Jenny turned up the half collar on her shirt and jacket, trying to at least look sophisticated as she entered the theater on West 45th Street. She didn’t mind the change in plans, but she wished she could have gone home to change first. As it was, she felt out of place in her modest tailored business suit among the classical music set, with their long gowns and pretentious jewels.
She smiled politely to the judgmental stares that followed her every move as she passed through the lobby on her way into the auditorium and then backstage. She shook her head at the righteous indignation that blinded them to the fact that, for years, she had been one of them—decked out in her finest, appearing on her father’s arm at this important function or that. Clothes may make the man, but more times than not, they just made him blind.
The concert hall was small, but the cavernous ceilings made it seem spacious. Yards of mulberry colored velvet swooped majestically from the upper boxes, and the glow of the footlights highlighted the ornate Italian renaissance woodwork. The old-world charm of the place spoke of an age gone by, and it matched the old-world attitude of its patrons. The mood of the room was subdued and reverent, like an audience filing into church for Sunday Mass.
Backstage was another matter, however. It was a cacophony of bustling black-tied musicians pacing nervously with instruments in hand or huddled in the corners, pantomiming their routine in intense concentration as they prepared for their performance.
In stark contrast was a small group of men, quite relaxed, sitting around a table, playing cards and laughing. Jenny recognized Tommy Wallace right away. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, and his hat was pushed way back on his head. There was no sign of Kathryn. She imagined her off somewhere, warming up, taking time to gather herself as she focused on whatever piece of music they’d chosen.
Suddenly a roar went up from the table. Tommy shouted, “You wench! You had nothing!” Obviously, poker was the game, and Jenny smiled as a familiar voice teased, “Read ’em and weep, ya sap.”
Jenny craned her head around some standing spectators to see her date reach across the table and scoop up her winnings. She was devastatingly beautiful, as always, with her hair up in a sophisticated sweep befitting the venue and her makeup heavy for the stage. It was good to see her smile, and Jenny matched it with one of her own as she approached.
“Hi.”
Kathryn greeted her with an embrace before she even got the word out.
“Sorry about the change in plans,” she whispered in her ear. “Won’t be long here.”
“That’s okay,” Jenny said, backing off. “You look fantastic.”
As usual, the compliment was ignored.
“Come on, meet the boys.”
Kathryn’s dress was a simple black high-neck column dress, deceptively prudish from the front, but as she walked away, her back was revealed in a large hourglass shape, stretching from her shoulder blades to the small of her back. She reminded Jenny of a cello, and it made her smile. Such an aesthetically pleasing way to ration material.
Tommy recognized her from the Blue Note Lounge, and before she knew it, she was dealing the next hand at the table. The scene was odd, with everyone but their group taking matters very seriously.
“It’s kind of tense back here,” she said, as she expertly flicked the cards around the table.
“It’s those sticks up their asses,” Tommy said absently as he studied his cards. He lifted his eyes to Jenny in apology. “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean their behinds.”
“This is a very important night,” Kathryn explained. “It’s an audition for a lot of them. A way for new musicians to break into the rotation and get their names out there.”
“It’s a dog and pony show,” Tommy said.
“And which are you?” Jenny asked with a grin as she gathered her cards.
He laughed and turned to Kathryn. “Say, I like this girl.”
Kathryn winked at her and threw two cards on the table. Jenny, in turn, dealt her two more and was rewarded with the odd tale of Tommy Wallace’s mission.
Apparently, his younger brother had been treated shabbily at the last such event and he had a plan to get even.
“How many songs are you playing?”
Tommy grinned. “Oh, we’ll only get the chance to play one.”
Jenny looked at the bongos and flamenco guitars and asked what they were playing.
“Carmen,” Kathryn said.
Jenny did a double take at the instruments. “Miranda?”
Kathryn smiled and shook her head. “You’ll see.”
It seemed innocent enough. Musicians would go out on stage, either in groups or solo, and perform for an appreciative crowd. Then Jenny imagined some scout in the audience would write down the act and pass it along to the proper channels, thus ensuring the musician would be on his way. Once the music started, she was shocked to find it was nothing like that. Should the musician falter, or fail to please, the sophisticated, reserved crowd would suddenly transform into something more akin to a mob at the coliseum. In lieu of the thumbs up, thumbs down to determine the performer’s fate, boos or an equally effective silence would rain down on the stage, as humiliated musicians slinked off into oblivion. Jenny had never seen anything like it.
She knew Tommy was a fine musician, as was his group, she was sure, and Kathryn was a consummate professional, so for the life of her, she couldn’t see how their performance could draw the ire of this crowd, or the fury of the event’s organizer, who was in the center box seat. Considering Tommy was a jazz musician and Kathryn sang swing in a nightclub, perhaps it shouldn’t have been such a leap, but she didn’t think they’d purposefully cause trouble. Would they? From the wings, Jenny eyed her friends, who were filing onto the stage. She tilted her head in appreciation of the view and decided the cello was a very sexy instrument. They all took their places and stood in darkness, waiting for the curtain to rise.
Besides Kathryn, there were two guitarists, a quartet of strings, two percussionists on bongos and kettle drums, four backup singers, one with a tambourine, and Tommy, forgoing his horn for, of all things, a pair of maracas. Jenny shook her head, impressed. He was going all out for his revenge.
The curtain rose, and Kathryn stood motionless, her head bowed, hands clasped at her diaphragm, elbows out—a statue in the sterile spotlight. Jenny’s heartbeat quickened as she waited for whatever evil scheme Tommy had dreamed up for the event.
Kathryn raised her head, her face bleached from the blinding white spotlight. She swept her eyes slowly from side to side, and Jenny could feel the audience’s anticipation slowly turn to discomfort and uncertainty at her silence. The tension built until it became an audible rustle, as bodies shifted and whispers began to drift to the stage.
Kathryn turned her head toward her and stared stone-faced until she winked with a half-smile and then dropped her chin in a nod.
Her curt movement set off the flamenco guitarist, who took his cue and began to pluck the simple strains of “Habanera,” from the first act of Carmen. The cellist added his part, but the hum of the instrument’s delicate bass line was all but lost under the bright finger work of the guitarist. Kathryn faced the crowd and began singing. Her voice floated effortlessly from her throat in an upper register Jenny had never heard from her before. She stood transfixed. There was nothing evil about this performance. Kathryn’s vocals were positively angelic, soaring over the strings and filling the hall with the French libretto of the gypsy’s song. The percussionists introduced their Latin rhythm, and the background vocalists lent their delicate harmony to the chorus as they completed, what seemed to Jenny, a slightly pared down, but otherwise traditional, treatment of the operatic favorite.
In a performance worthy of the theatrical opera, Kathryn embraced the sultry role of Carmen, but in the absence of a Don Jose to seduce, she turned her charms on the audience, to mixed reviews. Most stared skeptically, waiting for the performance to go off the rails, but quite a few surrendered to the moment and looked like they were enjoying themselves.
