Chapter Fifteen

When Eleanor’s alarm went off, she automatically felt for her watch, eyes still closed. Then she noticed the warm body pressed against her side. Her eyes shot open. She was in an unfamiliar room, high-ceilinged and decorated in dark red and tan accents. Beside her lay sleeping the woman whose body she had ravished the night before and who, in turn, had ravished her. The night before had been better than anything Eleanor could have (and had) imagined. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and Tessa seemed to know just where and how to touch her. This didn’t surprise Eleanor especially, given Tessa’s intuitive powers in their non-horizontal interactions.

She shifted onto one side and stared at Tessa’s face in profile, memorizing the features that she already knew well—shapely eyebrows (not plucked to death like some women in Hollywood), full lips, faint smile lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth relaxed now in sleep. Tessa didn’t believe in Botox or collagen injections, she’d said publicly often enough. Jokingly, she’d told Eleanor that was why she’d had to retire from acting. Who wanted to pay to see a non-surgically-altered thirty-four-year- old woman’s body when they could drool over the next up-and-coming teenage starlet’s perky breasts and firm ass? Personally, Eleanor thought, lifting the covers slightly to continue her observation of Tessa’s body unobstructed, she would take a mature woman over a nubile youth any day. Particularly this mature woman. Her breath quickened as she traced Tessa’s curves—her luscious breasts, shapely hips, the narrow triangle of dark hair between her thighs. Eleanor remembered the sound of Tessa’s sharp gasps the night before, the softness of her breasts as she’d lain on top of Eleanor, the feeling of being inside her. Maybe there was time yet before Laya…

Tessa stirred, and Eleanor dropped the covers quickly. No need to scare her off first thing—Tessa was jumpy enough as it was, what with the caravan of photographers who had staked out the gate the night before shortly after they’d driven in. Most of the paparazzi had believed they were still on Kauai. With the element of surprise, they’d managed to get home without encountering much in the way of stalkers. Frankly, Eleanor had been a little disappointed. Here they were hopping flights and riding in limos with tinted windows, and the red-carpet entourage she’d expected to encounter at the gate to Tessa’s driveway had been late.

“Good morning,” she murmured now, watching Tessa closely as she opened her eyes and blinked at Eleanor a few times. Any sign of regret?

Tessa’s lips curved upward in a smile that warmed her eyes. “Good morning,” she said, and stretched her arms above her head, yawning. A squeak escaped her, reminding Eleanor of the time Laya had yawned like a puppy.

“That is so cute,” she couldn’t help saying.

“You’re so cute.” In one fluid move, Tessa rolled over on top of her. “How are you?”

“Good. Except I’m kind of being crushed at the moment.” Eleanor could feel her arousal kick up another notch at the feel of Tessa’s silky nakedness.

“Didn’t seem to bother you last night.” Tessa lowered her head to kiss her.

Eleanor squirmed away. “Wait, I have morning breath!”

“Now the Puritan comes out. Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“Actually, it’s a little early. Not until I brush my teeth, okay?”

Grumbling, Tessa rolled off her and slipped out of bed. “Whatever,” she said and strolled toward the bathroom, seemingly unselfconscious.

Then again, Eleanor thought, enjoying the view, why wouldn’t she be?

More than anything, Eleanor wanted to brush her teeth and tackle Tessa back into bed, but Laya could appear at any moment. Sighing, she reached for her discarded clothing strewn across the foot of the bed. Tessa Flanagan’s bed, she thought, testing herself. But the name no longer held the same power it once had. She knew Tessa well enough now to understand that the public image was just that—a mirage projected to keep American movie-goers happy. Last night, Eleanor had made love with the woman she’d gotten close to these last few weeks, not the icon her fans adored.

In the bathroom, the toilet flushed and the sink ran. Then the door opened and Tessa came out, a lightweight robe tied loosely around her waist.

“What are you doing?” Tessa asked.

“Getting dressed so your kid doesn’t find me in your bed.” Eleanor pulled her jeans on commando-style, the previous day’s underwear tucked into a back pocket.

“Ooh, no panties.” Tessa came over and wrapped her arms around Eleanor, pinning her arms to her sides.

“No fair,” Eleanor protested, inhaling the minty scent of toothpaste.

“It’s okay. I brushed for both of us.” And she leaned in and kissed her slowly, softly, lingeringly. “See you downstairs?”

“You know it,” Eleanor said, glancing down the robe’s partially open front. Damn, she had nice breasts.

Tessa pushed her away. “Later.” She smiled, lifting one eyebrow suggestively.

