VICTORIA’S VERY AWKWARD LOVE STORY

Book 3 in the “Strange Bedfellows” series

Q. Kelly

Author’s Notes: Victoria’s Very Awkward Love Story is Book Three in a series. The novel can function as a standalone, although reading Strange Bedfellows, the first book in the series, may help you better understand some aspects of Book Three. Book Two is not necessary to understand Book Three. At the least, I recommend you read the blurb for Strange Bedfellows below.

Blurb for Strange Bedfellows (Book 1)

Frances Dourne is apparently a shining example for ex-gays. She runs Gay is a Choice, a national ex-gays group. What people do not know is that she is deeply unhappy. She is ready to come out of the closet and be true to herself. She seeks help and feedback—and okay, maybe a sexual treat or two—from a high-class call girl.

Elena, the call girl, wants to escape from the realities of her past, and her job allows her to do so. She never gets attached to her clients, but her new client surprises her. Can Elena and Frances learn to trust each other enough to find the love they seek in each other's arms?

Blurb for Three’s a Crowd (Book 2)

Carol Thomas is shocked when her fiance comes home late one night with an announcement: he’s gotten back in touch with a college buddy named Ennis Evans, and she’s up for a threesome. Carol shoves aside her misgivings and tentatively agrees. She considers herself a prude in many ways and wants to break through her shell.

As she gets to know Ennis and experiences an immediate, undeniable attraction, Carol keeps putting off the menage a trois. She begins to wonder if she’s gay and falling in love with Ennis. Then the night of the threesome arrives and changes Carol for life. But Carol still has much to learn. She finds out the hard way that Washington is a city known for intrigue and double dealings. Many things aren’t what they seem on the surface, and just what is Ennis’s connection with Washington's most infamous call girl, Elena Marie Elise?

Blurb for Victoria’s Very Awkward Love Story (Book 3)

Why would Victoria Dourne strike up a friendship with Felicianna Grey, the woman who almost ruined the lives of Victoria’s mother and stepmother? What started as mere curiosity on Victoria’s part has developed into much more. She and Felicianna have been chatting online a few months, and Felicianna thinks Victoria is a twenty-five-year-old secretary from Chicago, not the eighteen-year-old girl she is. They’ve bonded over the fact they’re both in love with women they can’t have. They’ve even engaged in cybersex with each other. The online thing is getting old, though, and when Felicianna shows signs of losing interest, Victoria figures the time has come to tell the truth—in person.

Felicianna is horrified when Victoria confesses all. An eighteen-year-old girl! The stepdaughter of Felicianna’s former best friend. The daughter of a woman Felicianna despises. This was what happened when Felicianna took risks. When she decided she could trust someone.

Victoria begs Felicianna to give her a chance. Just one chance. A dinner. If, after that, Felicianna still wants Victoria to stay away, she will.

Can Victoria persuade Felicianna to look past the trappings of age and circumstances to find her way back to the woman she thought she knew online? Can Victoria and Felicianna surmount their many, many obstacles?

Epigraph

We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.
— Orson Welles

Chapter One

Victoria Dourne struck the jackpot on her first seduction attempt. Never mind that she was eighteen years old, nervous as hell and supposed to screw up.

Shit!

Pauline Ross said yes. In a necessary, vague, roundabout way, of course. Didn’t take much. Some chatter about her tie, and the woman opened up—illustrating the validity of Victoria’s research. People were lonely. Often, they didn’t want to go home. Victoria sure didn’t. What waited for her: an upside-down dorm room and probably Markie in bed with her greasy Caleb.

Pauline exited the lobby of the Best Western Harrisonburg Inn, and Victoria scrambled to meet her.

“We’re on the second floor,” Pauline said. Minty freshness flew from her smile and nearly knocked Victoria over. Pauline must’ve sneaked into a lobby bathroom and doused her mouth with breath spray. Victoria had chewed cinnamon gum. Less obvious than breath spray.

In silence, they climbed the steps, and Pauline poked her key in the electronic lock.

Red light.

She frowned and jabbed her key in again. Red light part two.

“Try mine,” Victoria offered.

Green light. Click. Success.

Pauline headed into the room first and smoothly flicked lamps on as she went. Victoria watched with envy. Hotel room lamps liked to wrestle with her.

“It’s funny,” Pauline said. “How I met my husband.”

“How did you meet him?”

“Like this,” Pauline replied. “More or less.” Her tight smile indicated no more hubbykins talk—which Victoria agreed with. Hubbykins was the main topic of conversation at Waffle House, but Victoria and Pauline were about to have sex. Enough was enough.

Victoria endeavored: “Do you do this a lot?”

Pauline laughed. She was a handsome and beautiful woman—androgynous. Close-cropped brown hair, gray eyes, a powerful, angular face. “Oh, Victoria,” she said, “I’ve only been with my husband.”

Victoria. Victoria. The name stabbed Victoria’s stomach. So, Pauline knew. Victoria would’ve preferred to keep her ostrich head in ignorance, but there it was. The big V. At least Pauline hadn’t called her Marissa.

“My name is Leigh Dumas,” Victoria insisted. If Pauline contradicted her, Victoria would vamoose. She didn’t need to be here that badly.

Pauline searched Victoria’s face. About five feet separated them. The room had two beds—doubles.

Wait. Leigh Dumas? Didn’t I say Leigh Branscom at Waffle House?

“You don’t have to lie,” Pauline said soothingly. “It’s okay. I don’t care.”

This.

This.

This was why Victoria didn’t want people to recognize her. She would always be Frances Dourne’s daughter, that kidnapped girl. At least the usual nosy questions didn’t gleam in Pauline’s eyes. Questions such as:

What’s your mother like?

What’s your stepmother like? Was she really a call girl? Does she still do it?

Isn’t that kind of icky, your mother going to a prostitute?

Did they have safe sex?

Do they still have sex?

Do you like your mom? How about Elena, do you like her?

Were you in therapy? How’d that go?

Bet you miss your dad, huh? Do you see him a lot? Did you like him homeschooling you? What stuff did he teach you?

What was day-to-day life like at the cabin?

Did your dad molest you? Or abuse you? How about while he was drunk? What kind of drunk was he?

Did y’all have him squirreled away in the penthouse? Where was he those two years before your mom filed for divorce and he gave himself up?

Like Victoria would answer any of these questions. The fuck! And why did people expect an infinity of answers?

Victoria saw nothing of these intrusions with Pauline, so she supposed she could forgive the woman’s unwillingness to play along with “Leigh Dumas/Branscom.” But she wouldn’t let Pauline get off scot-free.

“I will do no commercials for you,” Victoria said. “No special appearances at your car dealerships. Just so you’re aware.”

Pauline blinked. “I…but I never had any intention to…”

Guilt marked her words. Underlined them. Bolded them. Italicized them.

“Why are you here?” Victoria snapped.

Pauline stepped toward her but thought better of it. Instead, she sat on the bed closest to Victoria. “How old do you think I am?”

“Forty to fifty?”

Pauline chuckled. “Try fifty-eight.”

Victoria attempted to contain her reaction but felt incredulity leak from her face.

“Fifty-eight,” Pauline affirmed with a series of nods. “I’m old. I’m a grandma.”

“Fifty-eight isn’t old.”

“My father died when he was fifty-five. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

Pauline flapped her hand. “We weren’t close.”

“Is your mother alive?”

“Yes. Doing well.”

“There you go.” Victoria injected cheer into her voice. “You’ll be fine. Women tend to live longer than men.”

“A car could flatten me tomorrow.”

“Yes, but…” Victoria caught herself before she veered further off track. “Are you saying you’re here because you’re old?”

“I’m here because I’m old—and I’m lacking.” Pauline’s expression said: A car could turn you into pancake mix tomorrow too, Victoria-Marissa Dourne. You’re not old, but you’re lacking too, aren’t you?

Victoria didn’t budge. In fact, she scowled.

Pauline exhaled. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Speaking of cars. It did cross my mind that you might be interested in a commercial or something like that. My dealerships aren’t doing well, and…” She ran a hand through her brown hair. Had to be dyed, right? At fifty-eight years old. “I’m sorry. Can we forget about my insensitivity? I’m sure you get tiresome offers all the time.”

Victoria did. Offers flooded in, offers to appear in front of groups (gay rights groups, children’s groups, kidnap victims groups, you name it), offers for movie cameos and TV guest spots, offers to help pen her memoir, offers to paint her, to photograph her, offers to appear in commercials.

Her mother usually said no, although she allowed some of the speeches if Victoria was okay with that. Victoria used to be miffed at Frances but last summer began to see the wisdom of Frances’s ways. For the past four years, Victoria was one of the most famous children in the United States. Little kidnapped Marissa! Teenage runaway Victoria! And last year, she was a tearful, green-haired seventeen-year-old girl flinging her arms around her handcuffed father and refusing to let go.

From age fourteen to age seventeen, her hair color vacillated: sometimes green, sometimes orange, sometimes bright red. Now, she had returned to her plain-brown roots. Her haircut was choppy and unkind. She wore nerd glasses—no prescription. She’d shot up a few inches. Popped boobs and curves. Nice boobs and nice curves, but for the time being, she hid behind jeans and loose clothing. The People magazine spread covering Frances and Elena’s wedding a few months ago prompted Victoria’s change. In the glossy photos, she exemplified classic beauty. Her brown hair fell long and wavy (with pink streaks). Her bridesmaid dress boasted of her chest and curves, but something snapped in her after she saw the spread. She realized that unless she did something drastic, she would always be known as that kidnapped girl, Frances Dourne’s daughter.

Victoria didn’t reply to Pauline—no glib way out, thank you. Also, Victoria’s curiosity about Pauline dwindled. When did Pauline realize she was gay (or bisexual)? Was she out to her husband? Did Victoria care? Nope.

Pauline undid her silk blue tie and flung it on the bed. “Why are you here? You ought to be with kids your own age, not ancients like me.”

Pauline’s movement was so smooth, so graceful, so reckless, Victoria felt compelled to answer. Plus, Pauline’s eyes, her eyes…she seemed truly interested in Victoria for reasons that had nothing to do with commercials.

Victoria fiddled with her glasses and ended up setting them down near the TV. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Why? Don’t you live in a dorm?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Pauline quirked an eyebrow as if to say: You can do better than mmm-hmm.

“It’s my roommate. She’s been my best friend since before I left Arkansas. But we’re different now. She’s changed. Maybe I have too. She loves to drink and to fuck guys. Well, only one guy for the past couple of weeks. That’s a monogamy record for her.”

Pauline smiled.

Victoria continued: “I guess I drink sometimes, but…” An image of her father passed out on the couch shattered her brain, and she shivered. “I’m not obsessed with it like Markie and the other kids are. Markie’s turned superficial.”

“People do have that irritating tendency to change,” Pauline said, almost too softly for Victoria to hear. Pauline got to her feet and surveyed the room, affording Victoria the opportunity to salivate over her neck. Long. Creamy. Victoria wouldn’t peg its age at fifty-eight, but it did claim enough wrinkles and sag to convey character, depth and smarts.

At last, Pauline said: “This has been…I’m very glad to have met you, but coming here was wrong. My husband and I fought earlier, and then there you were, pretty and attentive and…famous.” A little grin. “But mostly pretty. Beautiful and interesting. This isn’t right. I’m sorry. My husband is a good man, and you’re young. You’re innocent. You’re eighteen years old. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Victoria’s heart spiraled into her stomach and beat thumpthump thumpthump from way down yonder. “Are you leaving?”

Pauline sighed. “I should.”

Victoria fought to keep her heart steady. “Please don’t. I’m not innocent. I’m tainted.” And she was. If only Pauline knew why Victoria really approached her at Waffle House. If only Pauline knew about the odd relationship between Victoria and Felicianna Grey.

Pauline pulled a face, said, “Sorry, sorry,” and brushed past Victoria. Victoria caught her.

“You smell good,” Victoria whispered.

Pauline smiled despite herself. “I don’t smell like old lady? Like Depends and denture cream?”

Victoria wrapped her arms around Pauline. Brought her lips to Pauline’s neck. “You smell like a whisper,” Victoria said.

“A whisper?”

“Mmm.” Pauline did. She tasted sweet and mysterious and throaty and repressed. Victoria’s kisses roused gooseflesh on Pauline’s skin, and the woman resisted. But not really—especially after Victoria moved her mouth over Pauline’s. Pauline moaned. Yep, a true-business moan that burst Victoria’s insides and nearly made her come. Pauline deepened the kiss, and damn. She was good. In control. Skilled. Patient. She moaned again and let Victoria’s inexperienced tongue slowly but surely blend into the rhythm of hers.

They fell onto the bed like a couple of ogres, and Victoria pretended the woman below her was Felicianna. Victoria reached orgasm fast. Too fast, seemingly only instants after she and Pauline landed on the bed.

One second, Victoria pumped atop Pauline’s leg, the next second, a demon shook her body, she cried out something unbecoming like: “Eugh eugh ahh!” Victoria’s hips arched, and her toes curled.

She died inside of mortification. How had she come so quickly—even quicker than thirty-second Caleb? Shit! Shit!

“Oh,” Victoria whispered, drowning in the indignity of her orgasm. “Oh. Ohh. I’m so sorry.”

Pauline snaked her arms around Victoria. Found the small of Victoria’s back, the sweaty, sweaty small of her back. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I didn’t think I’d be that fast. Not during sex.”

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay.”

“I’m probably no better than your husband,” Victoria mumbled. “In and out.”

Pauline laughed. “You’re funny. That’s important.” She kissed Victoria—long, lingering. “You’re poetic too,” Pauline murmured. “A whisper. Lovely. How many women have fallen for that?”

Victoria looked at Pauline—right into her gray eyes. “Just you. I wouldn’t say it to anyone else. It wouldn’t be true for them.”

Pauline genuinely liked Victoria. She could tell because of the pink blush of praise on Pauline’s cheeks (the whisper on her cheeks?). And because Pauline pulled her pants down, inviting Victoria inside her. Victoria didn’t look between her legs. Seemed weird and unfair to, since Victoria’s clothes were on and Pauline hadn’t seen any of Victoria’s body.

Victoria’s fingers felt for Pauline down there. She had hair, a fair amount but not too much. Probably gray hair, or white hair. Coarse hair. Victoria slid a finger inside Pauline. She was wet, as wet as Victoria tended to get. Perhaps more wet.

Victoria almost came again at how wet Pauline was. No senior citizen vaginal dryness for Pauline! Victoria rubbed Pauline’s clit, and she must’ve been good, because Pauline moaned and screamed and clutched a pillow over her head. She came pretty quickly too.

Victoria ached. She ached all over.

*****

Victoria couldn’t sleep in the impersonal hotel room bed, so she focused on Pauline, who snoozed next to her. In Victoria’s arms, actually. Pauline’s breathing was soft and steady, and Victoria liked it. She liked being in bed with someone, she liked not being alone.

True, the sex hadn’t been much. But at least they’d both reached orgasm.

In the half-conscious land between wakefulness and sleep, Pauline morphed into Felicianna and then into Markie. Victoria watched her a long while. She was petrified. Scared to stay, scared to go. Scared to tell Markie that she had loved her about two years—the gooey, cheesy, horrible kind of love. The gooey, cheesy, horrible kind of love that drove Victoria to get closer and closer to Felicianna.

At last, Victoria gently untangled herself from Pauline and rolled out of bed. Psychology class at eight a.m. beckoned. More specifically, and from the shiny James Madison University .pdf catalog:

GPSYC 101. General Psychology.

3 credits.

A study of the nervous system, sensation, perception, consciousness, learning, memory, language, intelligence, motivation, emotion, life span development, personality, psychopathology, psychotherapy, social psychology and the scientific method.

Markie was taking it with Victoria but probably wouldn’t show up (psychology was the only class they had together). Markie was being dumb with her freedom; she’d probably flunk all her classes. She’d be stuck again in Arkansas after first semester or, for sure, after the first year. This partying had better be worth it, but Victoria couldn’t blame Markie for going wild. Her parents were strict, and Markie was blooming the best way she knew how.

On the way out, Victoria spotted Pauline’s tie lurking under the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, Victoria swiped the tie. Something to remember her first time by. Maybe something to give to Felicianna as well.

*****

Victoria arrived five minutes early to class and sent Felicianna a quick email: I did as you ordered. Success! Details later.

There were a few texts from Markie, all from last night and along the lines of: Where are you? Come parrr-tay!

A couple of texts from Victoria’s mother about tomorrow, a Saturday—when Victoria and Markie planned to go to Petersburg.

Markie didn’t show up to class. No surprise. In all fairness, though, psychology didn’t have an attendance policy. No matter. Good-girlness compelled Victoria to go, and it was only an hour three days a week.

She slogged through the morning and grabbed lunch at noon. Got her last class of the day over with. At two-thirty, she returned to the room she shared with Markie.

“Hey Vic. Where ya been?” Markie sat in bed and pounded away at her laptop. Redness tinged her eyes, and Victoria’s stomach squeezed. Markie must’ve pulled an all nighter. Probably high on pot or Ritalin or some hyper drug. Great! Like alcohol wasn’t trouble enough.

“I was at classes,” Victoria said.

Markie rolled her eyes. “Duh. Where were you last night?”

Victoria dropped her backpack onto her bed. She and Markie had free-standing wardrobes they’d mashed together in the middle of the room to give them each privacy. Victoria’s half was neat and orderly. Markie’s half would fit right in with a tornado’s aftermath.

Markie joined Victoria on her side. “Come on, Vic. Where were you?”

“I told you. Waffle House.”

Markie scrunched her expression into a detective face. “You didn’t come back, and you had all your books and stuff for classes today. Meaning you planned ahead.”

“Yes.”

“You hooked up with someone!” Markie proclaimed. “Who?”

Victoria couldn’t help but laugh. She truly loved Markie. Markie, who helped her come to terms with the fact she might be a kidnapped child, Markie who helped her get the disposable phone to call the Marissa hotline, Markie who helped her practice for the call. Heck, it was at Markie’s house that Victoria found her mother’s memoir—that book with the beautiful, beautiful woman on the cover—and the age-progressed pictures of little Marissa Leigh Dourne.

Little Victoria.

“I got my cherry popped, yeah.” Kinda. Does humping count?

Markie whooped and gathered Victoria into her arms. While Victoria had grown a nice few inches, Markie still outpaced her everywhere—height (Markie was six feet tall; Victoria stood five feet five inches), breast size (almost Ds; Victoria was a B cup), shoe size (size twelve; Victoria was size eight).

Markie let go. “Tell me everything!”

“Well.” Victoria wondered how much to share. How much exactly to lie about. One thing was for sure: Markie didn’t know about Felicianna, and Victoria would keep it that way.

“I was at Waffle House, and you know, uh…I saw him.”

Markie displayed a toothy grin. “And?”

Yes, Victoria said him. She wasn’t out to Markie. Wasn’t out to anyone except Felicianna. Fleeing the closet would happen sooner or later, and Victoria was in no rush to become known as the world’s biggest walking cliche: a gay child of gay parents, and not only that, a gay child in love with her best friend, a straight girl. Yeah, might as well drill CLICHE into her forehead, right?

“I pulled the coupon trick. You know, dropped a coupon on the floor and pretended to find it. He fell for it and said it was his. I asked about his tie, and we made conversation. Then I basically asked if he wanted to go somewhere and have sex.”

Markie yipped and swatted Victoria on the shoulder. “You did not, Victoria Cove!”

Victoria laughed. “I did. I did, yeah. So we went to Best Western. Uh, near Waffle House. And, you know, we got into the room, and we had sex.”

“Does he go to JMU?”

“No idea.” Technically, Victoria didn’t know. It was remotely possible Pauline was taking an adult-education class or whatever.

“What’s his name? Was it good? Y’all getting together again?”

“It was good, yeah.” Victoria shrugged. “He’ll call if he wants to.” Ha! Yeah, right. She had no intention of seeing Pauline again. What Victoria had done was along the lines of what Elena used to do. Inject splashes of color into otherwise dreary, monotonous lives. Elena gave people memories to cling onto, memories to keep them going. In Pauline’s case with Victoria, perhaps the memory would be enough for Pauline to want a life more true to herself. Victoria refused to feel guilty for what amounted to a sex and run. She and Pauline had consented to use each other.

Markie popped open their shared refrigerator, courtesy of Frances. “This calls for a celebration. Hard lemonade?”

“Uh…”

“Come on,” Markie whined. “You gotta celebrate.”

“Fine, fine, okay.” Hard lemonade wasn’t too bad, wasn’t too strong. Ha! Alcohol, any kind of alcohol, got to Victoria quickly. Very quickly. A shameful secret: she liked the feeling of drunkenness too much. Her father hadn’t been strong enough to withstand it, and Victoria hoped she could be.

“So what’s his name?” Markie repeated after she and Victoria drained their respective first bottles.

Victoria’s fluid, happy and somewhat buzzed mouth giggled and replied: “Paul. And, shh, don’t tell anyone, but he’s married. He’s fifty-eight.”

“Fifty-eight what?”

“Years old.”

Markie furrowed her brows. “Nuh-uh. You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Um, Vic? Fifty-eight? That’s kind of nasty.”

“No. No. It’s awesome. Besides, he doesn’t look that old.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.”

“Oh, Vic,” Markie intoned. “A fifty-eight-year-old married man. Oh noooo.”

“Oh yessss.”

Markie wrinkled her nose. “Why are you interested in him?”

Victoria thought of Felicianna. Of the reasons she continued to talk to the woman after satisfying her initial curiosity. “He’s experienced. He’s complicated. He has depth. Getting to know him will be…not like, you know. Not like college kids.”

“Not like people our own age? Not like me?” Markie’s voice teased, but hurt lurked in her eyes.

“That’s not what I meant. You’re my best friend.”

Markie smiled, but it was a hard smile. “We balance each other well, don’t we? Complicated you and simple me. Simple me who couldn’t get into George Washington, American or GMU so you could be closer to your mother.”

Victoria’s brain hurt. When did this turn to Markie? And hadn’t they gotten past her guilt? Markie was extremely bright, excellent grades in high school, above-average SAT scores, a consistent job at McDonald’s. That wasn’t enough for certain colleges, though. “Markie, come on. Don’t be like that. I love JMU. It’s good to have space between me and Mom, and JMU isn’t too far from home.”

In truth, Victoria hated her time so far at James Madison University, but since only a month had passed, she needed to keep an open mind. She was an outcast, and the professors were like mannequins: thin, white-toothed, straight-toothed, confident. Boring. She preferred her high-school teachers. They were real people. Where were the fat, insecure, thick-glassed professors? At least she had her car. JMU didn’t allow freshmen to bring their vehicles to campus, but Victoria had taken enough college and AP classes in high school to land as a sophomore. So had Markie, but she came without a car.

Markie opened another lemonade. “I’m fine, Vic. Don’t worry. I know exactly who I am, and I like me.”

“I like exactly who you are too. I wouldn’t change you. Look, I got in all these colleges because of my name. Because of my parents. Not on my own merit! Here with you is where I belong.”

Markie’s chin trembled, and now that Victoria had a closer look at her eyes, she wondered if they were red and puffy for a reason other than drugs or insomnia.

“Have you been crying?” Victoria had never seen Markie cry. Never, ever.

“A little, I guess.”

Victoria’s heart shrunk. You’re a fucking jerk, Vic. Some friend you are. Your mind automatically went to drugs. “What’s wrong?”

Markie sighed. “It...” Tears welled in her eyes, welled and overflowed. She wiped them away, but that only served to induce more tears.

“Hey. Hey.” Victoria sat Markie down and slipped an arm around her. “Hey. Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Sniffle, sniffle.

Markie was pregnant. That had to be it. She was on birth control, but she hadn’t been before JMU. Back then, she lived in Condom Town. She’d been feeling funny the past couple of days. Stomach cramps, weird food cravings, heartburn. And here she was, crying. She took two pregnancy tests yesterday morning, but they were both negative.

False negatives, obviously.

Victoria should’ve been dismayed, but her drunk heart and her drunk stomach fluttered. Markie, pregnant. Victoria could take care of her and the baby. She could…oh gosh. She could do so many things. Maybe her cheestatic fantasy of them living in a log cabin with a real fireplace and real dogs and real cats and real babies would come true. She would stop talking to Felicianna. That wouldn’t be a problem at all.

Victoria’s gaze went to the bottles of hard lemonade. Drinking with a baby on the way…not good. Not good at all. Victoria would ensure the partying stopped immediately.

“Markie, we could get married. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry about a thing. Will you? Marry me.”

Well.

That stopped the crying. Markie lifted her head and met Victoria’s gaze. Incredulity shone in her blue eyes. “Why would we get married?”

“Mom would be more likely to—she’d help anyway, you know? Because you’re my best friend. But if she thinks—if she knows—the baby is mine too, if we’re married, I’ll, I’ll…we wouldn’t have to, you know, have sex or anything, we would just be married.”

Time to shut up. Victoria got the feeling she’d veered outrageously off track. More incredulity in Markie’s expression, in her gaze.

“Vic,” she said. “I…what? Are you asking me to marry you? You want us, two straight girls, to get married? To each other?”

Open toolbox, survey tools—hammer, screwdriver, tape measure, wrench, pliers, drill and bits, level, utility knife—pull ‘em all out and multiply by a thousand. That’s how much of a tool Victoria was.

“Marriage means nothing,” Victoria mumbled. “My parents were married so long. Look at Paul, his wife and…” Victoria sighed. “No. Never mind.”

Markie laughed, a small, uncertain laugh. “You’re lovely. You’d marry me. That’s the sweetest thing. But I’m not pregnant.”

Victoria was sure her face burned red. Her ears, too. Yay. Way to go, Vic.

“I can’t go with you to Petersburg tomorrow,” Markie said. “Grandpa Jack died.” Sniffle, sniffle. “Mom said I don’t have to fly to San Diego for the funeral, but I’m going to. I mean, we weren’t close, but he’s my granddad. Was. Was my granddad. Mom couldn’t stop crying on the phone. I’ve got to go. I was booking tickets online when you walked in.”

“I’m…I’m sorry. Don’t worry about Petersburg. Do you want company for the funeral? I’m happy to go.”

Markie’s eyes lit up. “Caleb’s going. He’s been so sweet. I really hope Mom likes him.”

I hope she hates him. “Good luck.”

Markie sighed. “Guess I should start packing. We leave for Dulles at four.”

“If there’s anything I can do…”

Markie grinned, amusement twitching her nose. “Thank you, Vic. You’re the best.”

Victoria watched Markie’s retreating back. Markie thought this was a big joke, that the proposal had been a half-assed lark. If only Markie knew that Victoria would marry her no matter what.