Jenny was disappointed in the lack of fireworks, but the calm wouldn’t last long, as tradition suddenly turned aggressive and Kathryn’s perfectly sustained bridge note was swept away by furiously strummed guitars and overexcited drums. For better or worse, the focus shifted to the band, as their frenzied rhythm and furiously plucked melody took over.
Kathryn stepped aside, and Jenny saw a distinct grin on her face as she surrendered to the infectious energy of the decidedly rebellious composition. Based on the sour faces in the audience, Jenny could tell they were not amused. She ventured a peek at the center box in time to see the event’s organizer stand abruptly and storm from view. She cringed, imagining the man wielding Little Bo Peep’s staff as he charged the offensive musicians, ready to yank them off stage.
She turned back to the stage, where Kathryn’s smooth flowing vocals provided a calm contrast to the manic musicians behind her. It wasn’t enough to earn the audience’s respect, however, as boos began raining down from the disgruntled crowd. The musicians valiantly continued, ignoring the indignity, as Kathryn’s voice only got stronger in response. She engaged the audience, imploring them with the lyrics and her body language to open their minds and let the music move them. It worked to a certain extent. They were allowed to finish at least, but all hell broke loose when they defied the crowd’s displeasure and bowed brazenly against the onslaught of disapproval.
The curtain fell, nixing an encore, but that was the last thing on Tommy Wallace’s mind, as he helped his fellow musicians hastily pack up their instruments and head for the stage door before the event’s organizer could make his way backstage.
“Go, go, go!” he shouted at the bottleneck of bodies and instrument cases trying to squeeze through the back door.
“You!” the booming voice of the event organizer resonated across the room.
“Go!” Tommy gave one final good-natured shove to his mates as they poured into the alley like an uncorked vat of wine.
Kathryn and Jenny grabbed their coats and brought up the rear, too late for a clean getaway. The angry coordinator recognized Kathryn immediately. “I’ll have your cabaret card for this!”
Hurried footsteps and laughter echoed off the brick buildings standing guard over the alley as the musicians dispersed into the night, their mission a success.
“I’m sure we made their night,” Kathryn said with a chuckle as they exited the alley and slowed to a leisurely stroll down the sidewalk.
“What snobs,” Jenny said.
Kathryn shrugged. “They have a point.”
Jenny couldn’t believe she was defending them. “Such as?”
“Classical music is a very specialized field, with very high standards. The acceptance of mediocrity only diminishes the art form as a whole.”
Jenny was astonished. Kathryn was one of them. “I didn’t know you were a longhair, Kat.”
Kathryn smiled. “I merely respect their appreciation of the craft.”
“Then why did you do this tonight?”
“Because Tommy’s a friend and he was in a jam. And it was a brilliant arrangement and a challenge for me.” She smiled. “And because some of those people couldn’t care less about artistic purity and are just snobs for snobbery’s sake.”
Jenny chuckled.
“I’m afraid I took some of Tommy’s thunder, though. He meant for the arrangement to be offensive, not the vocalist.”
“I hardly think anyone was offended by your vocals.”
Kathryn snorted. “Well, if they weren’t, they should have been. The piece is written for a mezzo-soprano, at the very least. Tommy did his best transposing the arrangement, but, honestly, I haven’t the range for it.”
“It sounded fine to me.”
“Yes, it was fine if you ignore the pinched coloratura and the straining through the passaggio.” She shook her head. “Lily Pons I ain’t.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. To her, the famous soprano was about as soothing as a whippoorwill outside the window the morning of a hangover. “Lily Pons gives me a headache.”
Kathryn clutched her chest. “Sacrilege!”
“Stop. You were great.”
“What I lack in talent, I make up for in attitude.”
Jenny stopped walking. “Kathryn?”
She turned around. “Yes?”
“Will you just let me give you a compliment?”
Kathryn respectfully put her hands behind her back and smiled. “Go right ahead.”
“You were wonderful tonight.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
Not exactly acceptance, but Jenny knew it was the best she was going to get. “Fair enough.”
A taxi pulled up along the curb with Tommy Wallace hanging out its window. The rest of the band was nowhere to be seen, but the horn player and two of the backup singers had opted for a night on the town to celebrate their triumph.
“Hey! Are you coming?”
Kathryn smiled. “I think we’ll pass. I owe Jenny—”
“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy interrupted, pointing his finger, “you owe me. You almost blew the gig tonight.”
Kathryn held up her hands. “Wait a minute … blame Claire’s sister for going into labor. I told you it wasn’t my range.”
“What are you talking about?” He opened the door and swung out onto the sidewalk. “You were great, baby … almost too great. They nearly forgave my arrangement.” He turned to Jenny. “Did you see them at the end there? A real snake charmer this one.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, brother. I think she’s tremendous.”
“Come on, kids.” He motioned into the cab. “Whaddaya say … dinner?”
“Tommy—”
“Gotta eat, right? My treat.”
Jenny loved that Kathryn was prepared to fight for their evening alone together, but Tommy was not beyond begging, and Jenny succumbed to his irresistible pleading. They squeezed into the cab and put off their date for just a little while longer.
Dinner was a boisterous affair. Tommy was a charismatic fellow, with boundless energy, which inspired the same in the people around him. The banter between friends began innocently enough, but catching up turned into reminiscing, and Jenny saw Kathryn lean on the table and look sideways at Tommy when she became the topic of conversation. He winked at her, and she just shook her head. Jenny sensed Tommy had an ulterior motive for this spontaneous get together, and it appeared Kathryn was on to him.
Jenny was surprised to learn that Kathryn had been the lead singer with the group once upon a time, and she listened intently to story after story about living in cars and worshiping public restrooms on the road while trying to make a living and a name for themselves.
Kathryn took it all in stride, eventually smiling and laughing, even offering a few tales of her own. Jenny had never seen her so animated and jovial, but it was her laugh that caught her off guard. Of course, she’d heard her laugh before, but not like this, so carefree and, dare she say, spontaneous. Not that Kathryn was rigid or humorless, but she was definitely deliberate and measured in all things. This behavior was a revelation, and she remembered Smitty saying I wish you could have known her before. The momentary glimpse of that other woman from that other time left her feeling cheated. The war had stolen so much from so many, and it wasn’t done wreaking its havoc. Jenny swallowed the lump in her throat for all that was lost and lifted her chin to enjoy the ghost of that stolen life before it fled, hand in hand, with the mirage of reminiscence.
It soon became apparent that there were limits to Kathryn’s good humor, and Tommy seemed to know them. He lifted his hands in surrender when she crossed her arms and tilted her head, indicating her patience was wearing thin. He’d better get to the point of his little trip down memory lane, and quick.
As it turned out, Tommy Wallace had been given a contract, thanks to Kathryn’s suggestion to the agent at the Blue Note Lounge, and now he was assembling a band in preparation for a warm-up tour across the states, before their official debut in Los Angeles. Out of gratitude, he offered her the job of his lead vocalist. Heartfelt congratulations were given, but they were served with a cold side of no thanks, as Kathryn pointed out that she already had a job. His promises of record deals, sold-out shows, and fame and fortune fell on disinterested ears. She graciously bade them all a good night and wished them all the luck in the world.
