LipstickLeslee (9 page)

A short clip of Leslee and I on stage played through as she
relayed the story. It changed to Leslee emerging from the courthouse front
doors. My heart flipped over in my chest. I stepped closer to the TV, placed my
hand on the screen and studied her. I thirsted for the sight of her and drank
in every detail. She wore a sleek, dark business suit with an unbuttoned blazer
and hip dress pants beneath a long black coat. She held her head down. Her hair
fell in a curtain across her shoulders and around her face. She gripped the
railing and descended the stairs, emitting femininity and grace. Reporters
badgered her with questions, scurrying down the stairs with her, thrusting
microphones in her face. It wasn’t until the last seconds of the clip that she
raised her head and looked directly into the camera. They zoomed in on her and
I pressed a hand to my aching breastbone.

Her eyes were red and her face pale. So beautiful yet beaten
down.

Sad.

Lonely.

“Leslee… Oh,
Les
lee,” I whispered. My eyes stung. I
longed to take her in my arms and comfort her, to turn that despair into hope and
happiness. I gritted my teeth. “This is all that son of a bitch Charles’
fault.”

I punched the button on the remote and turned off the TV.
Guilt pierced my belly out of nowhere. I pressed my hand to my stomach and
groaned. “But I’m to blame too. She needs someone—hopefully me still—to lean on
and to get support from. And what did I go and do? I abandoned her, refused any
direct or indirect contact from her and pouted like a selfish frigging baby.
God, I make myself sick.”

Yes, it was time to grow up. I’d worked through my jealousy
at Kaydee and Savanah’s close relationship, I’d fought my own gay prejudices,
which made me no less culpable than Charles, I’d accepted the truth about my
own sexuality and now realized a whopper of truth.

I’m falling in love with her.

“Really? Wow.” I grinned and started for the shower. It was
time to scrap my cowardice and move into the next phase of my life. A fluttery
sensation bloomed in my belly along with the resurgence of that delicious,
horny heat. I couldn’t wait to see her. I couldn’t wait to hug her and kiss her
and make wild, passionate love to her.

I’d make up for all my mistakes.

I paused at a sudden thought.
Idiot.
Just because I’d
decided to accept myself for what I was and change my ways didn’t mean Leslee
would welcome me with open arms and door. Maybe she’d already moved on with
another woman?

That dark cloud of depression moved toward me again, but I
mentally cast it aside.

“No. I refuse to think of my future any other way but with
her.” I ignored the tightening knot of dread in my gut and turned on the
shower. It steamed up within seconds and I stepped into the sizzling heat and
pulsing spray of water on my back.

As I shampooed my hair, excitement raced through my blood. I
wondered where we should meet. Her place or mine? A coffee shop, or dinner at a
nice restaurant?

I rinsed my hair and sighed at the hot pelts of water
massaging my scalp.

Maybe the farm? If she hasn’t already visited Savanah and
Kaydee, Leslee and I could take a Christmas hiatus there and I could show her
where I grew up.

I reached for the soap, picturing my deceased father’s
gorgeous property Savanah had inherited upon his death. My mind raced so
quickly, I gasped out loud at the sudden thought that occurred to me.

A solution to everything, to Leslee losing Pussycat’s, to
Charles and his prejudiced strong-arming and to my relationship with Leslee.

“Aha, that’s it!” I rushed through the remainder of my
shower and phoned Savanah, starting on my plan as soon as I finished dressing.

But I refused to feed that lump of dread clogging my heart
and throat, the one that nagged at me and said, “Leslee’s moved on. She’s done
with you.”

Chapter Eight

Leslee: The Switch

I’d seen the pictures of Will—Melanie’s ex—on her Starling
Hotel desk in the past. There was no mistaking that that man standing next to
her booth at the coffeehouse had to be him. I’d received a cryptic text from
her an hour ago asking me to meet her here for a four p.m. coffee and pastry.
Could she really be that cruel? Lure me here just to rub her flip-flopping in
my face and make me insanely jealous?

