by Ann Roberts
She gulped and felt her cheeks burn. “I hope so.”
The rumbling of the approaching bus smothered Kit’s next question, and Mazie stood, grateful for the interruption. She had no desire to explain her academic shortcomings to a teacher.
The bus door whooshed open and she was face to face with Addy. From one embarrassment to another. “Hi Addy,” she said, glancing away as she swiped her bus pass.
Addy nodded coolly but said nothing. Mazie looked toward the back but found the few seats left were near the front. She dropped next to a teenager composing a text, his thumbs popping up and down on his phone. He was so engrossed he didn’t notice her slide next to him, nor did he eyeball the stacks of candy she set in the aisle. Kit leaned over and whispered to Addy before a dapper young person in a three-piece suit jumped up and motioned for Kit to take the window seat beside him—or her; Mazie couldn’t tell if the well-dressed individual was male or female. The gray suit and shiny black wingtips suggested male, but the slight frame and smooth ivory skin that contrasted with his/her red bow tie suggested female. And when Kit called him/her Shawn, that didn’t help either.
Kit and Shawn continued to converse as Addy closed the bus door. Mazie looked up to the mirror that sat above Addy’s head just in time to catch Addy staring at her—before she quickly returned her gaze to the road. At the next stop, Addy opened the doors and hurried down the stairs. Curious, Mazie looked out her window. Addy rushed to a middle-aged woman balancing a toddler in her arms while pushing a stroller. Addy took control of the stroller and helped the three board the bus.
The teenager next to Mazie looked up from his phone, jumped up and bounded down the stairs, leaving the seat open for the woman and toddler. She offered a smile as she settled next to Mazie, taking the infant into her arms, leaving the toddler stuck between herself and Mazie, and dabbing at the sweat on her face with a tissue. Addy gave Mazie a sharp look before she returned to her driver’s chair.
Mazie studied the toddler’s nearly circular face, deep-set eyes and tiny nose. She thought he was a boy, dressed as he was in denim overalls, a T-shirt, and sneakers. His blond hair was long and its uneven lengths suggested his locks were rarely shorn. His grin was as wide as his cheeks and he laughed—at nothing. Mazie couldn’t help but return the smile. She and her first partner, Steph, had talked about adopting children, but the idea never moved beyond the talking stage. Raising a child rated up there with their talk of taking a trip to Australia. Neither was ever accomplished. When Mazie caught Steph in bed with one of Mazie’s co-workers, their relationship ended. Mazie couldn’t forgive Steph, who didn’t really seem to be all that sorry she’d cheated.
The toddler reached for Mazie’s necklace, and she automatically placed her hand over his fingers. “No, no,” she said gently.
“Sorry,” the woman said. “He does that to everyone.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Mazie replied. And it was. She’d long ago decided the simple interactions and exchanges with other people’s children would satisfy the puddle of maternal instinct she stepped in from time to time.
“Weather, where are you going?” Addy called to Mazie’s seatmate.
“Up to Fifteenth Street. The butcher shop.”
Addy nodded.
“I didn’t know there were still butcher shops,” Mazie said.
“Absolutely. They’re expensive but Mr. and Mrs. Brewster only want the best for Huxley and Coda.”
“Who?”
Weather offered a patient look, as if she answered that question frequently, and smoothed the baby’s head. “This is Hux, and this little firecracker is Coda.” She tickled the toddler who laughed maniacally.
Coda’s cherubic face undoubtedly melted hard hearts wherever she went. She could’ve been a model the way her smile puffed out her rosy cheeks and accented her button nose.
Fascinated that someone would name their child after a musical term, Mazie said, “Do you have any idea how they decided those names?”
Weather cocked her head to the side, and at this angle Mazie could see dark circles under her eyes. “Um, Huxley was named for Mrs. Brewster’s favorite writer and Coda got her name because she kept repeating the same movements as a baby, or something like that.” She shrugged. “I’m just the nanny.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Addy does me a solid and stops the bus in front of my destination, or she gets me as close as she can.” She blew her bangs off her face and Mazie noticed her labored breathing. “I have the beginning of COPD, and it’s hard to walk. But nobody knows that except Addy, so please don’t say anything. I think the Brewsters would flip if they knew I was sick.”