Kathryn adjusted her coat on her shoulders as they exited the restaurant. “Sorry about that.”
“Next time we have a date, can we just stay in?” Jenny asked with a grin.
“Deal.” Kathryn slipped her arm through the crook in Jenny’s elbow, thankful no one thought twice about them strolling down the street arm in arm. “I promise, I’m all yours for the rest of the evening.”
Jenny settled in closer. “I liked meeting your friends. Did you have a good time?”
“I did. It was good to see some of the gang again.”
Jenny laughed. “Those stories!”
Kathryn shook her head. “That was one wild summer.”
“All that occurred in just one summer?”
“Mm. The summer before I went to Europe. Kids. We were crazy.”
Jenny was silent for a long stretch, and Kathryn sensed her imagining what she was like as a happy-go-lucky musician having fun on a daily basis. She was sorry she wasn’t that person for Jenny now, but maybe they wouldn’t be together if she were. They certainly never would have met.
That notion spurred an unexpected jolt of panic, and she almost didn’t hear Jenny’s question.
“I know you turned Tommy down, but would you ever do that? Tour, record, you know, all that?”
“I haven’t time for that sort of thing.”
“Well now, yes, of course. But I mean after the war, after your—” Jenny paused, then chose an innocuous word for their public conversation, “workload has eased?”
Kathryn shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
Truth be told, she never imagined she would survive the war, and somehow that made her continued existence bearable, allowable. In the end, she knew she would get her comeuppance. It only seemed right, and she accepted it without question. Memories of wild, carefree days gave way to memories of wild, reckless days, not caring whether her next mission was her last. Some called her behavior daring, others called it foolish, most called it insane, but there was no denying it was suicidal, and it eventually got her sent home. The adjustment to the relative safety of assignments like Forrester and the Ryan case was something she tolerated while biding her time until she could convince her superiors she was stable enough to get back to the important work behind enemy lines, work that would inevitably lead to her premature demise. It couldn’t be by her own hand—never that—as that would deny the dead their restitution. No, her death would mean something, ensure the completion of some important mission, save someone, many someones, preferably, anything, as long as it served her debt.
Despite such dour thoughts, having Jenny by her side allowed her mind to venture to the future. What if she did survive? What if, by some miracle, Jenny stuck it out and they made a life together? It made her smile. It would be a happy life, she imagined. She immediately dismissed the vision as they passed a brownstone with a gold star flag in the window. A loved one lost. She was assailed with thoughts of mothers without sons, sisters without brothers, wives without husbands. She caused that for someone. Happily ever after wasn’t for people like her.
She felt Jenny squeeze her arm, her adoring green eyes questioning. “Penny?”
Kathryn slammed on the mental brakes, throwing her demons to the front of the bus until they dropped one by one from the windshield to the floor in a heap. Not tonight. She would feed them—it was as natural as breathing—but not tonight. She pushed the prophetical guilt of surviving the war out of her mind. This was Jenny’s night. This was her night. Happy for a little while would just have to be tolerated.
“Just thinking of Tommy,” she said. “I’m glad he made it.”
Jenny stared at her long enough to show she wasn’t buying her lie, but she picked up the conversation. “I guess he’s on his way now.”
“He’ll do well. Sometimes all you need is a break.” She looked at Jenny, and some new facet of her mind wondered if she was her break. She breathed in the idea of it and cleared her head of unpleasant thoughts. She looked around, realizing she hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings. “Where are we going?”
Jenny tightened her grip and smiled. “It’s a surprise.”
Kathryn stopped walking. “I hate surprises.”
Jenny pulled her along with a determined grin. “You’ll like this one.”
Kathryn didn’t know how many blocks they’d walked, and she no longer cared. Jenny was leading, she was following, and their easy banter took her mind far away from the war, death, and guilt.
In the middle of a block, Jenny stopped walking and put her hands behind her back. “Here we are.”
Kathryn looked past her and tried to keep her expression neutral. Anywhere but here, she wanted to say, but it was Jenny’s choice, and after taking up half their evening with her business, she didn’t have the heart to refuse.
She should have recognized the street, or at least the neighborhood, but Jenny had a way of captivating her attention, and she was oblivious to their surroundings until it was too late. Apparently, a night of dancing was in order, which normally would have thrilled her, but not here. Not with Jenny. It wasn’t a bad crowd, or a bad club, just a life she no longer led, and one she had no interest in revisiting. She took a bracing breath as she set her jaw and prepared to follow Jenny into the shark pit, more commonly known as the Mayfly.
“Is this all right?”
“Mm-hm,” Kathryn said with a smile as they started up the steps to the restaurant and bar that housed the underground women’s club. They made their way through the public outer bar before heading toward the long hallway that led to the club downstairs. A hulking man at the end of the bar eyed them briefly as they passed, no doubt muscle for the mob boss who owned the Mayfly. They turned left at the end of the hallway and nodded to the well-dressed lady at the door who gave them access to the stairs with a smile. Kathryn didn’t recognize her and hoped that would bode well for the rest of the evening. It had been a while, after all, and people and places do change.
The dim, smoky interior reeked of alcohol, tobacco, and the sickening combination of too many perfumes in one room. Kathryn ducked as she passed under the low door jamb of the main room, a remnant of the building’s Civil War-era construction. Once at the bar, they were met with a gauntlet of hopeful singles and bitter exes eyeing the new arrivals with equal parts hope and disdain. The place hadn’t changed after all.
They deposited their coats on the rack along the brick wall, and Jenny didn’t waste any time wrapping her arm around her waist. She didn’t know whether Jenny was just happy to have a safe place to show her affection in public or whether she wanted everyone to know the score before they even thought about hitting on her woman. A little of both, Kathryn assumed, and she reciprocated with a tight squeeze and a kiss on the head. Jenny led her past the gauntlet toward the dance floor, where female couples were swaying to the sensual slow song of the live band.
Kathryn hoped they could bypass the dance floor and get to a booth in the back before anyone recognized her. No such luck.
“Holy shit,” the heavyset bartender said as she put down the glass she was drying. “As I live and breathe … Kat Hammond! Let the party begin!” She flung her arms out in an enthusiastic welcome. “Where the hell have you been hiding, gal?”
The people hadn’t changed either. Kathryn winced and squeezed Jenny’s shoulder, indicating she was going to have to stop and say hi.
“Hey, Ruby.” She backed up and reached across the bar to shake hands. The bartender playfully slapped her hand away. “Bullshit, I’ll shake your hand,” she said with a grin. “Get your ass back here and give me a damn hug.” The bartender met her at the end of the bar and picked her up off her feet in a bear hug and then put her down. “Damn it, too tall, where’ve you been?”
“Here and there,” Kathryn said warily with a glance around, hoping to avoid any more attention.
“Well, safe to say, we aren’t between here or there, ’cause I haven’t seen you ’round here for what … four years?”
“More like five or six,” Kathryn said, hazarding a guess. The past few years were a blur of indeterminate measure to her.
The bartender shook her head. “Five or six. No wonder things have been so dull. Shit, I’m glad to see you. I was afraid you’d turned tail and retreated to the other side of the street, if you know what I mean.” She gave her a wink and a nudge.