“Later,” Eleanor repeated, and ducked out of the bedroom. She practically skipped down the hallway, amazed at the level of conversation she’d managed to maintain despite the early hour (ten to six) and her lack of coffee. Apparently sleeping with Tessa agreed with her. She felt better rested than any night in recent memory.

In fact, this was the first morning in a long time that she hadn’t remembered her mother’s death immediately upon awakening. Her steps slowed as she moved down the staircase. Was that a sign she was moving on with her life, or should she feel guilty that she’d forgotten about her mom? The New Englander in her mandated guilt, while the twenty-first century psychology student-to-be viewed her delayed memory as an indicator of improved mental function. Probably, the psych student was right.

She paused in the front entry to retrieve her suitcase and carry-on, both forgotten overnight, before continuing through the kitchen to the family room. Her luggage held the clothes she would need if she were to camp out in the carriage house for the next week, along with the all-important toothbrush. If last night’s events became a habit, she might have to keep a second toothbrush in Tessa’s bathroom… She clamped down quickly on the thought and headed toward the patio doors. No need to be a typical lesbian and start fantasizing about their future nuptials. She was still leaving in a couple of months, and besides, Tessa’s life was already full. Just because they’d acted on their apparently mutual attraction didn’t mean they were going to have a genuine relationship.

Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard footsteps on the stairs and Tessa’s voice calling, “Wait, Elle!”

But it was too late. She’d already broken the seal on the French doors. She jerked her hand away as an ear-splitting siren started up, accompanied by a rhythmic clanging and a voice that intoned, “Intruder, intruder,” like something out of Lost in Space. Christ, what a noise! Dropping her bags, she covered her ears and turned to see Tessa hurrying to a console on the wall near the refrigerator. She typed in a code and the horrible sounds ceased immediately.

“I’m so sorry,” Eleanor said, still frozen in place near the patio doors. “I totally forgot.”

“No, I should have reminded you.”

Just then, Laya’s voice carried down the stairwell. “Mom,” she wailed.

The phone decided to add to the chaos, and Tessa shook her head at Eleanor, laughing helplessly. “Can you get Laya? I have to talk to the alarm company or they’ll send out a team.”

“Sure,” Eleanor said, checking to make sure her underwear was secure in her back pocket. “Sorry,” she mouthed as she brushed past Tessa, who nodded distractedly, already on the phone repeating the safe word to the alarm company: Luzon, the main island of the Philippines.

Eleanor sprinted up the stairs to find Laya standing in her pajamas at the top, eyes wide. She was holding her arm at a funny angle, and as Eleanor knelt before her, the girl pointed at three jagged scratches just inside her elbow.

“Hey, sweetie,” Eleanor said, taking the proffered arm. “What happened?”

“Totoy got scared,” she said, sniffling a little. Her eyes were wet, and she rubbed her nose. “He doesn’t like the alarm.”

“I’ll bet. Neither do I,” she confessed.

“It’s so loud, it hurts my ears.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I forgot about the alarm.”

Laya accepted this with a stoic nod. “It’s okay, Elle. Everyone makes mistakes. Why are you wearing the same shirt as yesterday?”

“Am I?” Eleanor looked down, pretending to be surprised at her shirt selection. “Oh. Well, I, um, left my suitcase here by accident last night.”

“Can we have pancakes for breakfast again?”

“Sure. If we have milk and eggs. Otherwise it might have to wait until we order some groceries.”

“Ama always made sure we had milk when we got home,” Laya said, her voice small. She sighed and rubbed the scratches on her arm. “Oh, well.”

This morning was turning into a monster guilt fest. Not really what she’d anticipated when she first awoke this morning, comfy and warm in Tessa’s bed.

“Come on, kiddo,” she said. “Let’s wash your arm and put some ointment on those scratches, okay? Then your mom and I will worry about groceries.”

“Okay,” Laya said, and allowed herself to be led back down the hall to her room.

As she washed her hands and tended to her charge’s wounds, Eleanor remembered the evening not too long ago when Tessa had helped her with her own scrapes and bruises from the encounter with the rooster. Less than a week had passed, but her bike wreck felt like it had happened an entire lifetime ago. In a good way, she told herself. Definitely in a good way. An image of Tessa leaning over her the night before, naked, flashed into her mind, and she blinked it away.

“Thanks, Elle,” Laya said when the cat scratches had been treated. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Eleanor’s neck. “I love you.”

“Ditto, pal,” Eleanor said. Then she heard a sound behind her and turned to see Tessa standing in the doorway.

Laya released her and launched herself at her mother. “Totoy scratched me but Eleanor fixed it, see?” she said, holding up her arm for Tessa’s inspection.