“I won’t say a word.”
The bus stopped again and Shawn, as well as a scraggly young guy who seemed to be Shawn’s antithesis, debarked together, chatting as they headed in the same direction.
Weather stood and took Coda’s hand, interrupting the Peek-A-Boo game Mazie had just initiated as a way to keep Coda from grabbing at her necklace. “Sorry, we’re moving. No offense.”
“No problem,” Mazie said, although she was disappointed.
Weather headed for the empty seat vacated by Shawn, and Coda ran into Kit’s open arms. She pulled Coda onto her lap and fussed over Huxley at the same time. The children seemed thrilled to see Kit. They certainly weren’t strangers. Mazie watched the scene with interest until the bus stopped again. She looked up. They were sitting in front of a nursing home she didn’t recognize. She’d been on this route once in the evening, and she didn’t remember ever stopping here. A young Hispanic woman bounced up the steps and greeted Addy.
“Hi everyone!” she said to the passengers.
“Hi, Bianca!” many of the passengers replied.
Since Weather had vacated the seat next to Mazie, Bianca took it. “Hello,” she said with a tired smile.
“Hi, I’m Mazie. I’m new to the area.”
Bianca’s face brightened. “Welcome to Wilshire Hills,” she said cheerily.
As they pulled away, Mazie glanced at the driver mirror and once again noticed Addy staring at her. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but is the stop in front of the nursing home actually on the bus route?”
Bianca blushed and shook her head. “No,” she whispered. She touched Mazie’s arm. “Please don’t say anything to get Addy in trouble.” When Mazie didn’t reply, Bianca said, “When I changed jobs, I wound up on this new route with this sleazy driver who made passes at me. It made me terribly uncomfortable.”
“Did you tell the bus supervisor?”
She shook her head. “If I told Jackie, that’s the supervisor, about Pratul, he’d get mad and take it out on Addy because she’s a lesbian. I don’t want her to lose her job.”
“He could really get her fired?”
Bianca nodded. “Besides, it’s only a few blocks off the route.” She motioned to the other passengers. “None of the regulars care, and nobody else even knows it’s not on the route.” She took a breath. “I hope that convinces you. I really need this job. It’s important. I help the elderly.”
Mazie smiled. “I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks,” Bianca said, letting out a sigh. She thrust her chin toward the front. “Addy’s a great lady. She helps everybody. Ride on this bus long enough, and she’ll save your ass, do something kind for you without being asked, or both.”
A teenager with headphones around her neck, sitting in the seat behind them, tapped Bianca on the shoulder and asked about her long weekend. Bianca introduced Keisha to Mazie and then launched into a story about losing her house key. Mazie feigned interest, but really she was soaking up all she had learned—particularly about Addy. She hoped Addy would come back to the theater soon, as Mazie didn’t think Addy had heard her apology when she’d boarded the bus, too lost in her daydreams.
It seemed there was a tight community on the bus. Addy supported the passengers and they supported her. Mazie guessed each one of them would go under the bus—literally and figuratively—to save the
ir favorite, quirky driver. A warm, pleasant feeling overtook Mazie. She’d been invited into the inner circle and felt special.
When she looked toward Addy for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, Addy was again staring in her direction. So Mazie stared back, watching Addy’s clearly distracted gaze ping-pong between the road and her passengers. And when she stopped at the next bus shelter and the exchange of passengers occurred, Mazie had a sobering revelation: Addy wasn’t staring at her. She’d been staring at Bianca.
Chapter Seven
Addy heard the music as she coasted her bike to the side gate, her private entrance to the tiny house she rented from Jackie. She took a deep breath, inhaling the tangy, sweet smell of barbeque chicken, Jackie’s favorite grilling option. During the summer months Jackie turned her patio into her kitchen. Addy calculated she’d spent thousands on her backyard landscaping, including the stone barbeque, pizza oven, and elaborate fire pit. It was beautiful and inviting, and many of Jackie’s neighbors appeared unannounced, including Nadine, a local CPA who helped both Addy and Jackie file their respective tax forms each year. Nadine was also known as Squeegee in the roller derby world because she wiped out the competition a few nights each week.