*****

Soon after Markie and greasy, icky Caleb left for Dulles airport, Victoria got an email from her father:

Hi sweetheart! Can’t wait to see you and Markie tomorrow. I’m doing OK. Got a job in the laundry room. I miss your emails. Miss you too, but I suppose no emails is good. Means you’re having fun.

Love you,

Dad

Victoria read the email several times before she clicked DELETE. Damn Grandpa Jack and his untimely death. She hated going alone to see her father. The two times when she was seventeen had been two times too much (children sixteen and older were allowed to visit inmates without an adult present). Victoria and Daniel basically stared at each other and tried their best to pretend the small talk they made was fascinating shit. Their real conversation hid in the words left unsaid.

Victoria texted her mother and stepmother: Markie’s grandfather died. She can’t make it to Pburg tomorrow because of the funeral in San Diego. Why don’t y’all come down? We can meet in the inmate visitors parking lot @ 7:30 or 7:45.

Yeah, Victoria could’ve waited to visit Daniel next weekend when Markie would be able to go, but look at that Bassett hound-face email. Victoria couldn’t let Daniel down. Her mother and Elena would say yes, Victoria had no doubt. They hated the sometimes-zoo of the visiting room, as did Victoria, but they loved her more. They’d forget their Saturday plans, get up at five a.m. or whatever time and make the two and a half hour trek to Petersburg.

Elena replied a few minutes later: We’d love to, but we’re going out of town for the weekend. A little getaway.

Frances’s response came almost on the heels of Elena’s text: We’ll go next weekend, but we can’t this weekend.

Victoria bit her lip and stared at the offending words. Well, damn.

*****

Felicianna sent several instant messages while Victoria was in the shower—of course!

“Great,” Victoria muttered when she saw that Felicianna had logged off. She toted the laptop to her bed and settled in to read the messages. They weren’t much, but they still made Victoria’s stomach warm and fuzzy:

AnnaSparkle: Wow! I’m proud of you. Can’t wait to hear every little detail.

AnnaSparkle: Oh hey, I don’t know if I’ll be online tonight, so send a nice, juicy email. The sooner, the better! :) What will my next order be? Hmmm. I wonder.

Victoria pictured Felicianna—not the woman in the photo she sent—but the real Felicianna. The spiky, short dark hair, the green eyes. The handsome face. In many ways, such as the androgyny, she resembled Pauline.

Victoria pressed COMPOSE EMAIL and typed:

Anna,

First things first. I swiped a tie, a lovely blue silk tie, from my bed partner. You’d like it. May I send it to you? For now, here is a photo.

Victoria snapped a picture with her camera phone and emailed the picture to herself. Attached it to the Felicianna email. She read over Felicianna’s instant messages a second time and wondered why Felicianna might not be online tonight. This was becoming a pattern. Was she dating someone? Did she have lots of recently dead Grandpa Jacks? Great, huh? Felicianna would forget about Victoria before long.

Her weekend loomed large and bleak. A boring round-trip drive tomorrow, awkward, stilted talk with her father. Tons of homework Sunday. Possibly a chore or two for Felicianna. Not that Victoria considered these tasks chores. For the most part, she loved them. However, she had to admit the online relationship was kind of getting old. Wearing out its course. Victoria couldn’t blame Felicianna if she was losing interest.

Victoria clicked on her SENT emails folder. She skimmed some of the messages between herself and Felicianna, and a lengthy missive Victoria sent at the end of July caught her eye.

Anna,

[blah blah blah, not much interesting, something about canoes and unicorns]

Mr. Dobbins was my art teacher senior year. He was the pasty, pudgy type. He radiated need and loneliness. Kinda funny, though, his art was all sunshine and rainbows. Literally. He even made a little sculpture of a smiling, rainbow-colored sun. That’s how I knew he was really, really depressed.

I kept looking at Mr. Dobbins as the bell rang on the last day of high school. The other kids scrambled out. I stayed. Mr. Dobbins hung up his sculpture, and all I could see written on his forehead and on his back, in big rainbow letters, was the word ESCAPE.

ESCAPE

ESCAPE

ESCAPE

ESCAPE

I went up to him. I touched him on the shoulder. “Mr. Dobbins,” I said, “you are a wonderful teacher. I’m so lucky to have had you.”

He blinked through his thick eyeglasses. He couldn’t say a word, he was too shocked.

“I’m scared,” I whispered. “About a lot of things.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple lurching madly. “A-are you now?”

“What scares you, Mr. Dobbins?”

He grinned weakly. “We, ah, we, you know, we can’t have this conversation.”

I rubbed his shoulder and held his gaze. “I understand. I just wanted you to know, you are great.”

A true light shone in his eyes. “Thank you. You’re great, too.”

I could’ve pressed it. Could’ve made him putty in my hands. Could’ve unzipped his pants and taken his no-doubt icky cock into my mouth. But I wasn’t out to ruin Mr. Dobbins’s life. I wanted simply to enhance it.

And that’s what you do to me, Anna. You enhance my life. I hope I enhance yours as much as you do mine.

-Hgiel (You are lucky! Anna is the same forward and backasswards.)

Victoria sighed and closed the message. Saved her email in progress as a draft and X-ed out of the program. Perhaps the time had come to introduce herself to Felicianna in person. To tell her the truth. Might as well do it this weekend. Most anything beat a trip alone to prison, and if Felicianna was losing interest in her…

Sure, Felicianna would be angry at first. Furious. She thought Victoria was a twenty-five-year-old secretary who lived in Chicago. But Felicianna would understand eventually. She had to, and meeting in person would solidify their bond sooner or later.

Victoria’s heart churned with the finality of a weighty decision. A life-changing decision. She’d drive up to D.C. tomorrow. Yep. She’d drive up, give Felicianna the tie, and tell her the truth. The whole truth, starting with the program on Elena’s computer.

And maybe they would have sex. True sex, not whatever that stuff with Pauline had been. Victoria had hardly kissed anyone. She had difficulty letting people in physically and emotionally—imagine that. Didn’t mean she considered herself sexually inexperienced. Oh, she used to be a mere baby. As recently as two years ago, she wallowed at a stage where she inserted items inside herself: her own fingers, a stolen cucumber here and there, stolen carrots too, handles of hairbrushes, even a mini figurine of the Statue of Liberty. The replica didn’t hurt; it was tiny. The vegetables also didn’t hurt, but they didn’t feel woo-woo good, either. In any case, Victoria kept hoping that one day she would understand what the word “orgasm” meant and why touching yourself felt so good.

It was damned uncomfortable. Damned uncomfortable.

Then THAT DAY happened. She understood. Explosions everywhere. Now she could come easily. She touched herself. A lot. She watched videos on her laptop. She and Felicianna had cybersex, and Victoria made a couple of masturbation videos for her (waist-down videos only). She also overheard Markie and her icky guys, most recently Caleb, in bed (and, okay, Victoria masturbated to their moans and groans about half the time and pretended she was Caleb making love to Markie).

Victoria was ready. More than ready. No doubt Felicianna would need a few days, perhaps even a few weeks, to get over her shock. But after that…watch out! Dynamite!

Or so Victoria hoped.

Chapter Two

Somehow, Felicianna had missed a lamp invasion. All she saw when she turned this morning was a lamp this, a lamp that. Maroon shade here, turquoise shade there, a shade like a church window. Lamps with fluted bases, lamps with Buddha bases, lamps humping lamps everywhere and making baby lamps!

This was a problem. A big problem. The lamps created a cluttered look and distracted from the big-ticket items. No wonder sales at Antiques by Anna had slumped the past couple of months. It was the lamps, yep.

Felicianna checked the storage room and cleared a space for about twenty lamps. She started hauling them back one by one. After ten lamps, a customer came into the store, and Felicianna sold him a porcelain doll and a couple of dishes.

After he left, she hauled three more lamps back. On her way to lamp number fourteen, she spotted a young woman peering at a brass Indian vessel that somewhat resembled modern gardening pitchers. Felicianna frowned; she must have been so focused on carrying lamps that she missed the door chime.

Recognition tickled the back of her neck. She’d seen this girl—this young woman—somewhere. But where? How? The girl wore her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her tan khakis showcased slender legs. Her ample breasts kept her black shirt smart and crisp.

Delayed realization and delayed shock settled into Felicianna’s bones. The devil’s daughter, that’s who this girl was. What the hell? Brenda was one thing. She came in every few weeks, basically just to say hey. To check on Felicianna. Felicianna never asked if Elena knew about the visits, but then again, she didn’t need to ask. Of course Elena didn’t know.

Put yourself together, woman. Don’t let the devil’s daughter rattle you.

Felicianna painted on a smile and went up to the new customer. “Hello,” Felicianna said. “May I help you?”

Victoria, or Marissa, or Spawn of Satan, or whatever she was called these days, returned Felicianna’s smile, but something more than anxiety burned in the girl’s brown eyes. A horrid feeling pinched Felicianna’s heart. What if something happened to Brenda?

Unbidden words slid off Felicianna’s tongue: “Is Brenda all right?”

Round, surprised eyes from the Victoria-Marissa creature. This visit had nothing to do with Elena’s mother, and Felicianna hoped she hadn’t gotten Brenda into a witches’ brew of trouble.

“Brenda’s fine. She’s great.” Curiosity shone in the girl’s expression, but she displayed enough smarts to not pursue the matter. She held her hand out. “I’m Victoria.”

Felicianna’s hands stayed put. “I know who you are.”

“I...” Victoria let her hand fall and allowed her gaze to roam the store. “Can you believe this? I don’t think I’ve been in an antiques shop. This is nice. Really nice.”

“Can I help you with something?”

Victoria forced a grin, and almost-dimples showed up. Meaning, they weren’t dimples but the endpoints of her smile. Cute. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you can. Do you have a few minutes?”

No. Nope. Nyet. “Sure. What are you looking for?”

“Something for my best friend? Something little, nothing fancy. Her granddad died yesterday.” Victoria considered. “Or two days ago. I’m not sure when exactly.”

“Something little and nothing fancy. Hmm.”

“And weird,” Victoria injected.

“Come with me.” Felicianna led Victoria to the jewelry display and tapped on the glass case. “There.”

Victoria’s jaw dropped. “Gold vampire teeth? Oh! Awesome!”

“Only twenty-three dollars. Vintage.”

“These teeth have been in other people’s mouths?”

Felicianna chuckled. “This is a double ring.” She unlocked the case and showed Victoria the back of the teeth. Double rings, indeed.

Greed shone in Victoria’s eyes. Forget about her friend. Homegirl wanted the teeth for herself. No problem. “I have a few other double rings, but they’re not antiques.” Felicianna pointed out a mustache, a gun, lips with a tongue sticking out.

“Markie would love the mustache,” Victoria said. “I’ll take the teeth.” She slid her new ring onto her left hand and admired it.

“Looks good,” Felicianna said.

Victoria paid cash, and Felicianna secretly agreed. Probably not the best idea for Frances Dourne to notice credit card charges from Antiques by Anna.

“Want a bag?”

“Nah.” Victoria dropped the mustache ring into her own tote bag. “Hey,” she said, the extra-anxious look in her eyes returning. “When do you close today?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe six.”

“Can I come back then? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Uh-oh. Sounds ominous.”

Victoria shook her head. “It’s not, I don’t think. I have an explanation for you.”

Felicianna had no idea what to make of this. An explanation? Related to Elena, perhaps? “I’ll probably close earlier. Six is only if the store is busy.”

“Can I come back at five? Or five-thirty? What time is good for you?”

This girl looked almost nothing like her mother, thank goodness. Victoria possessed girl-next-door charm in spades, while Frances’s beauty held more of a distant, frosty quality. Ice queen. Ice devil. Hypocrite.

“Fine,” Felicianna agreed. “Five-thirty. How can I say no to someone who likes vampire teeth rings?”

That almost-dimpled smile again. “Great. Are you moving lamps to the back room?”

How long had Victoria lurked? Ah well. No point asking. “Yes.”

“I’ll help.” Victoria set down her tote bag and indicated a lamp with a gargoyle base. “Does this one go back?”

“No, but that one does.” Felicianna indicated the lamp next to the gargoyle. “And I got it. I’ll see you at five-thirty, okay?”

*****

About one p.m., Felicianna checked email on her office computer. Still nothing from Leigh. Just that “I did as you ordered. Success! Details later,” message.

From more than a day ago.

“Huh,” Felicianna muttered. It wasn’t like Leigh to hold back. She must’ve hit it off with whomever she picked up. Hit it off a whole hell of a lot. Hit it off so much she still tapped the honey pot.

Felicianna returned to the front of the store. It seemed strangely devoid of lamps now. She’d overdone it. Maybe bring five or ten lamps back out?

Sleep on it.

Felicianna felt the beginnings of a headache. Only seven customers had come into the store so far today. On the bright side, all seven purchased items, including a Japanese hanging scroll for eight hundred dollars. Felicianna bought it for four hundred, so she had made a nice profit. Plus, the online side of the business had netted ten sales today. These boxes were packed and ready to go.

Felicianna should’ve told Victoria to return at four-thirty. Or five. Instead, she was stuck waiting until five-thirty for the teenage daughter of a woman she used to hate with intense passion and still did—somewhat. Knowing kids, the girl probably wouldn’t show up. What kind of worthwhile explanation could she have? She couldn’t, that was the point.

Felicianna sat behind the cash register and opened her cellphone’s Internet browser. What to do about Leigh, what to do. They’d met on a lesbian dating site about seven months ago. In March, maybe? Leigh used the site’s email program to inform Felicianna that she liked Felicianna’s profile, and that message notification was pushed to Felicianna’s regular email per her dating-site account settings. Felicianna hadn’t logged into the site for years. Had forgotten she was registered with it. Until the message from Leigh.

They didn’t chat much at first, and Felicianna got back onto the prowl. Received a few more hits, started chatting with a few more women from the site. Nothing remarkable. She and Leigh kept talking, but Felicianna took care to keep it casual. Leigh lived in Chicago, and Felicianna had done the long-distance thing enough in her twenties. No more.

Then one night…that night. Sometime in June. Felicianna had been feeling especially down. She got drunk. Told Leigh her most shameful secret. No one else knew it. Even Elena didn’t know, and Leigh said all the right things. Admitted a few secrets of her own. They grew closer and developed a sort of dom/sub game in which Felicianna assigned “chores” to Leigh. The latest chore had been for Leigh to go out and seduce a woman.

And here they were.

Damn. Felicianna should’ve known better than to assign Leigh that chore. Or maybe her subconscious looked out for her. It’d found a way to get rid of the woman from Chicago.

Felicianna opened the archives of the dating service’s instant messenger program and selected a conversation from July.

AnnaSparkle: Sold a treasure chest today and made a treasure off it. So happy!

Leigh2323: Cool! What kind of chest?

AnnaSparkle: Brown wood. Nothing glamorous like gold.

Leigh2323: Do you get gold chests?

AnnaSparkle: Nah. They go to the high-end auction houses. How was your work today?

Leigh2323: Same old except that Freddy got drunk and grabbed my ass in the lunchroom.

AnnaSparkle: Whoa! Timid Freddy who can’t look you in the eye?

Leigh2323: That very one. In all fairness, my ass is hard to resist.

Ass. Mmm. Felicianna opened another of Leigh’s “chores,” a masturbation video from a month or so ago. Waist-down only. Per Felicianna’s instructions, Leigh exposed her bare bottom for several seconds before turning and revealing the dark patch of hair between her legs. Felicianna loved pausing on the ass shot. Loved watching Leigh’s pale fingers disappear into herself. Loved Leigh’s moans and groans.

They’d never talked on the phone, which made Felicianna glad. She didn’t need to get closer to Leigh. Right?

Felicianna ended the video mid-stream and opened the other masturbation video. In this one, Leigh’s pubic hair was trimmed into a landing strip. She wore a pink ring on her right hand that…

Hmm.

That ring with the pink stone.

Felicianna had seen…ah yes. Victoria wore one like it. Cheap, silver, plastic-looking. Huh. Interesting.

Can I come back? I have an explanation for you.

Felicianna grinned. Leigh couldn’t be Victoria Dourne, thank goodness. Still, it was an odd coincidence.

*****

Victoria came in at five-fifteen as Felicianna brought the first of five lamps back onto the sales floor. She’d decided that sleeping on the matter would prolong the inevitable. The storefront did need a mite more lampification.

“Lamps again? Can I help?” Victoria asked. She wore the vampire teeth ring and the same clothes as before. Interestingly, the pink ring had disappeared.

“Yep, I could use some help,” Felicianna agreed. “But first, can I get your opinion on something?”

“Sure.”

“The store looked too cluttered earlier. Lamps everywhere.”

“Okay,” Victoria said uncertainly.

“Now it looks too devoid of lamps. Maybe? Am I wrong?”

Victoria studied the showroom. “How many do you have out here?”

“Seven, including this one.” Felicianna patted the lamp newly retrieved from the back room.

“Are lamps popular? Do they sell well?”

“Don’t worry about that. I need an honest opinion on the look of the store.”

“I think it’s fine,” Victoria said. “But you could probably bring more lamps out, and it’d still look great. Why are they scattered around? You could have them in a cluster like you do with the hourglasses and the jewelry and some other stuff.”

“I could, yeah, but I generally use the lamps as accent pieces. Accessories.”

“You could try it both ways. Have some as accessories and maybe find a corner for a cluster of lamps?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that. Maybe there. I could shift the toys around.” Felicianna pointed to a corner that mostly housed antique toys.

Victoria nodded her approval. “This must be an expensive business.”

Felicianna chuckled. “In some ways, yeah. So…” She stuck her hands into her jean pockets. “What did you want to explain?”

Apprehension flickered in Victoria’s smile and sent further unease through Felicianna’s veins. “Do you have an office or somewhere we could talk?”

Felicianna ignored the urge to boot Frances Dourne’s daughter out on her behind. Instead, she walked to the door and flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. “Yeah, I have an office.”

*****

“I like this!” Victoria enthused as she took in the office. She probably expected a gray, utilitarian space with a metallic desk and a bare-bones chair. Not this cheerful room with yellow walls, red furniture and a slick computer.

“I really like this,” she repeated.

Felicianna tried to smile. Couldn’t. Instead, she indicated the small refrigerator humming in a corner near her desk. “Want a drink? All Cokes, I’m afraid.”

“That’s great.”

Felicianna fished two Cokes out and told Victoria to have a seat.

“The loveseat or the…” Victoria pointed to the chair across from the desk.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Victoria chose the loveseat. Felicianna hid her trepidation and casually joined the girl. She wouldn’t show that Victoria rattled her.

Victoria sipped from her drink. “Good Coke.”

“Why are you here?” Felicianna asked. “Is it something to do with Elena?”

“Kind of. But not really.”

“I don’t understand.”

Victoria wrung her hands. “A while back, my…” She stopped and licked her lips. “My laptop got infected. Malware, you know?”

“Malware sucks.”

“I used Elena’s old laptop for a while. She had a new one, so it wasn’t any sweat off her back. I kinda looked around. Found pictures and stuff on it. Pictures of her, Brenda, Isaiah and you. Videos of y’all, too. Before he died.”

Felicianna hoped this wasn’t going where she thought it might be. “You’re here to give me the pictures?”

“No. I found a program on Elena’s computer. A lesbian dating service’s instant messenger. It had the username automatically stored. Not the password, though. The username was, uh, it was AnnaSparkle.”

Snails overtook Felicianna’s brain. Snails and slugs. Slithery, slow, thick, disfigured, clumsy snails and slugs. Felicianna felt stupid. Incredibly stupid and tiny. She suppressed a nervous breath and looked Victoria right in her brown eyes. Casual. Casual. This could still be an entirely different matter.

“I asked Elena about it. She said it was probably yours and that you used her computer sometimes, especially if she wasn’t home and you were waiting for her.”

Aw hell. Felicianna was done pretending. She rose to her feet and smoothed down her jeans, jeans that didn’t need smoothing. “You should leave, Victoria.”

Victoria remained seated. “But I haven’t explained anything.”

“Leave. Please.”

Confusion threaded through Victoria’s expression. “But I haven’t—”

“Was it Elena’s idea?” Felicianna snapped.

Dark furrows bracketed Victoria’s mouth. “What? Was what Elena’s idea?”

Felicianna felt like a fool. No, more than felt like a fool. She was a fool. She heard stories all the time about people online who weren’t who they said they were. Sometimes they were police officers posing as minors in order to sting pedophiles. Sometimes they were generally the same people they claimed to be, only thirty pounds heavier than in their pictures, or fifty pounds heavier, and ten years older and with less hair. Contrary to their profiles, they didn’t give a flying squash about walks on the beach and reading romantic poetry aloud.

“You know what!” Felicianna exclaimed.

“No, it wasn’t her idea,” Victoria whispered. “But I’m not sure we’re talking about the same—”

“It was completely your idea?” Felicianna fumed.

“I really don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

Felicianna snorted. The temptation to drag out Victoria’s confusion almost won, but she simply said: “The ring with the pink stone. I saw it earlier.”

A blank expression. Good grief. Felicianna would have to spell out the explanation. She opened her mouth, but then realization flooded into Victoria’s features.

“Felicianna,” she said breathily and with new urgency, “Felicianna, look. I was curious, you know? To see what you were about. Curious and bored. Mostly bored. Lonely. I didn’t have many friends. Still don’t. I’d watched and read your interviews, and I thought what you did, selling Elena and Mom out, was crappy but also kind of brave.” Her words ran into one another, that’s how much of a hurry she was in.

“Kind of brave?”

“It took guts. You had strong beliefs, and…and…I didn’t know at the time that…about you and Elena. I didn’t know that you loved her romantically and that she hurt you like she did.”

Felicianna winced, and Victoria continued: “I set up my own profile on the site and messaged you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Felicianna mumbled. “No shit.” She sat back down, and weariness filled her body.

“I talked to you and some other women. It was okay, I guess. I enjoyed chatting with you most of all. And when we had that…the night you got drunk and—”

“Don’t say it,” Felicianna growled.

Victoria slid her vampire teeth ring off and occupied her hands with it. “Okay. Okay. I won’t. Look, everything you said is safe with me.”

Instead of murdering Victoria, Felicianna exhaled noisily and lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Oh,” she moaned after a few moments. “Oh. Goodness. Shit. Shit.” She tugged at her ear. “I deserve this after what I did to Elena.”

“That’s not what this is. This isn’t revenge. Nothing like that.”

“Sure.” Felicianna crossed her arms and continued staring at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts battered at the doors of her mind: the front door, the back door, the trapdoor, the attic door and more. She refused to let anything in.

Confession must have made Victoria thirsty, because out of the corner of her eye, Felicianna saw her swill down about half of her Coke.

“I like you a lot,” Victoria whispered. “And you like me.”

Don’t let anything in. “The person I liked doesn’t exist.”

“She does,” Victoria argued. “Some of our conversations were raw. Pure. Honest.”

“Because we weren’t supposed to meet.”

“Well, we’ve met,” Victoria said gently. “And there’s so much I want to tell you. You don’t have to be lonely anymore, you know? I’m here for you. I’ll always—”

Felicianna tuned out the rest of the girl’s gobbledygook. The kid was legal, right? Oh, she better be.

“Are you eighteen? When’s your birthday?”

Victoria blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I have two birthdays because—”

“Your legal birthday.”

“March. My other one is January 5, but look, I was eighteen for everything serious. I promise.”

Felicianna’s lips formed a hard, cold smile. “Thank goodness for small miracles.” She got back to her feet. “Now please get out.”

Victoria didn’t budge. She only gawped up at Felicianna.

“You fibbed too,” Victoria muttered. “You said your name was Anna. You sent a picture that wasn’t of you.”

“Don’t put this on me. Don’t you dare. I had to be careful. I didn’t want people to recognize me, and what does it matter if we were never going to meet?”

Keenness entered Victoria’s gaze. “People still recognize you?”

“Once in a while, but it’s enough. After your dad was arrested and the media rehashed—” Felicianna caught herself wandering. “Just go, Victoria. Get out of here, please.”

Victoria pulled herself up, and Felicianna had to fight not to stare. To not stare at this mere infant-thing, this eighteen-year-old girl with the baby cheeks and the soft brown eyes who knew Felicianna’s most shameful secret. This eighteen-year-old girl who sent two masturbation videos, videos that Felicianna had masturbated to as well. This eighteen-year-old girl who apparently was young and innocent enough to think she and Felicianna could make a go of it as their true selves.

Felicianna wasn’t mad at Victoria, only at herself. This was what happened when she took risks. When she decided she could trust someone. At least she’d noticed Victoria’s pink ring earlier. If this revelation had come out of the blue…at least the blow had been cushioned.

Victoria roped a necktie from her tote bag. “For you,” she murmured.

“Why?”

“It’s from Thursday night. I sort of stole it from, you know, from the woman I picked up.”

As if the situation couldn’t get worse. The games with Leigh went from playful to shameful. “You actually went out and did that?”

Victoria nodded, and Felicianna saw many things in the girl’s expression: Thursday night had been Victoria’s first time, it hadn’t been very good, but it hadn’t been awful either. As far as first times went, it was acceptable. And Victoria wanted her. Felicianna Grey. Excitement slithered through Felicianna’s bones, but she suppressed it immediately.

“You could tie me up,” Victoria suggested. “When you’re ready. Do everything we fantasized about. Our cybersex stuff. We could—”

“No!”

“Her name was Pauline,” Victoria pressed on in a rush. “Fifty-eight years old. Married to a man. Owns a series of car dealerships. I met her at Waffle House. I dropped a coupon for Dairy Queen and asked if it was hers. She riffled through her purse and said yes, it was. I asked about her tie and if I could sit with her.”

“Victoria! I don’t want to hear this.” Humiliation fanned Felicianna’s insides. An eighteen-year-old girl! A freaking eighteen-year-old girl! Felicianna had indirectly de-virginized Elena’s stepdaughter.

“Will you at least keep the tie?” Victoria pleaded.

Anything to get her to leave. “Yes.”

Victoria draped the tie over the back of the loveseat. “No one has to know. Not Mom. Not Elena.” She paused. “And not Brenda.”

“I’d know. Goodbye, Victoria.”

*****

Felicianna cocooned up in her office after Victoria left. Might as well. Nothing waited for her at home except TV dinners and a couple of dead plants. Here, she felt successful and accomplished. She parked herself in front of the computer and marveled at her ability to maintain this strange sort of numbness. She didn’t feel betrayed or hurt. Well, a little, sure. But mostly she deserved this. She’d seen it coming once she reconciled the ring in the video with Victoria’s ring, although she didn’t want to admit it to herself at the time.

Victoria’s deep brown eyes remained vivid in Felicianna’s memory. As did her confession that she found Felicianna’s outing of Elena and Frances both brave and crappy. Yeah, that was about right.

