The Lonely Hearts Club (24 page)

Candace slid off the stool and walked across the kitchen to the open back door. She stood gazing out, the morning sunlight framing her blond hair like a spun-gold halo. Liz thought her face in profile looked as pure and flawless as a Madonna.

“It all seemed a little pointless,” Candace said quietly. “She might have been able to make me come. I’m damn certain I could have made
her
come.”

Liz smiled but said nothing.

“But when we were all done, the only thing we would have gotten out of it would have been a few seconds of pleasure. And they’re gone almost as soon as they happen.”

“Not always,” Liz said quietly.

Candace threw her a crooked smile. “I know.”

“Why was last night different?” Bren asked.

“I don’t know.”

Liz considered pointing out that this change in attitude might have something to do with Parker, but Candace had probably ventured as far as she could in that direction for the moment. Candace’s fear of commitment, of any kind of relationship at all, was too deeply ingrained to be overcome so simply. Liz opted for a subtler approach, even though she really wanted to just shake her.

“Are you two up for another afternoon in the sun?” Liz said. “We can go to the softball game tomorrow.”

“Is Reilly playing?” Candace said.

“I don’t know,” Liz replied, although she couldn’t deny she secretly hoped so.

“I’m in,” Bren said.

“I suppose,” Candace added.

“And you,” Liz stabbed a finger in Bren’s direction, “don’t think I’ve forgotten about your mystery date.”

“What mystery date?” Candace strode back to the island and reclaimed her stool. “What mystery date?”

“It wasn’t exactly a date—”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Liz pointed out.

“How come I don’t know about this?” Candace stared from Liz to Bren, her expression vacillating between outrage and hurt. “How come you two have a secret?”

Liz rolled her eyes.

“
We
don’t have a secret,” Bren said. “I have a secret. Sort of.”

Now both Liz and Candace regarded her with avid curiosity.

“Just a minute,” Bren said, and quickly left the room.

“What did I miss?” Candace asked immediately.

“Last night while you were…doing whatever you were doing at the bar—”

“Okay, okay. I got that you didn’t approve of me getting a little action.”

“If I disapproved of you getting a little action, we would have stopped speaking years ago.”

“When are you going to forgive me for that?” Candace said quietly.

Liz stopped short. “I have.”

“Are you sure?”

Liz hesitated.
Hadn’t she?

*

“Okay,” Bren said, walking into the room with her hands behind her back. On the ride home from the Blue Diamond, she had realized she was going to have to explain more than just a date to her friends. Even if she never saw Jae again, Liz had seen them together, and she’d hinted earlier that she suspected Bren was hiding something. Her secret life hadn’t seemed quite so important before, not when she could keep her writing tucked away in a separate corner of her world. But last night, something unexpected had happened. The boundaries had rippled, then cracked, and one reality had bled into another. She held out a book to each of them. “Here.”

Both Liz and Candace looked surprised as they took the offering.

“Oh my God,” Candace exclaimed. “It’s the newest Melanie Richards. It’s not supposed to be out until next month. How did you get this?”

“Mine’s signed to me,” Liz said as she flipped through the pages.

“Mine too!” Candace jumped down from her stool and threw her arms around Bren. “Thank you. Thank you! Aren’t you supposed to be the one getting presents on your birthday? Did you go to a signing? Did you meet her? What was she like? Is she hot?”

“I didn’t go to a signing,” Bren replied, thinking that her publicist would be delighted if she finally decided to come out of the virtual closet. She pushed that thought away, not quite ready to have her life
that
integrated. “These are author’s copies.”

“Author’s copies.” Candace nodded knowingly. “That’s how you got them early. Did you buy them on her website? I’ve never seen anything about that on there.”

“Candace,” Liz said quietly, turning the book over and over in her hands. “Author’s copies are what they give to the author before the book comes out.”

“Well I know that. I just said—” Candace stopped abruptly and frowned, her gaze dancing between Liz and Bren. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m Melanie Richards,” Bren said.

“No,” Liz and Candace said.

Bren nodded.

“That’s amazing,” Liz said, half laughing.

“I’m going to kill you,” Candace exploded. She dropped her book on the counter and made a grab for Bren, who jumped backward with both arms out in front of herself.

“No! No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Bren ran into the living room with Candace close behind.

“Not half as sorry as you’re going to be when I catch you,” Candace screamed, chasing Bren around the sofa. Bren jumped onto the seat and then over the back to escape.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Candace ran around the end of the sofa and tore after Bren.

“It just happened!” Bren raced into the kitchen and grabbed a chair, holding it up in front of her. “No tickling.”

“I’m not going to tickle you. I’m going to strangle you,” Candace growled, shifting from side to side and trying to reach around the chair.

“Candace,” Liz called, “if you kill her, we won’t know what happens to Jae.”

“I’ll make her tell me before I kill her,” Candace swore, but she was starting to laugh.

“Please, please,” Bren gasped, tiring from evading Candace and holding up the chair. “It won’t do any good to torture me. I don’t know what’s going to happen to her!”

Candace stopped dead. “What do you mean you don’t know? Are you the author or not?”

Bren put the chair down gratefully. “Yes. Yes, but I don’t write that way. I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen until I write it.”

“Well then what good does it do having a best friend who’s Melanie Richards?” Candace sagged onto her stool with a pout.

“None,” Bren said quickly. “So it really doesn’t matter that you didn’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Liz asked. “Didn’t you trust us?”

