Chapter Fifteen

The morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtain and it danced across Hilton’s face. She was plucked from some weird-ass dream that was reminiscent of a Greek tragedy where the sol-dier sails home from battle and he is supposed to change the color of the sail from black to white so his beloved will know that he arrived home safe. He forgets and she sees the black sail and jumps off the cliff into the sea below. Hilton glanced at the clock. It was eight-thirty. Jessie and Liz lay curled up next to her. Last night had been quite the slumber party. They’d stayed up until four in the morning drinking beer and eating pepperoni pizza.

Hilton crept out of bed and went to pee. She washed her face and quickly brushed her teeth. If she hurried she could get to studio and still have a chance to talk to Anne before the show started. Then they could go have a good talk.

“Holy shit!” Jessie bolted upright. She rubbed her eyes. “What the hell time is it?”

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“It’s late.” Hilton grabbed her coat, kissed Shannon on the forehead and said, “Jessie, can you watch her?” She gestured to the dog.

“I’m so there for you.”

Hilton bolted. Luckily, traffic was smooth. It seemed that on Wednesdays and Fridays half the city called in sick so the street-to-car ratio was dramatically reduced. Once she reached the office she took the stairs because the elevators were jammed up with last-minute workers trying to make it on time. When she got into the office Veronica and Dave both looked agitated. Dave was nervously running his fingers through his hair and Veronica was stacking and restacking papers. Hilton flew past them. Anne wasn’t in the booth.

“Where is she?” Hilton said, turning to face both of them.

“She called in. We’re going to play a best-of tape,” Dave said.

“And I’ve got a good one. I’ve been compiling all the funny ones over the last four months.”

“You need to fix this and fast,” Veronica said.

“How?”

“I’ve been pondering this all morning. You’ve botched all your other avenues so you need to go to her—with flowers—and prostrate yourself.” Veronica peered at her and then pointed to a spot on her jacket. “What’s that?”

Hilton looked at the spot and then peeled off a piece of pepperoni. “It’s pepperoni from last night’s pizza.”

Veronica sniffed her. “You smell like a beer parlor. Oh, this will never do. Both of you come with me.”

Dave looked at Hilton and shrugged. They followed Veronica to the executive washroom.

Veronica extracted a key from her blazer pocket. “Dave, wait here. Hilton, come with me.” Once inside the marble-tiled washroom, Veronica said, “Okay, take them off.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your clothes. I’m sending them downstairs to be martinized.

You can’t go pledge your love looking like a transient coming 172

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straight off a drinking binge.” Veronica opened a locker and pulled out a toiletry kit. She unwrapped a fresh toothbrush and handed it to Hilton, who had removed most of her clothing. Veronica got her a towel and pointed to the showers. She handed Hilton’s clothes to Dave with the instructions that they were to be cleaned immediately, in eight minutes or less, and he was to run to the florist around the corner and get a dozen yellow roses. “Don’t get a vase. Anne will have a vase and it’s always a woman’s secret pleasure to look for it while she blushes about the flowers.”

Hilton tried not to snicker as she overheard this conversation.

She slipped into the shower and wondered as the warm water ran down her body if Veronica’s plan was really going to work.

Her clothes arrived seconds after she got out of the shower.

Veronica insisted she should fix Hilton’s hair. “I think we should tie it back in a ribbon so you or preferably Anne can pull it out and your lovely locks can come cascading down. It’s so romantic.”

Hilton felt like a Barbie Doll with Veronica writing the script.

When she finally got in her car, she immediately pulled the ribbon out and vigorously wiped off the lip gloss. It took her thirty minutes to get from downtown to Anne’s eastside house. There was some huge accident and she’d been forced to hit the side streets instead of using the expressway. She still remembered the night she’d gone to her house, the night Nat and Emily had gotten in the catfight in the front yard. She was thinking that was when the whole thing started. That was the day she’d started to fall in love.

The one-story bungalow was quainter than she remembered.

The house was the color of beach sand and had a light green shingled roof and trim that matched. The porch had dark green wicker chairs and a matching coffee table. It looked like it could be in Sunset magazine.