The girl liked Felicianna. Genuinely liked Felicianna, and she wasn’t used to people truly liking her. She would bet Antiques by Anna that Victoria would be back. If not in person, then through emails or instant messages. Unless Felicianna blocked her.

Felicianna clicked on her email box and then on the folder marked LEIGH. She opened the oldest message.

Hi Anna!

My name is Leigh—as you probably deducted from my screen name. I came across your profile and figured it wouldn’t hurt to email you. Yeah, you’re probably thinking: “Um. But my profile is so bare bones it might as well have been attacked by vultures.” That’s true—and pretty much my point. Everyone else’s profile is like a cornucopia. Overflowing. Stuffed. Overwhelming. Too much information. Who needs a hundred pictures, right? You, you’re cool and confident. You don’t need to impress, and I like that about you.

Sooo…if I haven’t scared you off and if you don’t think I’m a total psycho (or if you think I am but you like psychos), give me a holler back.

-Leigh

Felicianna moved to the next-oldest message from Leigh2323.

Hey Anna! Had a great time chatting last night. Hope to talk again soon. I’ll be on about seven tonight.

Felicianna grinned wryly as she read her reply: Is that seven your time or mine?

Oh, Leigh responded, that’s seven Eastern time, but whatever time works.

Felicianna switched to the instant messenger program and picked a conversation from mid-May.

AnnaSparkle: I pulled my hamstring today. Stupid me didn’t warm up before jogging.

Leigh2323: Ouch. Did you put ice on it? Or should that be heat?

AnnaSparkle: Both. Heat brings blood to the wound (and the nutrients in the blood). That helps the healing process, but cold helps with swelling. 15 mins with heat, 15 mins of nothing, 15 mins with cold.

Leigh2323: You’re smart. You should be a doctor.

AnnaSparkle: Haha. Just because I know about heat and cold?

Leigh2323: And because you’d look sexy in a white lab coat. The world deserves sexy docs. Don’t deprive the population.

AnnaSparkle: Think a good lookin’ doc would help people heal faster? Might encourage them to hurt themselves more. Ya know, an excuse to see the doc.

Leigh2323: Ow! I’m having a heart attack. I need CPR.

Felicianna chuckled because what else could she do? Cry? Nah. The kid had her bamboozled, yeah. Girl took after her mother. And stepmother. Fuck Victoria. Fuck all three of ‘em.

Chapter Three

Markie was jealous that Vic had, at long last, slept with someone. But there was the proposal. Markie, we could get married. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry about a thing. Will you? Marry me.

The proposal had made Markie’s heart glow, had kept making her heart glow ever since. It somewhat crossed the barrier of the unsaid understanding between her and Vic. The understanding went something like: We’d be good together, but we’d screw up our friendship. Lovers come and go, but friends stay. Best to keep our friendship for life.

Which Markie agreed with. Completely. She’d been screwing guys since she was sixteen, and it was an okay enough task. Not as pleasurable as it ideally could be, but not horrid, either. She’d made peace with it. Her parents, her mother especially, would disown her or worse if they knew she was gay. Or bisexual. Or bi-curious. Whichever one it was. Heck, Markie had gone to JMU against their wishes and was rooming with the daughter of two gay parents against their strenuous objections.

Before Frances Dourne came out of the closet, Markie’s parents worshipped the woman. After…well, they tossed her memoir. They said Vic could visit Markie in Arkansas, but Vic was reluctant to return. The only reason Markie’s parents let her visit Vic in D.C. these three times over the past four years was because Markie did something that shamed her still, something Markie never would tell Vic about.

Mom, Dad, come on, please let me visit Victoria! You like her, I know you do, and I can be a good influence on her. She’s stuck with these lesbians all the time, that mother of hers and the prostitute. Vic needs me around.

Yeah. Shame definitely continued to burn Markie’s insides, but she’d do it again. Seeing Vic was more than worth it. Facebook went only so far.

Vic, of course, had no idea just how anti-gay Markie’s parents were. They’d always been polite to Vic, and when Vic used to come over to their house most every day after school, they asked her lots of questions about herself and her father—his homosexuality, too. Interest glimmered in their eyes. They didn’t preach or lecture.

But they would have eventually.

So, anyway, Markie’s plan was to keep screwing guys for now, to keep on trucking with them, and who knew, she might find one to fall in love with. Otherwise, she’d wait until she was older and financially secure before trying something with a woman, before coming out to her family.

It helped a lot that Vic was straight.

It helped a lot that the “unsaid understanding” resided totally in Markie’s mind and that Vic had no romantic inclinations toward her. No crush, no nothing.

It helped a lot that Vic was brilliant, genius level, and that Markie knew and accepted they could never be a good long-term romantic match. Vic would bore of Markie easily.

Markie thought about all this while she rode with her family to the funeral home. A viewing for Grandpa Jack.

“This is my first time seeing a dead human,” Markie whispered. She was in the back seat with Caleb; her mother, Kathryn, and nine-year-old brother, Joseph, sat in the front. Her father might show up later. Might not. Kathryn claimed he had a new girlfriend, an airhead thirty-year-old blonde with breast implants. They probably wouldn’t make the trip from Arkansas.

Caleb’s eyes widened at Markie’s confession. “Really? I’ve seen two of my grandparents and my cousin Teresa.”

Markie scrunched her face. “I guess I’ve been…lucky? Is seeing a dead body weird?”

Caleb squeezed her hand. “Not for me. I’m used to it. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

Markie smiled, telling herself that she loved the feel of his hand. “Thanks.” She’d been screwing Caleb a little more than two weeks, and he was sweet. Not many guys would be willing to travel cross-country in this situation.

At the funeral home, Markie strained to find the resemblance between herself and the white-haired, bushy-eyebrowed old man in the coffin. She hadn’t seen Grandpa Jack in about two years, and he’d veered downhill. Politeness kept her from lingering over his body, but she sure did want to linger. She wanted to touch him and smooth out a rather too obvious makeup job on his cheeks. She wanted to make sure he was dead, because Grandpa Jack looked like he was sleeping.

“He looks peaceful,” Markie’s mother said.

“He does,” Markie replied, a catch in her voice. “It’s kind of creepy.”

“His makeup sucks,” Joseph proclaimed. “I don’t want makeup when I die. I ain’t a sissy.”

“Shh!” Kathryn chided. She drew out a tissue, blotted Grandpa Jack’s cheek, and made the makeup job worse. “I don’t believe it,” she said with a scowl. “How hard can it be to get makeup right?”

“I’ll find someone to take care of it,” Caleb offered.

And he did. Whew.

“I like him,” Kathryn said. “So does your grandma.”

“What’s she gonna do now?” Markie asked. “Will she move in with Aunt Irene?”

Kathryn dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know. That’s one good thing about your father and me separating. I won’t be too upset when he dies.”

Horrified, Markie stared at her mother and struggled to reconcile this bitter woman with the woman who, as recently as last year, fawned over her husband. If marriage did this to people, thank goodness Vic and Markie would be friends for life.

*****

Markie got back to JMU Monday afternoon. About time. She was getting sick of Caleb, and probably he of her. Markie released her duffle bag onto the dorm-room floor, and the bag landed with a thump. She grinned. Her half of the room was neat and orderly. Smelled good too. Vic had done this before. Looked after Markie in little, intangible ways.

Markie flopped onto her bed and inhaled the scent of freshly laundered sheets. She wondered where Vic was, but a nap swept her off before long. When she woke up, the room was dark, and her digital clock read 10:00. Dim lamplight glowed from Vic’s side of the room.

Markie sat up and wiped sleep from her eyes. Tapped on her lamp to its highest setting. “Vic?” she called.

A moment later, Vic poked her head around the wardrobes. “Hey, Markie. Welcome back. How was the trip?”

“Guess you saw that I forgot my phone.”

Vic chuckled. “Yet you made it back in one piece.”

“I hate being without it. Like I’m missing an arm. No, both arms.”

“For sure.” Vic sat next to Markie. “How was your weekend?”

“Eh. Okay, I guess. I have so much work to catch up on. Thanks for…” Markie’s gaze swept the room. “You know.”

Vic’s lips tugged up. “It was partly for me too.”

“Yeah,” Markie said with a moan. “I try to keep my half neater, but somehow it never works.”

“It’s fine. Really.”

“Dad showed up for the funeral yesterday. He didn’t go to the visitations or anything. Then all of a sudden, there he and his girlfriend were at the church.”

“He has a girlfriend?”

“Yep, exactly like Mom said she was. Blond, thirty years old, two floatation devices.” Markie rounded her arms around her breasts to indicate mounds even larger than her almost Ds.

“That’s tacky. You and Joseph met her for the first time at your granddad’s funeral?”

Markie clutched a pillow to her chest. “She was okay, though, I guess. She and Dad took Joseph and me for ice cream after Grandpa Jack was buried.”

“Ah. Ice cream.”

Markie grinned. “Yep. Ice cream. She adores chocolate and peanut butter.”

“So you like her okay?”

“She’s fine, but she’s too young for Dad.” Markie added a squint with her next comment: “Like you’re too young for Paul. Way too young. I’m serious, Vic. You have no business with a sixty-year-old married man. Has he called?”

“No.”

“If he does, you shouldn’t call back. Think about it. What’s he want with you? He’s gotta be a pedo.”

“He’s fifty-eight.”

“Woo freaking hoo. He’s sixty.” Markie hated this jealousy thing. She, Markie, was the one supposed to sleep around. Vic was supposed to be practical and keep her legs pressed together.

“He is fifty-eight,” Vic said irritably.

Fine, fine. Markie would woman up and shove her jealousy aside. “Spill,” she commanded.

Vic furrowed her brows. “Spill what?”

“More on Paul. What exactly did y’all do? Did he know who you were? Did you come?”

Vic directed her gaze to the darkened TV atop Markie’s dresser. “He, uh, yeah, he knew. I introduced myself as Leigh Branscom, but he slipped up at the hotel. Called me Victoria.”

“Ouch. And you screwed him anyway?”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

“Regular intercourse? Missionary? Did it hurt?”

Vic laughed and reached for the TV remote. She clicked the TV on, and the listings channel popped up. “What difference does it make?”

“I’m curious.” And bitter.

“Well,” Vic said slowly, “he wasn’t expecting anyone to hit on him. He’d only been with his wife, so he didn’t have condoms. And you know I’m not on birth control. So, no, it wasn’t missionary.”

“Spill more. Come on. Don’t make me pull your pretty teeth.”

Another laugh from Vic. “I guess we did it lesbian style, kind of. I humped his leg and then jacked him off.”

“Oh. Oh. Wow.” Markie couldn’t keep surprise out of her voice. Vic humping…that didn’t fit Markie’s mental image of her best friend.

“Is it always missionary with you?” Vic asked.

“Kinda. I don’t do blow jobs. Yet. I do hand jobs, though.”

Vic surfed channel upon channel upon channel. She frowned. “Nothing good’s on.”

Markie burned to knock the remote out of Vic’s hand, burned to know every obsessive detail about her sexual encounter. Foreplay? What did the penis look like? How long did it last? Degree of nakedness? Did they spend the night in each other’s arms?

“How was visiting your dad?” Markie asked instead.

Vic yawned. “Didn’t happen.”

“Oh, Vic. Why?”

“I didn’t want to go alone, and Mom and Elena had plans.”

“Was he mad?”

“Nah. I sent him an email saying your granddad died and that I wasn’t feeling too hot anyway.” Another yawn. “I’m kind of tired. Are you?”

“I guess.”

Vic turned the TV off. “What’s your favorite memory of your granddad?”

“He was one of the biggest bigots who lived.”

Vic chuckled. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Throwing a baseball around. And…let’s not talk about him. I don’t want to cry. He was sweet. He could be sweet, he just…”

“Okay, we won’t talk about him.”

“Vic?”

“Yeah?”

“I kind of missed you this weekend,” Markie said. “We wanted to go to college together so we could be closer, but we don’t see each other a lot.”

“Because you’re always fucking and partying. It’s not my scene.”

Because I’m scared to be alone with you too much, Vic. That’s the real damn reason.

“You’re gonna be stuck back in Arkansas if you keep on like this,” Vic lectured. “Skipping classes and drinking and stuff.”

“My grades are fine. All As.”

“Not psychology.”

“Vic—sorry, I mean Mom—there’s no attendance policy for psychology. Why do you go? Just read the textbook! I’m telling you, I have all As. Trust me.”

Vic sighed. “Okay.”

Markie grinned. “Be happy. I’m not going anywhere. I wouldn’t do that to you. And to me.”

Vic’s deep brown eyes softened. She was beautiful. Gosh. Markie wanted to close the few inches separating her and Vic, caress Vic’s cheeks and go in for a kiss.

“That does make me happy,” Vic murmured.

Chapter Four

Felicianna couldn’t sleep. She kept seeing Elena that last time she came into the shop. Felicianna heard again Elena saying: “I love you. I do. We have been through so much together. You saved my life. But…it’s time to say goodbye.”

Felicianna heard again Elena saying: “You betrayed me. You crossed a line.”

Felicianna saw again Frances’s intense, honest-looking blue eyes on TV as she vowed she had not been to another prostitute. “No, sir,” Frances said. “I have not. I am done hiding.”

What a crock of shit, Felicianna had thought. She was done babysitting Elena. If she wanted to be Frances Dourne’s co-conspirator, fine. But Felicianna refused to be part of the cozy little gang. Frances was using Elena, brainwashing her. Frances’s coming out wasn’t genuine. It was a ploy to get her daughter back.

Except.

Except four years had passed, and Frances and Elena were married. Judging from photos, they remained very much in love.

And the daughter was now eighteen years old. She’d metamorphosed from a tiny, awkward, green-haired kid to a…well, frankly, into a drop-dead gorgeous creature. She was a caterpillar turned butterfly. Bosomy, curvy, not looking her young age. Twenty-five was more like it.

Yes, after the shit Felicianna pulled with Elena and Frances, she deserved this semi-prank Victoria played on her. She deserved the weight of Victoria lodged on her mind. The weight of the girl’s bottomless brown eyes.

“There’s so much I want to tell you,” Victoria had said. “You don’t have to be lonely anymore, you know? I’m here for you.”

Victoria meant it. She really had. Not that Felicianna would take her up on the offer. No matter how many times Victoria emailed and showed up at the store.

Victoria hadn’t gotten in touch, though. No instant messages, no emails. What if she didn’t come back? Somehow, that prospect was as disheartening as the possibility of her indeed returning.

Felicianna checked the time. One-thirteen a.m. Eh. She dragged herself out of bed and retrieved a tub of Rocky Road ice cream. She plopped in front of the TV and found a black and white movie. Checked her cellphone. Signed into the dating service’s instant messenger program.

Leigh2323 was online. Online but inactive for at least three hours.

Felicianna’s heart beat. And beat. She hated it. This reaction. Her body’s betrayal. The desperation to be understood, to connect with one person. Just one person…

Oh damn well. That person couldn’t be Frances Dourne’s daughter. Couldn’t be an eighteen-year-old girl. Victoria had probably spilled Felicianna’s secrets to anyone who would listen. Felicianna needed to sign off. Now.

Reluctantly, she logged off and went back to her bedroom. She pulled open her underwear drawer. The blue tie sat, folded, under several layers of undies and boxer shorts, and Felicianna drew it out. Ran her fingers over its delicate smoothness.

She replaced the tie. She itched to do something. To take some action. She wasn’t meant for passivity. She acted, that was what she did. She acted, hell with the consequences, although she nearly always regretted them.

Felicianna re-read her favorite email from Victoria—oops, from Leigh. She loved this part: And that’s what you do to me, Anna. You enhance my life. I hope I enhance yours as much as you do mine.

Felicianna found two more favorite passages from other emails:

I thought about you today. For no other reason than I can’t get you off my mind.

Our friendship is pixels and words on a screen, but that doesn’t devalue it.

Felicianna hadn’t gotten nearly as sappy and soapy in her messages to Victoria/Leigh. She knew better. Had made conscious efforts to not get overly close to Leigh. Still, she’d sent a few pieces of schmaltz. Now, she read one such nugget and cringed over it.

Leigh, I hate that you feel some people don’t appreciate you. Please know I appreciate you. Very much. I appreciate you so much that I could never sell you in the store. You’re priceless.

Felicianna groaned. What the hell was that? Some kind of semi-joke? What? Well, whatever it was, Victoria/Leigh responded in kind: Oh Anna, you gave me the hugest goober smile ever. You make me hard, you know that? My clit’s a rock right now. A pebble. Get online tonight and help me take care of myself.

“Damn,” Felicianna muttered, her clit hardening. One thing for sure about Victoria/Leigh—she gave good cybersex. When Felicianna was eighteen, she would’ve killed to have an older woman to do this stuff with. To have anyone to do this stuff with. Heck, she was nearing forty, and she’d still kill for it.

Her heart hammering in her ears, she typed an email:

Victoria,

Thank you for having the guts to tell me the truth in person. I appreciate it. Best of wishes to you.

Felicianna

She pressed “SEND.” There. Maybe now she could sleep. And maybe she’d wake up to an email.

*****

Felicianna sold four lamps Tuesday morning and ate a quick turkey sandwich behind the cash register at noon. Then an email from Victoria arrived.

Hey Felicianna,

I really enjoyed meeting you. I know it was a shock, and I truly didn’t expect matters to progress as far as they did. I figured I’d have one conversation, maybe two, with you. Not the hundreds we eventually did have.

I hope you’ll let me buy you dinner one night.

Your store is amazing, and I wear the vampire teeth everywhere. People love them, but when they ask where I got them, I’m not sure how to answer. You know? Like, why would I be in your store, right? I gave my best friend the mustache ring this morning. I can tell she’d rather have the teeth. Ha! (And don’t worry. She knows nothing about us.)

Anyway…I hope we can keep chatting. Let’s have a meal on me sometime.

-Victoria

Sly girl. Crafty girl. A meal on her. ON her. Victoria certainly meant the double entendre, and now Felicianna couldn’t get her mind off Victoria’s stomach. Her legs. Her breasts. Her pussy.

A flat stomach and tasty pussy Felicianna definitely had seen in two videos.

She imagined licking whipped cream, chocolate syrup and other delectables off Victoria. Stop. Stop. Felicianna forced herself to puzzle over other parts of the email, parts that had nothing to do with sex. Her heart wanted to give Victoria a chance. A teeny, ant-sized chance, but a chance nonetheless. However, Felicianna’s brain knew better. Too bad her nether regions didn’t. They kept quivering at the thought of her eating food off Victoria.

Felicianna hadn’t had sex in close to a year, unless the cybersex with Leigh and the dom/sub games counted. For the first couple of years after Elena, Felicianna’s sex life consisted mainly of alcohol-fueled one-night stands. Then she’d given up. Too tired of women. Tired of trying too hard, of putting herself out there.

“You could tie me up,” Victoria had said. “When you’re ready. Do everything we fantasized about. Our cybersex stuff.”

Felicianna’s mind drooled at the possibility. She’d confided her wettest, wildest fantasies to Leigh, and Leigh had done the same.

Not Leigh. Victoria. Eighteen-year-old Victoria Dourne. America’s sweetheart.

Unlike Frances and Elena, who remained polarizing figures, Victoria continued to get sympathy from anyone and everyone. She would always be the little girl kidnapped on her third birthday, the little girl who later escaped that kidnapper—her own father—and in a bittersweet twist, was caught by police when she made her way back home to him. Yes, America rooted for her, wanted the best of futures for her. Felicianna had better not mess with what probably amounted to an already pretty messed-up girl.

But wasn’t each and every person in the world messed up in his or her own way? And was Victoria’s age such a big thing? A piece of paper said she was eighteen, but in many ways, her brain wasn’t eighteen. She went through more in her first fourteen years than most people did in a lifetime.

This was bad, yep. Felicianna trying to rationalize this. Time to nip it in the bud.

She pressed REPLY to the email and typed:

Victoria,

We can’t be friends. Again, take care. Best wishes.

-Felicianna

Her heart heavy, she pressed SEND. There. That ought to take care of Victoria.

*****

Brenda came in about one o’clock, and Felicianna’s heart lit up. She loved seeing Elena’s mother.

“Hey, Brenda!” Felicianna drew the older woman in for a hug.

“Felicianna, dear.” Brenda returned the hug and then held Felicianna at arm’s length. “You’re looking great.”

Felicianna chuckled. “Good. I didn’t sleep well.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Passable. Passable, yeah. Want a Coke? We can talk in the office. It’s been slow today.”

“Sure.”

Felicianna flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED, as she usually did when Brenda visited. They sat on the loveseat and drank their Cokes.

“Gary wants to move in,” Brenda said.

“Oooh. Really?”

Brenda chuckled dryly. “I told him no.”

“You what?”

“I told him no. I said I like my space. We’re humming along fine. Why tinker with it? We’re together most of the time, anyway.”

“How did he take it?”

“He pouted, but he’ll get over it eventually.”

Felicianna bumped fists with Brenda. “You go, girl.”

Brenda let out a noisy sigh, and Felicianna knew what that meant: the usual diatribe was about to start.

“I wish you and Elena could find a way back together. All you two went through. All you did to help her. It isn’t right, this estrangement.”

“It’s life,” Felicianna murmured. “I loved her too much. I loved her unhealthily.”

“She led you on. Now, Felicianna dear, I love my daughter, you know that. But she led you on. Plain and simple. That’s a fact.”

Felicianna responded with her usual: “Perhaps she did, but I always knew deep down inside she didn’t love me that way.”

“But maybe one day she would.”

“Yes. I hoped that one day she would.”

“Frances is good to her,” Brenda mused. “I’ve never denied that. But you’re my favorite, dear. Always. Frances is just so…distant. She doesn’t care to get to know me. I remember how you were with Isaiah. So good. So lovely. Frances wouldn’t have been like that with him.”

Felicianna’s throat closed up. It didn’t matter if Frances would’ve been good with Isaiah. He was dead.

“They’re thinking about having a baby,” Brenda said.

“What? Elena and Frances?”

“Mmm. Elena will start inseminations soon.”

Felicianna’s heart fluttered. Elena would be beautiful pregnant. “That’s good.”

“I’ll let you know if she gets pregnant,” Brenda said. “So you don’t have to hear it online.”

“It would be okay if I did hear it online. I appreciate your visits, but I’m not a fragile doll, you know?” Felicianna sighed. “Do you think maybe we could not talk about Elena and Frances anymore?”

“All right,” Brenda agreed.

Felicianna strained to think of something to talk about. Couldn’t. Truth was, her relationship with Brenda would dissolve if they didn’t have Elena in common. So maybe Felicianna ought to bring up another commonality. “How’s Victoria? She’s at college, right?”

Brenda nodded proudly, and the nod conveyed that she loved Victoria as much as she loved Elena. Even though she didn’t much care for the girl’s mother. “Victoria is at James Madison.”

“Do you see her a lot?”

“She tries to come up every other weekend. Poor girl. Her weekends are spent either here or at the prison with her father.”

“She doesn’t stay at school?”

“She doesn’t have fun,” Brenda declared.

“Maybe in her own way she does.”

“I hope so.”

Felicianna licked her lips. “This is strange, but she came in here the other day.”

“Who? Victoria?”

“That’s right. She wanted to know what I was all about. She was curious.”

Brenda smiled, but the smile didn’t exactly reach her eyes. “That’s Victoria, all right. Curious about everyone.”

“I told her that we couldn’t be friends. It would be too weird.”

Brenda studied Felicianna a long moment. “That’s probably best.”

Felicianna dropped her gaze to her lap. “Yeah.”

Chapter Five

Victoria’s heart had leapt Tuesday morning when she saw the email from Felicianna. Never mind that it said:

Victoria,

Thank you for having the guts to tell me the truth in person. I appreciate it. Best of wishes to you.

Felicianna

On the surface, the words amounted to a brushoff. Reading between the lines revealed deeper meaning. The mere fact of Felicianna’s contact showed that she wanted Victoria to respond. That she missed their talks. Throughout classes that morning, Victoria pretended to take studious notes and scribbled possible responses:

Hey! It’s great to hear from you. Maybe we could get together sometime or…?

Hey Felicianna. I really enjoyed meeting you. I know it was a shock to you, and I truly didn’t expect matters to progress as far as they did. I figured I’d have one conversation, maybe two, with you. Not the hundreds we eventually did have. I hope you’ll let me buy you dinner one night.

Hey Felicianna. I really enjoyed meeting you. Your store is amazing, and I wear the vampire teeth everywhere. People love them, but when they ask where I got them, I’m not sure how to answer. You know? Like, why would I be in your store, right?

Victoria’s ten-thirty class ended at eleven-thirty, a half-hour early. She returned to the dorm room and roused her laptop from sleep. She replied to Felicianna for reals:

Hey Felicianna,

I really enjoyed meeting you. I know it was a shock, and I truly didn’t expect matters to progress as far as they did. I figured I’d have one conversation, maybe two, with you. Not the hundreds we eventually did have.

I hope you’ll let me buy you dinner one night.

Your store is amazing, and I wear the vampire teeth everywhere. People love them, but when they ask where I got them, I’m not sure how to answer. You know? Like, why would I be in your store, right? I gave my best friend the mustache ring this morning. I can tell she’d rather have the teeth. Ha! (And don’t worry. She knows nothing about us.)

Anyway…I hope we can keep chatting. Let’s have a meal on me sometime.

-Victoria

Rather proud of the double meaning in “let’s have a meal on me sometime,” Victoria sent the email. Her stomach rumbled. Her usual move at this point would be to eat lunch in the cafeteria, maybe go for a walk, chat some with Markie when she popped in, do some homework, keep her eyes and ears peeled for communications from Felicianna/Anna and do yet more homework.

Victoria had no homework today. Besides, none of these possibilities appealed to her right now. Her entire afternoon and evening were open. Her entire damn afternoon and evening. She could be in D.C. by two-thirty. At Felicianna’s store by two-thirty. Or she could tear open a fresh bag of Fritos and watch TV.

The answer was a no-brainer. Yep. Yep. She’d see Felicianna.

*****

Victoria hated D.C.-area traffic, especially on the interstates. She also loathed parallel parking, and finding decent parking in D.C. was next to impossible. Forget about parking garages—tiny, claustrophobic boxes with even tinier, even more claustrophobic parking spaces. Why pay between twelve dollars and nineteen dollars a day for that? Nope. What Victoria did was stop at the first Metro station on Interstate 66. The Vienna stop.

A few minutes later, she was aboard a blue line train. Felicianna’s shop was a two-minute walk from the Eastern Market station. Victoria should arrive about three p.m., perhaps a little before.

Victoria wished she hadn’t replied to Felicianna this morning. Then Felicianna would’ve had no occasion to respond with yet another brushoff:

Victoria,

We can’t be friends. Again, take care. Best wishes.