Kathryn forced a smile, looking toward Jenny for a rescue. Jenny was standing off to the side, appraising the interaction, but she came to her outstretched hand as if drawn to a magnet.
“Ruby Stevenson,” Kathryn said, as she positioned Jenny in front of her and put her hands on her shoulders, “this is Jenny Ryan.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the women said in unison as they shook hands. The bartender stepped back and looked Jenny up and down. “Let’s see—”
“Ruby,” Kathryn drew out in a warning tone.
“Shut the hell up, Kat,” Ruby snapped playfully. “I want to see the flavor of the week.”
“She’s not an ice cream cone, Ruby, she’s my—” Kathryn paused and searched for the appropriate words. She knew from the slight turn of Jenny’s head that she was interested in her description as well.
“My date for the evening, and I would appreciate it if you would treat her as such.”
Jenny put a hand over the one on her shoulder and raised her chin.
“Aye,” Ruby put on a cockney accent and did a mock curtsey. “Right, Mum. And what can I get her highness and her luffley swee’heart this eve’nin?”
Kathryn tilted her head in annoyance.
“Still have your sense of humor, I see,” Ruby said sarcastically, as she dropped the accent and walked back behind the bar. “Vodka rocks, right, Kat?”
“That’ll be fine.”
Ruby looked at Jenny and smirked. “Glass of milk for you, honey?”
“Cut it out,” Kathryn warned.
Jenny patted Kathryn’s hand, which was tightening its grip with every exchange. “Scotch. Neat, please,” she said politely.
“Oooh—” Ruby stood back. “Got yourself a real man there, Kat.”
“Ruby,” Kathryn said again, making sure she knew from the tone that it was the last warning.
“Oh, Christ on a cracker, Hammond.”
Kathryn stared Ruby down until the bartender blinked and turned to Jenny. “I hope you’ve got a sense of humor, honey, ’cause Kat here seems to have misplaced hers.”
“We’re sitting in the back,” Kathryn said abruptly. “Drinks when you get around to it, will ya?” With that, she took Jenny by the hand and tried to make a quick path to the back of the club.
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” she heard Ruby say to their backs.
They’d almost made it to a table when from the microphone on stage came, “I see you,” drawn out in a sing-song manner.
Kathryn recognized the voice but kept on walking.
“Kat,” the woman at the mic drew out playfully, as Jenny slid into the corner booth, “don’t you even think of sitting down without coming up here to say hi to us.”
The whole room looked their way, but Kathryn didn’t turn around. She glanced toward the bar to see Ruby shelving the flashlight she used to get the bandleader’s attention. Kathryn turned to Jenny and sighed regretfully.
Jenny pressed her lips into a smile. “Go on.”
Kathryn held out her hand. “All right. Let’s meet the natives.”
Jenny took her hand but declined the invitation. “Go catch up with your friends. I’ll meet them later.”
“You sure?”
“Mm,” she said with a quick nod.
“Sorry. Won’t be a minute.” She tugged an apology on Jenny’s hand and then headed toward the grinning group on the small stage in the corner.
Jenny settled back into the booth and wished she had that drink. Considering the limited number of lesbian clubs in the city, it shouldn’t have surprised her that in this place, of all places, she would know people. She just wanted to go dancing. Was that too much to ask?
As Jenny took in the room, she realized half the club was staring at Kathryn and the rest of the club was staring at her, sizing her up. Apparently, she was not as interesting as tall, dark, and sexy, because the attention on her quickly waned and she was left basically twirling her thumbs, awaiting Kathryn’s return.
Wilting under the scrutiny, Jenny decided to retrieve the drinks from the bar. At least that would give her something to do.
“Hey, Ruby,” she said to the smug bartender as she leaned on the bar top, “how about those drinks.”
“Sure thing, short stuff,” she replied with a smile.
Jenny couldn’t tell whether she was being antagonistic or just kidding, but she would give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment. While she waited for the drinks, she couldn’t help overhearing the two women sitting beside her at the bar.
“Wow. What the hell happened to Kat?” one woman said, peering over her shoulder to where Kathryn was standing next to the stage.
“What do you mean?” said the other, turning around.
“She looks ten years older.”
“Are you screwy? She looks fantastic.”
Ruby overheard the conversation too and, in between pouring drinks, was watching Jenny’s face for a reaction. Jenny was trying her best to remain casually disinterested.
“I didn’t say she didn’t look fantastic,” the woman continued, “I said she looked older. She’s lost that voluptuous look and exchanged it for the lean, sophisticated look.”
“Well, we all have to lose that baby fat sometime,” the second woman commented as she turned to face the bar again.
“Yeah? When do you start?”
“Nuts to you, sister. Look in the mirror lately?” She took an annoyed swallow of her drink. “Besides,” the woman said, as she looked toward the back of the club to where Jenny had been sitting, “she’s wearing her baby fat on her arm these days. Did you get a load of that blonde number she came in with?”
“Yeah,” the first woman said, peering into the crowd, trying to get another glimpse. “What’s she got that I ain’t got?”
“Kat Hammond,” Jenny said, as she waited for the bartender to finish her task.
Ruby grinned and winked as she handed over the drinks. Jenny acknowledged the wink and the conversation with a smile. “Thanks.” The two conversing women took that opportunity to slither away from the bar with disapproving grunts.
“Congratulations,” Ruby said before Jenny could get away.
“For?”
“You must be something pretty special.” Ruby lifted her chin toward the stage, where Kathryn’s former bandmates flocked around her. “Somehow you’re under her skin, and she’s a tough nut to crack.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
She walked back to the table and slid into the booth, disturbed by the exchange. The remarks hit close to home. Was she that special? She didn’t think so, and as she watched Kathryn reconnect with old friends, insecurity began to rear its ugly head. She took a drink and reprimanded herself. She willed herself to knock it off. She’s catching up with old friends, that’s all. They arrived together, and they’re going to leave together.
Jenny noticed the saxophone player stayed in her seat, wearing a disgusted look on her face. She was an older woman with short curly red hair, and as the other girls fawned, she feigned disinterest and started polishing her instrument.
From Kathryn’s body language, Jenny could tell the band members were trying to convince her to sing with them and she was trying to bow out gracefully. The group was not having it, though. She would sing or bust. The saxophone player vehemently complained, which caused a ruckus with the leader of the group. There was a lot of hissing and pointing, which attracted the attention of the patrons and resulted in the saxophone player leaving the stage in a huff.
The leader leaned into the microphone. “Sorry, ladies, no sax tonight.” That caused a rimshot from the drummer and a smattering of laughter and groans throughout the club. “But we do have an old friend who we’ve kidnapped for a song or two.” The leader looked at Jenny and lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, honey, we’ll return her undamaged.”
Jenny smiled and nodded her head at Kathryn’s apologetic shrug.
It was a nice band, six women in all, including the leader/singer, who surrendered her place at the microphone. Jenny watched the women on stage huddle together like football players deciding on a play. They all broke off and settled into their spots, with the bandleader paying close attention to Kathryn, touching her in a way that Jenny could only describe as very familiar—as in ex-girlfriend familiar. She took solace in Kathryn’s uncomfortable reaction to the physical intrusion.
