High Impact (5 page)

“Can’t be something for the office,” Pasha told Karla. “That really wouldn’t benefit you.”

“Maybe it’s a new board game,” Dita said. “I’m getting tired of Monopoly and Scrabble.” During the endless winter months, the four of them often played marathon games long into the night at this very booth.

Karla shook her head. “She sounded too excited. It has to—” A big grin spread across her face when she spotted Bryson. “Here she comes. We’ll know soon enough.”

Pasha turned to look. Two attractive strangers followed Bryson: a tall, buff, androgynous woman with a dark-chestnut shag, and a shorter companion with shoulder-length, medium-brown hair streaked with blond highlights. Both looked to be in their late thirties or early forties and wore clothes typical of native Alaskans—well-used hiking boots, faded jeans, fleece pullovers, and heavy jackets that had seen more than a few winters.

Neither woman triggered any physical or other response—they clearly had nothing to do with Pasha’s building sense of anticipation. She opened her mouth to ask who they were, but Karla and Dita had already met the newcomers halfway in enthusiastic embraces. She followed quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in?” Dita asked the taller woman as they grinned at each other.

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” the stranger replied. “We were getting kinda antsy for some female company, so we figured we’d come down early.”

“You must be Pasha,” the other newcomer said she as extricated herself from Karla’s bear hug and stuck out her hand. “I’m Megan Maxwell, and she’s Chaz Herrick, my partner. We’ve heard a lot about you.” She had vivid green eyes and the confident air of an extrovert.

“I am. It’s great to finally meet you, too.” Pasha placed the couple immediately because Dita had spoken frequently of both. Chaz Herrick, a biology professor at the University of Fairbanks, spent her summers and Christmas breaks working as a guide for Eidson Eco-Tours, usually out of the Winterwolf office. Because the Bettles office was so heavily booked for the next couple of months, she planned to spend the summer here, but she wasn’t supposed to arrive for another few days. And no one had known whether Megan would accompany her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dita said, as Pasha shook hands with Megan and Chaz. “Where are my manners? Come on, y’all, let’s sit and get some dinner.”

“Are you staying here at the Den?” Pasha asked, once they’d all crowded into the circular corner booth.

Chaz shook her head. “Grizz needs all the rooms he’s got this summer, but he found us a place to stay. We’re renting a cabin at the edge of town that’s been up for sale a long while.”

“Feel kinda bad now that he’s given us a room for the next three months.” Bryson frowned. “Asked him about it back in November, when it looked like we’d have another slow season. He always had a couple empties last summer, so he said sure. And ’course he’s giving us a big discount. So he’s losing money.”

“And we won’t even be in it all the time,” Karla added. “We’ll probably go home now and then. We’re just here so much in the summer, me on medical calls and Bryson getting in late from runs, we wanted to be sure we always had a place to sleep and store a few things.”

Pasha had visited them several times for dinner. Bryson had built the log structure with her own hands, in an isolated Brooks Range river valley thirty miles north of Bettles. They seemed content despite the lack of running water and other things most people took for granted.

Megan turned to Chaz and whispered something. Chaz nodded. “That’s easy to solve,” Megan announced. “Our cabin’s got two bedrooms. Why don’t you both bunk with us?”

Karla and Bryson looked at each other and grinned. “Done!” Karla said.

“Hey! Whassup, gals?” Grizz’s baritone boomed from across the room as he headed toward them. “Didn’t know you two were coming in tonight,” he said as he reached across the table to wrap first Chaz’s hand, then Megan’s, in his beefy paws.

“Kind of an impulse,” Chaz said. “We were just talking about you, as a matter of fact. Bryson and Karla decided to share our cabin, so you can rent their room.”

Grizz grinned, exposing his fangs. “Cool beans. I can use it. How ’bout I say thanks with a free round on the house?” Not long after, they all sat sipping beer or wine and munching a big plate of nachos he’d thrown in.

“It’s gonna be a right fine summer with all of us here,” Dita said as she flicked a stray crumb of tortilla chip from her lap.

