by Ann Roberts
Addy fell back in her seat glumly. “I don’t understand how this helps me with my job.”
“I talked with Jackie this morning. The Wilshire Hills Transportation Department is just as concerned with public relations as any other business. They want to completely wash their hands of anything having to do with Pratul. According to Jump, he’s been buying from Pratul for nearly two years. The fact that nobody caught on is disconcerting, to say the least.”
“Is Jackie going to be in trouble?” Mazie asked.
Nadine shook her head. “Doubtful. She wasn’t the one who promoted him, and she’s only been his supervisor for the last year. She had no reason to suspect him. He was very good at staying under the radar.” She paused and smiled at Addy. “Anyhoo, according to Jackie, whatever complaints he issued will be thrown out. The most that’ll happen is you’ll get a stern warning, but she thinks you’ll be back on your route by tomorrow.”
Mazie whooped and threw her arms around Addy. Nadine joined the celebratory hug and they all jumped up and down.
“I can’t believe it!” Addy shouted, almost in tears. “Thank you so much, Nadine.”
“You’re welcome, but I’m not the person who made the movie.” She nudged Mazie’s shoulder. “That would be this one.”
Addy and Mazie gazed into each other’s eyes, and Mazie felt the butterflies fluttering faster than ever. “Thank you,” Addy said, before she pulled Mazie into a hug and a deep kiss. Who cared if Nadine saw? Mazie thought she heard Nadine say something about becoming a private investigator, but she wasn’t sure and didn’t care. In that moment, all she wanted was Addy’s touch.
Chapter Twenty-One
Addy was on a high for the rest of the day. The kiss with Mazie was the best of her life. Then she got the best phone call of her life—from Jackie. She confirmed that Addy should be back at work tomorrow morning. She would have a Letter of Reprimand in her file, but that was as far as the Transportation Department would take the issue. Jackie had personally sought out Bianca at work and introduced her to her new driver, Addy’s friend Wilma.
While Addy was sorry the ever happy and cheerful Bianca would no longer be on her bus, she was happy for Wilma and relieved she no longer had to violate such an important department policy. Of course, there were still a few other policies Addy intended to bend, like making random stops on the route to pick up her elderly passengers or helping Weather deal with her COPD by stopping as close to her destination as possible.
Jackie also recounted Pratul’s arrest. He had pulled up to Stop Nineteen. Jackie, Wilma, and three fine members of the Wilshire Hills Police Department boarded the bus. He was read his rights, handcuffed and escorted off the bus to a police car. Wilma picked up the radio and announced she’d be finishing the route and was proud to be their new permanent driver. Thunderous applause followed, and Addy realized a lot of passengers saw through Pratul’s act and knew he wasn’t sincere about customer service.
The evening proved to be equally as wonderful. She stayed at the Bijou and helped Mazie run the concessions stand using their new protocol—saying the names of the patrons they knew.
“Nice to see you, Carlos,” Mazie said as she handed him his popcorn, drink, and candy.
Carlos smiled and said, “Gracias, Miss Mazie.”
Addy realized Mazie had learned more than fifty percent of all the customers’ names. “You could be a bus driver,” she said once the concessions area cleared and everyone was in the theater watching the movie.
Mazie kissed her cheek. “You are so sweet, Addy.”
Addy offered a shy smile and shrugged. “Thanks.”
Mazie pulled her into the janitor’s closet and closed the door. “I’m finding it harder and harder to watch you and not touch you,” she whispered. “It’s just like Desert Hearts, where they are constantly tortured by each other’s physical presence, but they can’t do anything about it.”
Before she could agree, Mazie kissed her and plunged her tongue deep into her mouth. She caressed Mazie’s buttocks and pushed her against the wall. Mazie unbuttoned Addy’s shirt and cupped her breasts. Their pelvises ground against each other. And suddenly Mazie stopped.