-Felicianna

The words stung. They really did. Never mind that Felicianna, deep down, didn’t mean them. A woman who intended these words wouldn’t have replied. She wouldn’t have initiated contact, much less at close to two a.m.

The train picked up more passengers the closer it got to D.C., and Victoria gazed idly at her rings: the vampire teeth ring and the ring with a fake pink stone she wore occasionally. She wasn’t sure why she liked it so much. It was obviously fake. Obviously gaudy. Tacky. Maybe that was the point.

She slid it off and dropped it in her pocket. Now wasn’t the time to remind Felicianna she’d seen Victoria jilling off.

Sitting on the metro and doing nothing but thinking drove Victoria crazy, so she opened the instant messenger conversation archives between herself and Felicianna. She picked a conversation from way back in April, before they had gotten much closer.

Leigh2323: So you work alone?

AnnaSparkle: Yep. Used to have assistants. Interns, really. College students. I told ‘em I couldn’t afford to pay them, but they didn’t mind. I don’t do that anymore. Too much trouble having someone underfoot most of the time. I just put in more hours now.

Leigh2323: All work and no play makes Anna a dull girl.

AnnaSparkle: Ha! Good thing I have you, eh?

Leigh2323: Seriously, though, it seems like you work seven days a week.

AnnaSparkle: Sometimes, but I do wake up some days and think: “Eh. No work today. Screw it.” And I take the day off. I like work. I don’t mind. I’m not the kind of person who needs a hopping social life.

Leigh2323: So you do flea markets and stuff.

AnnaSparkle: Flea markets, eBay, yard sales, estate sales, antiques shows, auctions, etc. People come to me also.

Leigh2323: When do you have the time for all these yard sales and stuff?

AnnaSparkle: Early morning. I wake up Saturday and Sundays really early and hoof it all over the place. Store doesn’t open until noon.

Leigh2323: I wish you’d tell me the name of your store.

AnnaSparkle: Hey maybe someday.

Leigh2323: What got you interested in antiques?

AnnaSparkle: Some friends and I rented a big ol’ house in college. The landlord said to help ourselves to the “crap” in the attic. We found all kinds of ugly, cheap, old things there. I didn’t give them a second thought, but a few days later, one of my roomies announced he’d sold everything and made a cool $25,000. Boy. The landlady was incensed.

Leigh2323: Whoa!

AnnaSparkle: She sued him. It got really nasty. They eventually settled out of court. Split the $25,000 in half, but it wasn’t much after attorneys’ fees.

Leigh2323: Gotta love lawyers.

AnnaSparkle: Do you have experience with them?

Leigh2323: Yeah, actually. Tell you about them another time. You haven’t really answered my question about what got you interested in antiques.

AnnaSparkle: Oh yeah. Well, after I found out about the $25,000, I started researching the antiques business. I was a junior in college and aimless. No idea what I wanted to do. Antiques combines a lot of things, you know? History, art, furniture, toys, people and business to name a few. It hooked me right away.

Leigh2323: What did you end up majoring in?

AnnaSparkle: Business and history. I got a job working at an antiques store. UGH!!! The woman who ran it was just…inept. Colossally inept. We’d go to flea markets and yard sales together. She’d end up buying EVERYTHING. No discerning eye. I stayed there at the store until it went out of business. Decided I’d open my own place. I bought the good parts of her inventory and hung out my shingle.

Leigh2323: So you stayed in her building, too?

AnnaSparkle: No, no. Among her many “fantastic” talents was location scouting. We got no traffic. And she was really slow to put the store on the Internet, too. I said I’d help do that, but she poo-pahed me.

Leigh2323: I did some nosing around online. Seems like antique dealerships don’t have high success rates.

AnnaSparkle: They lack the Anna Sparkle, that’s their problem, baby! :)

At three-fifteen and with a racing pulse, Victoria pushed open the door to Antiques by Anna. Felicianna and a customer peered at a shelf of porcelain dolls. Their gazes lifted right away to Victoria’s.

Widening of Felicianna’s green eyes. A frown. Victoria’s heart trembled. What a powerful-looking woman Felicianna was. Victoria stifled her fear, her hesitation, and called: “I’ll just look around!”

Chapter Six

Ellis Avery was one of Felicianna’s longtime customers, if not the longest. They met when Felicianna clerked at another antiques store, and when she opened Antiques by Anna, Ellis shifted his loyalties. And his dollars.

“Is that Marissa Dourne?” Ellis breathed in his smoky rasp.

“No idea. Doesn’t she usually color her hair?” Felicianna was tempted to add, rather defensively, that the girl preferred to be called Victoria. Luckily, her mouth stayed shut.

“I’m sure it’s her.” Ellis’s dark eyes penetrated Felicianna’s consciousness. “Why is she here?” Left unsaid was the: after what you did to her mother?

Felicianna forced a chuckle. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

She helped Ellis select two dolls with clown faces. He paid in cash and ambled out of the store while shooting curious glances at Victoria’s back.

Victoria approached Felicianna at the cash register.

“Hey,” the girl said, and Felicianna’s body reacted to the hope radiating from Victoria’s expression. Damn her and her big brown eyes.

“Victoria.” Neutral tones. “Did you not get my email?”

“Yes. Thing is, I was already on my way up here.”

“I see.”

“Hope you don’t mind. Classes were over for the day, so…”

“I do mind,” Felicianna said quietly. “Please don’t come here again.”

“I—”

“Brenda was here earlier. What if you ran into her instead of that customer?”

Victoria sighed. “But I didn’t.”

“I told her you’d been in a few days ago. That you wanted to be friends and that I thought it wasn’t the best idea. She agreed.”

Victoria gaped. “Why would you tell her that?”

“I don’t like secrecy. I don’t. I’m done with that kind of shit. Brenda has been…” Felicianna’s mind clouded with visions from the past. “She’s been good to me beyond all reason. I won’t hide anything from her. I know she’s been good to you, too.”

“I love her more than either of my grandmas.”

Felicianna smiled. “There you go. She’s one of the smartest, wisest women I know. If she thinks us being friends is a bad idea, it probably is.”

Firmness entered Victoria’s gaze. “I want a chance, that’s all. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

Felicianna scoffed. “And where would we eat? At a restaurant, people would recognize you and take pictures of us. They might recognize me too, but if they didn’t, Matt Lord’s site or whatever website they sell the pictures to will recognize me. You really think your mom and Elena want to see that?”

“Since when do you care about them?”

Felicianna looked away. Out the window. I don’t care about them. I care about YOU. “They’ve been through enough. So have you. Your little family doesn’t need more angst.”

“We’ll eat here. Your office? Or at your place?”

Felicianna was sick of the struggle inside herself. Damn her vulnerable, lonely night self for sending that email to Victoria and giving her hope. No doubt that in about twelve hours, Felicianna would be wide awake in the dark and yearning to email Victoria again.

“One chance,” Victoria pleaded. “That’s all. Dinner tonight, and if, after that, you don’t want to see me again, so be it. I’ll stay away. I won’t email you again. I won’t message you again. It’ll be like I never existed.”

Felicianna’s chest squeezed. Already, she missed the little “Good morning, sweetie!” emails from her online friend. Their lengthy chats at night. Their sexual games. She hated the thought of everything stopping.

“Why did you come see me Saturday?” Felicianna asked. “Why then? Why come at all? We were doing fine online.”

Victoria’s eyes took her in. Felicianna had never seen eyes like this girl’s. Melty, embracing, liquid, warm eyes. The picture of fake Leigh also showed a woman with brown hair and brown eyes, and Felicianna had spent several nights gazing at a printout of the picture. Drinking in these brown eyes.

And now she’d found better eyes to lose herself in.

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Victoria said.

“Can’t be more embarrassing than anything we’ve done or talked about.”

“I felt like you were losing interest in me. You were online less. It was sorta getting old from my side too. I wanted to meet you. To see you. To touch you. We click so well.” The hint of desperation in Victoria’s voice shivered into Felicianna’s heart and stayed there.

“I wasn’t losing interest,” Felicianna muttered. “I didn’t want to get too close to you, that’s all.” I didn’t want to fall in love.

“Oh. And here I am. Way too close.”

“Yes. Too close.”

Sunlight snuck through the windows and topped off Victoria’s brown hair, lending it a golden halo. The rays might as well have pierced Felicianna’s heart too. She was thirty-nine years old, and she hadn’t learned a damn thing. Not one damn thing.

“Dinner tonight,” Felicianna said. “All right. It’ll have to be late, maybe eight o’clock. I have a few buyers meetings this afternoon.”

*****

“So I take it you’re gay?” Felicianna asked later that evening. She and Victoria sat side by side on the floor in Felicianna’s office. Their backs rested against the loveseat, and they were about to dive into fare from the hamburger place a few doors down.

Victoria unwrapped her chicken sandwich. “Mmm. Gay as a doornail.”

Felicianna snorted. Humor was one of her favorite things about Leigh. Humor and the non sequiturs. “Doornails are gay?”

“Oh yeah. Flaming.”

“I don’t see it,” Felicianna said. “Doornails strike me as straight. A longish object in a hole.”

“Anal sex,” Victoria pointed out. “Gay. Like I said.”

“So you’re a gay man? Interesting.”

Victoria grinned, her eyes twinkling. “I’m a proud gay man. I like my meat. One hundred percent beef. All the anal sex I can get. Monkey see penis, monkey get penis.”

A thrill shot up Felicianna’s spine. This was like talking to Leigh. Precisely like it. Better, actually. Yes, better. Disturbing and exciting.

Felicianna bit into her hamburger. Her limp hamburger. “How’s your food? Mine lost its erection.”

Victoria laughed out loud. “Mine’s stiff. The good kind of stiff.”

Felicianna muffled another inappropriate comment. “Um, so…what’d you do today to pass the time? After you left here?”

“I walked around. People watched. Watched people watch me.”

“You didn’t see your mom or Elena?”

Victoria shook her head. “I’ll see them soon enough.”

“Do they know you’re a proud gay man?”

A shadow flitted across Victoria’s expression, and she shoved several fries down her throat. “Not yet.” Emotions played in her eyes. Her expressive, dark eyes. “Only you know. Would they be okay with it, do you think?”

“Brenda and Elena would. I don’t know your mom well enough to say.”

“You must have an opinion on whether she’d be receptive.”

Felicianna suppressed a smile. “I’m not crazy about your mom.”

“That’s okay. I’m not either sometimes.”

Felicianna chewed on a bite of flaccid hamburger and considered whether to pursue Victoria’s latest comment. Decided to hold it for later and answered: “Honestly, Victoria, I think she’d be disappointed. The feelings she internalized for years, these homophobic feelings, they’re still there.”

“I agree,” Victoria whispered. “It sucks. She’ll pretend to be fine with it, but her eyes will, they’ll…yeah. And she’ll act differently with me.”

“Are you two close?”

Victoria’s lips tugged up. “What Leigh said about her mom, that’s the answer.”

“Okay.” Leigh had said she never felt quite right with her mother. Like they were actors in a play. Her mother said and did the right things, but she possessed a certain wooden, guarded quality. A wall of sorts. Fear, maybe. Didn’t stop her from calling Leigh “sweetie” and saying “I love you” and taking them on little outings.

“I think Elena’s the only person my mom’s really, you know, truly let in,” Victoria said. “And that’s her quota. One person. Boom. Used up.”

“You feel second to Elena?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t say that. My mom and I don’t click a hundred percent, but I know she loves me. And I love her.”

“Maybe the baby will bring y’all closer.”

Victoria stared at Felicianna. “The what?”

Oh, crap. “Um…when Brenda was here earlier, she said that Elena will start inseminations soon.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes, and lightning flew from her gaze. Anger befitted her. Made her sexual. “Nice of them to let me know.”

“I’m sure they plan to tell you very soon.”

Victoria scoffed. “I can’t imagine Mom with a baby.”

“Because she’s stiff?”

“Yeah.” Victoria smeared her sandwich into ketchup. “Hopefully she learned enough from her first time around. What to do. What not to do.”

“Maybe. I hope so.”

They ate silently the next few minutes until Victoria broached: “Well, that’s enough talk about me. What about you? Tell me something I don’t know.”

Felicianna shrugged. “It’s all been said online.”

Victoria reached for a packet of ketchup, and in the process, grazed Felicianna’s hand. Maybe it was on purpose. Maybe not. In any event, her slight touch heated Felicianna’s body. Her pussy.

Stop this silliness, girl.

“Including that you used to be in love with your best friend?” Victoria asked. Nonchalance permeated her voice, but her eyes betrayed her serious approach to the question.

Felicianna swallowed the last bite of hamburger. “Yes.”

“Are you still?”

Felicianna remembered Elena’s smooth stomach. The caress of her lips against Felicianna’s mouth. “I don’t know. Can’t say.”

“That means yes.”

“Maybe it means I miss her. Maybe it means I wish I acted differently.”

“Turning off a love like that is hard,” Victoria said. “Maybe impossible.”

Felicianna wiped crumbs off her shirt. “Are you really in love with your best friend too? I don’t know which parts of what you said online are true.”

“Most of what I said is true. Just the age and where I live is different. And my name.”

“So you really went up to your art teacher, Mr. Dobbins? That happened?”

Victoria grinned. “Yep.”

Felicianna found another crumb to wipe. Damn greasy, messy food. “But there couldn’t have been a Freddy who grabbed your ass.”

“Oh, there was. A friend from high school. I kept everything as close to the truth as possible.” Victoria’s glance slid to Felicianna’s now crumb-free breasts and back to her face. “Pretty much everything I said is true.”

“What about sex?”

Victoria’s expression darkened. “What about it?”

“Did you lie about sex?”

“I said I was inexperienced.”

“You said you had sex a few times, nothing too amazing. You said you hadn’t been in a real relationship.”

Victoria nodded. “Does the exact number of times I’ve had sex matter?”

Felicianna decided to drop this particular subtopic. Victoria was right—number of sexual encounters didn’t matter in the big picture. Also, Felicianna couldn’t help but feel guilty every time she remembered that Victoria, formerly a virgin, went out and screwed a stranger because of Felicianna. Logically, the guilt made no sense. How was Felicianna supposed to know? Ah well.

“So, you’re in love with your best friend,” Felicianna said.

Victoria shot her French fry wrapper into the wastebasket. “Score two! Yeah!” More seriously, she said: “Yes. I’m in love with her. That’s one reason you and I could be good for each other. We love people we can’t be with.”

Her argument didn’t sway Felicianna. “That’s probably true for most people.”

Victoria rested her gaze on the wall across the room. “Yeah, maybe. How did you and Elena, you know…the sex? How did that start?”

Felicianna snuck a look at Victoria’s chest. Nice. Really nice. “I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Because I’m eighteen?”

“Because she’s your mother’s wife.”

Victoria snorted. “Oh come on. I’ve heard Mom and Elena fucking, okay? I busted them twice in the kitchen too. Accidentally. I almost went blind.”

Images of Elena and Frances sexing each other up in the kitchen floated through Felicianna’s head. What were they doing? What position? For some reason, her mind latched onto a banana. Frances inserting the yellow fruit inside Elena. An uncomfortable stirring began between Felicianna’s legs.

“Um,” Felicianna said, hoping that arousal didn’t shine in her voice, “well. She, we…she had been in treatment. Psych treatment after Isaiah died and I found her in the bathtub with a knife.”

Victoria nodded. “I know about that.”

Felicianna forced herself to relax. Imagined tension drifting out of her shoulders. Water droplets evaporating. She was actually kind of enjoying the conversation. She’d never been able to talk openly like this about Elena. Not even to Leigh—because that would’ve necessitated giving fuller details. Would’ve necessitated letting Leigh in more. “Elena didn’t sleep well her first night home from treatment. Brenda had moved in with her, and I didn’t stay there that first night. The second day, I asked Elena if it would help if I got in bed with her until she fell asleep. She said we could try. So, we got in bed that night and…” Felicianna chuckled. “Up until then, we’d been platonic. I mean, I really liked her, but I knew she didn’t like me that way. I’d always been too afraid to touch her. You know what I mean?”

“Yes.”

“We got in bed, and she put her head on my chest. This sounds stupid, but I was scared we wouldn’t be friends anymore.”

Victoria wrinkled her nose. “How’s that?”

“I was afraid she hung out with me mainly because of Isaiah. Because I didn’t mind having him with us all the time.” Felicianna gave a self-deprecating grin. “My confidence wasn’t the best. So, anyway, Isaiah was dead, and I was scared Elena had no use for me anymore. I just started kissing her. Out of the blue. Just started kissing her. She, she…she kissed me back. With tongue. And everything. My hands had a mind of their own. They’d wanted her so long. It just…happened.”

Victoria’s leg brushed Felicianna’s. Sneaky girl. Taking advantage of the story to edge closer.

“It just happened,” Victoria echoed.

Felicianna ground her lips together. “Just happened. Yeah.” Change the subject. “You know, I told you several times to tell your best friend you like her.”

“Not gonna happen. It’d make things weird.”

“She might like you back. You never know.”

A rueful laugh. “Oh, I do know. She has too much fun fucking guys. She’s my roommate. I hear her with dudes all the time. She likes it. Trust me.”

Felicianna sighed. “Okay. Okay.” The clock on the wall read eight-thirty. Well. Dinner was over. She’d given Victoria the chance the kid asked for. Time to make like a football player and punt her.

Unfortunately.

If Leigh had turned out to be most anyone else, Felicianna would probably give her a chance. But Leigh was Victoria Dourne. No matter how much Felicianna’s heart and body liked Victoria, her brain emphasized that nothing could happen. Nothing would happen.

Still.

She could offer Victoria one favor. Maybe? Eight-thirty was kind of late, and a long drive faced the girl. What harm would there be letting Victoria stay the night at Felicianna’s place? Felicianna would sleep on the couch. Come morning, Victoria would be out of her life.

Chapter Seven

Victoria washed her hands after a quick pee in the antique store’s bathroom. She dreaded going back out. Felicianna would say: “Hey, I gave you an honest shot, and guess what? Vamoose! Scram.” She would lug a giant bottle of Raid from behind her desk and spray like crazy.

Nothing Victoria could do then except skitter away like a cockroach and never be seen again. She would honor her promise to stay away. She liked Felicianna a lot, a heck of a lot, but Victoria wouldn’t turn into a stalker.

Perhaps talk was the answer. Talkity talk. Gabbity gab. Victoria would run her little pink lips on and on, preserve what little time she had left with Felicianna. Maybe a miracle would happen, and Felicianna would ask to see Victoria’s skinny white butt again.

Back in the office, Victoria fingered a framed photo on Felicianna’s desk. A curly-haired, green-eyed young man beamed at Victoria, and one of his arms was loped around Felicianna’s shoulders. “Who’s this?”

Felicianna gave a wistful smile. “Trevor. He was a good friend.”

Victoria searched Felicianna’s face. Didn’t remember AnnaSparkle bringing this friend up. “Was?”

“He’s dead. He hanged himself.”

“Why? When?”

“Close to ten years ago.” Felicianna swallowed, and the pain in her gaze clenched Victoria’s chest. “He killed himself because of people like your mother. He enrolled in a program similar to the ones Gay Is a Choice has. He tried so hard to…he couldn’t…he thought something was wrong with him. I keep his picture on my desk to remind myself that while life is easier for some gays now, it isn’t for all of them. I never want to be comfortable enough or complacent enough that I don’t stand up for people who can’t do it themselves.”

What could Victoria say? No way she should follow through with her talkity talk gabbity gab plan. Not after something heavy like this. Not when she really ought to leave Felicianna alone.

“What was he like?” Victoria asked.

Felicianna smiled. A pure, sincere smile. Victoria liked it. “He was a rare bird who understood me. He was funny. He played horrible guitar. He liked drawing sidewalk chalk pictures.”

“Did Elena know him?”

“A bit. He was my friend, not hers.”

“I’m sorry.”

Felicianna shook her head. “For what?”

“My mother,” Victoria whispered.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. You’re a victim, too.”

Victoria’s tongue became thick. Thick and gnarled with tears. “No! I hate that word. I’m not a victim.”

Felicianna’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

But of course she had meant it like that.

Victoria remembered the first time she saw her mother after their eleven years apart. The woman hung back. The great and mighty Frances Dourne, the woman who wailed and beat on her chest eleven years for her child, cowered near the door. Elena had been the one to approach Victoria, and in that moment, Victoria knew with the utmost certainty that she would always be her daddy’s girl. She’d always love him more. She and Frances would grow closer, but they’d never completely bridge the gap separating them.

“She’s the victim,” Victoria whispered. “Not me. If she doesn’t like me being gay, that’s her problem. I won’t make it mine.”

“Don’t make it your problem. That’s right.”

Victoria sighed. Time to let Felicianna head home. “Well, I better go. Thanks for tonight.”

Surprise, and perhaps dismay, registered in Felicianna’s gaze, and Victoria allowed a tiny mental jump. Felicianna surprised and dismayed was good.

“You have a long drive,” Felicianna said.

“I’ll be okay. I like driving as long as traffic is manageable.”

“You’re not tired?”

Victoria shrugged. “I’m regular.”

Felicianna grinned. “Regular? Your bowel movements? That’s good to know.”

Victoria rolled her eyes.

Felicianna jammed her hands into her jeans and glanced at the clock. “It really is kind of late, though. It’s no problem if you wanna stay at my place tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch, and you could head back in the morning. When’s your first class?”

It took all of Victoria’s willpower to resist a squeal. To resist throwing herself into Felicianna’s arms.

She responded coolly: “I have psychology at eight, but attendance is optional. The next class is at nine-fifteen.”

Felicianna puckered her lips. “It’s up to you. Drive back now or wake up early in the morning.”

Like I have to think about it. “I parked at the Vienna metro. The trains start about five a.m., right?”

Felicianna nodded. “We can check online for the exact times. Might be too close of a call.”

“Nah. I’ll be okay. You sure I won’t impose?”

Felicianna grinned. “I’m sure. Now, I can’t promise a palace. Remember my place is a mousetrap basement apartment.”

“Not a mousetrap. You sent me a few pictures, remember?” But maybe they weren’t genuine photos.

Felicianna groaned. “Oh, sweetie. I sent you pictures of my dead plants because they were deader than dead! In terrible shape! The sad thing is, I still have them up. I want to see how morbid they can get.”

Victoria’s heart flickered at the “Oh, sweetie” slip. She and Felicianna, all of a sudden, had a future. A warm, bright, gooey future. “Lead the way,” Victoria said.

*****

“Welcome to my home sweet home,” Felicianna said as she let Victoria into the basement apartment a couple of blocks from Antiques by Anna. They’d walked over in companionable silence. “I’d say excuse the mess, but there isn’t one unless you count the plants.”

Victoria laughed. “That’s good to know. Markie—she’s my best friend—she’s messy as all get out. It usually doesn’t bother me, but sometimes it does.”

A slight, forced smile from Felicianna. A dart of jealousy at the mention of Markie? Well. Interesting. Victoria wouldn’t bring Markie up anymore.

“Want a nightcap before we head off to sleep?” Felicianna asked.

“You’ll let me drink alcohol?”

“A little would be okay, but I didn’t necessarily mean liquor. I have pop. Water and tea, too. Lemonade mix.”

“That’s all right. I prefer not to drink alcohol.”

“Wow. You sure you’re a college student?”

Victoria wandered over to dead plant number one, which rested in peace on a bookcase. She squeezed a decrepit leaf between her thumb and forefinger, and the leaf crumbled. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. “I never told you this online, but alcohol scares me. How can a drink have so much power over a human being?”

“Anything to do with your dad?” Felicianna asked, her voice soft.

“Partly.” Victoria wiped her hand against her jeans, turned to Felicianna and smiled brightly. “Maybe a quick glass of water. You’re probably ready to get to bed.”

Felicianna laughed. “What am I, ninety? I’ve stayed up late with you plenty.”

Victoria enjoyed Felicianna’s reaction. A lot. Who was Felicianna kidding? She hadn’t invited Victoria over due to concern about driving back late at night. She’d done it to spend more time with Victoria. Victoria, an intelligent, sexy eighteen-year-old girl Felicianna went clickety-click with.

Victoria offered up a suggestive smile. “I want to talk about you.”

“There’s really nothing you don’t know.” Felicianna beckoned for Victoria to follow her into the kitchen. She fixed two glasses of water with ice, and they sat at the kitchen table.

Sip. Sip. Ice tinkling. Sip. Gazes avoiding. Victoria thought about what she and Felicianna had shared online. Private stuff. Embarrassing stuff. The two masturbation videos starring Victoria.

“I know everything, huh?” Victoria murmured.

“Everything.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Felicianna shrugged. “It’s true.”

“You ever been to a prison?”

“Can’t say I have.”

Sip. Sip. “I don’t like visiting my dad at Petersburg.”

“I imagine you don’t.”

“I almost went back to Arkansas last year. I didn’t really want to, but why keep avoiding the place? I was going to stay with Markie, and we planned to see the cabin again. Then my dad turned himself in.”

“Mmm. Yeah. I remember where I was when I heard.”

“Were you on the crapper?”

Amusement twisted the corner of Felicianna’s mouth, and she laughed. “Close. I was cleaning the bathroom, and I had the TV on high. Heard something about Daniel Dourne surrendering himself to the FBI. I ran into the living room.”

“The look on Elena’s face was priceless. Weeks before the divorce would’ve been final.”

Felicianna glanced toward a poster of cherry trees lining the Tidal Basin. It was the kind of poster that functioned as a window for rooms that didn’t have windows. Rooms such as this kitchen. The bright daytime scene contrasted with the outside Victoria had just left. Jarring. But interesting. She liked Felicianna more and more.

“Eh. Your parents still got the divorce,” Felicianna said.

Victoria gripped her glass. “A few months later.”

“Still, they got it.”

“I wish you’d say something about yourself.”

“Why?”

“So I don’t have to keep talking about me.”

Felicianna drummed her fingers against the table. “Ask a question.”

Victoria took a deep breath. Thought. Thought. No true question came to mind, so she went with this: “Okay. Fine. Were you actually worried about me driving back tonight?”

Felicianna gave a tight smile. “Yes. That’s why you’re here, Victoria.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “Let’s find you something to sleep in.”

*****

The sirens were strangely comforting, although Victoria would never forget the fear in her heart from the rhaaaa-rhaaaa-rhaaaa of the police when she was fourteen and trying to return home to her dad. In a sense, her childhood ended at that moment.

Victoria never heard sirens from way up on the top floor of her mother’s Arlington penthouse. Didn’t hear them at JMU either. Here, in Felicianna’s basement apartment, yep. Sirens. Every couple of hours. They reminded Victoria that a vibrant, real world lurked out there. A world beyond penthouses, colleges and Arkansas shacks. A world with real people and crime and dirt and grit.