Addy ducked inside the tiny house before either of them could see her. She changed out of her uniform, put away the morning dishes, and sifted through the mail, color coding anything to be kept. She opened a window to allow the heavenly barbeque smell into the house. She was hungry and debated whether or not to join Jackie and Nadine.
When she’d made it clear to Jackie that she only wanted to be friends, they established boundaries and limited time together outside of work. The exception was if other people were included. Addy was always invited to any of the many parties Jackie hosted during the summer and fall, and Jackie would be invited to Addy’s, if Addy ever had a party. But they both knew the likelihood of that occurring was slim.
While she knew a lot of people on the bus, they were just professional relationships. She hardly spoke with them during the route, since conversation with the driver was strictly forbidden when the bus was in motion, and she never hung out with anyone after hours.
Her stomach growled, so she ambled over to the fridge for a yogurt. Before she opened the door, she touched the four by six photo held up by small black magnets on each corner. It was a picture of her with her mother. Sitting between them was Addy’s birthday cupcake. She couldn’t remember if it was her ninth or tenth birthday, but it didn’t matter. They were both smiling, as if the cupcake had magical powers and made everything better. This was the one birthday memory Addy kept.
A burst of laughter from the yard drew her to the window. Nadine, who Addy believed was a true iron woman, leaned against a patio post, her shoulders hunched so her head didn’t hit a rafter, a beer in hand. She was somewhat girly, with a French manicure, highlighted hair and gold jewelry. Addy was especially fascinated by the manicure and how she managed to keep it from being destroyed when she skated. She was also the tallest woman Addy knew, possibly because she was transgender.
She was much different than her alter ego, Squeegee. Nadine was calm and soft spoken, usually listening rather than talking, while Squeegee barreled through the opposition, sending women tumbling across the polished floor like bowling pins after a strike. Addy had cringed at their cries, but she’d been aroused by Squeegee’s power.
Like a woman made of steel…
Dark steel helmet. A breastplate shining under the moonlight. Chainmail armor that disguises every nuance of her femininity. The horse slows to a trot and circles Addy, who is dressed in a peasant blouse and skirt, holding a wooden basket filled with apples. She knows the knight is staring, despite the helmet that masks her eyes. In a single motion she pulls the helmet off, freeing a tumble of long blond hair. She shakes it from side to side, mesmerizing Addy, who wonders how it fits under the tight metal prison—and why she would ever hide her beautiful face.
“Open the door, wench!”
Addy realizes they are standing in front of a barn, and she quickly pulls the handle.
“Follow me,” the knight orders, guiding the horse inside.
Addy scowls at her tone but complies with the request. While the knight is definitely Addy’s type, her people skills are lacking.
The horse trots to the farthest stall and the knight dismounts. Addy sets her pail of apples in the corner, awaiting her next command.
“Remove my gloves, wench, but be careful.”
Addy immediately sees why. The chainmail is sharp and the gloves are weapons themselves. She frees the first hand, exposing a perfect French manicure. “Your nails are lovely.”
The knight’s harsh expression softens. How could any woman resist such a compliment? She offers a dazzling smile, and Addy feels a familiar stirring between her legs.
“Ouch!” Addy cries. She’s so mesmerized by the knight’s smile that she cuts herself on the left glove.
She holds up her bleeding middle finger and the knight frowns. “I had such plans for this finger.” From somewhere in the folds of the suit of armor she withdraws a bandage and quickly tends to Addy’s injury. She holds it up for inspection and sighs in disappointment.
“I have another,” Addy says, holding up her right hand and wiggling the digit.
The knight snatches it between her lips and sucks it furiously. Addy gasps and imagines the knight’s skillful lips on other parts of her. Lost in her reverie, she falls backward, but the knight scoops her up and gently lays her on the immaculately clean straw. Eager lips find Addy’s neck—and bites.