“What?” Addy cried out. “Don’t you want—”
“I do,” Mazie said. She buttoned up Addy’s shirt and looked around. “But not here.” She cupped Addy’s face and said, “I don’t want your first time to be in a disgusting closet, like we’re hiding. Surrounded by mops and the smell of disinfectant.”
Addy nodded. She stroked Mazie’s soft cheek and stared into her eyes. She could look at those eyes every day for the rest of her life. For the first time she felt truly loved, even though they hadn’t said the words yet. She finally got it.
“You look like you want to say something,” Mazie asked gently.
She licked her lips. She wanted to explain. It was like puzzle pieces. They were all on the table, but… “The words aren’t in the right order yet. Is that okay?”
Mazie nuzzled her nose against Addy’s. “It’s absolutely okay. You let me know when they line up correctly.”
“I will.”
Mazie sighed. She checked the time on her phone and stuck it back in her pocket before giving Addy’s hands a squeeze. “Okay, it’s time.”
Addy grinned. “This is gonna be great.” She flung open the closet and they headed back to Theater One.
“I hope so,” Mazie said nervously. “I feel like Sally Field in Norma Rae when she stood on the table in front of everyone and gave that speech.”
Addy opened the door to Theater One. “You’ll be better than that.”
They crept down the side aisle as the final scene of the movie concluded. The music swelled and the screen faded to black. Some patrons clapped while the credits rolled. A few gathered their things and left, but many stayed through the credits, not because they were curious to know the identity of the set designer, but because prior to the movie, Addy had shared that there would be a special short performance after the feature film, and this performance was included in the price of their admission. Of course, most people loved getting something for free, so Addy guessed a lot would stay—and she was right.
Once the credits finished, she immediately jumped on the stage and pulled a microphone from the wings. “Thanks to all of you for hanging around. My friend Mazie Midnight would like to share a special song to end your evening at the Bijou. Please help me welcome Mazie Midnight.”
The crowd politely applauded as it would for any performer who had yet to prove herself. Addy handed Mazie the microphone, and to her own surprise, kissed Mazie on the cheek, which incited a collective, “aww” from the crowd. Addy hustled into the second row, moving to the center aisle. Here she could see Mazie, but more importantly, Mazie could see her—and focus on her if the stage fright overwhelmed her, as it had the night before, and the night before that.
This was Mazie’s tenth attempt at singing “It Had to Be You.” Addy took heart that each night Mazie had sung a few lines more than the night before. The audience was always kind when suddenly the beautiful notes disappeared, like someone had abruptly turned off a CD player. Mazie would mumble a heartfelt, “I’m sorry,” and flee from the stage. She’d run out the back door of the Bijou, unable to confront the sympathetic eyes of the patrons. Undoubtedly amongst the moviegoers was a strong contingency of patrons who could never stand in front of a crowd and do anything.
As Mazie crooned the first line, Addy was lifted on a magic carpet ride that traveled across the tops of the notes. Addy had heard the song so many times that she knew what came next, but ironically she hadn’t memorized the lyrics—except for those first few words. The magic carpet transported her away from the Bijou, Mazie beside her. She was wearing the blue dress Addy loved, her cheeks rosy after they kissed and her lips bright red from the silky lipstick she reapplied throughout the day. As long as she sang, their carpet floated on air, soaring skyward with the highest notes, picking up speed with the beat. They hel
d hands, kissed, and touched as the song grew bolder, stronger. As she sang the final notes, the carpet coasted across a shimmering sea, and glided to rest on a sandy beach.
The last notes. The end. Mazie had done it!
Roaring applause brought Addy to her feet. Everyone was clapping. Mazie was bowing as tears rolled down her cheeks. She’d sung the entire song. She blew a kiss to Addy, who realized she was crying as well.
Addy wanted to climb on top of the Bijou and scream, “Mazie Midnight is the greatest singer in the world!” But she knew the citizens of Wilshire Hills who were at home, although they might agree, wouldn’t be pleased to hear such a communication this late in the evening. Most were asleep, and those who were awake were probably enjoying The Jimmy Fallon Show. No, she’d wait until an opportune time.