Victoria had insisted on taking the couch. “See,” she argued, “I have to be up earlier than you. If you slept on the couch, my clomping would wake you up.”

Felicianna laughed, a sunny sound the opposite of her earlier intensity. “I doubt you’re capable of clomping, Victoria Dourne.”

“If you take the couch, you’ll find out my extreme capabilities in the morning.”

Felicianna held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, you get the couch.” She showed Victoria how to lock the door on her way out in the morning and lent her boxer shorts and a loose T-shirt. She didn’t touch Victoria, but she looked at Victoria more. Stood closer to her, like Victoria’s leprosy had vanished. That kind of stuff made Victoria tingly and happy.

She’d been too scared to ask Felicianna before they went to bed if she was to stay away forever. She figured no news was good news. She’d leave in the morning and let Felicianna contact her.

More sirens. Fire truck, ambulance, police.

Victoria rose from the couch and checked the time. A smidge past three a.m. She couldn’t peer out the windows to see where the sirens were because the windows were too high up in the apartment. She surveyed Felicianna’s freezer and refrigerator. Pitifully bare. Maybe Felicianna would let Victoria cook for her one day. Felicianna had also gone ahead and chucked out her dead plants. Victoria planned to bring a bamboo plant or a cactus if they got together again.

Victoria yearned to get in bed with Felicianna. No touching, nothing of the sort. Just to hear her breathing. Victoria was good at making sure nothing would happen. It never did with her and Markie, no matter how many times they shared a bed. Sleeping with Markie wasn’t too weird, if that made sense. Markie had visited Victoria three times in the four years they were apart. Each visit lasted about a week. Frances’s penthouse had four bedrooms, one for her and Elena, one for Victoria, one as a quasi-office for Frances and her hourglasses, and lastly, a guest bedroom. The guest room was officially Markie’s to use during the visits, but she slept with Victoria in Victoria’s bed. If Frances thought that was odd, she never said so.

Victoria liked Markie with her in bed—Markie’s breathing, her little night noises, her tosses and turns.

Come college, come JMU, Victoria and the six-foot-tall Markie spent their first night packed like sardines in Victoria’s bed. The next night, Markie brought her first greasy guy back to the dorm room. Still, every once in a while, Victoria and Markie distorted themselves into sardines and did as sardines did in bed. Markie showed no signs of attributing deeper meaning to their intimacy. At first, Victoria hadn’t, either. She’d been in love with Markie about two years, and the first time Markie visited and shared a bed with Victoria, they were fifteen.

The second visit happened when Victoria was sixteen and not long after she discovered how to bring herself to orgasm. Her body really, really, really began reacting to being in the same bed as Markie. Falling in love with her was easy. They were easy together. Markie was gorgeous, candy for the eyes. They laughed a lot. True, Markie didn’t enjoy a lot of the stuff Victoria did—stuff many people, teens and adults alike, found boring or stupid. Art museums, for example. Political discussions. Inventing stories on the spot. At least Markie tried, and the biggest thing was, she liked Victoria for Victoria. That was why, even though Markie had changed, had turned into a party head in college, Victoria would stick by her side no matter what. Best friends forever.

Victoria checked her phone. Earlier, she’d texted Markie that she ran up to D.C. to see Frances. Markie hadn’t replied.

Victoria flopped back onto the couch. Snuck her hand into Felicianna’s boxer shorts. Felicianna hadn’t come out of her room after disappearing inside for the night. Mean lady, denying Victoria a chance to see her in pajamas, but Victoria’s mind would make up for it. She closed her eyes and let the familiar cadence of her fingers take over. When she masturbated, she usually fantasized about Markie—although the past few months, it was about fifty percent Markie, fifty percent Felicianna.

This time, it was Felicianna. All Felicianna.

Victoria imagined Felicianna in black boxer shorts and a tight black tank top. Felicianna’s breasts probably weren’t large. Perhaps the size of small apples. Didn’t matter. With all that blackness, including her dark hair, Felicianna exuded power. Her green eyes glittered, and she crooked her finger, beckoning Victoria. She ran her tongue across her teeth, giving Victoria a slow, seductive bedroom smile.

Chapter Eight

At four a.m., Felicianna pretended she had to pee. She creaked her bedroom door open, snuck a glance into the living room, saw nothing but dim shadows and Victoria under the blanket, and padded to the bathroom. She pulled her boxer shorts down and sat on the toilet.

She’d never quite gotten to sleep, and after the latest batch of sirens, she heard Victoria walking around. Checking out the fridge.

Well. No pee. No light-yellow stream. No piss.

“Come on,” Felicianna muttered, and finally, a trickle began. Grew stronger but didn’t last long. Felicianna wiped, pulled her shorts up and washed her hands. She was either one of the dumbest people alive or…well, one of the dumbest people alive. Why didn’t she just ask Victoria to get in bed with her? They both wanted it, and nothing sexual would happen. Victoria was right that no one had to know. Not Elena, not Frances, not Brenda. Felicianna and Victoria were consenting adults. What they did was their business. Wasn’t anyone else’s business.

Fine. Felicianna would do it. And regret it later, like she regretted most of the decisions she made in the wee hours of the a.m. During the day, her mind kept busy enough. Her body kept busy enough. At night, her body and her mind got so lonely they ached. At night, Felicianna relived the past until she wanted to scream.

She gargled her mouth with Listerine. Tiptoed to the doorway connecting the living room and the hall. “Victoria?” she whispered.

Silence.

More insistently: “Victoria?”

The figure under the blanket bolted upward. “Oh shit. Did I oversleep?”

“No, you’re good.” Felicianna edged a couple of steps into the living room. “I thought that if you couldn’t sleep, you could…you’re welcome to try the bed. For whatever little time before your alarm goes off.”

“With you?”

Felicianna swallowed. “If you want.”

“What…what time is it?”

“A little after four.” Felicianna didn’t let herself think or worry or agonize anymore. She simply went to the couch, sat and wrapped her arms around the woman she’d started falling in love with a few months ago.

*****

Felicianna checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time Wednesday. And it was only eleven a.m.! She wanted to die. Painfully and more painfully. She wanted an executioner to pop into the store with a guillotine (antique, of course) and whoosh her head off. She wanted a cannibal to brandish a knife, flay her skin and eat her raw.

The clear light of day judged Felicianna unerringly and harshly.

Why had she done it? Hugged Victoria? Let Victoria ease her farther onto the couch? They never did go to bed. Instead, they stayed on the couch, with Felicianna curled up against Victoria’s chest. With Victoria’s arms around Felicianna. Even in memory, Victoria’s heartbeat coursed vividly through Felicianna’s body. The feel of Victoria was safe. Reassuring. Felicianna couldn’t remember a woman holding her like this. The other way around, sure—Felicianna holding the woman. She must have a thing for damsels in distress. Elena certainly qualified.

No talking had happened, and Victoria’s cellphone alarm blared all too soon. Victoria fumbled with her phone and whispered: “I put it on snooze.”

“Okay.”

“I can stay longer. As long as you want.”

Implicit in her words: And we could go to your bed. Spend the whole day together. Smile. Laugh. Be happy. Most importantly, be together.

Yeah, right. Couldn’t happen.

“You don’t want to miss classes,” Felicianna said gruffly.

“I do, actually. I want to miss classes very much.”

Felicianna forced a chuckle and disconnected from Victoria. Rose to her feet and was disappointed when Victoria didn’t try to stop her. Victoria went into the bathroom, got dressed, probably used a finger to brush her teeth.

Felicianna got dressed too, and Victoria blinked when she emerged from the bathroom and saw Felicianna in jeans and a sweater.

“It’s dark,” Felicianna explained. “I’m not letting you walk to the Metro alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Probably, but if something happens, do you think I want Frances Dourne after me?” Felicianna shivered. “Scary thought.”

Victoria’s almost-dimpled smile. “Good point.”

“So, breakfast for the walk,” Felicianna said. “I found a couple of hard bagels in a cabinet.”

Victoria giggled. “That’s what she said.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She continued grinning. “No offense to your hard bagels, but I’ll stop for a candy bar or donuts in Northern Virginia.”

Felicianna brushed her teeth and grabbed a light jacket for Victoria. The girl only had a polo shirt. “For you.”

The look on Victoria’s face mingled eagerness and…well, more eagerness. Lots more eagerness. Because if she borrowed Felicianna’s jacket, she’d have to return it, right? They’d have to meet again. “Thank you,” Victoria said.

“No problem.” Felicianna undid the three locks and let herself and Victoria out into the last vestiges of the dark morning. “Keep the jacket. I never use it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Disappointed voice.

“So,” Felicianna said as she and Victoria began the three-block walk to the Metro, “my bagels take great offense. What does a Snickers bar have that they don’t?”

“I’ll probably get Reese’s Cups. Although now that you say Snickers…damn it.” Victoria groaned. “Maybe I’ll get both.”

“Breakfast of champions.”

“You got that right. Nothing beats a pizza breakfast, though.”

Felicianna grinned. “That’s for sure.” She inhaled a lungful of fresh air. She rarely experienced D.C. at this time of the day. She did get up early some weekend mornings to hit yard sales, but not this early. The streets were deserted. Few lights shone from inside the stores and townhouses. And the Metro station quickly approached.

Victoria nudged her hand into Felicianna’s. Felicianna’s heart thrilled, her brain said no no no, and she clenched her teeth. Let Victoria’s hand stay with hers. No biggie, right? Only a half-block remained. Oh, weakness. Weakness, how I hate thee.

They stepped onto the escalator and descended together. Victoria withdrew her hand from Felicianna’s and poked cash into a machine. Victoria’s ticket popped out, and Felicianna smiled a bright smile she didn’t feel.

“Have a safe trip back, Victoria.”

The girl’s eyes were intense, and for a moment, Felicianna thought Victoria would kiss her goodbye. She didn’t. Instead, Victoria echoed Felicianna’s bright smile and nodded. “Thanks for the jacket,” Victoria said. And then she was gone.

That was about six hours ago. Why couldn’t Victoria send a message that she got back to JMU okay? Maybe she thought she was supposed to stay away, both online and physically.

And she was. Wasn’t she?

Felicianna sighed and thumbed an email message on her phone:

V,

Let me know you got back OK.

-F

She pressed SEND.

Chapter Nine

After Victoria’s last class of the day, she headed back to the dorm room and curled up in bed. She read and re-read Felicianna’s email. Still felt Felicianna’s imprint on her chest, in her heart. Holding Felicianna on the couch, the physical contact with her, had been…wow. Just wow. Amazing. Thrilling. Alive.

Victoria should’ve kissed her goodbye. Felicianna wanted it. Her eyes practically said: Come on, Victoria. What are ya waiting for?

Instead, Victoria chickened out and left. At least Felicianna hadn’t waited long before emailing. Victoria loved her new dilemma—how to reply to the email. She didn’t want to come across as overeager, but she didn’t want to seem indifferent, either.

She booted up her laptop and sent this:

Hey F,

I got back fine. Went to the dorm and swooped my books and stuff up. Was ten minutes early for class. Thanks so much for letting me stay over last night. You really do have a nice place. Hope your day is going well.

-V

Markie walked in a few minutes later. “Hey, Vic. You’re back.”

“Yeah, you were gone this morning when I got my backpack.”

“I was gone because I was in psychology. Because you said I ought to start attending. Guess who wasn’t there?”

Victoria groaned. “Oh, come on. How was I supposed to know you’d show up for once?”

Markie positioned herself on Victoria’s bed. “Yeah. Whatever. How was your mom? Why’d you see her?”

“She was fine. I just, you know, needed to get away for a bit.”

Markie snorted. “I thought we were better friends than this.”

“Than what?”

Fierce redness colored Markie’s cheeks. “You were with Paul, weren’t you? Having more hot lesbian-style monkey sex with him.”

Victoria stared at her best friend. For whatever reason, Paul(ine) really got under Markie’s skin. If Victoria didn’t know better, she’d think Markie was romantically interested in her. The more logical explanation: Markie feared losing her time and attention. Victoria had always been available at the last minute to heed Markie’s beck and call. She had been Markie’s lap dog. Her sidekick.

“You can do better,” Markie persisted. “You deserve better than a married geezer. He can’t even give sex to you the old-fashioned way! He can’t get his dick up, that’s why he doesn’t carry condoms.”

“You mean old-fashioned sex like you get with Caleb and all these guys before him?”

“Well…yeah.”

Victoria laughed. “You mean like you don’t deserve better too? These guys are punks, Markie. They’re idiots! Maybe I think the old-fashioned way sucks. Maybe I don’t want to be paranoid about getting pregnant. You’re on birth control, but you’re still paranoid! Two pregnancy tests. I don’t wanna live like that.”

“I have fun,” Markie said defensively. “These guys are fun.”

“So why can’t I have fun? Seems like you’re the one who ought to take a step back. At least my way, I won’t get pregnant.”

Markie shook her head. “Was the lesbian-style sex your idea?”

“I guess.”

“It’s nice, huh? It’s that nice?”

“It’s…yeah. It’s nice.”

Markie entwined her fingers with Victoria’s. Usually, Victoria loved their hands together—her smaller palm nestled in Markie’s larger palm. Now, though, Victoria wished Felicianna was the one holding her hand. Victoria couldn’t get her mind off the woman. Had daydreamed about Felicianna all day. Their hands together on the walk to the subway fit better than Markie’s and Victoria’s. And Felicianna was nowhere near as tall as Markie. She stood maybe an inch taller than Victoria, that was all. As a result, Felicianna’s and Victoria’s hands were about the same size. Victoria enjoyed the smaller, thinner fingers instead of Markie’s giant digits.

“Sorry if I’m an ass,” Markie mumbled. “Just…you know. Sixty and married. Oops. I mean, fifty-eight and married. But you know what you’re doing. You know better than me.”

“Okay,” Victoria said, only half listening. I wonder what Felicianna’s doing now. What if she doesn’t reply to my email? Should I give it a few days or not send another email? She likes me, though. She does.

Markie continued: “I really…I appreciate what you did earlier. When you thought I was pregnant. You saying you’d take care of me and the baby.”

Victoria cringed. “Don’t remind me. That was embarrassing.”

“It wasn’t. It was sweet. So sweet. If I’d said yes, where do you think we’d honeymoon? London? Paris? The Caribbean?”

Victoria blinked. What in tarnation was Markie doing? “We wouldn’t honeymoon.”

“Aw, Vic. Where’s your imagination gone?”

“Okay, okay. Hey! Transylvania? We could capture a few vampires.”

Markie smiled and tightened her grip on Victoria. “Can I lay with you a few minutes? I keep seeing Grandpa Jack in the coffin.”

Victoria squirmed. Ordinarily, she’d give her left labia for cuddle time with Markie. But not now. Not when Felicianna weighed first and foremost in her mind.

Bzzzz! Victoria’s phone. An email. Maybe from Felicianna? Victoria’s heart jittered, and she grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

No, not from Felicianna. From Daniel.

Hi sweetie,

I hope you’re feeling better. Can’t wait to see you and Markie this weekend. We can play twenty questions. How is she doing after her grandfather’s death?

-Dad

The depressing visiting room flashed through Victoria’s mind. Twenty questions. Great. She deleted the email and rose from the bed. “Hey, I’m gonna go for a jog.”

Markie stared at her in dismay. “What about…I thought we could take a nap.”

“I’ve been sitting all day. I gotta move. Text Caleb or something.”

Chapter Ten

Four a.m. Wednesday had found Markie booting up Vic’s laptop as Caleb snored from across the room. Markie doubted that Vic had gone to see her mother. First of all, why in the smack dab middle of the week? Why not wait for the weekend? Why not give a reason? Of course Vic was with Paul, he of the wife and the fifty-eight-year-old pedo penis.

Vic absconding secretively was a problem, hence the four a.m. laptop booty call. The computer was a Hewlett-Packard accessible by a fingerprint scan or typing a password. The fingerprint was obviously out of the question. Password, then. Gingerly, Markie typed: “airotciv” because Vic had a thing for spelling stuff backward.

Nope. No dice. But! A password hint appeared below the password box. “A very red buffoon” read the clue.

Well, heck. What was Markie supposed to do with that? And how many tries did she have before the system clamped down? Why did Vic even have a password anyway? Didn’t she trust Markie?

Markie opened Vic’s desk drawers and pawed through them, searching for something resembling a list of passwords. Nothing.

“Marko? What ya doing?” Caleb’s deep, sleepy, voice caused Markie to jump.

“Geez, Caleb! Don’t scare me like that.”

“Then don’t make so much noise,” he said reasonably.

Markie scoffed. “Get back to bed.”

“Why are you going through Vic’s stuff?”

“I’m worried about her.”

Caleb sat on Vic’s bed and quizzically studied Markie. The light from Vic’s lamp lent him a dopey, airhead expression. “What for?”

“She didn’t go to D.C. to see her mom.”

“So?”

“I think she’s with Paul. You know. The old man skeev.”

Caleb grinned. “Who cares?”

“I care!” Markie snarled. “I care that she’s lying to me.” Markie quickly keyed in: “extremelymaroonclown.”

No go. “Hey, Caleb? Can you get Vic’s password?”

Caleb ground his lips together. “Of course I can. But why should I?”

“To impress me. To flex your computer science geek skills.”

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Just worried.”

Caleb got up and wrapped his arms around Markie. “Let’s go to sleep. Vic is fine. I promise.”

*****

After Vic left for her jog, Markie stared daggers into Vic’s laptop. That infernal password screen. Why wouldn’t Caleb do Markie a favor and hack the computer? He was her boyfriend, for goodness’ sakes!

Markie wondered if Vic had heard her crazy heartbeat, the crazy bats flying in her stomach. Most of the time, unsaid understandings were good, but yeah, they sucked too. Waiting sucked. Being patient sucked.

Remember the big picture, remember the big picture...

Lovers came and went. Friends stayed. Paul and his pedo penis would be out of the picture before long. For that matter, Caleb would be too, especially if he continued his insistence against not hacking Vic’s computer.

Too bad Vic took her phone on the jog. True, Markie could always “borrow” it at night when Vic slept, but Vic might catch her.

Half-heartedly, Markie typed “reallymaroonjoker” into the password box. Wrong-o!

You’re overthinking. The answer is simple. You don’t need Caleb. You don’t need insane password combinations.

Markie inhaled a nervous, guilty breath and reached for her phone. Vic usually jogged for an hour and change, so she would be out a while. Markie texted her: “Hey, my POS puter’s being shittier than usual. Can I borrow yours to finish a paper?”

The answer came a few minutes later: “Yeah, sure. Pword’s avrb1437eeu.”

Okaaay, Markie thought. Yeah, that was my next guess. Ha. How does that come from a very red buffoon?

She replied: “You’re the best. Thanks! I should be done by the time you get back.”

“No prob,” Vic texted.

Markie typed the password, and the computer kicked into gear. “Here we go.” She opened Outlook, and a long list of Vic’s school emails loaded. Nothing interesting, a few emails from Vic’s family plus the usual spammy junk announcing seminars, guest lectures, plays, sporting events, receptions and the like. Markie clicked on Mozilla Firefox and checked the history.

“Well,” she muttered. “Ain’t this interesting.” She clicked on the most recent item, titled Lesbian Planet Dating Service. The webpage that popped up indicated Vic had an account with LPDS. What’s more, Vic checked in earlier and hadn’t signed out.

Markie’s heart quivered, and she clicked on the email icon. Whoa! A tons-long string of emails loaded. Most were from someone called AnnaSparkle. Nothing unread. Markie pressed her tongue against the back of her top teeth and moved the cursor to SENT emails. Apparently, Vic’s username was Leigh2323, and most of her emails were to this AnnaSparkle person. Markie navigated back to the inbox and clicked on one of the few non-AnnaSparkle emails. Felt like less of a privacy invasion.

This email, from PenMiller1983, dated to last month and read: “Sorry I had to run last night. I’d like to talk some more. You up for it?”

Most of the AnnaSparkle emails had an arrow next to them, which Markie guessed meant Vic had replied. This PenMiller1983 message lacked the arrow. Markie chose another email, this one from UnicornGrrl. It read: “Your hot! Im in chicago too, u wanna meet up?” This one also lacked a reply.

Chicago? What the heck?

Markie clicked on “See how my profile looks to others,” and a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman greeted her. Leigh2323 was twenty-five years old and a secretary in Chicago. She loved road trips and hiking. Markie had to squint for the picture to bear a passing resemblance to Vic.

Markie checked the time. She was fine. Yeah. Fine. She gulped an uncomfortable breath and clicked on the most recent email from AnnaSparkle.

V,

Let me know you got back OK.

-F

Markie checked the sent emails for Vic’s response:

Hey F,

I got back fine. Went to the dorm and swooped my books and stuff up. Was ten minutes early for class. Thanks so much for letting me stay over last night. You really do have a nice place. Hope your day is going well.

-V

“What the…” Markie muttered. Anger like she’d never known swirled inside her. Vic wasn’t seeing a fifty-eight-year-old married man. No, she was seeing a woman. A woman!

Markie noticed a button for “sign into messenger” and resisted clicking on it. Knowing Markie’s luck, Vic was on the messenger right now from her phone, and/or this AnnaSparkle was. For now, Markie would satisfy herself with emails. She skimmed through two more AnnaSparkle emails:

Victoria,

We can’t be friends. Again, take care. Best wishes.

-Felicianna

and

Victoria,

Thank you for having the guts to tell me the truth in person. I appreciate it. Best of wishes to you.

Felicianna

“Huh.” Markie found an email in the SENT folder:

Hey Felicianna,

I really enjoyed meeting you. I know it was a shock, and I truly didn’t expect matters to progress as far as they did. I figured I’d have one conversation, maybe two, with you. Not the hundreds we eventually did have.

I hope you’ll let me buy you dinner one night.

Your store is amazing, and I wear the vampire teeth everywhere. People love them, but when they ask where I got them, I’m not sure how to answer. You know? Like, why would I be in your store, right? I gave my best friend the mustache ring this morning. I can tell she’d rather have the teeth. Ha! (And don’t worry. She knows nothing about us.)

Anyway…I hope we can keep chatting. Let’s have a meal on me sometime.

-Victoria

Markie re-read the “my best friend” line several times, and betrayal continued to knife her. Just what was going on? What was so important she couldn’t know about it? Who was this Felicianna person? Surely she couldn’t be Felicianna Grey, the woman who exposed Elena and Frances. Markie had to admit, though, the name was unusual.

She brought up AnnaSparkle’s profile. Anna was thirty-nine years old, lived in Washington, D.C., and worked in antiques. The space under hobbies and other interests was blank. Bare-bones profile. No picture, either.

Again, Markie looked over the email Vic sent. Latched onto: “Like, why would I be in your store, right? What if word got out?”

“Okay,” Markie mumbled. “Okay.” Sure did look like Vic’s pal was Felicianna Grey. Markie distinctly remembered that Felicianna owned an antiques store called Antiques by Anna. The age was about right, too.

Gonna read one more email and that’ll be it.

Markie closed her eyes and pressed the down arrow on the keyboard to select an email at random from the inbox. She ended up with a message from the beginning of September—only a few weeks past.

Hey Leigh. A little birdie told me you were a bad girl last night. More than bad. Naughty! I’ll have to punish you tonight. Brace yourself.

-Angry Anna

The words made Markie tired. Incredibly tired. Weary. Jealous. Angsty. She erased her recent activities from the browser history and closed the laptop. She crawled under her bedcovers and wished life was as simple as Vic fucking a fifty-eight-year-old married man.

Markie would never have pegged Vic as the type out for revenge, but for what other reason would she pretend to be gay?

Chapter Eleven

Felicianna’s apartment nearly always felt empty. Like it possessed an emotional hole. As Felicianna surveyed the slim pickings in her freezer Wednesday night, she realized that the hole had expanded. Probably by at least two times. It’d sprouted teeth, too. An inevitable result of Victoria’s presence the night before, Felicianna supposed.

She chose a Stouffer’s meal and tossed it in the microwave. Five minutes later, she sat at the kitchen table with her baked chicken, mashed potatoes, Coke, phone and magazine. She’d been tempted all day to log into the instant messenger service and see if Victoria was online.

Flip magazine open. Chew. Flip flip flip. Magazines these days were ridiculous. Some tables of contents didn’t show up until page twenty-five. Chew. Sip. Sip.

The magazine was one of these glossy women’s rags. Not Felicianna’s preferred fare, but someone had left it at an auction earlier that day. Felicianna found a quiz: “ARE YOU COMPATIBLE WITH HIM?”

She snorted and moved to the next page, the beginning of an article about a pop singer. Zzzzz.

She smashed the magazine shut and went to washingtonpost.com on her phone. Read an article on proposed tax cuts. Chew chew.

To hell with it.

She logged into the instant messenger service. No Leigh2323. All righty. Okay then.

Felicianna finished her meal and retreated into the living room to watch TV. She set the phone to alert her if anyone on her list logged onto the chat service. In the next hour, two women did—women she hadn’t talked to in months.

Finally, at ten p.m., Leigh2323 logged in, sending a familiar shiver of giddiness up Felicianna’s spine. Felicianna waited. And waited. Ten minutes later, still nada. She hadn’t replied to Victoria’s earlier email, and now Victoria wasn’t sure how to proceed, that was the problem.

Yeah. Join the club.

Felicianna logged into the service from her laptop, sucked in a breath and typed.

AnnaSparkle: Glad you got back OK.

An almost instantaneous response conveyed the extent of Victoria’s eagerness.

Leigh2323: Me too! It would suck if I rolled into a ditch. Well, it’d suck for me. Not so much for the predators circling my body to eat me.

Felicianna grinned. Victoria loved her double meanings, that was for sure. Ahh. This felt good. Joking with her friend again.

AnnaSparkle: You’re assuming they would want to.

Leigh2323: Wouldn’t they? I have some meat on me.

AnnaSparkle: Not if you’re oily and nasty from the car wreck.

Leigh2323: Awww. Good point. Predators can be so picky sometimes.

AnnaSparkle: Tell me about it. Last year I was on a hike. Fell off a cliff, landed, broken leg, all that. Stayed immobile for five days. No animals came for me.

Leigh2323: Video games don’t count.

AnnaSparkle: :p So I hope you slept all right.

Leigh2323: You get a lot of sirens.

AnnaSparkle: Yeah. Sorry about that.

Leigh2323: No, don’t be sorry. I liked them.

AnnaSparkle: Why?

Leigh2323: I don’t hear them much. Something different.

AnnaSparkle: Ha. You wouldn’t say that if you lived here long enough.

Leigh2323: I guess not. How was work?

AnnaSparkle: Okay. I put in a half day at the store. Went to an auction afterward. How were your classes?

Leigh2323: Fascinating. I hung onto each of the professors’ words. ;)

AnnaSparkle: Smart ass.