The bandleader slid her arm around Kathryn’s waist. “Say, Kat, after this number, whaddaya say we grab a bottle and head upstairs for some recreational fucking?”
Kathryn resisted the urge to look Jenny’s way, stifling the instinctual reaction to a crass suggestion that seemed suddenly so out of place. Never mind that it normally would have rated an enthusiastic affirmative.
“I’m here with someone, Lani.”
Lani snorted incredulously. “Never stopped you before, woman. Come on. Just like old times, eh?”
This time she did look at Jenny, and the sight of her warmed her heart. “I’m not that person anymore.”
Lani followed her gaze, and her look softened. She slowly removed her hand from Kathryn’s waist and smiled respectfully.
“Yeah. I can see that.”
She had the countenance of a concerned friend, an acknowledgment of the obvious changes, now that she really took the time to look, and the gesture reminded Kathryn of why she liked Lani. She was all gruff and bravado, but she’d do anything for you, and she’d always tell you the truth. They had been on and off bedmates a long time ago and again when she first returned to the city, but nothing Kathryn would consider meaningful. They were never exclusive, and not even particularly nice to each other, an arrangement that suited them both just fine.
Lani smiled and playfully poked her in the shoulder. “You still sing, don’t cha?”
“Better than you ever could.”
“Bitch.”
Kathryn grinned. Just like old times indeed.
“G’wan—” Lani shoved her toward the microphone, laughing. “Slay us.”
Jenny imagined her insecurity was showing, because Kathryn tilted her head slightly and frowned regretfully. She turned back to the band to make sure they had the right key, Jenny supposed, and winked as she turned around and adjusted the microphone to account for her height.
“This might sound a little flat without the sax,” Kathryn said with a grin, “but I’m sure these ladies will fill in nicely.”
And fill in nicely they did. Jenny didn’t know much about the technical aspect of making music, but she knew when it sounded good, and she couldn’t complain about this group.
Kathryn held her gaze throughout the musical introduction of “Be Careful, It’s My Heart,” and before she even started singing, Jenny was lost. The room fell away until all that was left was the music and Kathryn’s sultry voice, singing a song about, of all things, falling in love. Jenny couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Kathryn was offering her heart in front of a room full of people.
The room, however, couldn’t possibly know the intricacies of their relationship, and every eye, at one time or another, was eventually cast in her direction, either rejoicing in her good fortune or sneering in derision, jealousy the culprit. Jenny didn’t care. She was falling deeper and deeper under Kathryn’s spell. She realized by the tilt of Kathryn’s head, the expression in her eyes, and the slightly upturned smile as she sang certain lines, that the song wasn’t just another song. She picked this one specifically. She meant it. Jenny’s heart began to flutter. Kathryn’s gaze never wavered, but soon it was obscured by dancing couples. Jenny did the next best thing and closed her eyes, concentrating on the very personal declaration as her heart soared. Kathryn loved her.
A sudden unwelcome cloud of smoke assaulted her senses, and Jenny looked up to see the disgruntled saxophone player standing in front of her with her hands on her hips and a cigarette dangling from the corner of her overpainted red mouth.
“Do you mind?” Jenny said, trying to peer around the obstacle. The redhead was no friend of Kathryn’s, and Jenny could tell by her demeanor that she certainly wasn’t there to have a pleasant conversation.
“Don’t mind if I do,” the musician said, sliding into the booth as if they were old friends. She took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled it through her nose like a dragon. “What’s your name, sweet thing?”
“Jenny,” she answered warily. She was annoyed with the woman’s condescending manner and even more annoyed with her intrusion, which was interrupting a dream come true. Jenny looked to the stage, where between dancing bodies, she could see Kathryn continuing the song with a dangerous look on her face. If looks could kill, the saxophone player would be one of those tiny piles of ash her cigarette was leaving on the table.
“Get her,” the redhead said, motioning toward the stage, “watching over you like a mama bear watches her cub.”
Jenny smiled, letting Kathryn know she felt safe and protected. Not even the acerbic pariah was going to get to her tonight.
“You know why they call this the Mayfly, don’t you?” the redhead offered without invitation.
Jenny glared back blankly. She wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
The musician smirked at her resolve and then continued, “Because some species only live a few days, and that’s about as long as most relationships last around here.” She took a drag on her smoke and smiled a diabolical little smile, as if it were the grandest joke ever told.
Jenny countered with a wicked smile of her own. “And here I thought it was because some species reproduce parthenogenetically.”
A crease of annoyed confusion clouded the redhead’s brow.
“That means there are no males involved,” Jenny said, enjoying the point for her.
The musician recovered quickly, evident from the ever-present smirk finding its way back to her face. “Well, get you. A real brainiac.” She became annoyed. “You’re no better than the rest of us, sweet thing, and you’ll fare no better either.”
Jenny did her best to ignore her, looking to the stage instead, wishing she could see more of Kathryn through the throng of dancing women.
“She’ll take what she wants,” the musician went on, “which ain’t your mind, honey, believe me, and she’ll leave you flat, with a handful of nothin’ to keep you warm at night.” She paused to take another drag on her cigarette and then raised her chin and narrowed her eyes on her exhale, looking for any chink in her armor.
“What’s she get from you?”
Jenny snapped her eyes to the annoying woman, showing a reaction for the first time, and she regretted it immediately, as the vindictive redhead seemed to feed on it.
“Kat doesn’t give it away for free, sweetie,” the woman said. “She’s getting something, and when she’s through—” She looked Jenny up and down, as an idea interrupted her thought. “Say, are you rich?” She looked at Jenny’s sensible suit. “Nah. Just lucky.”
Jenny’s jaw clenched, as she tried not to respond, but it only made matters worse.
“She bats from both sides of the plate, you know. You’re the dolly of the week, and next week it’ll be some Joe. That’s how she got that fancy job of hers, you know … laid the boss’s son. Might have even laid the boss. Who knows?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t put it past her. Slut.”
Jenny focused on the stage, but she couldn’t see anything but red. Rage boiled inside her—lies, all lies. She knew it wasn’t true, and she was furious that this woman was saying such things. Restraining her anger made her blood pressure rise until her hearing dimmed, and she was sure her flared nostrils gave her away even as the lies continued.
“She brings all her new playthings here, you know.” The redhead flicked her cigarette, and the ashes landed on the table. “Sings ’em that song. Makes ’em feel special.” She took a drag and released a condescending exhale.
Jenny tried to remain silent, but the remarks had found their mark, and she’d had enough. She shifted her gaze to her tormentor. “If you must know, I brought her to this club. If she had her way, she wouldn’t step foot in this place, and, frankly, I don’t blame her. Now, I don’t want to be rude … I really don’t … but I’m trying to enjoy an evening with my girl, and you’re a wrench in the works, so beat it.”
The redhead smirked, pleased that she’d struck a chord. “Take it easy, sister, I understand. Heck, I’d fight for her too.” She offered a glance at the stage. “She’s the best lay you’ll ever have.” She leaned in. “Don’t think for one minute she’ll let you in, though.”