Anne’s Chevy Avalanche was parked in the drive. It was too large to fit in the tiny garage of the house. Hilton parked her car, took three deep breaths, grabbed the flowers and prepared to meet her fate. She knocked on the door. It seemed an eternity before Anne answered. Hilton could tell she’d been crying. It was at that 173

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moment the last chink in her defenses crumbled to the ground.

She handed Anne the roses. “I’m so sorry.”

“They’re beautiful. Come in.” She led Hilton back to the kitchen. She was dressed in blue jeans and a gray fleece pullover with a white T-shirt underneath. It was the first time Hilton had ever seen her without dress clothes on. She looked smaller and suddenly fragile. Hilton wanted to scoop her up and kiss away all the hurt she had caused. She was still thinking about this while Anne located a vase. Hilton watched as Anne’s shoulders started to shake and quiver. She was crying. Hilton came to her.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re yellow.”

“I thought you liked yellow.”

“They stand for friendship,” Anne said. She wiped her tears with her sleeve.

“Oh.” She was going to kill Veronica. For all her fucking planning she screwed up the most important part. “Veronica made me get them, after she made me take a shower and have my entire outfit martinized—whatever the hell that is, and then she put a ribbon in my hair and lip gloss on. It was all perfectly disgusting.”

When Anne started to laugh, Hilton held her. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“No, I was scared.” Anne pulled away and looked at her. “I’m so in love with you that it frightens me.”

Hilton kissed her, softly at first and then passionately as Anne responded in kind. She ran her hands down Anne’s sides and across her hips, then pulled her in closer. Anne wrapped one of her legs around Hilton’s and moaned softly.

“Do you want to go somewhere more comfortable?” Hilton asked. The last time she was at the house she’d seen most of it but not Anne’s bedroom. She was certain it would be as beautifully decorated as the rest of the house.

“Please.” Anne took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

They stood by the bed. It was a four-poster bed in cherry wood with huge pillows and a yellow down comforter. Hilton was now 174

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certain yellow was Anne’s favorite color. Hilton unbuttoned her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Then she took Anne’s hand and placed it on her breast, watching her face the entire time. Anne traced the outline of Hilton’s nipple. Her hand was soft and warm.

Hilton guided Anne’s hand down her stomach and in between her legs, expertly slipping under her waistband and boxers. Anne made a little noise, like the kind Shannon did when she was extremely happy about something, and didn’t appear to need any further coaching.

She pulled Hilton close and slipped her fingers inside. Hilton shuddered for a moment at her touch. She took off Anne’s pullover and then her T-shirt. She ran one hand under Anne’s black bra and undid the back of it with the other. As she unbuttoned Anne’s jeans and slid them down her slim hips, Anne removed her hand from between Hilton’s legs and did the same. Anne took her panties off and pulled at Hilton’s boxers until they both stood naked.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment,”

Hilton said.

“You have,” Anne teased.

Hilton smiled. Anne was back to her normal, sassy self. Hilton gently pushed her back onto the bed. “I have.” She eased down on top of Anne and kissed her ardently. Their bodies fit together almost perfectly. Hilton kissed her shoulders and then bit one.

“That’s for being a smart ass.”

Anne laughed. “You like me that way.”

“I do,” Hilton said, looking up at her as she cupped Anne’s breast. Goose bumps rose on Anne’s skin. Hilton raised her eyebrows. “Ticklish, are we?”

“Maybe just a little,” Anne conceded.

Hilton kissed her stomach and then opened her legs, slowly running her tongue between the wetness that waited for her. Anne rose up to meet her and moaned softly. When Hilton thought she was almost there, she put her fingers inside her and moved up to kiss Anne’s face. “Is this all right?”

“Oh, my God.”

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Hilton took that as a yes. She felt Anne reach for her and they moved together. Hilton felt Anne come in an explosive orgasm.

Hilton held her, feeling her body quiver. Making love had never felt like this before. Hilton smiled. They both opened their eyes at the same time.

“Wow,” Anne said.

