Honesty - SF8 (12 page)

It all keeps adding up

I think I’m cracking up

Am I just paranoid, or am I stoned?

Jamie watched her partner sitting confidently upon the raised stage, her body relaxed but alert. The lead guitar launched into the bridge, followed by an explosion of activity from the dark woman. All at once, Ryan flew into action. Seemingly banging on every element in the drum set, all at once. A massive grin had settled onto her face, and it was clear that she was having a ball.

Considering the lyrics, Jamie had to admit that she had never heard a song so ill-suited to her lover. She considered Ryan one of the most well-adjusted people she had ever met, and whining was not in her repertoire. Nonetheless, there was an energy—a vitality--to the song that suited her temperament perfectly, and that was reflected in Ryan’s body.

As the song progressed, the dark woman started to show off a little, managing to make eye contact with Jamie while she was banging away. At a tiny pause she tossed one of her sticks in the air, somehow flinging her long left arm behind her back to catch the stick after two complete revolutions, then launch right back into the song without missing a single beat.

The energy was rolling off Ryan’s rangy body as she put every ounce of her being into driving the beat along. Jamie and Clive were bouncing along in their seats, neither able to contain their enthusiasm. Jordan, however, had just returned, and she was staring at her friend, transfixed by her ability to effortlessly pull off this feat.

Ryan’s temperature was rising as she worked away, and as soon as the song was finished she tugged her shirt off, leaving her clad in her black sleeveless T-shirt and her leather pants. Seeing her partner’s glistening, pulsing biceps highlighted by the spotlights, Jamie could feel her own temperature rising, and she began to imagine the inventive ways she could make those muscles work once they were at home.

The second song immediately led to a third, most of the patrons in the bar now watching Ryan perform. Her dark hair was flying as she beat out the rhythm, her energy and enthusiasm completely contagious.

When the short set was over Ryan stood and took a quick bow, mostly ignoring the applause that she was greeted with. Her intended audience consisted of just one green-eyed woman who gazed at her with a look of wanton desire as she drew closer. Jamie got out only two words, but her statement was sufficient to make her needs known. "Home. Now!"

Mia started down the hall the next morning and spotted a pair of panties just outside her roommates' door.
Hmm, Jamie must have dropped these when she took her laundry down
, she thought absently as she stooped to pick them up. As she rounded the corner, she took no more than five steps before she spotted Jamie’s jeans.
That’s not like her
, she mused as she also grabbed them. A pink lacy bra was halfway down the stairs with a heavy cable-knit sweater a few stairs lower. Jamie’s shoes and Ryan’s black lace panties and bra were in a pile at the landing. A pair of shiny black leather pants lay just inside the door on top of Ryan’s big Doc Martens.
Hmm, all we’re missing is a shirt
, she mused. She opened the front door a crack and snagged Ryan’s black T-shirt, noticing a soggy white oxford-cloth blouse at the foot of the stairs that had just been hit by the sprinklers.
Boy, I don’t know where they were last night, but I’m going there tonight!

Since their first game was in just five days, Coach Placer had called a rare Saturday practice, hoping to sharpen up the team a little. Ryan had been grousing about the practice all day in a way that was very uncharacteristic for her. She spent the morning in front of the computer, working quietly and interacting very little with her quizzical partner. Jamie chalked up much of her bad mood to the fact that they would not be able to leave for home until practice was over, and Ryan never liked to be shortchanged on her family time.

Jamie answered the phone at four o’clock, fully expecting Ryan to announce that she’d be home soon. "I have no fucking idea how long we’ll be here," Ryan said sourly. "We may as well eat dinner over here, and then go home late tonight when traffic is a little lighter." Her disappointment was evident, and Jamie tried her best to soothe her.

"Don’t worry. We’ll have a little dinner, maybe a back rub. We’ll still be home tonight. Your father’s at work today anyway, Love."

"Yeah, I guess," she allowed. "I’ll see you later. Maybe you can remind me of why in the hell I wanted to do this, anyway."

"Ooh, I’ll show you when you put those cute little shorts on," Jamie teased to a dead silence.

"Okay. Later," Ryan said, completely ignoring Jamie’s attempt at humor.
Oh-oh, she must have a killer case of PMS
, Jamie thought. But when she did the math, that didn’t make sense.
Hmm…maybe something else is bothering her.

Ryan came dragging in at 7:15, an uncharacteristic slump to her shoulders. Jamie was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner when she heard the door open, and after a few moments she poked her head out to see Ryan sorting through the mail.

"Hey, no hello?" she asked, walking over to hug her partner from behind.