Conversation continued in that vein, and before Felicianna knew it, thirty minutes had passed. Then an hour. She wanted to ask to see Victoria again but didn’t dare make the request. On the other hand, if Victoria brought it up…well. Saying no would be rude, right?

Leigh2323: Have hot weekend plans? I see Dad at Petersburg on Saturday.

AnnaSparkle: Can’t say that I do. You gonna break your dad out?

Leigh2323: Yeah. Got the cake and nail file ready.

AnnaSparkle: Awesome. Good luck.

Leigh2323: I might drive up to D.C. from Petersburg. See Mom and Elena. Drive back Sunday night.

There. Felicianna’s opening, tailor provided. Her heart hammered.

AnnaSparkle: You sure do drive a lot.

Leigh2323: I must’ve caught the bug when I ran away. Driving kinda equals freedom to me.

AnnaSparkle: I can see that.

Leigh2323: Well, I’m beat. I think I better go to sleep.

AnnaSparkle: OK. Good night. Sweet dreams. Um, hey. If you get bored or whatever Sunday, we could have a quick lunch or dinner before you head back to D.C.

Leigh2323: Can we do it even if I’m not bored?

Felicianna laughed.

AnnaSparkle: Sure.

Leigh2323: I can cook us dinner. Do you have a Foreman?

AnnaSparkle: Girl, I can cook. I just usually don’t. Cooking for one is kind of pointless.

Leigh2323: I wanna cook anyway.

AnnaSparkle: I have a Foreman, yes. What food should I buy?

Leigh2323: Awesome. Chicken breasts? Baked potatoes?

AnnaSparkle: OK, done.

Leigh2323: That was quick. Oh, here’s my phone number. In case you want to call or text. Like if there’s an emergency. Or not. (571) 555-4529.

AnnaSparkle: OK. Thanks. Good night.

Chapter Twelve

Victoria stewed Saturday morning during the drive to Petersburg. What was Markie’s problem? Markie should be glad she wasn’t stuck going with Victoria to prison and up to D.C. When Victoria told her last night that she was fine going alone, Markie shrugged and said: “No biggie. I’ll go with you anyway.”

“I’m meeting someone in D.C. on Sunday,” Victoria said carefully. “Kind of a date. I’m really fine going alone this weekend.”

Markie’s eyes glinted. Dangerously? “I see. Not a date with Paul?”

“Nah. Someone I met online, actually.”

Markie crossed her arms and looked away. “Fine. Whatever.” Next, she stalked out of the room. She must’ve spent the night with Caleb because she hadn’t returned by the time Victoria left for Petersburg.

Victoria hated this side of Markie. Victoria never bitched about Markie having her own life. She never criticized Markie’s choice of guys. Victoria made it a point to express her happiness that Markie was happy. Why couldn’t Markie do the same for her?

Well, whatever.

About two hours and thirty minutes after Victoria left Harrisonburg, she parked at the Federal Correctional Institution—Petersburg. It was about twenty-five miles southeast of Richmond. Daniel Dourne resided in the camp section, which was reserved for minimum-security male prisoners.

Victoria slid her vampire teeth ring off and put it in the car’s glove compartment. She’d keep it off the entire weekend—no sense lying to her mother and Elena about the ring if she didn’t have to. Victoria proceeded through the same mind-numbing cycle to get in to see her father. Signing into the ledger, showing identification, avoiding looks from other visitors. No search today—good. The searches weren’t crazy intrusive, but three times was too much.

And then there he was. Victoria’s daddy. The guy who gave her the brown hair and brown eyes. The guy who, more or less, gave up his life so Victoria didn’t grow up with a cold, homophobic mother who refused to let a father see his little girl. Daniel wore his khaki uniform and a beaming grin.

“Vic!”

Victoria forgot that she wasn’t exactly anticipating the visit. She forgot that awkwardness would no doubt fill the next few hours. Love blossomed in her heart, and Daniel drew her in for a bear hug. Regulations permitted physical contact only at the beginning and end of visits, and not for excessive periods. Often, a guard had to tell Daniel to let go.

This was one of these times.

“That’s enough,” came a low, gravelly voice. Wilkins. Victoria hated that guard.

Daniel drew back. Letting go. His upper lip curled in disgust at Wilkins. Thankfully, Daniel said nothing, although his eyes communicated enough: “This is my child. This is my daughter. You cold-blooded goddamn fucking dumbass robot, you can’t let a man hug his little girl for more than thirty seconds?”

On one of Victoria’s earlier visits, maybe her third or fourth visit, Daniel refused to let go. Then he got belligerent. He wasn’t allowed visitors for the next month.

Daniel and Victoria took their assigned seats in the open space of the visiting room. At this time of morning, right after visiting hours started, people still trickled in.

“Hey, Daddy.”

“Vic.” Daniel shook his head. “Damn. I swear, you grow ten feet between visits.”

Victoria blushed. “Oh Daddy. I’m finished growing.”

He cocked a grin. “Nah. Nah.”

Silence. Oh boy. Here it comes. The awkwardness.

“So!” Victoria said. “You got a job in the laundry room?”

“Sure did.”

“How is it?”

Daniel grinned. “Good. Good, yeah.”

“I think you’re kind of fibbing, Daddy. Laundry? That’s never fun.”

Daniel’s grin remained plastered to his face. He was the tough kind. He would never admit to Victoria that he hated prison. Victoria bet he knew down to the hour how much time remained in his five-year sentence.

“How’s school?” Daniel asked.

“It’s all right. It’s school.”

“Where’s Markie?”

“Oh, I decided to go up to D.C. today to see Mom and Elena, so…you know. Markie had plans.”

“I like her. She’s funny.”

Victoria smiled. Markie had accompanied her on three prison visits, and she did have the gift of making time pass faster than usual.

“Y’all still doing okay as roommates?”

“I think so.”

Daniel’s brows furrowed. “You think so?”

“Um, yeah.”

“What’s going on, Vic?”

“She’s been moody lately. I don’t know.”

Daniel nodded. “Ah.”

Victoria switched tacks: “How’s Miguel?”

Daniel grimaced. Miguel Hernandez was a fellow inmate who sometimes sat at a table close by during visiting hours. Daniel had confessed he and Miguel flirted. “He hooked up with someone else.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Daniel shrugged. Chuckled. “It’s not like there’s a shortage of guys here. So. How about you? Have you met anyone?”

Victoria pictured Felicianna’s expressive green eyes. Felicianna’s walls slowly but surely retreating. “I kind of have.”

Daniel leaned in. “That’s great, Vic. Who is he?”

He. Unlike with her mother, Victoria never feared her father would be disappointed when he learned Victoria was gay. No time like the present to take a tentative step out of the closet. “Um, actually, this person, she’s, you know, she’s a woman.”

Daniel stared at Victoria a moment. “Oh,” he said at last. “Oh. Wow. Well, that’s great. Are you…well, you know what? It doesn’t matter. Gay, bisexual, exploring. It doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy.”

“I’m gay, Daddy.”

He raised his eyebrows like he didn’t believe her.

“I know,” Victoria said with a sigh. “It’s a cliche.”

“How’s that?”

“Gay kid of two gay parents.”

His lips parted, exposing his teeth in a smile. “Have you told your mother?”

“No. You think she’ll be okay with it?”

He had to consider before answering. “Yes,” he said. “She’ll be just fine with it.”

“Really? Because I don’t think…I don’t know.”

Daniel ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve had some good talks, your mother and me. She’ll be fine. So, tell me about this woman you’re interested in.”

Victoria wanted to ask about the talks. Phone talks? Email talks? Did Frances visit her ex-husband without Victoria knowing?

“I met her online.”

Daniel frowned. “You haven’t met in person?”

“We did a few days ago. She lives in D.C. I’m having dinner with her Sunday, but keep this to yourself for now, okay?”

“Oh, sure. Sure, no problem. Is she in college?”

“No. She’s a bit older.”

“How much is a bit older?”

Victoria laughed. “Old enough to not be in college. Her age doesn’t matter, right?” She parroted Daniel’s earlier words back to him: “As long as I’m happy.”

“You have a good head on your shoulders, Vic.”

“Not between my feet?”

He laughed, a rumbling belly laugh, but he turned serious before long. “College is a time you never get back, Vic. I don’t want you to look back ten, twenty years from now and wish you’d dated girls your own age and gone to parties instead of spending most your weekends with your mom and dad and a woman a bit older.”

“I’m not like other people, Daddy. You know that.”

Daniel sighed, and the weight of his prison sentence creased his lines. “That’s my fault. I robbed you of a normal life.”

“My life probably would’ve been worse if I stayed with Mom.” In general, Victoria believed this was true.

“Not only that. My drinking and stuff.”

Victoria looked into her father’s worried brown eyes. She had no idea where he escaped to after she went to live with Frances. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Best that way. It was also best that no one knew he emailed Victoria once a month while he was on the lam. They had never discussed these emails, including the last one Victoria sent him: “You have to turn yourself in NOW. Please. Please! The deal won’t be on the table much longer.”

“You’re better now,” Victoria said. “That’s the important thing. Don’t worry about me. I’m good. I’m happy. Focus on yourself. It’s your time to be happy, Daddy.”

*****

“Victoria,” Elena said over a dessert of chocolate ice cream that night, “you’re going to be a big sister.”

Victoria dropped her jaw in pretend surprise. “Wow! Cool. You’re starting artificial insemination.”

Bemusement twitched Elena’s nose, and Frances said: “She is pregnant. One month.”

“Whoa. What?” I thought y’all hadn’t started yet.

Elena grinned and rubbed her stomach. “I hope I don’t bloat to the size of a hot-air balloon.”

Victoria attempted a smile for her mother and stepmother. Tried to swat away the currents of jealousy swirling inside her. She’d thought, well, Elena hadn’t been inseminated yet. She might not start for a few months, and heck, she might not even get pregnant.

But here she was. Firmly, solidly pregnant. Was this sibling jealousy?

“Why didn’t you tell me you were trying?”

Concern crept into Frances’s face. “We wanted to, but we thought it might be less pressure on Elena if people didn’t know.”

“I’m not people.”

Frances shook her head. “Of course you’re not.”

Bullshit! Brenda knew. Why didn’t I? Victoria stabbed a spoon into her ice cream. “Yeah. Whatever.” Little pins pricked her stomach and throat. Frances would love the new baby. She’d let the baby in like she let Elena in. The three of them would be a true family. Victoria would always be an outsider with them. She’d seen her mother with Elena when they didn’t know Victoria was watching. Frances was different with Elena. Just was. Happier. Softer. More natural. At least Victoria had her father.

“Do y’all want a boy or a girl?” Victoria asked.

“Honestly,” Elena said, “I want a girl.”

“A boy might remind you too much of Isaiah?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Elena forced a smile. “But if I have a boy, that’s great, too.”

Victoria propelled herself from the table. She had practice being happy for Markie when bitching and moaning would be much easier. She would put that practice to use again. She bent down and gave Elena a quick hug. Did the same for Frances. “I can’t wait for the baby,” Victoria lied as she returned to her seat. “What will its last name be?”

Frances kept the last name Dourne when she married Elena. Wellington was her maiden name, but it wasn’t a name Frances cared to take possession of again. Elena had kept her last name, Elise, also.

“We don’t know yet,” Frances said. “Although we thought it might be nice if both of you had the same last name.”

“I don’t think Daddy would mind.”

Frances grinned. “I don’t think he would, either.”

Elena bounced from the table. “I’m going to call Ma now and tell her about the baby.”

Frances gave Victoria a significant look. “You are the first person we told that Elena is pregnant.”

“Thank you, Mom. I appreciate it.”

*****

Victoria stayed in her bedroom until about eleven o’clock the next morning. Sleep hadn’t come easily. Thoughts of her mother and the baby haunted her. What if the baby meant Victoria would never get closer to Frances?

About two a.m., Victoria fished her driver’s license from her wallet. When people asked for her autograph and if she was in the mood to give it, she responded with: “How should I sign my name?” A critical question—she used to make the error of signing “Victoria Cove” or “Victoria Dourne.” More often than not, people preferred “Marissa Dourne.” Frances did. Even now, when she said “Victoria,” she sometimes wrinkled her nose a tiny bit, and her eyes got an indefinable hardness. The net consequence: Frances rarely said “Victoria,” although Elena didn’t have that issue.

Victoria would let her mother call her Marissa if it felt halfway okay. But it didn’t. She was Victoria. She didn’t remember Marissa; therefore, she was not Marissa.

Except she kind of was.

DOURNE, MARISSA LEIGH, confirmed her driver’s license. When Frances asked if Victoria wanted to legally change her name, Victoria said no. Didn’t have to think about it. No, no, no. Easy answer. Frances had been through enough, and paper was only paper. A license was only a license. The genuine smile and light in Frances’s eyes when Victoria said “no” was reward enough. One of the few moments Victoria genuinely felt close to her mother.

Now the damn baby would probably have Victoria’s last name too. That wasn’t fair. The baby hadn’t earned it. The name was Daniel’s, and he wasn’t the baby’s father.

Victoria plodded into the kitchen a little after eleven o’clock and fixed a gigantic bowl of chocolate Lucky Charms. Frances, impeccably dressed as usual, walked into the dining room a minute later.

“Hey, sweetie. Good morning.”

“Morning, Mom.”

Frances smiled. “It’s just you and me until the afternoon. Elena’s overseeing a wedding. I thought we could do something fun together. Perhaps the zoo?”

Victoria shoved chocolate and marshmallows into her mouth. “Guess I’ll have to leave without saying goodbye to Elena. I’m heading back to D.C. early.”

Frances sat at the table. “Why?”

A date with Felicianna, that’s why. Victoria hadn’t logged onto the chat service last night. Hadn’t been in the mood to talk to anyone. “I left a textbook at school, and I need it to study for a test. I’ll leave about four.”

Frances scratched her cheek. “I worry about you sometimes. That you don’t have fun at college. That you study too much and try too hard to visit me and your dad.”

Victoria stared at the milk turning chocolate in her bowl. “All right,” she mumbled.

“Victoria? You okay?”

Woo-hoo. A rare “Victoria” from Mom.

“You’re not happy about the baby,” Frances said.

“I am,” Victoria protested.

“I’m sorry we sprung it on you.”

Victoria fished a yellow moon from her bowl and popped it into her mouth. She studied her mother: the blond hair, the concerned blue gaze, the new wrinkles around her eyes that showed age creeping up on her. Victoria’s chest squeezed. Ever since she saw her mother on the cover of the memoir, she thought Frances Dourne was the most beautiful woman alive. Still thought the same. Truth be told, part of the distance between her and Frances was Victoria’s fault. Frances’s beauty, the power she exuded, was intimidating. Plus, there was the queasy feeling deep down in Victoria’s stomach that if this woman wasn’t her mother, Victoria would want to bang her.

Victoria had learned a few things way before taking the farce that passed for the Psychology 101 class. Stuff about latent attractions, Oedipus complexes, Electra complexes. She surmised that a fourteen-year-old girl going through puberty and finding a picture of a beautiful woman wouldn’t be able to turn off the attraction just because the woman was suddenly her mother.

Not that Victoria was per se attracted to Frances. She wasn’t. Sure, Victoria wondered once in a while what it felt like to be Elena and kiss such a beautiful woman, to have such a beautiful woman as her wife. And soon, as the other mother of her child.

Victoria didn’t know how to feel about Frances. Twice, Frances insisted that Victoria see a therapist. She went to the same one both times, and the shrink gushed the typical nosiness in her eyes, in her expression. Tons of questions.

She tried to hide it, of course, but she sucked. Victoria put on good shows, and after a few months’ worth of sessions both times, Dr. Ooze told Frances that Victoria was fine. No need to continue.

Victoria ate another moon. “You can call me Marissa if you want,” she mumbled.

A sharp inhalation. “What?”

“You know you want to.”

Frances’s eyes were wide. “Where is this coming from?”

“You know you want to.”

Frances smoothed down her blouse. “I admit I used to, but I’ve gotten accustomed to Victoria.”

“Have you really?”

“Yes.”

Victoria tapped the spoon against her bowl. Clinkety clink clinkety clink. “I’m gay, Mom.”

“What?”

“I’m gay. I like women. The real reason I’m leaving early today is because I have a date. And you know what? If you don’t like me being gay, it’s your problem. Not mine.” Victoria pushed her chair back and went to brush her teeth.

*****

Her breath fresh, Victoria was packing the meager belongings she brought with her to D.C. when a knock sounded on her bedroom door.

“Come in,” she called.

Frances edged into the room. “Can we talk?”

Victoria stared down at her bag. “Sure.”

“Will you look at me?” Frances’s voice was soft, and Victoria forced her gaze to her mother’s.

“Sweetie,” Frances said, “I love you whatever way you are. Please don’t doubt that. Ever.”

Tears stung Victoria’s eyes. “The baby’s gonna come, and you won’t need me anymore. You won’t care about me anymore.”

“That’s not true. Not true. Hey.” Frances curled her arms around Victoria and held her. Whispered into her ear: “You’re my girl.”

“Before I ran away, I asked Daddy if my mother loved me. He couldn’t answer at first. Then he said, yes, of course my mother loved me. But he was lying.”

Frances tightened her embrace. “Baby, I have so much love for you that it scares me. So much love for you I don’t know how to handle it. I’m getting better at feelings, but…” Frances sniffled, and Victoria’s heart pounded. Like she hadn’t seen Markie cry until recently, she’d never seen or heard her mother cry—except in that vague dream and on these CNN clips right after the kidnapping.

Frances drew back and wiped at her eyes. “I’m doing something wrong if you think I wouldn’t love you no matter what.”

“It wasn’t about you,” Victoria mumbled. “Just…I thought you must still have internalized homophobic feelings.”

Frances nodded. “I see. I see. Well.” Her lips curled into a wry smile. “I got sent to that camp when I wasn’t much younger than you are now. I know how it feels to be scared you’ve disappointed your parents. That you don’t live up to their expectations.”

“Yes.”

“It’s the other way around with us,” Frances said, lowering her gaze. “I’m scared I’ll never live up to your expectations of me. Your father and Elena are natural with you. Even Brenda is! I don’t, I can’t…” She choked up again. “I didn’t have you for eleven years of your childhood. Marissa went away, and she…she never came back. A girl named Victoria took her place. It’s like I have two daughters. Marissa died a long time ago, and Victoria is very much alive. But I miss my little Marissa.” Frances wiped furiously at her eyes. “Enough. Enough. Tell me about her. This girl you have a date with.”

Grief and despair tore at Victoria’s heart. She didn’t know what to say. Sorry didn’t cover it. “I don’t have expectations,” Victoria ventured. “I just want you to be my mother. I want us to be happy. I don’t want you to stress over us.”

Frances nodded. Dabbed at her eyes. “So, about this girl.”

“She…she…we can talk. Easily. I can be myself with her.”

“What’s her name?”

Victoria gritted her teeth with the knowledge she had to lie. Great way to start this new phase of the relationship with her mother. “Her name’s Anna.”

“And she goes to JMU?”

“It’s a date, Mom. Nothing serious. I doubt anything will come of it.”

“Do you want it to?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Frances squeezed Victoria’s hand. “I hope it does. She better treat you right. It’s hard to find someone who truly gets you.”

*****

Guilt slurped at Victoria as she headed to the party section of the grocery store. She took a moment to pick out a bamboo plant and a cactus for Felicianna.

Felicianna. Ah, Felicianna.

Suddenly, Victoria was torn about pursuing the woman. Now that Victoria and Frances had experienced a “moment,” and now that achieving a goal of sorts with Felicianna seemed probable, Victoria better understood Felicianna’s hesitation. If Frances and Elena happened to find out…like Felicianna said, Victoria’s little family didn’t need more angst. Especially with a baby on the way.

Victoria paid for the plants. Why would Frances and Elena find out about Felicianna? They wouldn’t. Worst case if they found out? Some yelling, maybe. Feelings of betrayal.

I’m not betraying them. Am I?

Victoria sighed. She liked Felicianna a lot. She really did. Frances was right when she said that finding people who “got” you was rare. Still. Maybe Victoria ought to back off after tonight. Felicianna would be relieved, wouldn’t she?

*****

Twenty minutes later at four-thirty p.m., Victoria knocked on the basement entrance to Felicianna’s place. The woman, her smile wide, answered a moment later.

“Hey, Victoria. Come in.”

Victoria entered the apartment, and Felicianna closed the door behind them. “For you.” Victoria extended the gifts. “They won’t die easily.”

Felicianna laughed and took the plants. Her green eyes shone. “Awesome. Thank you.”

Victoria stifled dismay. She couldn’t back off. She had hurt Felicianna enough. Deceived her, then pleaded for a chance. Gotten Felicianna to lower her walls. No, Victoria couldn’t back off and further damage Felicianna’s psyche.

Plus. Well. Selfish, perhaps, but Victoria loved the reactions she provoked in Felicianna. Felicianna’s grins, her eyes, the way Felicianna looked at her. Made Victoria’s stomach warm and fuzzy.

They’d be good together.

Okay. They’d have an intense, but brief fling and be done with it. It’d end amicably. Felicianna was almost forty. Victoria was eighteen. No real future for them.

“I’m hungry,” Felicianna declared.

“Good. Me too. I haven’t eaten since a big bowl of cereal about eleven. Hey, thanks for having an early dinner with me.”

Felicianna held Victoria’s gaze a long second. One of these “lingering” gazes from romance movies. “It’s my pleasure,” Felicianna said.

In the kitchen, Victoria saw that Felicianna had bought frozen chicken. Felicianna showed her how to work the microwave, and they put the chicken in to thaw.

“How was prison?” Felicianna asked.

“Not bad. I came out to Dad instead of breaking him out.”

“Oh wow. He took it well?”

“Yes, definitely. It was good practice for telling Mom. Which I did. Today.”

“And how did that go?”

Victoria let out a breath. “Mom seems to be okay with it. For real. She’s happy as long as I’m happy.”

“That’s great,” Felicianna said. “I’m glad to be wrong sometimes.”

“How often are you wrong?”

“Not often. Last time was in 1879.”

“Damn,” Victoria said with a laugh. But she couldn’t let the levity last. “Hey, uh, I should tell you something else.”

“What is it?”

“Brenda was wrong about Mom and Elena starting inseminations soon.”

Felicianna frowned. “Oh. They don’t want a baby?”

Victoria leaned against the counter, again hating the jealousy streaking up her spine. “Elena is pregnant. About a month. They’ve been trying already.”

Felicianna flinched. Woman was still head over heels in love with Victoria’s stepmother. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

An attempted smile. “Well, good for her eggs. And for your mom.”

“Why would Brenda say what she did?”

“Maybe she misunderstood. Or maybe…” Felicianna considered a moment and eased herself into a chair at the kitchen table. “Maybe Elena didn’t want to tell Brenda she was pregnant but had to say something.”

“Mom said they kept their mouths shut so Elena wouldn’t feel pressured.”

Felicianna nodded. “I can understand that.”

Victoria sat across from her. Took Felicianna in. The strained smile, the guarded gaze. No doubt Felicianna wished the baby was hers, not Frances’s.

“What was Isaiah like?” Victoria asked.

Felicianna blinked. “He was…he was a kid. Lively. Funny. Innocent.”

“He was almost like your own.”

Felicianna looked down at the table. She drove the nails of her right hand into the palm of her left hand. “Yes. He called me Aunt Felicianna.”

“I used to want to run my hands through his hair. His crazy curls.”

Felicianna laughed. “I did that all the time. He pretended to hate it, but he loved it.”

“Do you still think about him?”

“I try not to.” Felicianna regarded Victoria speculatively. “Is it hard for Elena with you so close in age to him?”

“I don’t know. Hard to tell. She did say that she hopes the baby’s a girl. A boy would remind her of Isaiah.”

Felicianna groaned. “Ah, she jinxed herself saying that out loud. You know what that means. The baby will be a boy.”

“Yeah, probably. So, hey, you said online you don’t want kids. Is that true?”

Felicianna grinned. “Remember my plants. I’d be hopeless with a kid. I’m fine being an auntie or whatever.” A sigh. “You said you want kids, right?”

“I do. Later later laaaater. Not now.”

“I would hope not now,” Felicianna said with a smile.

The microwave beeped, and Victoria took the chicken out. She sprayed PAM onto the Foreman and started grilling the poultry. She worked slowly and methodically because prison deja vu had struck her. Hesitant, awkward conversation. Lots of stuff left unsaid.

She brought the top of the grill down. “Do you have a kitchen timer?”

Felicianna indicated a magnet on her refrigerator. “Sure do.”

“Cool. I like these.” Victoria set Felicianna’s timer to go off in seven minutes, and they moved to the living room. Sat on the couch. Victoria tentatively closed her hand over Felicianna’s. Yes, this was better than her hand with Markie’s. This was more alike. More equal.

Chapter Thirteen

Felicianna and Victoria sat close together. Bodies touching. Felicianna loved it. She hadn’t been with a woman like this since…since Elena, really. And even then it was different because Elena always remained a tad stiff. Her eyes and her voice never completely reciprocated.

Felicianna’s drunken one-night stands…ha. They went right to bed. None of this slow-burn courtship stuff.

Victoria lifted Felicianna’s hand to her lips. The feel of Victoria’s mouth on Felicianna’s skin sent shivers of desire curling through Felicianna, especially between her legs. Oh boy. This was nice, way nice. And too soon.

Felicianna sought to regain some semblance of control over her physical reaction and cleared her throat. “Go ahead, tell me about that woman you picked up. Fifty-eight years old?”

Victoria kissed Felicianna’s hand again. “Fifty-eight, yep. Name’s Pauline Ross. Owns a series of car dealerships.”

“Where did you have sex?”

“We checked into a motel.”

“Was getting her there easy?”

Victoria smiled like a cat that ate the canary. “She’d had a fight with her husband. She was…lacking. Yes, it was easy. She did try to leave the motel room before anything got going, but I stopped her.”

“How?”

“I grabbed her. Kissed her. I told her she smelled like a whisper.”

“A whisper,” Felicianna murmured. Roses? Perfume? What did a whisper smell like?

A pensive shimmer entered Victoria’s eyes. “Will you show me what a whisper tastes like? When you’re ready? Doesn’t have to be soon.”

A kiss. A kiss. Felicianna was scared to kiss Victoria. Anything before a kiss could be forgotten. After a kiss, after that line was crossed, everything changed. “Pauline didn’t show you?”

“Yes, but I want you to show me too.”

“Was the sex good?”

Victoria blushed. “I came too fast. It was embarrassing.”

“Aw, poor baby. How did you come?”

“Humped her leg. We kept our clothes on.”

“Hmm.” More tendrils of desire between Felicianna’s legs as she imagined Victoria humping an anonymous woman. Doing so at Felicianna’s behest.