Damn, I was such a fool. Why’d I give in to the temptation
to see her when I knew she’d just break my heart yet again?

I clutched the handle of my purse and tried to calm the
butterflies in my belly. The pleasant aroma of cinnamon and coffee wafted
around me, along with the pungent scent of a nearby Christmas tree decorated
with lights and coffee-themed ornaments. At this moment, I swore I’d never
again get hooked up with another sexually confused woman who had men in her
past. Never mind the fact that I’d also lived a chapter in my life that
included men. Hell, a lot of lesbians did. It was called brainwashing and
societal strong-arming.

Only the fierce and determined would survive and emerge true
to themselves.

Find their souls.

Grow up.

Be happy.

Even now as I gazed at her, I knew she was one of the weak.
She’d give in, refuse to be viewed as a “freak”. She would and always had opted
for obedience to society rather than bucking their rules. And as I watched the
former man and wife converse, I knew without a doubt that she’d prefer the
cloak of marriage with a man over living with prejudice, being ostracized on
almost a daily basis and crashing into that wall that divided “us” from “them”.

No, Melanie would never be caught dead on the “us” side of
that wall.

The holiday carol
I’ll Be Home for Christmas
played
on the overhead sound system, making me feel melancholy. I wondered where I’d
be in a few days, who I’d be spending Christmas and New Year’s Eve with, if
anyone at all. Every muscle in my body tensed, most especially my heart, as I
poised to turn on my boots and flee. Wash my hands of her and move forward with
my life, that’s what I’d do.

But my curiosity got the better of me. No matter what, I
needed to see how this played out, and I had to find out why she’d texted me
after three weeks of silence and loneliness without her. So I stood behind a
partition topped by an iron-filigreed panel lined with multicolored Christmas
lights. I could peer through the holes and see them while remaining discreet.
Melanie couldn’t see me unless she glanced to her right and happened to catch a
glimpse of me through whorls of iron. But I could study both of their profiles,
their body language, their voices and the way they looked at each other.

Will shuffled his feet and dragged a hand through his dark,
GQ
ish
hairstyle. “Seeing you on TV like that—whoa. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Melanie looked up at him and stirred her steaming latte at
the same time. The clink of the spoon against the ceramic cup picked up tempo
until she dropped the utensil on the table. She tore her gaze from him and
stared straight ahead while she sipped the coffee. I adored the way she left
the foam on her upper lip.

“I could ask you the same about a lot of things in our…brief
marriage.”

Was that a tone of sorrow and regret I heard in her voice?

Did she still love him?

I sighed. Of course she did. Hadn’t I already established
she was nothing but a curious and confused hetero who used women like me for
amusement?

He ignored her comment and slid into the booth opposite her.

I moved to my left a couple of steps so I could view their
profiles easier.

A gleam of lust lit his dark-brown eyes. He jiggled his
eyebrows, reached across the table and trailed a finger down her forearm. “Ya
know, you could have the best of both worlds. Me and us. A chick. We could make
this work, Mel. We really could.”

I rubbed at the tightness forming in the back of my neck and
watched the interaction between the exes. It made me sick as hell to see them
together—to have to stand by and watch him touching her and propositioning
my
woman, never mind that she didn’t view me as hers. The song on the overhead
changed to
Deck the Halls
. Deck was right. I gripped a nearby chair to
keep from bolting around the partition and decking that prick. A wave of
out-of-control possessiveness welled up inside me despite my summation of her
character and selfish motivations.

Melanie set down her cup with prim precision and fisted her
hands together on the tabletop. She smiled, but maybe I was wrong about her.
There was a chilliness in her eyes that told the true tale of her emotions. “So
you want to have an open relationship, do you, Will?”

“Yes. Oh my god, that would be so awesome.” He’d answered
her before she’d barely finished with her question. His hands shot across the
table and he closed them over hers. He lifted one of her hands and kissed the
fingertips.