The room was suddenly completely quiet, and Bren struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t hurt the two people she loved the most in the world.

“Even when we were all in school together, you both always seemed so clear about who you were and what you wanted,” Bren said. “I was never sure. I’m still not sure.”

Candace snorted. “You think I am?”

“Look at me,” Liz said ruefully.

“Well, I guess it seemed to me that I was the only one who didn’t understand what I felt. Not until I started writing. By the time I realized what a big part of my life my writing had become, I was just used to keeping it a secret.”

“Years! You’ve been writing these books for years and you didn’t tell us,” Candace screamed.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I love your books,” Liz said, wrapping her arms around Bren. “And I love you. I’m sorry if I made you feel you couldn’t tell me something.”

Bren blinked back tears. “No. It wasn’t you.” She looked at Candace over Liz’s shoulder. “Or you either. It was me. It just took me a long time to figure out that I was more me in my books than anywhere else.”

“So,” Candace said contemplatively. “Are you telling us that you’re Jae?”

Bren smiled, feeling the pieces of her world, of herself, slide effortlessly together. “No, I’m Jae’s Mistress.”

“Did you find the aspirin?” Reilly asked when she walked into her apartment and saw Parker slumped in one corner of the sofa, her face pasty except for the lingering bruises. Parker’s hair was wet and she was wearing the T-shirt and shorts Reilly had left on the coffee table for her, so she’d managed to find the shower.

“Yeah, thanks,” Parker said, her voice raspy.

“Want to try something to eat?”

“Cyanide?”

Reilly laughed. “How about a toasted bagel and…I might have milk.”

Parker groaned. “Coffee. I haven’t drunk milk since I was twelve.”

“I’ll put something together.”

“Need any help?”

“No,” Reilly said as she crossed the small, spartan living room to her galley kitchen. “I don’t think you’re up for it just yet.”

“Thanks,” Parker called weakly.

The narrow kitchen was a little small for two to work in, and Reilly didn’t want company at the moment, anyway. She was still trying to sort out her feelings about running into Julia at Liz’s apartment. Julia seemed so confident and so much at home, and her proprietary air toward Liz rankled. Not that Reilly had any right to feel that way. And besides, maybe having Julia there was just what Liz wanted. And needed.

Sighing, she sliced bagels and put them in the toaster oven. Then she pushed the on button on the coffeemaker and pulled cups out of the cabinet above the Formica counter.

“Something I did?” Parker said from behind her.

Reilly turned. “Come again?”

“You’re banging the cabinet doors hard enough to shake the building.”

“Oh.” Reilly ran her hands through her hair and let out a breath. “Sorry. Probably doesn’t make your head feel too good.”

“Can’t make it any worse.” Parker pulled over a wooden stool that Reilly kept tucked under the counter and sat down with her back propped against the wall. “I don’t remember much of the ride home. And I have no idea how you got me up here.”

Reilly grinned. “You walked.”

“Did I?” Parker looked impressed. “Did I, uh, manage any other feats of physical prowess?”

“Other than grabbing my ass?”

Parker leaned her head back against the wall and groaned. “I was afraid of that. Sorry.”

“No problem. I haven’t been groped in quite a while.”

“Please,” Parker pleaded. “Tell me I didn’t act like some frat boy at a pledge party.”

“You were fine.” Taking pity on her, Reilly poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “Here. You want cream?”

“This is good. I’ll apologize now for everything I did. Whatever it was.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Reilly hoisted herself up on the counter and sipped her coffee. “When you weren’t complaining about Candace, you were trying to talk me into bed. But talk was pretty much as far as it went.”

“Sorry.”

“You mean you were lying when you said you wanted to—”

“No,” Parker moaned, holding up a hand. “Don’t tell me.”

“All right. I’ll just cherish the thought forever.”

Parker laughed and then moaned again. “Oh, that hurts.”

“My fault,” Reilly said. “I should’ve kept an eye on how much you had to drink.”

“Not your responsibility.”

“Maybe not, but that’s what friends do, right? And besides, I know you’ve been taking pain pills all week. I’m not surprised the alcohol packed a double punch.”

“Well, you got me home in one piece. And I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Reilly jumped down when the timer on the toaster oven went off and pulled the bagels out. She buttered both and passed one over to Parker. “I know you don’t want this, but you need it.”

“Thanks.” Parker traded her coffee cup for the bagel, and Reilly set the empty cup aside.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Parker said, “So if you weren’t pissed off at me this morning, what had you so worked up?”

Reilly shook her head. “Just tilting at windmills.”

“Ah. Something to do with a woman.”

“How did you know?”

Parker shrugged, balancing her empty plate on her knee. “Are there any other kind of windmills that matter?”

Reilly chuckled. “I guess not.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No. Thanks.” Reilly didn’t want to reveal anything about Liz’s personal situation, and what could she say? That she liked Liz, a lot—more than liked her—but they couldn’t have met under more complicated circumstances, for either of them. That she’d followed her impulses and dropped in on Liz only to run into her lover. No, there was nowhere good to take that conversation.

“You know, as nice as your ass might be,” Parker said, “I was kind of hoping to wake up in Candace’s bed this morning.”

“Something going on there?” Reilly asked, glad for the change in conversation. Talking with Parker kept her from imagining what Liz and Julia might be doing.

“Not really,” Parker replied with studied casualness. “We’ve had a couple of pleasant…encounters. But she’s a free agent.”