“After I came, she pulled down her pants, and I fingered her. Rubbed her. It wasn’t much of an encounter.”

“That’s too bad.”

Victoria shrugged. “I guess, but it’s not like I wanted to get close to her. Emotionally close.”

Felicianna gathered in a breath. “Look, Victoria, this is hard for me,” she whispered. “Incredibly hard. It’s been a struggle.”

Victoria, with an enigmatic expression, studied Felicianna for several beats. “I’ve put you in a bad position. I’ve been selfish.”

“Yes.”

Victoria swallowed. Disentangled her hand from Felicianna’s. “Do you want me to stop and leave you alone?”

“Do I want you to stop? Um.” Felicianna’s mind raced. What was this? Victoria was supposed to be a full-on-ahead steamer. A kid without doubts. A kid with full confidence. “Why do you ask?”

“Like I said, I’ve been selfish. Thinking about me and not about you. I haven’t really been thinking about Mom and Elena, either. I didn’t give serious consideration to what might happen if…I don’t know.”

Felicianna’s insides grew wild. Victoria would dump her. Right here, right now. Before anything started. But after Felicianna let her sleep overnight. After Felicianna began to let her in.

Great. Perfect. Damn her. Damn the child. The kid. The baby goat. Baaaa. Bleat.

“Go on,” Felicianna said coldly. “Go home. I will finish cooking dinner.”

Victoria winced, and Felicianna took frosty pleasure in the kid’s reaction.

“Just leave,” Felicianna said.

Victoria rose from the couch. Instead of fleeing outside, she escaped into the kitchen. “Flipped the chicken and put the potatoes in the microwave,” she said upon her return a few minutes later.

“Just leave,” Felicianna repeated.

“Is that what you want?”

“Let me tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want drama. I don’t want someone who vacillates. I’ve had enough of that for several lifetimes.” Felicianna’s stomach wrung itself inside out. “Look, even if something happened with you and me, it couldn’t go anywhere. I’m…I’m fine with that. I like being single. But, again, I don’t like drama and indecision and agony. I’m sick of roller-coaster relationships.” Felicianna liked being single? Maaaybe. Never mind these few times she told Leigh2323 that she wished for a warm body next to her in bed on cold nights. Wished for someone to laugh with and kiss.

Felicianna expected Victoria to point out these inconsistences. She didn’t. Instead, she said: “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Do what again?”

“Flip flop. I just wanted to…to give you an opening. An easy way out if you still wanted out.”

Felicianna’s mind and her heart warred. Mind: Get out, Victoria. Go now while it’ll be easier. Heart: Aw hell, come here and kiss me.

“Okay,” Felicianna said. “Okay. Let me think.”

*****

Felicianna and Victoria ate dinner in silence. At least the food was good. Teriyaki chicken, juicy and succulent. Better than when Felicianna made it. Her brain and her heart continued to struggle, and she itched to grab some alcohol from the cabinet. Would make the struggle more palatable. Would help her heart win. But drinking in front of Victoria…eh.

“Why does alcohol scare you?” Felicianna asked as they finished.

Victoria’s tight expression grew tighter. “I like it. The feeling it gives me.”

“That’s normal.”

“Yes, but what if I like it too much and can’t control myself?”

“Mmm.”

Victoria tried to relax her expression into a smile. “You stay right there. I’ll clean up.”

Felicianna watched Victoria as she rinsed the dishes and used paper towels to scrub the Foreman. The soft curve of her hips. The intensity with which she attacked her work. Ahh, this was a horrible date. Felicianna wandered into the living room and went to the cactus. She’d put it on the bookshelf, and now she tested her finger against a few needles. She welcomed the pinpricks but took care to not let them penetrate so deeply she would bleed.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Victoria said from behind Felicianna.

Felicianna felt darkness steal into her expression. “I try not to, but I usually end up hurting myself. And others.”

“I…okay. Okay.” Victoria came to her, stroked Felicianna’s cheek, and their gazes locked. Felicianna didn’t try to pull away or struggle. She’d made her decision, and her agony, at least for the moment, was suspended. Victoria moved her lips against Felicianna’s. The girl’s mouth was hot, soft, and tasted of teriyaki. When the tip of her tongue entered Felicianna’s mouth, something snapped inside Felicianna, and she sought to punish Victoria for what amounted to months’ worth of lies. Felicianna sought to express her anger and her growing feelings for Victoria the only way she knew how. The only way she wanted to.

She kissed Victoria hard. Searching, ravishing. Punishing. Like the cactus. Victoria moaned and melted into Felicianna. Felicianna melted into her, too. Best first kiss of Felicianna’s life.

“That’s how I feel about you,” Felicianna said after they finished. “I don’t want to feel this way. But I do, and I love it. I wouldn’t change it.”

“Oh, Felicianna,” Victoria said. “Felicianna.” Passion blazed in her extraordinary eyes, and Felicianna sidestepped Victoria before she could press Felicianna against a wall in a fury of kisses. If Victoria did that...if Felicianna let her do that…whoosh. Instant sex, and it was too soon. Felicianna needed a slow approach.

“When can I see you again?” Felicianna asked.

“Anytime.”

She smiled. “Wednesday? I’ll come down to Harrisonburg and save you yet another drive.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. I’ll reserve a hotel room. There are a few stores in the area I’ve been planning to look at. I can do that Wednesday or Thursday. Both days, rather. You have Wednesday afternoon free, right?”

“Yes.” Victoria glowed. “I’m all yours after twelve-thirty.”

A rare happiness burned inside Felicianna. A happiness possible only with reciprocation of feelings. A happiness possible only with, dare she say it, the right woman.

Chapter Fourteen

Victoria, bless her heart, had left her laptop in the dorm room. Markie lasted five minutes Friday night before giving in to the allure of the computer’s siren call. At nine o’ seven p.m. (she knew the exact time because she glanced at the lower right corner of the laptop), the Lesbian Planet Dating Service website greeted her. Markie needed a password this time, and after a moment’s hesitation, tried the same password she used to access the laptop.

Avrb1437eeu worked, and Markie quickly logged out. Signed into the website from her computer.

The first email she clicked on went like this:

Hey Leigh,

Can’t sleep, so I figured I’d give you the rundown on my family like you asked me to. I appreciate you opening up about never feeling quite right with your mom and that you favor your dad. It’s the same for me—well, the not quite feeling right part.

My parents live in Kansas. It’s where my three older brothers and I grew up, too. My childhood was filled with wearing boy hand-me-downs and with screaming and fighting to get attention. I had to eat fast, or my brothers would gulp down the food. That sort of thing. My brothers taught me how to fish, to climb trees, to shoot guns. I definitely wasn’t my family’s “delicate only girl.” My mom was (and is) a hardscrabble woman. She has no use for makeup and dresses. Neither do I, and you’d think we get along well.

I guess we do, kind of. But it’s a relationship that’s just…there. She calls once, maybe twice, a month, and we talk a few minutes. I go back once in a while for holidays. My parents and brothers visit in D.C. every few years or so. Not really close with my family.

I was 21 when I told my parents I was gay. They basically blinked and said: “Oh.” And that was that. Not very interested, but not dismayed, either.

Ah well. I’m gonna try to get back to sleep before this gets to sounding like a pity-me party.

Talk soon I hope,

Anna

P.S. I’ve been thinking on what I said earlier to your question about why relationships and I don’t go well together. It’s true that finding a good, decent woman is hard. But you’ve forced me to think. Really think. Damn you and your lawyer questions. ;) Anyway, I reached a conclusion. I think I subconsciously sabotage. Sometimes before the relationship even begins, by trying to pursue stuff with women who aren’t available for whatever reason—married or otherwise taken, straight(ish), just not attracted to me, too far away, etc. Sometimes after the relationship begins too—when I panic and realize: “Oh gosh this woman really likes me, what’s the catch, etc.?” So I devise my own catch and do something stupid like get too busy for her all of a sudden or get insecure about all these guys and girls she hangs out with. Suspicious, in other words.

Eh. So. I’m better off single. I like it. No drama. I do what I want. Always. The relationship thing isn’t for me, and that’s okay.

Going to sleep for real now.

At eleven p.m., Markie headed to an off-campus party, but by Sunday afternoon, she had read every single email in Victoria’s inbox folder, her sent folder and her draft mail folder. The instant messenger service still tempted Markie. She could access it several ways. The simplest method was directly from the dating service’s website. Sort of a “lite” version of the messenger system. Users could also download the chat app to their computer and/or phone to get more features, including video chat, group chat and chat rooms.

Oh, Markie yearned to dig around in the instant messenger system. If Victoria kept her conversations archived, Markie suspected the wealth of information lurking there would prove even richer than the tidbits in the emails.

For now, emails would have to do. They temporarily satisfied Markie’s curiosity. Oops—her concern. That was her justification. What she kept telling herself.

I’m doing this because I’m worried about Vic. She’s keeping secrets. She’s involved in shady activities.

Two of the shady activities: videos of Vic touching herself. Markie had downloaded the videos to her computer, to a file labeled SCHOOL PAPERS. She hadn’t made it past five seconds in either video. Too guilty. Plus, she refused to watch women touching themselves. She refused to fantasize about women. And this was Vic! Her best friend. Markie didn’t want to see her all whorey and slutty. Vic was better than that.

Jealousy quaked inside Markie. Seemed like Vic might truly be gay. And truly interested in this AnnaSparkle, a.k.a. Felicianna Grey. Why Vic would be romantically inclined toward this woman of all people, Markie had no idea, but Vic was an odd duck. Not surprising, considering her upbringing in an isolated cabin with her dad as her primary source of company.

Didn’t Vic trust Markie? Why hadn’t Vic told her about being gay and about Felicianna?

The more Markie thought about it, the angrier and more jealous she became. How dare Vic do this to her? To them? Keep a secret? Was their friendship so meaningless to Vic?

Being gay was easy for Vic. She didn’t have homophobic parents who seemed nice on the surface. Vic didn’t have a deep-rooted sense of guilt about being gay. Vic didn’t pay crazy out-of-state tuition and room and board rates so she could be with her best friend.

Her best friend she didn’t trust with a fucking big secret!

Vic probably wouldn’t choose to be straight if given the option. Markie would. Oh yes, she would, and rage pounded her insides that Vic was brave enough to even sign up for a free dating service.

Of course, Markie was determined to let on none of this. When Vic returned to their room about ten p.m. Sunday, Markie smiled casually. “Hey, Vic. Have a good weekend?”

Vic shone. Stars and hearts exploded from her eyes and filled the room. This was a girl in love, a happy girl. In that moment, Markie hated her.

“It was great,” Vic enthused.

“How come?”

Vic set down her duffle bag and sat on Markie’s bed. “The date didn’t start so well, but we worked it out. I think this could be something great.”

“If you’re having problems already, that’s a bad sign.”

“No,” Vic said in a rush. “It’s not like that.”

Markie studied her best friend. The cheekbones, sharper by the day, poking their way into the formerly girlish face. The expressive dark eyes. The giddy smile.

Markie couldn’t help herself. “Man or woman?” she asked.

“What?”

“Your date, was it with a man or a woman?”

Vic looked like a bug flew up her nose. “Um, why would you think it was a woman?”

“When I used your laptop the other day to finish my paper, I accidentally saw you were signed into a lesbian dating website.” Markie held up her hand. “I didn’t go into it or anything. But I couldn’t help seeing.”

Vic swallowed. “Um,” she mumbled. “Woman. My date was with a woman.”

“How about Paul?”

Vic at least had the decency to radiate shame. “Paul’s really Pauline,” she said. “A woman. A fifty-eight-year-old married woman. That sounds better, doesn’t it? Better than a fifty-eight-year-old married man.”

“Why’d you lie about Paul?” Markie asked in a teeny voice.

“I don’t know.”

Markie wanted to screech: That’s crap! You do know. You’re full of lying wagonfuls of crap. Fetid, stanky crap. But Markie kept steady. “I’m hurt that you couldn’t tell me. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, Markie.”

“Tell me about this woman you’re dating.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re dating, although…” A wide, toothy grin from Vic. “She’s coming here Wednesday. She’s getting a hotel room.”

“For monkey sex?”

“Maybe.” Vic nudged Markie in the ribs. “I hope so.”

“She lives in D.C.?”

“Yeah, yeah. She works in antiques.”

Markie decided to multiply two huge numbers in her head. Randomly, she chose 123 and 94. This caused her to furrow her brows and wrinkle her nose to figure out the beginning: 4 x 3 is 12. And then…well, heck. Lost already. But she’d gotten across pretend confusion.

“Is this an old woman too, Vic?”

“Older.”

Markie held her breath and extended her hand until she found Vic’s thigh. Vic’s jeaned thigh.

Vic’s breathing changed. And she squirmed. A little.

Markie withdrew the touch. “Older than fifty-eight?”

“No. Gosh, no. She’s in her late thirties.”

Markie clicked her tongue in disapproval, and Vic rolled her eyes. Grabbed her bag and retreated to her side of the room.

Markie bet Vic could multiply 123 and 94 in her head. Felicianna and Pauline probably could, too. Vic and her brainy stuff. Brainy interests that Markie, for the most part, didn’t share. Oh, Markie could tolerate museums and sci-fi to an extent, but Vic could debate politics, religion, symbolism in art and literature and “what ifs” for hours. Literally. That shit bored Markie to tears, but for whatever reason, she loved Vic anyway.

Yeah. Markie and her college student ilk would never interest Vic one damn bit.

But Markie could try one more move. Her heart hammering, she crossed to Vic. Pressed her lips to Vic’s cheek. “Good night, Vic. You mean a lot to me. I’m looking out for you.”

“Y-yeah.” Strangled, startled tones. “I try to look out for you, too.”

Remember the big picture.

Markie had seen plenty of bad marriages. And good marriages? She had to think. To strain herself. Three good marriages, maybe. Vic’s mother and stepmother didn’t count; they hadn’t been married long enough. Markie’s parents were a perfect example of a bad marriage, and the scary thing was, theirs was probably better than most marriages.

Markie headed to bed. She refused to think about her parents and bad marriages and love gone wrong. She’d sleep. She really was tired.

Chapter Fifteen

Markie kept Victoria awake long after Victoria crawled into bed. Had Markie hit on her? Victoria felt like a TV with broken antennae. Markie had never put her hand on Victoria’s thigh like that. Plus, she’d never kissed Victoria, and a cheek kiss counted in Victoria’s book.

As recently as two weeks ago, the possibility Markie was interested in Victoria would’ve caused a thick gray cloud of tension to surround them. A giddy, excited cloud of sexual tension.

Tonight, however, dread filled Victoria. She had paid only a stray thought here and there to Markie this weekend. Her interests lay solely with Felicianna. Felicianna who didn’t want vacillation and drama. Felicianna who deserved better. Victoria feared this possible complication. No thank you. No way, no how.

Victoria pressed a button on her phone and signed into the dating service’s instant messenger app. No AnnaSparkle, but three women Victoria chatted to once in a while showed up. NastyAppleNYC messaged Victoria right away: Hey you. Ignoring me?

“Yeah,” Victoria muttered. “I’m ignoring you. Get a clue.”

She logged out of the app but opened the general app for the dating service. Started an email to Felicianna:

Hey Felicianna,

Quick message to let you know I got back fine. I hope you enjoy your leftovers lunch tomorrow. I had so much fun. So did my mouth and tongue. They can’t wait for Wednesday. My tongue was like: “Whoah, what just happened? That was amazing!”

Can I say I think you’re amazing? Well, I just said it. So there. You’re amazing.

See you soon!

-Victoria

Victoria sent the message. Fifteen minutes later found her wider awake than before. What was up with Markie? Victoria had to find out. Now. Before stuff progressed with Felicianna. Because, yeah, part of Victoria’s heart did flutter at the possibility of Markie and her together.

About one a.m., Victoria got out of bed and tapped on Markie’s lamp. Shook Markie awake. “You touched me on the leg and kissed me. Why?”

Markie inhaled a quick, surprised breath. “I didn’t kiss you.”

“On the cheek.”

Markie’s face reddened. “Come on. That isn’t a kiss. That’s not—that’s not a kiss like you implied. Don’t make a big deal of this.”

Victoria refused to fall down a well of roundabout semantics. “Why did you do it, and why did you touch me on the leg?”

Markie swallowed, and her face de-reddened. Getting her thoughts together? “Vic, I’m not sure what you’re saying or what you’re implying, but it meant nothing. All right? We’re best friends, and I like it that way.”

“Me too.”

“Besides, I don’t bend that way,” Markie added.

An expectant pause. Perhaps Markie waiting for Victoria to say the same. To somehow reverse the course of the past few hours. To, at the least, say she was bisexual and not gay.

Markie waiting for Victoria to break out the hetero drums and bang her non-rainbowness on them.

Nope.

“I bend,” Victoria said. “I like to bend. I like to do flips and twists and curls.”

Markie’s expression tightened. “Yay. Break a leg with all your flipping. Now, may I get back to sleep?”

Victoria’s chest clenched. Markie was open minded. Not a bigot. What was this? So what if Victoria was gay? Big fucking deal. “Sure,” Victoria muttered. “Knock yourself out.”

Back in bed, Victoria checked her phone. A message from Felicianna! Victoria’s heart overflowed. Almost made up for Markie’s shit.

Hola Victoria,

Glad you got back all right. I watered my bamboo plant after you left. Probably didn’t need to, but oh well. I watered it. (And not with pee! You and your dirty mind.) Annnnyway, yeah, I am pretty damn amazing. Thanks for noticing, although it takes amazing to know amazing, right? ;) Looking forward to Weds. and to kissing you again.

-F

Victoria grinned, and without thinking about it, kissed the phone. Oh, this was bad. Really bad. Victoria loved it. Loved Felicianna.

Chapter Sixteen

Tuesday night, the phone rang a few minutes after Felicianna got out of the shower. She checked to see who was calling. Mom. Eh. Might as well. “Hey, Mom,” Felicianna said.

“Hi, Feli. How are you?”

Felicianna surveyed herself in the full-length bedroom mirror. A fluffy teal towel adorned her body and hinted at drool-worthy cleavage. Her short dark hair glistened. A sexy rumpled. Muscles toned her arms and legs. She looked good. So yummy she wanted to eat herself, and she hadn’t felt this fantastic in a while.

“I’m pretty good. How are you and Dad?”

“We’re fine. Your father is having cataract surgery in two weeks.”

“Is he? Ouch. Give him my best wishes.”

“I will,” Sarah Grey said.

One of their infamous pauses. Sarah was always content to say nothing, but Felicianna needed to fill space.

“Hey, Mom. I had a date Sunday. It went well. I’m seeing her again Wednesday.”

“That’s nice.” No curiosity in Sarah’s voice. No questions.

“She lives in Harrisonburg. Two hours and fifteen minutes if traffic’s good.”

“That’s too bad.”

“In a way, yes. In another way, not really. We can keep our space as we get to know each other.”

“I suppose.”

Pause. Silence.

Felicianna cleared her throat. She burned for any hint of passion, any hint of caring from her mother. “She’s eighteen years old,” Felicianna said. There. Sarah would have to react to that piece of news. Anyone would!

“Eighteen,” Sarah said slowly. “An eighteen-year-old girl.”

“Eighteen.”

“Why, Feli?” Sarah mewled. “You have nieces and nephews older than that girl!”

Felicianna smiled. Maybe it was messed up, but at least she knew her mother cared. “It’s a long story, Mom, but basically, we met online. I thought she was twenty-five. It was a misunderstanding more than anything. For several months, I kept thinking she was twenty-five. We met in person recently, and I found out she was eighteen. It was too late for me to change my feelings for her.”

“I don’t approve of online relationships.”

“Then don’t do them.”

Sarah harrumphed. “Who would date me anyway? Maybe the neighbor’s horse.”

“Does he do online relationships?”

Sarah chuckled—a rare sound from her. “Adam!” she hollered. “Your daughter is dating an eighteen-year-old girl she met online!”

Adam’s gruff voice barked into the phone a few seconds later: “What’s this?”

“What Mom said.”

They talked a few more minutes, Felicianna said (and repeated) that she and this girl were merely dating, that it was a fun thing, they didn’t see a future. All in all, the conversation was decent, but after Felicianna hung up, she stared at her phone. Talking with her parents always did make her a little depressed. She looked up the message that had Victoria’s phone number and inputted it into her phone address book.

FIRST NAME: Victoria

MIDDLE NAME:

LAST NAME: D.

Felicianna pressed “dial,” and Victoria answered on the fourth ring with a: “Hello?”

Felicianna’s palms became sweaty, and her brain kicked into lame-joke mood. “Hey, Victoria. This is Alex Trebek.”

“Alex! I told you not to call this number.”

“Are you questioning me?”

Victoria giggled. “Don’t you like questions?”

“Don’t you for five hundred dollars?”

Another giggle. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

Felicianna smiled and sat on her bed. “Figured I’d put your number to good use. You can, uh, well, you can see my number, right? So there it is. Call or text me whenever if you need to.”

“Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Whew. Good. I was afraid you were calling to cancel.”

Felicianna chuckled. “No way. Can you talk a minute? Now’s a good time?”

“Definitely.”

“So, hey, I called a few motels and hotels. No check-in times earlier than three p.m.”

“Ugh.”

“No worries. I asked around until I worked something out. I’m checking in at noon at The Village Inn. Do you know where that is? It’s a little south of you. Maybe five minutes’ extra driving for me.”

“I’ll Google the address. The Village Inn. It’s sweet of you to check in early.”

Felicianna massaged her shoulder, which suddenly bunched with tension. “Oh, I don’t mind. But that doesn’t mean you have to rush. Come over whenever it fits. Even if it’s not until four or after.”

“I’m coming over as soon as classes let out. I’ll pay half for the room. What’s the cost?”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. It’s my pleasure.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You’ve done all this driving with these gas prices.”

“Well, okay,” Victoria relented.

Felicianna almost said: Besides, your money is really your mother’s money, isn’t it? Fortunately, she bit her tongue in time.

“Hey,” Victoria said. “I accomplished a coming-out trifecta. Came out to Markie when I got back Sunday.”

“Your best friend?”

“Yep. She took it…weirdly. Hard to explain.”

Felicianna had all but forgotten about this best friend Victoria was in love with. Ack. Felicianna’s other shoulder twinged and bunched with jealousy, and she switched hands to massage that shoulder. “What do you mean by weirdly?”

“It’s hard to explain, but I don’t think she was happy.”

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her?”

“Geez, Felicianna. No. And you know why?”

Felicianna tightened her grip on the phone. “Why?”

“Because I don’t think about her like that anymore. I like Alex Trebek.”

Felicianna felt a hot and awful joy, but she refused to let herself smile. This…thing…with Victoria needed inching into. Not tumbling into. “Are your feelings like a light switch?”

Victoria sighed. “Of course not. I’m just saying, you know? You’re the one I think about and want to kiss.”

“I appreciate that.” Don’t be such a robot. It’s okay to let a little loose. “I feel the same way. About you. And me. I want to kiss myself.”

“I’d like to see that. And other things you do to yourself.”

“You would, would you?”

“Mmm. I sure would.” Lust deepened Victoria’s reply.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you I have nothing on except a towel. I just got out of the shower, and my hair’s wet. My skin’s slick and smooth.”

“Oh, I think you should tell me. That’s important information. How would you feel if I didn’t tell you that I…never mind.”

“What? Oh come on. What? Don’t be an ass.”

A teasing laugh. “I was about to defile myself when you called.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Markie’s out so I figured why not. You wanna help? I’m glad to help you, too.”

AnnaSparkle and Leigh2323 had engaged in lots of cybersex with each other. Well, okay, not lots, but a decent amount. Maybe five encounters. More? And there were the sexual games in which AnnaSparkle gave orders to Leigh2323.

Felicianna was no longer AnnaSparkle, and Victoria was no longer Leigh2323. They were Felicianna and Victoria. Period.

Horny fire raged rampant through Felicianna’s body, and she lay on her bed. Unfurled her towel and ran her hand through the short strands of her pubic hair. “Um, Victoria, I think we need to go slow.”

“Oh. Okay. Okay, yeah. Did I make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry.”

Felicianna hooked a finger inside herself. Wet. Wet, wet, wet. “It’s all right.”

“Your breathing’s weird,” Victoria said.

Felicianna moved her finger to her clit. Rubbed a gentle circle. “Is it? I’m fine. Maybe I should let you go so you can take care of matters.”

“I’d rather talk to you. I came up with a list of questions.” Victoria gave a laugh of triumph. “You didn’t come close to saying everything online.”

Felicianna shuddered at the sensations playing between her legs. She didn’t see a way to end the call without being rude, so she confessed: “I’m touching myself.”

“Oh. Geez.”

“Couldn’t help it. You bad girl, putting images in my mind.”

“Can I listen? Please? I’ll be quiet.”

Felicianna found the sweet spot on her clit, and an especially delicious thrill ran through her. “Tell me what you’re doing to yourself.” So much for taking it slow.

“Yay! Okay. One minute.” Vague noises. “Okay. I just took my bra off, but I kept my shirt on. I’m playing with my nipples. I’m imagining you sucking them. You’re making my shirt wet.”

Felicianna decreased the pressure on her clit to tease herself. To prolong the experience. “Nice pointy wet nipples. I’d like to see what they look like with your shirt off.”

“Nope. You’ve been careless, so I can’t do that. But what I can do is let you take me in your office. And you really ought to. I stole one of your necklaces. The most expensive necklace.”

Felicianna’s eyes fluttered. “Oh, goody. I mean—oh, that’s terrible. How irresponsible.” One of the milder fantasies she’d told Victoria about entailed having sex in her office. With clothes on.

“What’s that there?” Victoria asked. “Are you happy to see me?”

“This is how I punish shoplifters.”

“Please punish me so hard I will never steal again.”

“I’m pushing you onto the loveseat.”

“I’m wearing a skirt,” Victoria volunteered. “A long black skirt. It’s bunched up around my knees. No underwear.”

“I’m unzipping my pants.”

“Oh, it’s big,” Victoria breathed. “Big and beautiful and blue.”

Felicianna had sent Victoria photos of her sex toys. And Victoria, apparently, remembered them.

Felicianna could no longer attempt to control her breathing. Or the furious rubbing on her clit. She heard similar noises from Victoria’s end.

“I’m pushing back,” Victoria challenged. “I’m on top now. I’m easing it inside me, and oh…oh. It’s bracing but rough. It fits perfectly. And…shit! Shit! You called 911 on me, didn’t you? What’s that policewoman doing in the doorway? And with that huge baton?”

Felicianna grinned. A shared fantasy of theirs was having some sort of threesome. Someone watching. Someone taking part in it. Whatever form it took didn’t matter.