She was punctuating the air with her cigarette hand, and the smoke burned Jenny’s eyes and nose.
“And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t let her in either,” the woman went on. She took a drag on her cigarette, exhaling as she spoke, “And if you do, don’t ever let on that you’re serious. She’ll leave you so fast, you’ll wonder if she was ever really there at all.” She paused dramatically, making sure her poison was seeping in. “She doesn’t have a heart, you know, and emotions … tst!” She rolled her eyes dramatically, leaving the remark unfinished.
The words were bitter, and Jenny recognized the relationship-gone-bad venom. She almost felt pity for the woman, but it didn’t last long, as the vindictive redhead leaned back with a smug grin.
“That’s why she sings, you know. Emotionally constipated.” The woman raised a victorious brow, as if revealing a sacred secret. “If she can’t sing it, you won’t hear it.” She flicked an annoyed ash and mumbled, “Lazy fuck.”
It was one of the first things Kathryn admitted in a vulnerable moment, and any sympathy Jenny had for the saxophone player quickly vanished when she used the personal information as a weapon.
“You know,” Jenny finally said, having heard enough, “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time moving on, but I’m not your damn therapist, and I’m not really interested in anything you have to say regarding Kathryn Hammond.”
“I’m just trying to help you out here, sister,” the musician remarked casually. “Save you some heartache.”
Jenny leaned in. “Listen. You’re a vindictive fucking bitch. I’m not your sister, and I’m not your sweet thing, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d take your smelly cigarette and your lying, troublemaking ass elsewhere.”
The redhead raised her hands in defeat and slowly slid out of the booth, but not before she added a parting shot. “You’ll never keep her, you know. Not her. Mark my words.” The woman looked her up and down as if she couldn’t imagine what Kathryn saw in her. “She’ll take what she wants from you, and she’ll leave you as quickly as she came.” She took another drag from her cigarette and watched her carnage take effect through the ensuing smoke. “Besides,” she said with a smirk, “you’re definitely not her type.” She looked at Kathryn, who was now glaring at her, and then back to Jenny, who had the same murderous stare. The musician laughed. “Definitely not.”
Jenny watched the obnoxious redhead saunter away and disappear into the crowded club. As much as she hated to admit it, the woman had laid out the sum of all her fears. She couldn’t imagine what Kathryn Hammond was doing with her. She quickly squelched her doubt, realizing it was precisely the effect the hateful musician had intended. She closed her eyes instead and listened to Kathryn’s smooth vocals send the final lines of a very clear message.
“Now leave me alone and play me something I can dance to,” Kathryn said over her shoulder to the band as she left the stage. Lani laughed and instructed the ladies to begin the mellow swing lines of “Manhattan Serenade.” Kathryn smiled and lifted a hand of thanks without turning around.
Jenny greeted her with a wide smile when she returned to the table, and Kathryn was glad to see the saxophone player’s venom hadn’t gotten under her skin. She returned the smile and held out her hand. “Dance with me, you.”
“Thought you’d never ask,” Jenny said, as she slid out of the booth and into her waiting arms.
Kathryn’s body hummed as they became one, and she reveled in their embrace before kissing Jenny’s hand and assuming a dancing posture. She seemed stiff in her arms.
“I hope you didn’t listen to anything she said.”
Jenny looked at the floor.
Kathryn ducked her head until she found stormy green eyes trying to deny their rage.
“I know,” Jenny said. “She’s a jackass. Sour grapes, that’s all.”
“That’s my girl.” Kathryn smiled as she held her close and they began to sway to the slow rhythm of the song.
“Exes,” Jenny said into her chest, as their feet began to move in time to the music. “What were we thinking, right?”
Kathryn chuckled. “She’s not an ex. She got me a job with the band here a very long time ago. Thought that entitled her to something. I disagreed.”
“Really sour grapes then.”
“Mm, a whole rotten vineyard.”
Jenny relaxed into Kathryn’s arms, reprimanding herself for letting the bitter musician get to her. She closed her eyes as their bodies pressed together and the rest of the room fell away. Kathryn’s bare back burned under her hand, and memories of their one night together came flooding back. Her body warmed with desire, and she fought to keep her hand from wandering. Dancing was the closest thing to making love that you could get away with in public, and she was proud to show this crowd—especially this crowd—that they were in love. She still found it unbelievable. They were in love. That glorious revelation, coupled with the sensuous motion of their dance, would almost guarantee an early exit from the club.
She wondered when exactly Kathryn had fallen. Kathryn loved her. She wanted to say it over and over and hear it over and over. She wondered if she would. Could Kathryn bring herself to say it or only when the proper song presented itself? It shouldn’t have mattered. She was sure she got the message right the first time, but love Kathryn Hammond style was still a mystery, and she was curious as to what she could expect.
“Nice song,” she said, starting to probe.
A hum of agreement.
“Did you choose that for me?”
“Just for you.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Every word.”
For Jenny, the conversation held the promise of words not yet spoken, but her heart sank a little at each distracted response. She understood Kathryn had a hard time expressing herself, but she had to be sure of Kathryn’s intentions before she confessed her own. She regretted that the redhead’s warning played a role in her apprehension. She knew Kathryn was doing the best she could, but her brief answers weren’t exactly a declaration of love, so she decided to step off the edge of the cliff and just have out with it.
She bravely lifted her head. “Did you just tell me that you loved me?”
For a moment, Kathryn didn’t respond, and Jenny stopped breathing, hoping her pounding heart wouldn’t drown out the answer. Kathryn stopped dancing and gently stroked her cheek. “I guess I did.”
Jenny was no longer falling. She was floating. She closed her eyes in relief until two hands cupped her face and Kathryn quickly took back her words.
“No.” Tender affection suddenly turned serious. “I know I did.” Humble blue eyes looked deeply into hopeful green eyes. “I love you.”
Jenny froze. She didn’t know whether it was the intensity of the emotion in Kathryn’s eyes or the ease with which the exalted words fell from her lips, but it took her by surprise, and she was speechless.
She watched Kathryn’s brow begin to knit in concern, and Jenny realized she was blowing her long-awaited moment. “I love you too,” she blurted out defensively.
Kathryn’s concern turned to amusement and they both laughed. She kissed her on the forehead with as much gratitude as affection and pulled her close.
At that moment, Jenny was glad that she didn’t kiss her on the lips, because if she had, she would have started something that couldn’t be finished on a dance floor. She held Kathryn tighter, and they began to dance again. “I love you too,” she repeated, this time from the heart. She was rewarded with a kiss on the head, which made her smile. “This is my new favorite song.”
Kathryn hummed her approval and began singing softly into her ear.
After their declaration of love, and now Kathryn’s warm breath caressing her ear, Jenny thought she would pass out. She melted even further into the strong arms holding her and warned, “Keep doing that and I’m going to take you right here, I swear to Howard.”
Kathryn grinned and backed off. “And that’s supposed to make me stop?”
“Ugh.” Jenny buried her head into her chest. “Give me strength.”
Kathryn tightened her hold and began to hum the tune.