Ryan’s body stiffened slightly, a signal that Jamie had learned meant "hands off". She relinquished her hold and moved so that she could look at her partner more carefully. Ryan looked as tired as she had ever seen her. Tiny blue smudges had settled under her eyes, which were a flat, emotionless, steely gray. Her color was also a little odd, but Jamie couldn’t really put her finger on the difference. "Baby, what’s wrong?" she asked softly.

"Nothing," Ryan replied curtly. "I just had a long day and I’m beat. I’m going to bed as soon as we get home," she grumbled. "This day can’t end too soon for me." She gave her partner an infinitesimal smile of reassurance as she quickly changed the subject. "Did you cook?"

"Kinda. I stopped at the market and bought some roasted chicken and potatoes, and I made some broccoli and a salad. Are you ready to eat?"

"Uh-huh," she said with no enthusiasm as she continued to sort through the mail. "Any calls for me?"

"No, no one called. Were you expecting something?"

"Uh-uh," she grunted as she kept walking and veered towards the stairs to go up to her room to change. "Be back in a minute."

As Ryan stripped off her damp clothes she tried to do a mental survey of her body, failing to understand what was going on.
God, I feel like crap! Maybe I’m just tired, but I feel so achy. Jesus, even my teeth ache.
She gazed at herself in the mirror, very dissatisfied with the reflection that stared back.
I think I can feel like this from being over-tired
, she reasoned.
If I go to sleep right after dinner, I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning
.

She slipped into an extra large T-shirt and a pair of her new pajama bottoms and walked back downstairs. Jamie had set the table and was filling their plates as she entered the room. Ryan’s stomach sent a signal to her brain to leave the room, but she vowed to tough it out, deciding that babying herself never did any good.

The smell of the chicken reminded her of a toxic dump, and as she sat down she tried to think of pleasant, happy thoughts while she got a bite of potatoes into her mouth. The roasted potatoes with rosemary were among her favorites, but at the first bite all she could taste was the light covering of olive oil they had been roasted in, and she had to force herself to swallow.

She fared better with the salad, eating a few bites of dry lettuce while Jamie watched her like a hawk. "Ryan," she said, "you haven’t really touched your dinner. Are you sure you’re all right?"

"Can you give me a little space here, Jamie?" she asked, much more sharply than she had intended. "I’ve been eating for years without a lot of help, and I think I can still manage." She meant this last statement as a joke, but it sounded like anything but.

The look of hurt that crossed Jamie’s face made her wish she could not only pull the jibe back but that she could bite her tongue off as well. She reached out and patted her partner’s arm, saying, "I’m sorry, Honey. I’m just not feeling like myself tonight. We had a terrible practice and Coach yelled at me." Her bottom lip was twitching as she said this, but she blinked once and added, "Just because I’m down is no reason to yell at you."

A small smile settled onto Jamie’s face as she deliberately brushed aside the curt comment and asked, "Why did you get yelled at?"

"I don’t know," Ryan said with an embarrassed look. "I just wasn’t sharp today. Coach said I wasn’t concentrating hard enough, and that really pissed me off. I was concentrating; I just couldn’t get the job done."

"Everyone has off days. Even you," she added with a gentle smile as she rubbed her arm.

Ryan looked at her reflectively for a moment. "Sometimes I feel like I’m never supposed to have a bad day. I feel like if I’m just a little off, everyone notices it and wants an explanation. Ken Nakajima was waiting for me in front of the locker room, and he gave me the third degree about why I screwed up. Jordan was all over me, too," she added, working herself into a frenzy. "They acted like I was a total fuckup just because I wasn’t sharp! I have feelings too, ya know!"

"Oh, Honey, I can’t imagine they were giving you that hard a time. Maybe you’re overreacting just a little bit, huh?"

A cold, steely-eyed stare was her answer as Ryan pulled her arm back and picked at her dinner for another moment. Without warning, she slammed her fork down and left the room, leaving Jamie to stare at her vacated seat in openmouthed astonishment.

Moments later she was back in the kitchen, wearing a pair of jeans and her running shoes. "I need some time alone," she said coolly as she turned and crossed back into the living room. As she grabbed her keys and wallet Jamie tried to get her voice to work, but she didn’t have a clue what to say as Ryan shoved the wallet into her back pocket and stalked out the door.

Crossing over to the window, Jamie watched her stride down the street, relieved that she didn’t take the car. The ringing phone jarred her from her musings, and she was surprised to hear Coach Placer identify himself and ask for her partner. "Hi, Coach, this is Jamie. Ryan’s not at home right now."

"Hi, Jamie. Um…can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Anything."

"Is Ryan all right? She was acting very strangely at practice today, and I want to check on her."

Jamie wasn’t sure if she would be breaching a confidence, so she revealed only the bare outlines of what Ryan had told her. "She was home and she said that practice went very poorly. I will agree that she’s not herself today. Did anything happen to set her off?"