Addy’s heart was ready to burst. She’d never known she could feel this happy for another person. Maybe it was just another way she loved Mazie. Maybe love wasn’t a one- or two-theater movie house. Maybe love was a multiplex.
After three more bows and another thank-you, Mazie replaced the microphone in its stand, raised her chin and trotted down the center aisle stairs with pride. She immediately looped her arm through Addy’s and they slowly made their way toward the exit. People stopped and thanked her for such a lovely performance. She shook hands with all those who reached out, basking in the glory of her triumph.
Once the crowd had exited and the Bijou was quiet, another round of clapping ensued. Almondine stood outside her office shouting, “Brava! Brava, Mazie Midnight!”
Mazie ran to her and threw her arms around her. Addy couldn’t hear what they said, but no doubt it was high praise from one performer to another. Almondine pulled Mazie against her and kissed the top of her head the way a mother would do for a child. Well, the way most mothers would—not Addy’s, but most.
Almondine said a few more words to her, squeezed her hands and kissed her cheek before retreating upstairs. Mazie stared at Addy and took a deep breath. Then she flew back into her arms. She whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for your help. I’d never have been able to finish that song without you, Addy.”
“Yes, you would,” Addy disagreed.
“No.” She held Addy at arm’s length and said, “I watched you the entire time while I sang. At first I thought you’d gone away to some other place—”
“No, I didn’t. I—”
“I know. I realized you were still with me because your eyes were closed. You were swaying in time to the music, and it was like you were dancing in your seat. I knew it was real.”
“It was.”
Addy pulled Mazie against her and kissed her passionately. She knew she was ready to be with Mazie, and a collage of sex scenes played in her mind. She doubted she would be as skilled as anyone in the movies, and she doubted Mazie would proclaim her as the best lover she’d ever had, but she could tell Mazie loved her enough to make it all right.
But she ended the kiss and pulled away.
Mazie looked confused. She touched Addy’s cheek. “Not tonight? You don’t want to stay.”
“I do,” Addy said quickly. “I really do, but…Tonight is about conquering your stage fright. You did it. I want that to be the memory of tonight. We’ll make a new memory of our first time.”
Mazie offered a lazy smile. “Well, there was the action in the janitor’s closet.”
“Yeah, but that was just the preview. That wasn’t the feature.”
Mazie nuzzled her earlobe and whispered. “I like the way you think, Addy Tornado.”
Addy whimpered when Mazie said her name, and her knees slightly buckled. Too much more and she was sure she’d melt into a puddle at Mazie’s feet.
“But let’s be clear,” Mazie continued. “When we finally make love, it’ll be a double feature—at least.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Addy awoke to Mazie’s singing. She bolted upright in bed, thinking they had slept together, but when she glanced at the pillow beside her, she realized it was all in her head. She had replayed Mazie’s wonderful performance. She sighed, both grateful and remorseful that Mazie wasn’t with her. She scratched her head, contemplating what it would be like to have Mazie snuggled against her. She’d never spent the night with a woman. She pushed the notion away and focused on Mazie’s performance the night before.
Addy had managed to sneak a few glances at the Bijou audience while they watched Mazie. Everyone seemed equally enraptured by her voice. It was the most beautiful performance of “It Had to be You” Addy had ever heard, the perfect marriage of a voice in the right key, singing the right notes. Mazie’s voice never strained. She hugged the song with both arms, somewhat similar to the way she’d hugged Addy in the janitor’s closet…
She grinned and a blob of toothpaste landed on her sock. Smiling and teeth brushing didn’t go together. And now, apparently, neither would her uniform and her socks. She’d just soiled the last perfectly matched pair of clean socks she had. She’d be forced to go with a backup pair. Normally such a shift could make her very nervous throughout the day, thinking her feet didn’t match the rest of her outfit, but today she didn’t care. She hummed “It Had to be You” as she ate her plain yogurt and checked the news on her phone. She was excited for her work day, grateful to have the suspension behind her—and Pratul gone. It would be much different walking through the Bull Pen. Some of the guys would probably be upset with her, since she imagined they would figure she was the reason he was fired. But they would know the truth once the trial began. A secret that big in little Wilshire Hills wouldn’t be kept.