I couldn’t look away. I twined my fingers through the
filigreed swirls of cold iron and watched them like a passerby on the highway
during a bloody auto accident. My pulse spiked, my jaw clenched and I
suppressed a growl that bubbled up in my throat.

You son of a bitch.

But she didn’t seem to mind his attentions. She didn’t
cringe or pull her hands away, she just sat there, letting him touch her and
show her intimacies that should be mine, not his.

That did it. I couldn’t watch this for another second longer
without tearing down the excuse for a wall that stood between me and them. I
marched around the partition and up the aisle, approaching Melanie’s back while
my gaze drilled into Will’s. Melanie didn’t see me yet, so it pleased me when
she yanked her hands free before she noticed me.

Will glanced up in surprise, first at Melanie’s sudden move
then at me. His mouth fell open. He pointed at me. “It’s her. The hot
Resident
Evil
lookalike chick in that news report with you.”

“Leslee?” Melanie whipped her head around and spied me. Her
eyes were wide and saturated with emotions I didn’t dare name at the moment.

I stopped next to her, crossed my arms over my midriff and
jerked my narrowed gaze back on him. “Yep. It’s me. Third wheel here in the
flesh.”

Will shook his head and whistled. “Ooh yeah. There ya go,
babe.” His gaze raked me from the tops of my boots to my face then stopped on
my breasts to openly leer. There was no tingle, no engorgement in my breasts,
just repulsion.

I clenched my fists within the fold of my arms. That
continued urge to deck him intensified.

“Third wheel?” Melanie blinked with momentary confusion. But
comprehension dawned on her face. She shook her head in short jerks. “Uh, no.
Obviously, you heard what he said, but I didn’t agree with him. I would
never
agree to that threesome crap.”

“You’d— What? But I thought you meant—” He snapped his jaw
shut when Melanie slapped the table, sending her spoon clattering and latte
sloshing.

She forced out a growl of frustration. “Listen, you low-down
bastard. I. Don’t. Love you. Anymore. Got it? In fact, I don’t think I ever
did. I can’t stand the sight of you. And I can’t believe I never saw through
your shallow vanity before I wasted part of my life on you. Now get the hell
out of
my
booth. That’s Leslee’s seat. I invited her here.”

My fists relaxed. She’d rendered me completely speechless
and nearly catatonic. I couldn’t believe my ears. Here she was chasing off the
devil and welcoming me in his place. I released a breath I didn’t even know I’d
been holding. My body started to tremble, but not with anger anymore. It was
excitement, passion, utter elation.

Had I just silently accused her not a few minutes ago of
being a wishy-washy hetero who’d never buck society’s rules?

Ha. Well I’d been wrong—hopefully. Still, I needed to hold
back until I found out what all this was truly about. Just because she was
kicking him out of the restaurant didn’t mean she was welcoming me into her
bed.

Will slid from the booth and stood. He glared at me, then at
Melanie. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re really a hundred percent fucking
lesbian
?”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “You’re pathetic. Now get away from
me.”

“You say
you
can’t stand the sight of
me
? And
you’re the one who’s the sickening gay bitch? Or should I say ‘butch’?” He
threw his head back and guffawed.

But then he reached down and cupped her face with his hand.
Melanie flinched, yet he wouldn’t let go. He bent and forced her to look in his
eyes by dragging her up by the hair at the nape of her neck so her face was an
inch from his. “What a waste. That nice pussy of yours along with hers…mm, we could’ve
had a lot of kinky fun, the three of us.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Asshole. Get your goddamn hands off
her.” I had the back of his shirt fisted in my hands and the words blurted out
before they even finished being a thought. It dislodged his hold from Melanie.

She scrambled out of the booth. “Will. Just go. It’s over.
There’s never going to be a ‘three of us’, not with me anyway. I’m done with
you. Forever. Now go before one of the waitresses calls the cops.”