“I do see,” Tessa said. She looked at Eleanor for a moment, eyes serious, before turning away. “Anyway,” she added, “now that we’re all awake, what do you say we get some breakfast in that belly?” And she tickled her daughter until she squirmed away and ran screeching down the hallway.

Eleanor put away the medical supplies, wondering what had happened to chase away the open, happy Tessa from earlier that morning. It couldn’t have been the fact that she’d set off the alarm, could it? Someday, Eleanor thought as she closed the medicine cabinet, she hoped to be able to break through the walls Tessa seemed able to raise at will between herself and the rest of the world.

Tessa sat alone at the kitchen island after breakfast, finishing her herbal tea. The morning so far had been a jumble of contrasting experiences. She’d awakened to find Eleanor watching her, and unlike with previous liaisons, she’d found herself smiling at the sight of the person she’d made love to the night before still lying beside her. Eleanor’s morning-breath shyness was sweet too, though something that would have to be overcome—assuming, of course, they intended to repeat the previous night’s activities. For her part, she hoped they would. Even now, her body felt languorous, replete. She was, simply, happy.

The incident with the alarm had jolted her from her state of near bliss, though, and then Laya’s cat scratches had led to Tessa overhearing her daughter telling Eleanor she loved her and Eleanor returning the sentiment. Tessa had stood in the doorway remembering suddenly that this moment, the way the three of them were right now together, couldn’t last. No matter who loved whom.

Still, a little of the feeling of harmony she’d awakened with had returned as Eleanor showed them how to make oatmeal in the microwave using a canister of Quaker Oats she’d found in one of the cupboards, insisting that it would be even better than the pancakes Laya had requested. She’d added generous servings of maple syrup and raisins to each dish, and even Tessa had had to admit that the end result was surprisingly good. Eleanor had beamed at her, and it was all Tessa could do not to reach across the corner of the kitchen island and kiss her. She was just too cute.

After breakfast, Eleanor had taken her suitcase over to the carriage house to get settled in, Laya going with her “to help.” Now Tessa sipped her tea, wishing she could go back to bed. The paparazzi assault had just begun and already she was exhausted. Unfortunately, she knew she had to take advantage of the temporarily quiet house to make phone calls even though it was only half past seven. Resigned, she reheated her cooling tea and made her way to her home office.

Her agent and publicist were first on the list of must-calls. During a hastily arranged conference call, Tessa informed them of the mystery woman’s role in her household, bracing herself for the response she knew would follow. Sure enough, Michael and Melody were of the same opinion: Tessa would have to go on someone’s daytime talk show as soon as possible and deny that anything had happened with her daughter’s nanny, who was just a good friend she’d gotten to know when Eleanor worked at the Barclay School. Then she should “let it slip” that she was seeing someone of the male persuasion. Melody offered to make a few phone calls to see who they could get at short notice to stand in as her beard. She actually used the term beard.

Tessa let the two of them duke it out for a while. When they finally paused for breath, she intervened. “I think I’d rather go with a no comment. You know, complete radio silence.”

“Tess, that’s like admitting it’s true,” Melody said.

“You saw the photo, didn’t you? It wasn’t fake. No Photoshop or anything.”

“That’s not the point,” Michael said.

“Isn’t it? I’m out of the business, guys. I know everyone is convinced I’ll be back next year looking for a good project, and who knows, maybe I will. But for now, I’m out, pun fully intended. I’m done with movies and I’m done hiding who I am. I’ve done it for way too long.”

They were both quiet. At last Melody said, “She sounds like she means it, Michael.”

“God bless her,” he said, though Tessa was pretty sure he would have liked to use another phrase. “All right, Tess. No beard. But the media is going to have a field day. You sure that’s the way you want to go?”

“I’m sure,” she said, remembering how it had felt to wake up in the middle of the night to find Eleanor curled around her from behind. Safe and warm, cared for even. If she were to deny the relationship publicly and claim that she was seeing a man, she had a feeling she wouldn’t get a chance to experience that feeling again—at least, not with Eleanor. Besides, Laya was getting older, and Tessa had to think about the message she was sending her daughter by staying in the closet. She had taught Laya to respect adult relationships of all kinds, whether they were between people of different races or the same gender. If she hid who she was much longer, she would be modeling hypocrisy for her daughter. Sooner or later Laya would recognize this.

After the conference call, she dialed up Ama and Dani. Ama had sent her an e-mail early that morning that said only, “You go, girl!” so she knew the news had reached the Philippines. Somehow she doubted the rest of the heavily Catholic country, which had adopted her as its shining example of emigrant success, would be quite as happy about her love life.