“We’ve got quite a growing little community of lesbians, don’t we?” Karla observed. “Seven now—the six of us, and Geneva.” Geneva De Luca, one of two waitresses at the Den, stood nearby busily cleaning a table. “We should form a club.”

“That’s a great idea,” Megan said. “Back in Chicago, my friends and I formed a group called Broads in Broadcasting. We’d meet regularly for drinks and girl time. If any of us are in town at say, six p.m. or so, we could converge here for dinner.”

The rest of them nodded enthusiastically.

“We need a name. How about…Arctic Amazons?” Pasha suggested. “No, wait a minute, strike that. I just got an image of us in weird leather outfits and tasseled headbands.”

They all laughed.

“Bent in Bettles?” Dita offered. More laughs.

They bandied more ideas around as the evening wore on, their suggestions more ridiculous with each round of drinks. Pasha enjoyed herself but couldn’t completely ignore her niggling premonition. After dinner, as they waited for their desserts, the feeling suddenly intensified. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the notepad in front of her, which contained some of their less ludicrous options. “So, where were we?”

“You just shot down my latest fine suggestion,” Megan said. “Though I don’t see what’s possibly wrong with The Far-North Fairies.”

“Fairies? Really, hon? You see me with wings, do you?” Chaz chuckled, and Pasha had to agree. Chaz epitomized the rugged outdoorswoman, all lean, muscled athleticism. She resembled Peter Pan more than Tinkerbell. “How about…” she grinned at Megan, “the Royal Ice Bitches?”

Megan scowled, but clearly in good fun, and Bryson and Karla joined Chaz in laughter.

Pasha looked over at Dita, also clearly clueless. “Obviously we’re missing something.”

“What a few of my writers and editors used to call me behind my back,” Megan said drolly. “When I was a news VP. Let’s just say I had a reputation for demanding excellence, and no one likes for someone to tell them they have to work the three a.m. weekend shift.”

Chaz smiled sweetly at her. “You have such a soft, mushy interior. I never see this Ice Bitch person.” Glancing conspiratorially at the others, she whispered, “Except, of course, when I forget to pick up after myself, or when I eat more than half of anything with chocolate in it.”

“I’ve trained you well.” Megan relaxed into the padded seatback of the booth with a smug smile. “So…we still don’t have a name.
Think,
girls.”

“Sapphic…something,” Karla mused aloud. “Or, um…Bettles Belles? Bettles Babes?”

Bryson grumbled. “I want something with some power, something that respects us living up here. With all due respect, sweetheart, those sound like pink cheerleading teams.”

“How about an acronym?” Dita suggested. “Like…” she thought a moment. “ADLIB. Adventurous Dykes Living In Bettles?”

“Hey, not bad,” Bryson said.

Karla agreed. “Best so far.”

Pasha opened her mouth to voice her assent, but no words emerged. In a flash, all the air in the room vanished. Her heart boomed, and the room spun. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to catch her breath and calm her raging heart. What was happening?

She forced her eyes open. No one had noticed her, but she heard her friends laughing at something only distantly. She
had
to discover what had caused this sick feeling and weird distortion of perception. She half-turned in her chair, slowly scanning the faces in the room, and as she swept her gaze over them, the booming in her chest intensified and her breathing quickened.

A family stood in the doorway: a native father, mother, and three children. The feeling strengthened, but somehow still not quite
there.
Unsettled, she continued to sweep the room, but when she turned away from the entrance, the sensation lessened. She felt like a child, playing the old game of warm, warmer, hot…no, colder. She looked back toward the doorway. The boom of certainty in her chest resumed. The family had moved into the restaurant and a stranger stood there now. A woman. Their eyes met.

Pasha’s world stood still. All grew deadly silent, and she went eerily calm, the raging furor that had boiled up inside her stilled in that instant of connection. The world around the woman blurred, and she became more vividly contrasted against it, cutting a lean and splendid figure in fitted black jeans, black leather jacket, and vivid blue shirt. Her boots made her appear taller than five-seven, and for some reason Pasha had envisioned the brown hair shorter than collar length, but this had to be Emery Lawson.