“Kat,” Jenny drew out as a warning.
“I’m not singing, I’m humming.”
“Both produce the same result, and we’re a long way from home.”
Kathryn stopped dancing. “Maybe we’d better get a move on, then.”
Jenny smiled and started to dance again. “We just got here, and you owe me a dance.”
“You’re right.” Kathryn held her closer and began to sing into her ear again.
It took exactly one line before Jenny had her by the hand and they were heading toward the exit.
“Wait,” Kathryn pleaded in mock distress as she was pulled along, “I haven’t introduced you to my friends.”
“Hi ya, nice to meet you. Yes, I’m of legal age, must away,” Jenny said to the air, not bothering to slow down. They beat a hasty retreat back the way they came, and Jenny didn’t wait for Kathryn to negotiate the steps to the sidewalk before she was two steps into the street, hand in the air.
“Taxi!!”
The taxi ride to Kathryn’s apartment wasn’t long, but it felt like the longest ride of Jenny’s life. Her body was thrumming in anticipation of their second night together, and she couldn’t suppress her stupid grin. She glanced at Kathryn, expecting the same, but her face was a mask of indifference as she stared vacantly into the distance, her head bobbing loosely with the motion of the cab.
Jenny gently squeezed the hand in hers, which caused Kathryn to look at her and, to Jenny’s relief, smile. The enamored look was back, but it was tempered by something else—she swore it was sadness. She tilted her head, questioning the mood, and Kathryn indicated it was nothing with a slight shake of the head and a reassuring smile. Jenny knew that wasn’t true, but unable to discuss it openly, the truth would have to wait. Little did she know how long it would have to wait.
As they climbed the steps to Kathryn’s apartment, Jenny had a sinking feeling. Something had changed dramatically from the club to this moment. She briefly entertained the notion that the redhead was right: confess your love and Kathryn will bolt. They’d hardly said two words to each other from the club to home, but Kathryn never let go of her hand in the cab. Jenny dusted off her patience and reminded herself to just let Kathryn find her way.
Kathryn uttered a mild curse as she dropped her keys at her doorstep and frowned in annoyance as she held the ring up to the dimmed streetlight to find the one for her front door.
Letting Kathryn find her way was one thing, but letting something eat at her that seemed to be making matters worse was another. She waited until she’d found the proper key and forced it into the lock before voicing her concern.
“Please tell me you’re not having second thoughts.”
Kathryn turned with a furrowed brow. “I love you, Jenny. That’s not going to change.” She unlocked the door, proceeded up the stairs, and entered her apartment, with Jenny following closely behind.
“But are you having second thoughts?” Jenny said, a little panicked.
“I don’t think I can.”
“What does that mean?”
Kathryn gently put down her keys on the bookcase beside the door and stepped further into the room, shedding her coat as she went. “It doesn’t matter.”
Jenny wasn’t going to let a statement like that go. She shut the door and darted in front of Kathryn, taking her arm when she tried to brush past. “What does that mean?”
“That means I love you, and I don’t think I could stop if I tried.”
Jenny was more confused than ever at the shift in mood but recognized that Kathryn had just left herself open as an easy mark for heartbreak, should one choose to exploit it. She gently took her hand. “Then don’t try.”
Kathryn looked away.
“Don’t try,” Jenny said, seeking her downturned eyes. She grabbed her by the shoulders until she faced her. “There’s no reason to try.”
Kathryn exhaled and sat on the couch. “There’s so much you don’t know. The things I’ve done—”
Jenny sat beside her and put her hands on both sides of her face, forcing her to look into her eyes. “I don’t care who you were. I don’t care what you’ve done. I know who you are now, and I love you. Please let me.”
The weight of Kathryn’s past settled between them like an unwelcome chaperone. Jenny was determined to make their relationship seem less daunting.
“One day at a time, Kat,” she said. “I don’t care what happens tomorrow, or next week, or next year.”
It was a lie, but a lie Kathryn seemed willing to accept. Her pained expression turned to consideration.
Jenny pressed on. “We’ve been blessed with this night.” She stroked her warm cheek and smiled. “The night you told me you loved me.” She pressed her forehead against Kathryn’s. “I love you. The world is hard enough. This doesn’t have to be hard. This is our night … our time together. Let’s take it.” For a moment, Jenny thought her words were getting through, but Kathryn leaned back and regretfully shook her head.
“Jenny—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jenny interrupted, “I don’t care.”
Frustrated, Kathryn stood abruptly. “Stop saying that.”
Jenny stood in frustration as well. “Why?”
“Because I want to believe it!” Kathryn snapped.
They both stared at each other, and the room became painfully silent, as the walls absorbed the terse words. How did they go from I love yous to another argument?
Kathryn closed her eyes and bowed her head, clearly blaming herself. Jenny put a comforting arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Believe it,” she whispered, “please, believe it.” She took her hand and kissed it. “I love you.” She kissed the inside of her wrist. “Nothing else matters.” Kathryn slowly raised her head and Jenny tenderly kissed her neck. “I love you.” Her lips brushed her jawline on the way to her mouth, and she gently kissed her lips before pulling back and looking into her eyes. “I love you.”
Kathryn closed her eyes as if she were burning the words into her memory. “I love you too.”
“Then—”
“But—” She held up her hand. “There are things you need to know.”
“God, Kathryn,” Jenny said, as she turned away and put her hand to her forehead.
Kathryn put a hand on her back. “Are you afraid of the truth?”
Jenny turned with tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid you’re going to push me away before we even have a chance to get started!”
Kathryn gathered her into her arms. “Please don’t cry.” She rocked her gently and kissed her head. “Please don’t. It’s not like that. I’m not trying to push you away.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”
Jenny wiped her tears and backed off. “I know what I need to know. I don’t care about your past.”
“I do.” Kathryn held out her hand. “Give me your jacket.”
She was staying. Jenny reasoned that was progress. She slipped out of her suit jacket and handed it over. Kathryn placed it on the back of the chair and led her by the hand into the kitchen.
Jenny sat at the kitchen table and watched Kathryn move gracefully through the task of making tea. No words were spoken, something Jenny was finding an unfortunate norm, but she could see the wheels turning in Kathryn’s head as she plotted the course of her confession. Whatever she was going to tell her loomed larger and larger until she questioned her own ability to accept it. What if it was horrible? What if she couldn’t accept it? Would she walk away? Could she? The silence, and her imagination, were taking its toll.
“You’re scaring me.”
Kathryn smiled, though Jenny could tell levity was not the intent. “Sometimes I scare myself.”
She poured two cups of tea and presented one to Jenny as she sat across from her at the table. “Stiff drinks for dessert, should it prove necessary,” she said with a grin.
It was her first attempt at humor since their evening went terribly awry, and while Jenny appreciated the effort, its effect was lost, thanks to her own growing trepidation.
Kathryn acknowledged her stricken look with a tight-lipped smile but didn’t reach out to comfort her. She clasped her hands around her cup and focused on it.
