Madonna, sacred and yet touchable. Of Karita's warm hands cupping her face and the world fading away to nothing.
After the intermission they resettled. A sweet love song from the headliner brought them back into the mood of the performance, but left CJ feeling restless. Sentiments like forever and soul mates—that was for people like Cray and Alvin. They were nice, oh that word again, nice. They had nothing dark to pretend didn't exist.
Burnett leaned over to ask, "Are you doing okay?" "Sure. Am I not looking like I'm enjoying it?" "You suddenly looked tired, right then, that's all." "Probably because I am. I'm fine." Puppy dog eyes, right, CJ thought. The kid could break hearts with those eyes. She wondered why he didn't have a boyfriend. He was nice, too.
The show's big finale had all the performers onstage in new costumes with a full-scale tribute to Sylvester. CJ joined in the overhead claps and "oo-oo" exhorted by the dancers and the evening ended on a high note. She was tired, but she was also glad she'd come. Instead of thinking about Karita nonstop, she had only thought about her from time-to-time.
Burne
tt, well-coached, offered to treat everyone to dessert and coffee at the Rocky Mountain Diner, just a few blocks north. It was a weeknight, and CJ had predicted the client would decline, but Cray and Alvin immediately accepted. She plastered a bright smile on her face, hoping she no longer looked tired, and they strolled out to the street.
"I love September," CJ said. "The nights get cool." The temperature was probably around seventy, no colder, but a far cry from the heat only two weeks ago. The afternoon thunderstorms had already abated and the spare-the-air warnings had stopped for the season. Alvin protested that it was too close to the freak blizzards of October and Cray pointed out that there was nothing freakish about weather that happened every year.
"It's freakish if you're from Virginia, which I am," Alvin said.
"But then you'd have to say the total lack of humidity here is freakish, and it's my favorite feature of Denver." CJ nodded thanks to Burnett for getting the diner door. They were quickly seated, and they all turned down the late night repast of the buffalo meatloaf that was offered by the perky waitress. Instead, coffee, three desserts and four forks were requested, and the conversation turned to the show and other similar entertainments.
When the desserts were delivered Alvin turned to her with an assessing look. "Do you have a girlfriend, CJ? We have this friend, a corporate lawyer, and she's a wonderful woman."
"Thanks, but no thanks." CJ could tell that Alvin's heart was in the right place, but she was not getting talked into a blind date which she would then have to answer questions about. "Set Burnett up with someone. A lawyer, or a doctor, but not one of those types like on T V. A podiatrist, with regular working hours and a fondness for hiking and fishing."
"So Burnett is into outdoorsy guys who like feet?" Cray looked speculatively at Alvin. They both said simultaneously, "Eric," and burst out laughing.
Burnett gave a philosophical shrug. "Sounds ideal, but since I moved here I haven't invested any time into my love life. I am my grandmother's most constant support and that scares off some guys." The two men nodded, leaving CJ to presume one or both of them had aging relatives in their lives as well. The talk turned briefly to politics, then to food and wine.
The Kiss That Counted Page 12