She took the time to pack a lunch since she would actually have a lunch break now that Bianca rode Wilma’s bus, free of harassment. The “oven mitt” had officially lost its thumb. She grabbed her bag and was headed toward the door when her phone rang.
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. There was only one person who called her this early in the morning. Her mother. She was calling “to chat,” which was a tremendous understatement to describe the verbal tongue lashings Addy received during their calls. But what if it were something else? What if Cousin Ike was hurt? What if their ramshackle house had burned down? What if her mother was just calling to acknowledge her recent birthday?
She took a deep breath and debated answering. “Hello, Mama.”
“What took you so long? Thought I was going to wind up on voice mail, and you know how I hate that shit.”
“I know. I was leaving for work.”
“On Sunday? Buses run on Sunday?”
“It’s not Sunday, Mama.” She bit her lip. Three hours ahead meant it was only nine a.m. in West Virginia, and her mother was obviously drinking.
“Aw, hell. It’s not Sunday. Well, good. That means I didn’t miss church. You know how I feel about church,” she said, laughing hysterically. “Guess I won’t get to heaven this week.”
“I doubt it matters, Mama.”
“Figures, coming from you.”
She closed her eyes. She refused to be baited. She set her lunchbox on the table and dropped onto the sofa. She rubbed her forehead, hoping the action might bring Mazie’s voice back. “It Had to be You” had played so clearly just a few minutes ago, but it had disappeared, smothered by Lorene Tornado.
“Well, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just on my way to work. It’s six. I can’t be late.”
“Of course not. Wouldn’t want to displease the Man. Be late once and you’re out.”
She didn’t bother to correct her. Dr. Pfeiffer called it transference, and they had discussed (at length) Lorene’s inability to separate her own life, where she had indeed been fired from a job for being late once, from Addy’s. Dr. Pfeiffer had explained Lorene believed she was in competition with Addy, jealous that Addy had escaped the darkness of their West Virginia life. She distinctly heard the burp of a pop top as her mother opened a beer.
“Pretend you’re me,” Dr. Pfeiffer said. “You’re
the counselor and your mother is the patient. Hear my voice and perhaps you won’t lose your own.”
Addy closed her eyes. Her mother was blabbering about the idiot Congress trying to end her disability benefits, the neighbor down the road and his yapping dog, and, her favorite topic, Oren, Addy’s dead brother.
“He visited me last week in a dream. Did you know that?”
“No, Mama. I didn’t.”
“Know what he said?”
“No,” she whispered, but she knew what was coming.
“He said it was your fault.”
She closed her eyes but it didn’t prevent the tears. She wiped them away only to have more drip down the front of her shirt. She smacked her forehead. Where was Mazie’s voice? Where was Dr. Pfeiffer? Pretend you’re me.
“I doubt he said that, Mama. Oren knew how much I loved him.”
“Ya think so? Well, he loved me more.”
“Of course he did. You were his mama and gave him life.”
“That’s right!” Lorene shouted. Addy heard slurping as her mother lubricated her throat with the Schlitz. “So why did he leave? Why’d he have to go and get shot? Those damn ragheads! The president oughtta dump a fuckin’ plane full of nukes on those godless countries!”
“Just let her play her tape,” Dr. Pfeiffer had said. I can do that.
“It shoulda been you! What kind of god takes the world’s greatest son and leaves a skinny-assed lesbian, one who runs off and abandons her mama?”
“I have to hang up now, Mama. I can’t be late for work,” she added, which was certainly the truth. She didn’t want to be late on the first day back from suspension. How would that look to Jackie? She wondered if somehow her mama knew about the suspension. How could she? There were times during her childhood when she was certain her mama had a sixth sense. Of course, that was before Oren’s death, before Addy came out (or rather, was forced out), before…before…that.