L.A. was fifteen hours behind the Philippines, which meant it was nighttime there, so Tessa only talked to Ama for a few minutes. The older woman was thrilled about the apparent match and reminded Tessa that it had been all her idea. She also wanted details, but Tessa only allowed that she and Eleanor had grown close during their time on Kauai. Laya wasn’t to know about it yet. She didn’t want her daughter getting her hopes up unnecessarily.

“What about your hopes?” Ama asked in her customary bluntly insightful way.

“I don’t know,” Tessa admitted. “We’ll see.”

Will, her longest friend in Hollywood, was next. He picked up his cell on the tenth ring just as she was mentally rehearsing a message.

“Well, if it isn’t the next Ellen,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath, wind rattling his phone.

“You know I would never want my own talk show,” she responded, smiling at the sound of his voice. “Where are you?”

“Running on the track at my club.” His voice got farther away for a moment. “That’s it, Tom, don’t slack off just because I’m not leading you out.”

“Tom? I thought you said you wouldn’t work with him again.”

“I thought you said you were straight.”

“Not to you I didn’t.”

“Let me be the first to congratulate you on detonating your closet door, sweets.”

“Ooh, sorry, Ama already beat you to that one.”

“Damn that wily little woman. I have to run, but let’s make a date for lunch soon. I want details.”

“How about a date for a workout instead? I don’t think I’ll be leaving Laurel Canyon anytime soon.”

“Got it. Call Becky and she’ll set something up.”

“Will do. Give Tom my best.”

He snorted. “I think he’ll want to be staying as far away from you as possible right about now. You know, in case busted closets are somehow catching.”

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes as they hung up. Hypocrisy and panic were alive and well in the fertile breeding grounds of Hollywood.

The last call on her list had to wait until Laya’s afternoon nap. Once Laya was down for the count, Tessa tore herself away from an enticing Eleanor, who was sunning herself by the pool in very little clothing, and locked herself in the office to make the dreaded call to the Byerly sisters. Both in their seventies, she wasn’t sure what her business partners would have to say about the headlines she was currently garnering. Particularly when she told them that the supposition about her sexuality was true.

As she frequently did, though, she discovered she’d worried unnecessarily. The Byerlys were glad to hear from her after the way she’d been so out of touch these last weeks, they told her over speaker phone. They talked for a few minutes about what the press blockade of her driveway meant in terms of the foundation and agreed on a plan for her to work remotely until the ruckus died down. And that was it.

“How did it go?” Eleanor asked, closing her book of crossword puzzles as Tessa crossed the pool deck and dropped onto the chaise lounge next to her.

“The Byerlys say they don’t care if I’m gay,” she told Eleanor, who was looking noticeably fit in her two-piece swimsuit. “They do, however, care that I’m not available to interview executive director candidates. They’re right, you know. I should be working.”

“And I thought Protestants had a corner on the workaholic market,” Eleanor commented.

“Please. I’m first-generation, not to mention Asian. You think you have pressure.”

She was joking, but Eleanor tilted her head and appeared to consider her words seriously. “Not really anymore. Not since my mom got sick. It’s funny. I used to be so driven when I was younger. I had this image of who I was going to be and what I was going to accomplish, and then she got sick and all of that just didn’t seem to matter anymore. You know?”

“Kind of.” Tessa hesitated. “I was only a little older than Laya when I lost my parents, so it was different for me. But I do remember that the day I found out they were gone, my life became separated into these very distinct before and after parts.”

“What was the after part like?”

She didn’t want to lie to Eleanor. “Lonely,” she said. “Before L.A., I felt invisible, like no one really cared whether I lived or not.”

Eleanor reached across the space between their lounge chairs and took her hand. “Now thousands of people adore you, and the paparazzi is camped out in your driveway. Kind of the opposite extreme.”

Tessa squeezed her hand, remembering for a moment just what those fingers were capable of. “Those people, my ‘fans,’ they don’t really adore me. They don’t even know me.”

“I do,” Eleanor said. “And I care whether you live or not.”

Tessa glanced at her, wishing she could see Eleanor’s eyes behind her sunglasses. She was so sweet, so normal. What would she think if she knew the truth about Tessa’s parents? Would she feel differently about her and Laya?

“What are we doing about dinner?” Eleanor asked, her thumb tracing circles against Tessa’s palm.

She suppressed a shiver, thinking again of Eleanor’s hands on her. Inside her. “You have a one-track mind.”

“Just trying to keep up my strength.”

Eyes closed against the sun, Tessa could feel desire coiling inside her at Eleanor’s touch. All at once she couldn’t wait for nightfall, when she and Eleanor could wend their way upstairs again and have their way with each other. As she pictured their naked limbs entwining beneath her sheets, she smiled slowly. She was starting to think she just might enjoy this paparazzi-enforced house arrest, after all.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 605