Kathryn chewed her lip for a moment, doubting the wisdom of her next move, but Jenny deserved to know what she was getting into, and there was no moving forward without disclosure. There was no easy way to say it either, no casual “start at the beginning and work your way up to it” sugarcoating that would soften the sordid details. She could only hope that Jenny could get past it or, at the very least, understand and not judge her. In the absence of wisdom, she found courage and cleared her throat.
“As you can imagine,” she began, “it was very hard for me after my mother died.” She stared into her cup of tea, finding the steaming sienna pool less intimidating than Jenny’s questioning eyes. “Then discovering my dad was responsible—” She absently turned the cup. “I couldn’t be at home any longer.”
“You ran away,” Jenny said.
Kathryn lifted her eyes, surprised at the commentary. She’d forgotten that Jenny was an interactive listener. Her gaze returned to her cup, and she suppressed a smile. “Right. I ran away. I had to get away from the lies, away from the pain. I had no money of my own, so I stole some from my dad and I came here to the city. He would never find me, and no one would know who I was or what I’d been through. I could just melt into the city and start over.” She glanced up and smiled, remembering her naiveté. “My plan was to be a pianist, like my mother.”
Jenny smiled but remained silent.
“I auditioned at a gathering much like the one at the theater tonight. Fancied myself a child prodigy.” She chuckled. “They did not. Something about a lack of discipline. They were right, though it was devastating at the time. My backup plan was singing. I was tall enough to pass for legal age, so I could get a job in a club, but it was hard to get your foot in the door, and by that time, I had run out of money.”
She rubbed her forehead, as the memory of her desperation and the point of her monologue merged to bring the past to bear on the present. She traced the embossed flower design on the tablecloth with her finger. The pretty, delicate pattern was a stark contrast to the wreckage her life had become. She couldn’t change the paths she’d chosen. She could only hope Jenny would forgive her for them.
“I met up with a fellow who promised to take care of me and open those doors.” She focused on a flaw in the white material under her hand, rubbing its defect as if she could smooth it away. She likened it to her fateful decision when she sacrificed her childhood for the promise of a future. For Jenny’s sake, she wished those wounds healed as well.
Jenny reached out and stilled her hand. “Kathryn.”
Defensive blue eyes snapped up, still lost in the moment. “I was desperate. Angry. Afraid. I wasn’t going back. I would have done anything, and I did.”
Jenny leaned closer and took her hand in earnest. “You don’t have to go on.”
Kathryn questioned her tone. “You have to know, Jenny. It’s important.”
Jenny tightened her grip. “I do know, Kat. I’ve known for weeks.”
Kathryn pulled her hand away as her brow knit in confusion. “That’s impossible. No one knows. Not even Smitty.”
The look on Jenny’s face was one of apologetic guilt as she explained that the discovery came quite by accident, when Rico offered her a copy of her police record during the gun incident. It chronicled several arrests for prostitution and a smattering of other minor charges, spanning a relatively short period of time during her youth.
The explanation made sense, but the breach of privacy had her on her heels. “I was a minor. Those records are sealed.”
Jenny nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have read them.”
Kathryn was more shocked than angry. Relief wasn’t far behind. Jenny had known for weeks and was still here, still wanted her, still loved her. How could this be?
“And what else do you know?”
“Breaking and entering, trespassing as a juvenile, all dismissed, and most recently, caught in a gambling sting, related to your work with Forrester, I imagine. That’s all.”
Kathryn nodded, still not quite able to wrap her brain around the fact that Jenny knew and it didn’t seem to matter. Not everything was in a police report, however, and not every decision was made out of desperation.
“When I lived in Paris—” She hesitated but knew she had to continue. “I couldn’t make it as a singer.” She looked Jenny in the eye, knowing this time it would be harder to forgive. “I did the same.”
Jenny accepted it with downturned eyes, pursed lips, and a slightly raised brow.
“It was easy, and I was good at it,” Kathryn added defensively, suddenly feeling judged.
Jenny looked up, obviously surprised at the animosity. “What do you want me to say to that?”
Kathryn paused. What did she want her to say? She expected her to be repulsed. Of course, who wouldn’t be? But Jenny wasn’t. True to her word, apparently it didn’t matter. Kathryn pulled in her ball and chain of self-recrimination and questioned her own revulsion. That part of her past had never bothered her. She never viewed her body as some sacred temple to be valued and protected. She learned early on that her body was power, a means to an end, and in that regard, it never failed to deliver. She enjoyed wielding that power: the thrill of the seduction, the triumph and satisfaction of her victim’s surrender. But then Jenny came along, bringing goodness and laughter and unfamiliar concepts like love and forgiveness—it made her feel dirty. Her whole stinking life felt dirty. She covered the flaw in the tablecloth and closed her eyes. “I’ve never been ashamed of that before.”
“You did what you had to do to survive, Kat. There’s no shame in that.”
“Isn’t there?”
“Situations change. You’re no longer in that place, and you are no longer that person.”
“Look closer, Jenny. I haven’t changed.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“If I have sex for money, I’m a whore. If I have sex for the good of my country, I’m a hero? How does that work?”
Jenny looked away, and Kathryn could tell she was perplexed and annoyed. She couldn’t blame her. She’d made it as easy as humanly possible for her to confess, and she’d accepted her choices without judgment, but Kathryn still couldn’t believe Jenny wasn’t shocked and disgusted. Before she could right the wrong, Jenny’s patience reached its end.
“Why are you picking a fight with me? Would you rather I crucify you?”
Kathryn didn’t answer, but at that moment, crucifixion seemed a lot easier than being in love. What made her think she was equipped for such an intimate pact? She got up and poured her tea into the sink. It disappeared down the drain, and she wondered if her elusive relationship was destined to follow.
Jenny rose aggressively. “Do you want a fight?”
“No,” Kathryn said, as she breezed past on her way to the living room to regroup.
Jenny followed her. “Are you sure? Because I could stamp my feet and throw things if you like.” Kathryn stopped and turned as Jenny carried on. “I could dramatically storm out of here, slamming doors as I go, but these shoes are killing me, and I don’t have my car.” She put her hands on her hips as if to say “Your move.”
“Take mine,” Kathryn said without hesitation. “Keys are by the door. Smitty will pick me up in the morning.”
Jenny stared in disbelief. After all they’d been through—even after declaring their love—it seemed they’d made no progress. Kathryn was going to let her walk out the door. She’d lost count of how many times the woman had rendered her speechless. She’d been reduced to sporadic bouts of dazed blinking.
As if she finally realized how absurd the turn in their evening was, Kathryn’s apathetic expression slowly morphed into an amused grin. She put a hand on her shoulder and then cupped her cheek. “I’m really sorry.”
Jenny covered Kathryn’s hand with her own and exhaled a sigh of relief. Kathryn would drive her mad yet. “What just happened, Kat?”
Kathryn shook her head. “I told you I was insecure. You didn’t believe me.”
Jenny believed her now. She kissed Kathryn’s hand and tugged her toward the bathroom. “Come on. It’s late. Let’s have a soak and hit the sack.” She kicked off her shoes and started down the hallway, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. “If I know the sun, it’s going to rise tomorrow and we’ll have a brand new day to argue about how much we love each other.”