She had high cheekbones, a straight nose slightly upturned at the end, and rosy full lips pursed in thought. Because of the distance, Pasha couldn’t discern what emotion her dark-brown eyes conveyed.

Her stance—legs slightly apart, black leather boots firmly planted—projected an air of powerful self-confidence, She had two backpacks, which rested on the floor on either side of her. Pasha frowned. Was she traveling with someone? Maybe not so single, after all?

She blinked, and the world flashed back to normal. The Den was its usual bustling self, the sound of her friends returned, still debating what they would call their little group. Her seemingly lengthy assessment of Emery Lawson had occurred in only a second or two in real time—their prolonged eye contact an illusion. The stranger had merely scanned the room, her gaze passing over Pasha and moving to the bar. Emery picked up both packs and headed toward Grizz without another glance in her direction.

Clearly, her overwhelming connection to this handsome newcomer wasn’t mutual. Her buoyant mood deflated.
I can’t be that wrong.
Can I?

Before she could move, Geneva swooped in, sidling up to Emery at the bar with her best flirtatious smile. And damn if she didn’t look particularly appealing, tight jeans accentuating her well-proportioned curves and a low-cut V-neck sweater hugging her breasts and displaying ample cleavage. Geneva’s long dark hair, flawless olive skin, and smoky-gray eyes had enticed more than a few tourists. Apparently, women who chose Alaska as a vacation destination often enjoyed all sorts of new experiences, because the summer before, Geneva had seemed to snag as many heterosexual women as lesbians for quick encounters after her shift.

Now, she’d obviously set her sights on Emery, who just might bite. She listened with interest to whatever Geneva proposed, and her smile grew bigger by the second.

“Pasha?” Dita’s voice penetrated her narrow focus.

She turned back to face the booth and found all her friends staring at her with perplexed expressions.

“Everything okay?” Dita asked. “You kind of spaced out there for a bit.”

She considered telling them what she was feeling, relaying this unusual and profound sensation of attraction, but Emery obviously didn’t share her fascination. So she kept quiet, feeling foolish that she’d built all this up so much. Perhaps her infallible instinct had gone haywire and wasn’t as reliable as she’d always believed.

“Sorry. I’m fine,” she lied, feeling anything but.

“Looks like Geneva might have found an end to her dry streak.” Bryson’s gaze had drifted toward the bar. “Nice newcomer. Anyone know her?”

Bryson felt protective toward Geneva. They had been involved for a few months before Karla came to town, but Bryson broke it off when it became clear Geneva wanted more than she could give. So she couldn’t fault Bryson’s happiness that Gen had found some company, though it only added to her despair.

“Nope,” Karla said, and the rest of the group shook their heads or mumbled agreement. Pasha returned her gaze to the pair. Geneva was still parked next to Emery, doing her best to engage her complete attention. She even suggestively caressed her empty drink tray now, but Emery’s focus had shifted at least in part to Grizz, who had joined them.

After a couple of minutes of conversation, Grizz reached for one of the room keys in back of the bar and led Emery toward the back stairs, carrying one of her backpacks. Geneva said something after their retreating figures that Pasha couldn’t hear, but Emery stopped at the doorway. She turned and gave Geneva a smile and small nod before disappearing.

As soon as she left, Geneva made a beeline for their booth and planted herself on the edge of one side, next to Dita. “Oh, my God.” She dramatically fanned herself with her empty drink tray. “Did you get a load of tall, dark, and gorgeous? Her name’s Emery, and she’s going to be around for the next few months. Months! She’s definitely playing for our side.”

“I know that name,” Dita said. “She’s spending the summer here and going on a bunch of trips with us. But she wasn’t due today, I don’t think. Pasha, do you recollect seeing her file?”

“Yes, I remember.” Pasha tried not to convey her torrent of emotions—confusion, jealousy, and who knew what else—or reveal how she’d practically memorized the file after it prompted such a profound physical reaction. She felt suddenly too vulnerable, and almost ashamed for getting so worked up about something apparently not to be. “She wasn’t due for another few days. She’s going on the photography trip.”