I got a whiff of his expensive cologne. It churned my
stomach. From this close, I could see the gleam of arrogance as clearly as I
could see the flecks of black spokes in the brown irises surrounding his
pupils.

His upper lip curled in a sneer. He tried to shove me away,
but I stood my ground and went toe-to-toe with him, wadding the front of his
shirt in my hand this time. The fabric made a ripping noise beneath my tight
hold.

I snarled through clamped teeth, “You don’t get the hell out
of here, you’ll be very sorry. I know people, people who owe me favors. People
who could make your life…shall we say, complicated. You get my drift, you
prick?”

“You bitch. Let,” he pried my fingers from his shirt, “
go
.
Do you have any idea how much this shirt cost me?” His mouth was compressed,
his eyes narrowed. He stumbled backward, jerked the garment down and tucked it
back into the tailored black dress slacks.

Melanie reached out and twined her hand in mine. Her skin
was warm and soft, and I detected the faint aroma of the perfume that had
haunted me for weeks. Only this time it was real and not a memory. The teasing
smell along with the public display of affection she showed me sent my pussy
into overdrive. My labia warmed and my clit started a vague throbbing followed
by a trickle of moisture onto the cotton of my panties. Then she smiled and
winked at me, and my heart melted inside my chest.

“Knowing you, it probably cost more than our
honeymoon—which, by the way, I paid for, you cheapskate.” Melanie untangled her
hand from mine. Disappointment stabbed at the melty parts of my heart, but it
didn’t last long. She slipped her arm around my waist and drew me snug against
her side. She leveled a firm look at Will. “Now. Do you mind? Leslee and I have
some very important things to talk about.”

Will slapped his hands on his hips and leaned forward,
nose-to-nose with Melanie. His upper lip curled in a snarl. “You slut. You and
I both know once you get bored with her, you’ll be crawling back to me and
begging for my cock.”

Melanie squared her shoulders. “I have never and will never
beg you for anything. Besides, why would I beg for something that never brought
me pleasure? Not once did you ever…please me. But with her, all she has to do
is look at me and I’m hot and ready.”

My soul and pussy barely had time to absorb those awesome
words before he had his hand around Melanie’s throat. “You bitch. You fucking
bitch
.”

I yanked his hand from her neck, tucked her behind me and
shoved against his chest. He stumbled backward and hit the edge of the booth.
He got his footing, growled and lunged at me. “You cunt.”

“William, that’s enough,” Melanie said with a reprimanding
tone.

He ignored her and came at me, his hands reaching for my
neck this time.

I drew my fist back.

And I decked him.

Bone connected with bone, and despite the pain that shot up
my arm, boy did it ever feel good. With his head nodding around on his
shoulders, he reminded me of a bobblehead. Blood trickled from a graze wound on
his cheek, and his eye was already swelling.

He swiped at the blood, stared agog at the red smear on his
fingers and glared at me. Wild anger lit his eyes. “Why you fucking—”

“Sir, sir. I’ve got 9-1-1 punched into the phone.” The
waitress stepped between me and Will and held up a cordless phone. “Either you
leave this minute, or I’ll press the Send button and request a visit from the
police.”

He snapped his gaze to the waitress. “What the hell?
She
hit
me
.”

“You’ve been raising your voice in
my
place of
business, intimidating them and getting in their faces. It was self-defense. I
saw you try to choke them both.” She raised her eyebrow as if to say, “You know
you have no excuse here.”

“That’s bullshit. She—”

“Okay, have it your way.” She started to punch the button,
but Will stopped her just in time.

“All right, all right. I’m going.” He sighed and started for
the door, mumbling and growling the whole way. When he got to the exit, he
turned and added, “Um, Mel, I’ll be joining up with Bards Holdings. And I’ll
see to it that all of you gays are purged from this town—no, this state—and put
in your rightful place.”

The shop owner marched over to him and held up the phone
again. “Sir, this is your last chance. Either you leave now, or
I’ll
see
to it that you’re purged from this shop and put in your rightful place. In the
back of a squad car.”