“Double wow. I love you. You know that, right?” She gazed at her.

Anne held her tight. “Yes.”

“No regrets?” Hilton asked as she nestled between Anne’s breasts and listened to her heartbeat.

“Actually, I do have one.”

Mortified, Hilton looked up at her. “What?”

“That we didn’t do this sooner.”

“Oh, you’re in for it now.” She went to tickle Anne but Anne was faster. She flipped Hilton on her back, held her down for a moment and then stared at Hilton. Hilton knew that look. She’d seen it before. It was the realization that the object of your desire can be yours, wants to be yours, and that you can be the aggressor.

Anne kissed her passionately. “I was supposed to do this the other night.” She reached for Hilton’s nipple.

“Yep. It would have saved us a lot of time.”

Hilton felt Anne part her legs and kiss between, sticking her tongue inside with little teasing thrusts. Hilton moaned. After a while, Anne turned her on her stomach and took her from behind.

Hilton rocked against her and then reached back for Anne. Soon they were both making noises that Hilton wagered neither of them had made before. It was the moment before she came that Hilton knew she had found her one true love.

It was dark when Hilton awoke with Anne’s warm body beside her under the down comforter. She silently crept from the bed.

Looking out the bedroom window she could see that the day’s rain had left everything shiny. A street light illuminated the side yard of 176

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Anne’s house. She drew the cover over Anne’s bare shoulders.

Gazing at her for a moment before leaving the room, she felt the most intense series of emotions—love and longing wrapped up with complete devotion, and it was then that she had another epiphany, like the one last summer when she realized she was growing up. Suddenly, she wanted to scoop Anne up in her arms and scream, “I love you!” She knew this was lunacy and would probably scare the living daylights out of her lover. She wished there was some way she could prove her love, to show her the mol-ecules of her heart filled with love. Hilton took a deep breath and told herself to get a grip.

They had made love all afternoon, something neither of them confessed to having ever done before. They talked, they laughed, they kissed, and they explored every inch of the other’s body and then finally fell asleep in each other’s arms as the soft rain danced on the rooftop.

And now, hours later, Hilton, wearing only a blouse, crept into the kitchen and was poking around in the fridge looking for food.

The pizza last night was the only nourishment she’d had. She was starving. The fridge was rather bare, containing mostly condiments and every kind of pickle imaginable, including a jar of Wither’s Pickles. Hilton chuckled softly to herself. Anne never mentioned that she liked pickles. She guessed there were a lot of things they’d discover about each other as time went on. The mischievous nature of the universe never ceased to amaze her—a pickle heiress and her pickle-loving girlfriend.

Soft footsteps came padding down the hall. Hilton smiled warmly at Anne. “You don’t have any food except condiments and pickles, lots of pickles.”

“I meant to go shopping but I was kind of depressed.”

“Most people eat when they’re depressed. Why were you depressed?”

“Because I thought I’d lost the love of my life.”

“No, the love of your life was being a complete idiot and should have been more clear about how she was feeling.”

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Anne laughed. “Okay, if you say so, but I really think it was my fault for being a coward.”

Hilton closed the fridge, having come up empty-handed.

They’d have to order out. “How about Chinese food?”

“Sounds fabulous.” Anne was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. She was staring at her. “I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend.”

Hilton put her hand out across the counter. Anne took it and guided her around to her. She pulled her in close. Anne caressed Hilton’s thighs. Hilton could have melted right there. She was going to have to learn to control herself or they’d be spending the rest of their lives in bed. Smiling, she thought that might not be such a bad thing, but she did want more. “I’d like to be your wife … someday.”

“Is this about vaginal sobriety?”

“Yes.” Hilton stared at her.

Anne kissed her lightly and held her. “Then consider this an I do.”

Hilton kissed her forehead. “Food, we need food, then we’ll start the honeymoon.”

Anne pouted. She pulled a tattered menu from the kitchen drawer. Hilton quickly perused the offerings and called in the order. “We have forty minutes.”

“We can do a lot in forty minutes,” Anne said, leading her to the couch in the living room.

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Date: 2015-04-20; view: 807