“Ouch again!”
“Pain and pleasure go together,” the knight whispers.
“Do you always talk in rhymes?”
“Yes, I hail from an adult fairy tale.”
“What is your name?”
“Lancelust.”
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
“Fuck the talk,” the knight orders.
She rips apart the buttons on Addy’s blouse, revealing a tight corset. Addy blinks in surprise, realizing her labored breathing is caused by the corset, a ludicrous contraption. Its only positive: offering Lance a heaving bosom, which she kisses while searching for the corset’s entry points.
Addy clears her throat. “Your breastplate… It’s a little chilly.”
Lance sits up. “It is not my desire to quash your internal fire.”
She extends her long arms behind her, and after a few motions, flings the breastplate and accompanying chainmail into another stall. Only a cotton undershirt that clings to her large breasts remains between them. Before Addy can remove the flimsy undershirt, Lance gyrates her hips, swings her arms left and right, and the chainmail drops from her bottom half.
“Is this better, now that I’m unfettered?”
“Yes, but please, let’s not talk anymore,” Addy whines. “I’m seeing images from Dr. Seuss.” They lock lips and work in tandem to remove the rest of their clothing. Soon nothing but skin and sweat join them together. Lance’s muscles bulge with each exertion and Addy can’t help but trail her fingers across the lines of definition. Lance is worthy of a sculpture.
“I yearn, and it’s your turn,” Lance says.
“I thought we agreed…”
In a single movement of agility, strength, and imagination—something that could only be accomplished in an adult fairytale—Lance lifts Addy against the stall wall and settles between her legs. While her lips devour Addy’s cleavage, one—two—three fingers slide inside her. The more she rocks her hips, the deeper Lance penetrates her. The splintery barn wood that grates against her bare bottom is a small price to pay for the climax roiling inside her. “Oh my…”
A loud bark and a thud drew Addy out of the fantasy. Standing at her kitchen window was Hermione, Jackie’s giant sheepdog named for the Harry Potter character. Jackie loved all things related to Harry Potter, which explained why she’d named the neighborhood feral cats Harry, Ron, and Drago.
&nb
sp; Hermione’s nose pressed against the small pane of glass, her signal to Addy that it was time for her snack. “Okay, girl. I’m coming.” Addy pulled open the door and offered Hermione a treat shaped like a dog bone.
Nadine’s rich, deep laugh floated across the yard. Addy automatically smiled. Nadine was the kindest and nicest person Addy had ever met. Nadine believed roller derby was responsible for her sunny demeanor. She’d once said to Addy, “I go out on that rink three times a week and literally pour out my anger and frustration until there’s nothin’ left, just like I pour out the remains of my morning coffee. You can’t feel it if it ain’t there.”
Addy thought those were words to live by. While she rarely got angry, she often was frustrated, and her peculiarities peaked whenever she was anxious. The first time she’d gone to the roller derby, she’d hoped she could vicariously pour out her own metaphoric coffee cup by watching Nadine, but instead she found herself anxious for Nadine. She’d wrung her hands the entire time, worried the nicest person in the world would get hurt, and the mix of yellows worn by Nadine’s team, the Yellow Jackets, and purples worn by the opponents, the Big Bruisers, made Addy almost barf.
When Nadine saw her, she threw open her arms. “Addy!”
“Hey, Nadine.”
Addy offered Hermione a scratch behind the ears and followed her to the patio.
Jackie handed Addy a beer and said, “Cooked up some wings and there’s plenty to share. I imagine you’re hungry since you never get lunch.”
“Why don’t you get lunch?” Nadine asked. She threw a disapproving glare at Jackie. “Doesn’t your boss make sure you have a lunch break?”
“Oh, she has a break,” Jackie said. “But instead of using it, she makes an extra stop for one of her regulars.”
“How do you know that?” Addy asked.
Jackie leaned closer. “I know everything.”
Addy shuffled her feet. Was Jackie watching her throughout the day on the bus cameras? What if she saw Addy during one of her trances? Regardless of how she felt about Addy, she’d have to fire her in the name of public transportation safety.