“She’s here to handcuff you,” Felicianna said severely. “And to take your shirt off since you refuse to.”

“I’m gonna come,” Victoria cried. “In like a…”

Eugh eugh eugh ahh! Gasp, gasp.

Felicianna’s orgasm bloomed seconds later. Rich, powerful fireworks.

“Sorry,” Victoria said breathlessly.

“Why?”

“I came too fast. We didn’t get far.”

“Hush, sweetie,” Felicianna said. “It was perfect. I don’t care how fast you are or how long you take.”

“Did you come?”

Felicianna closed her eyes and let the stupor of orgasm overtake her. “You bet I did.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Why do some people intimidate you?” Victoria asked Felicianna over their pizza lunch in the motel room.

Felicianna cocked a disapproving eyebrow. “You’re assuming they do.”

“At least one person must.”

Felicianna gave a vague, almost goofy smile. “Why do you ask?”

Victoria pressed a paper towel over her pizza slice. Part of the grease festival migrated to the towel, and she peeled it off. Tossed it into the trash. “I realized something in class this morning. Most happy people intimidate me.”

Disbelief entered Felicianna’s gaze. “That can’t be true. You’re fearless.”

“I liked high school, both in Virginia and Arkansas. The teachers were flawed. Interesting. Fat. Bald. Crooked teeth. Terrible clothes. Mean. Strict. Overly eager to please. You could tell they were human. Here, they’re…the professors are kind of perfect. And the students too.”

“Is that why you like me? My terrible clothes?”

Victoria giggled. “Yep. Now come on, why do some people intimidate you?”

Felicianna picked a pepperoni off her pizza and ate it. “No, no, this is interesting. I want to know more. Why most happy people? Why not all?”

Victoria had to think. “I guess because most happy people are boring? I can’t relate to them. They don’t have problems. Who wants to know someone like that, right?”

“Eh. Someone might project a happy surface but not be happy underneath.”

“My English professor is married and has three kids. She gushes about her family life all the time. How wonderful it is.”

Felicianna bit into her pizza. “Her husband’s cheating, and she chooses to be in denial. Or she’s a lesbian. Denial either way.”

“I can see that. But she’s still boring. And one-dimensional.”

Felicianna shrugged her assent. “There’s a reason why tortured people produce some of the greatest art. But why does that professor intimidate you?”

Chaotic messages scraped the sides of Victoria’s brain, and she gestured vaguely. “Maybe because I’m forced to play along? In order to not crack her little fantasy, I have to pretend her life really is as great as she says. I’m being less true to myself.”

Felicianna nodded thoughtfully. “Makes total sense. I get customers who come into the store to buy gifts for their kids or their spouse, someone like that. They talk about how wonderful the kid is, so caring, visits every weekend, et cetera, et cetera, and all I want to ask is: ‘If your kid is so great, why do you feel the need to prove it to me?’ ”

Victoria grinned, loving this. Felicianna was great. If Victoria tried this conversation with Markie, she would play along for a minute but then make a joke about Victoria overthinking and taking life too seriously. And maybe Markie had a point. But Victoria liked lots of seriousness along with lots of goofiness. Markie, unlike Felicianna, wouldn’t try to fully understand Victoria’s point—and to tease more realizations out of her.

Speaking of realizations. A slow one dawned. “I think…”

“What?”

Victoria weighed her new understanding. Decided it was right. “I think that’s one reason I don’t like going alone to visit Dad. He tries too hard to pretend he’s happy. Like, he said he enjoys his laundry job. I mean, come on. Laundry in prison? He’s a man in his late forties, and his life revolves around doing other inmates’ laundry? And Mom. It’s like she’s playing a role. What she thinks a mother should be instead of being true to herself. When I came out to her, we had a moment. I got a glimpse of what she’s like with Elena. It was nice.”

“Does it go both ways?”

“What?”

Felicianna swallowed the last of her first slice and reached for a second slice. “Do you pretend to be happy around them, too?”

Victoria didn’t care for the question. “I guess,” she said sheepishly. “When Dad asks how school is going, I say it’s fine. It’s okay.”

Felicianna winked. “You’re beautiful when you smile. Well, you’re beautiful all the time.”

Victoria felt an awkward blush of pleasure make its way up her neck and her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“So school’s not okay?”

“It’s as okay as it can be, and I suppose prison is as okay as it can be for Dad. I don’t belong at JMU. I’m there because Markie didn’t get into any of the schools in the D.C. area. I might be happier at one of them.”

“First semester’s tough.”

“I need to give it time. I know. That’s what I am doing.”

“Or not,” Felicianna said. “People ignore their gut a lot. If your gut says that JMU’s the wrong fit, maybe it is.”

Victoria sighed and moved on to another pizza slice. “I don’t think I’d fit at any school. Not all the way. But I would fit better at some places.”

“I’m curious about something.” Felicianna fixed an intense stare onto Victoria. “You said earlier that you’re not a victim, but do you get mad at them? Your parents?”

Victoria pressed another paper towel over her fresh slice. Did she get mad at her parents? Maybe. She did try to justify their actions. Oh, Dad kidnapped me because he had to. His own freaking wife wouldn’t let him see me, and judges weren’t favorable toward him. At the same time, I can’t blame Mom—because of how she was raised. That camp her parents forced her to attend. I can’t blame Dad for starting to drink either because, hey, he needed to cope somehow with looking behind his back all the time. With our isolation. With being a single parent. I can’t blame him for lying about my mother because what else could he reasonably do?

“I make excuses for Mom and Dad,” Victoria whispered.

“Do you try to be brave for them?” Felicianna asked. “Brave and happy because you’ve been through so much already and you don’t want more dramatics? Do you feel like you have to be an adult to somewhat balance their childish behavior?”

Okaaaay. This was too heavy. Too serious. Victoria might as well be back with Dr. Ooze. She made herself laugh. “Wow, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to force you to hang out a therapist shingle.”

A smile flared in Felicianna’s green eyes. “I don’t mind. I really am just curious. Or nosy. Whatever word you prefer. Have you called them out on anything?”

“No. What’s the point? I’m sure they punish themselves enough.”

Felicianna’s gaze turned soft and understanding. “I’m sure they do.” She wiped her hands on her paper towel napkin and said: “You can’t control other people, only yourself. That said, I think it’s okay to call out people sometimes. It’s healthy.” A shadow stole into her expression. “I’ve made life harder for you. If Elena was never exposed as a prostitute…you know? Less attention on y’all.”

Victoria smiled. “That’s true. You’re lucky you’re sexy.” Her gaze hung with Felicianna’s, and Victoria wondered if part of why she sought this woman out was to rebel. To engage in her own bit of bad judgment and childish behavior. To flick a middle finger to her parents and her stepmother.

“So,” Victoria said. “You never told me who intimidates you.”

“It should be obvious. You do.”

Victoria’s heart jerked. “Oh.” She wanted to ask why but had a feeling the question was unnecessary. Why did she intimidate Felicianna? Gee, let’s count the ways. Eighteen years old. Elena’s stepdaughter. Throwing a curveball into a settled, content enough life. Forcing Felicianna to revisit the past.

“Do you still plan to tell Brenda next time you see her?”

Felicianna plucked another pepperoni off and nibbled on it. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “It depends where you and I are at the time. Brenda probably won’t visit for another few weeks. If she was going to tell me that Elena was pregnant, she would’ve done it already.” An inquiring gaze. “What about you? You going to tell her?”

“No. At least not now.”

Felicianna finished her slice. “Yeah.” She attempted a smile, but it failed to spread to her eyes. “Hey, enough of this mopey talk. I brought you a gift. Let me get it.” She rummaged through her luggage, which she’d placed on the room’s sole bed—a queen. She came up with a box covered in balloon wrapping paper.

“I didn’t get you anything,” Victoria said.

“You’ll be punished.”

Victoria laughed and opened the present methodically—lift tape off, peel paper back carefully. With Daniel in Arkansas, she ripped off wrapping paper but never felt comfortable doing it with Frances. So these days, Victoria’s habit was to open presents like a hundred-year-old lady would.

The box revealed a vibrator. “Whoa!” Victoria blinked. Yep. Still a vibrator.

“It’s to put in your underwear,” Felicianna declared with barely concealed glee. “You can wear it in public. It comes with a remote you can control yourself. Or have someone else do it.” Felicianna batted her eyelashes.

The toy, even though Victoria was only staring at it, acted like a drug. Female Viagra times a thousand. Jolts of fire licked at Victoria.

“I had to get it for you,” Felicianna continued. “Especially since you’ve never owned a vibrator. Or used one.” A sly glance. “I brought all my toys too.”

“You’re spoiling me.”

A smug, self-satisfied grin. “Good.” Felicianna paused. “You’re a rare find, you know.”

“I am?”

“You’re not afraid to get dirty and kinky. To explore.”

Victoria chuckled. Weakly. “Keep in mind I’ve barely done anything.”

“Oh, I know. I know. Still, it’s…maybe you haven’t noticed or chatted with many women online, but the minute I bring up an interest in, say, a threesome, or light spanking, or anything medium kinky, the other stuff we talked about, the women act like I’ve grown a roach head.”

“I remember your old girlfriends did.”

Felicianna clicked her tongue. “Naturally.” She drew a tan zippered bag from her luggage. “Wanna meet my toys?”

Victoria writhed with pleasure, but a question lodged in her throat. The type of question that would never go away, so better ask it sooner rather than later. “Were you and Elena kinky-ish?”

Felicianna snorted, and Victoria was glad to see no rush of dismay or affection in her eyes. “We were basic. No, less than basic. We didn’t even make love, Victoria. Nothing like that. We didn’t have fun. I was an idiot for letting it go on so long.”

“You and I won’t be like that,” Victoria whispered. “I want us to have lots of fun.”

Felicianna squeezed her hand. “We will. I have no doubt.”

Victoria hadn’t been able to get her mind off Felicianna all day. How she lost her senses around Felicianna, how Felicianna kissed like a beast. The tantalizing promise of raw sex.

Now, Felicianna stood only inches from Victoria, and Felicianna smelled good. Damn good. Not cologne or perfume, but pheromones running amok.

Victoria felt last night again. The phone sex. Felt her own fingers inside her, her own finger on her clit. The electricity. The wanting for Felicianna.

Felicianna leaned into Victoria and kissed her on the lips. Gently. Victoria ran her hands down Felicianna’s back and cupped her butt. She nibbled Felicianna’s neck, both sides, then her earlobe.

Felicianna pressed herself into Victoria, and Victoria didn’t bother with niceties. Her tongue rushed forth into Felicianna’s mouth, and the woman responded with equal eagerness.

“Touch me,” Felicianna breathed. “Touch me here.” She unbuttoned her shirt just enough to allow Victoria access. Felicianna’s bra was a lacy blue, and Victoria stared, a fact she only became aware of when Felicianna asked: “You like what you see?”

Victoria blinked. “Yes.”

“Will you kiss them?” Felicianna asked shyly.

Victoria lowered her mouth to Felicianna’s breasts. Kissed and sucked through the bra, rousing the nipples to astonishing lengths.

“Hold on, hold on,” Felicianna said after a few minutes, sweat glistening on her chest, on her forehead. “Hold on.” She kicked her shoes off and unbuttoned her corduroy pants. Feeling bold, Victoria tugged her pants off all the way. She didn’t wear underwear.

Felicianna’s turn to gasp. And stare. “Aw, Victoria.” Victoria loved Felicianna’s Cheshire-cat grin.

Victoria pulled Felicianna’s pants down and soaked in every detail of her finely trimmed black hairs. Victoria got on her knees and licked Felicianna down there. The woman shuddered, her hips seesawing crazily. She was a raging ocean, a beautiful, white ocean of salt and cream. Victoria tasted. Tasted and licked and experienced, her nose and tongue exploring all of Felicianna, exploring the insides of her, too.

Chapter Eighteen

Felicianna never wanted to let go. She never wanted Victoria to let go of her, either. They slept in each other’s arms. Their embrace was fierce; they touched every possible part of themselves to each other. Felicianna adored the girl’s body. The young breasts budded with pink made her mouth water. Victoria’s was a smooth body that hadn’t begun to hurt in the mornings, in the afternoons, in the evenings. Hers was a body that could run a mile in less than ten minutes, hers was a body with fine, firm knees. Victoria had given Felicianna a second youth, at least for a day. Felicianna felt eighteen years old, too.

Her heart felt eighteen, and that scared her. Panicked thoughts treadmilled out her ears, scattered around the room, then whooshed back into her brain. Sometimes Felicianna could force the thoughts to two miles an hour compared to, say, seven miles, but two miles was nothing to sneeze at. Felicianna’s instincts, her natural defenses to avoid a broken heart, shifted into gear.

At least Victoria was passed out, dead to the world. They’d had sex (made love?) all afternoon, broke for dinner, got back to it during dinner with food play. No doubt Victoria would wake up soon, and they’d go at it again. The time was only nine p.m., after all.

Felicianna’s panicked thoughts told her to get out. Now. To not hesitate. To simply fling the bedcovers aside and tiptoe out of Victoria’s life. These panicked thoughts told Felicianna this was too good to be true. That there was a catch. A new catch, not a catch she was already aware of, like gee, this barely legal girl was the last person in the world she should be with.

Like that wasn’t catch enough.

What was Felicianna doing with her? Victoria had lied for months. She would hurt Felicianna. She’d go to a party next weekend or a month from now, a typical college party. She’d meet someone or someones. A girl her age. They’d flirt. Victoria would realize her prospects shone much brighter with that girl than with the thirty-nine-year-old washout who qualified as Felicianna Grey.

Why did Felicianna keep setting herself up to be hurt? Why did she go for the worst women? Why did she let them go for her? Why was she incapable of having fun with a woman? Why did she have such strong feelings for this girl? She needed to go out more. Go on dates with women HER OWN AGE.

Felicianna sucked in a breath. Okay. Okay. She’d get dressed and tiptoe out the room. But for a walk. A walk only. Little walk round the motel.

She detached from Victoria, missed her touch immediately, and crept to the spot where her clothes piled up. She pulled her shirt over her head and tugged her jeans up. Slipped her feet into sandals that spilled from her duffle bag.

Felicianna’s keys lay on a table near the door, and she shoved them into her pockets. Headed outside. The evening was a perfect mixture of breezy and warm temperatures.

Little walk round the motel.

She made one lap, going beyond the pool. Next, she headed to the parking lot. To her car. She felt the lump of keys in her pocket. Driving away would be easy. And smart. Sure, she’d leave behind several hundred dollars’ worth of sex toys, but whatever. Sabotaging this relationship or whatever it was, since it couldn’t be a relationship, was fine. Victoria was a kid. Their lives didn’t fit.

*****

Victoria was awake when Felicianna got back. She’d turned on the bedside lamps, and she gave a huge sigh of relief when Felicianna let herself into the room.

“You’re back!”

Felicianna smiled casually. “Needed fresh air. Went for a walk.”

The girl made no show of modesty. No attempt to conceal her full breasts with the bedspread. No attempt to smooth down her wild hair.

Lust reared its lusty head between Felicianna’s legs. She reached into the refrigerator and drew out the last slice from their pizza lunch. “Want to split this?”

“You can have it.”

Felicianna munched on the pizza and avoided Victoria’s gaze.

“How was your walk?”

“Good, good.” Felicianna chewed slowly.

“Are you okay?”

Felicianna smiled. “I’m fine.”

“You seem weird. A little off.”

“Sorry.” Last chew. Last swallow. An endeavored glance at Victoria.

She tumbled out of bed, and Felicianna had never witnessed a more beautiful sight in her life. Her whole body hurt, and she knew in that moment that if she and Victoria entered into a relationship, Felicianna would truly hold Victoria back from living the college life she deserved. One of the worst disservices possible.

“We have to stop,” Felicianna said flatly.

Other than a wary shimmer in Victoria’s eyes, the girl exhibited no reaction. Guess she’d braced herself. “Why’s that, Felicianna?”

“We got what we wanted,” Felicianna said. “Sex. Now it’s over.”

Victoria rubbed her forehead, and Felicianna wished she’d put on clothes or cover herself up somehow, damn girl, cover up that hot, sweet body!

“You said last weekend you don’t want drama or vacillations,” Victoria pointed out. “So what’s this?”

“It’s not—”

Victoria snorted. “Spare me. Look, I don’t think I was bad in bed. I think we were good together. Fantastic.”

“Yes.”

“You at least owe me the truth,” Victoria said.

“Like you told me the truth since March?”

Victoria flinched. Took a step backward. “Are you mad at me? Is that what this is about?”

No way Felicianna could tell Victoria she felt so deeply for the girl that it hurt. “I can’t trust you, Victoria. I don’t know you.”

Victoria’s shoulders slumped, and she sat on the bed. A moment later, she looked up at Felicianna, and her brown eyes were dark. Angry. Sexual. “You’re making a mistake,” she said.

“We…we…it was nice. I’ll give you that.”

“None of this bothered you before.”

“It did. I just couldn’t articulate it.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten me a present if it did. You know what I think? How many times did we discuss your history of sabotaging relationships?”

“Not that many times.”

Victoria’s lips twisted into a sardonic grin. “Well, whatever. I think that’s what you’re doing. These other women didn’t know better, but I do. Because we’ve talked. I know what you tend to do once stuff gets serious or emotional.”

“We’re not in a relationship, so how can I sabotage something that doesn’t exist? Look, Victoria. I’m holding you back. You’re supposed to have fun in college. You ought to be at a party right now. I’ve got to think about myself, too. Your life’s ahead of you. Mine’s almost half over, and that’s if I’m lucky.”

“I’m tired of Mom and Dad and Markie and people telling me what I ought to do with college. Y’all forget this is my life, and I’m doing exactly what I want. My life. My life!” Victoria flattened her hand against her chest, above her breasts. “You won’t say this, so I will. I think you like me a lot, and it scares you. You liked me a lot before, but after what we did today, you...because…” Her face clouded. “Your feelings grew, and we became real.”

Felicianna tried to sidestep her point: “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This! Casual sex with you. A fling. I can’t.”

“Because you like me a lot, and I like you back.”

Felicianna sighed. “Yes. Fine. And you’re…you’re gonna go to a party sometime soon or meet someone in class, and you’ll fall in love with her, and…I can’t get hurt again. I can’t. I’ve avoided going out with anyone the past year. That needs to change. I’m gonna find women my own age.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes. “So you can do the same old thing with them? What happened to me being a rare find? What happened to…to…” She shook her head. “Ahh. Geez.” She knelt and riffled through her bag, which rested at the foot of the bed. She came up with her phone and executed a series of poking moves. Felicianna’s heart and stomach were heavy, so she didn’t have the energy to ask what Victoria was doing.

Victoria held out the phone a moment later. “Read this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s an email you wrote in late August. ‘Leigh, I was in bed last night and—’ ”

“Okay, okay.” Felicianna grabbed the phone because few things were more embarrassing than having private words read aloud.

Leigh,

I was in bed last night and got to thinking. (Wow. Who woulda thunk?) You came across my mind. I’m truly glad we’ve “met.” You’re a good sounding board. Are you hasty? Impulsive? Can’t tell if you are, but I am. Kinda. Mostly. It’s like a devil lives inside me. It killed its counterpart angel long ago, and this devil pushes me to make terrible, consequential decisions. To wreck friendships and relationships. Sometimes I think the devil—and me—can be happy only by being unhappy.

I guess my point here is, I do value you tremendously. I hope my devil won’t try to wreck our friendship one day, but who knows, it might. Actually, judging from my history, pretty good chances it will. If/when that happens (and I WILL try my best to make sure it doesn’t), I hope you’ll understand I didn’t mean what I did or said and that you’ll give me a second chance.

Yeah, you’re probably running away now. Don’t blame you! I have no filter. I need instant gratification.

Hope your night is going better than mine.

-Anna

“Okay,” Felicianna said, refusing to let the words sink in. “Okay.”

“I know I’m eighteen and this setup kind of sucks,” Victoria said, strain permeating her voice. “And who knows, maybe you are right that I’m missing out on great parties and stuff. I…if it makes you feel better, I’ll go to a party this weekend. Okay? I’ll do that. Both Friday and Saturday. I doubt I’ll have much fun because I went to three parties with Markie the first week of school. They were horrible. But anyway, I also want to make sure that you’re aware of what you’re doing here. Can we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“I’ll go to two parties this weekend. You go out with women your age. That’s fine. Whatever. And will you…” Victoria bit her lip. “I’ve kinda been thinking, I haven’t been back to Arkansas since I met Mom. I’m ready to make the trip and see the cabin. To get closure. I could go alone, but I want you to come with me. Maybe you could close the store one weekend soon or let that guy, the old retired dude who takes over when you’re on vacations…” Victoria fumbled for the name.

“Jonah,” Felicianna supplied. A new, unexpected warmth surged through her, and the anxiety in Victoria’s expression touched her heart. Her brain. Oh, what a stupid fool Felicianna was. Talk about maturity. This kid surpassed her.

“Jonah, right. He could run the place while you’re gone. Two days tops.”

“Why are you doing this?” Felicianna asked.

“Doing what?”

“You know. This. Putting up with me.”

A smile trembled over Victoria’s lips. “Probably the same reason you put up with me, Felicianna.” She pulled Felicianna in for a hug and didn’t let go for a long time.

Chapter Nineteen

Felicianna said she needed to check on a couple of online auctions closing. She’d mentioned them at lunch, so Victoria knew she wasn’t fibbing. Hunched over her phone, Felicianna sat at the table across the room. Victoria studied her: the strong lines of her profile, the Roman nose, the defiant chin. Victoria’s heart wobbled, and finally, Victoria breathed. A lengthy, relieved breath. Oh, what a close call. She’d almost lost Felicianna—something Victoria figured had to be a near impossibility after their hours of sex. Sex that included lots of laughing and teasing and playing. Intimacy defined. Victoria couldn’t imagine losing her even before the sex, and now…now, never. This woman, this Felicianna…Victoria had flipped and twisted head over heels in love with her. She couldn’t have a better lover. Gentle, playful, but also tough. Passionate.

What a dumbass Elena was. Her loss, though. And most definitely Victoria’s gain. She’d decided to view Felicianna’s recent indecision as a compliment. A sign of how much she cared about Victoria.

Victoria spied the sex toys’ tan bag on the floor and rolled out of bed. Picked a dildo up. She and Felicianna hadn’t gotten around to the toys. Yet. They’d been too enamored in each other. Their bodies held plenty of natural toys—fingers, tongue, skin, feet, toes.

Victoria brought the dildo back to bed. On the nightstand was Felicianna’s vibrator gift to her, and Victoria pressed the tiny ON/OFF button. Shoved the vibrator against her clit.

She jolted in pain. Owie owie harsh. Ouch! She turned the toy off. Apparently, Madame Clit possessed no more juice after her all-day activities.

“What are you doing?” Felicianna, curious.

Victoria lifted her gaze to Felicianna’s. “I was about to murder my clit. Luckily, I stopped in time.”

Felicianna laughed. “Poor thing.”

“I think it’s had enough.” Victoria ran her fingers over the blue dildo. Rubbery. Ridgey. “How are the auctions?”

Felicianna’s gaze was blank for a millisecond—then snapped to life. “Oh. The auctions. When I look at you, I forget the past few minutes of my life.” Her lips curled into a devilish grin. “I lost them both, but I found something for you.”

“You really don’t need to buy me stuff.”

“It cost three dollars.”

Victoria positioned the tip of the dildo in front of the hole it was made for. “What is it?”

“What is…what?” Stammered reply. Red face.

“My new present.” Victoria pressed the dildo in a bit. Not bad. Not bad at all. “This feels like a zucchini from last year.”

“You’ll be the death of me.”

Victoria laughed. “What?”

“I leave you alone for a minute, and something’s inside you. At least it’ll be a fun death.” Felicianna weaved her way over bags and assorted toys to Victoria’s side.

“When do I get my present? What is it?”

Felicianna bent down and pressed her lips to Victoria’s. “Not telling what it is.”

“Fine, fine. When do I get it?”

“Maybe next weekend? I should have it in about a week.”

“I’m gonna get you something too. You’ll never guess what it is.”

Felicianna pulled her shirt off, and Victoria admired her lean torso, her small, round breasts. “Of course I’ll never guess what it is. You don’t know what it is yet.”

“Semantics.”

Felicianna chuckled and unbuttoned her pants. In a few seconds, her completely naked self crawled back into bed.

“Help me get the dildo in farther,” Victoria said.

“Did you put lube on it?”

“No.”

Felicianna showered kisses around Victoria’s neck, sucked on her earlobes and gently nipped the back of her neck. Created enough natural lube for Victoria to get the dildo in completely.

“I’m sorry,” Felicianna whispered.

“For what?”

“Earlier. The—”

“It’s okay. We’re moving on.”

Felicianna’s eyes were dark and brooding. Oh, what a sexy, sexy woman. “I’m still sorry. I’m going to try my best to make sure I’m not such a nitwit twat again.”

Victoria pulled the dildo out and tossed it on the floor. “Right, just be a lesser nitwit twat.”

Felicianna smiled. Ran her fingers through Victoria’s hair. Found more than a few tangles. “Oh, Vic. I hope we can redeem this briar patch.”

Vic. Her first time calling Victoria by that name. Only Daniel and Markie did so.

“That’s nice,” Victoria said.

“What?”

“You calling me Vic.”

Felicianna blinked. “Oh.”

Victoria grinned. “It’s fine. I like it. And I like you.”

“I like you too.” Felicianna pulled her hands out of Victoria’s hair and placed her head on Victoria’s chest. “While I checked on the auctions, I looked at my schedule. Next weekend would be good for Arkansas.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Do you need to talk to Jonah first?”

“Nah. If he isn’t available, I still want to go. I don’t take enough time off as it is.”

“Workaholic.”

“Yessss,” Felicianna said with a sigh. “You’re my twelve-step program. Or twelve-sex program.”

Victoria laughed and weaved her fingers into Felicianna’s hair. Too short to have tangles. “That’s great. Twelve-sex program.”

“Vic?” Felicianna asked in a small voice.

“Mmm?”

She looked up at Victoria. “I don’t want to date women my own age. Or anyone else. I just...it’ll be a waste of time.”

“Then don’t,” Victoria said gently. She added with a chuckle: “I won’t complain about you not seeing other women.”

“You don’t have to go to the parties.”

Victoria let out a sigh. “I’ll go, I’ll go. It won’t kill me, and maybe I’ll make a friend or two. I’m stuck at JMU, right? I oughta do something about it.” In truth, she would go to stave off any complaints Felicianna could make later that she was depriving Victoria of normalcy or whatever. Plus, yeah, maybe she and the others had a point.

Felicianna responded with a tight smile. “Okay.”

Victoria pressed her mouth to Felicianna’s. “Okay. Okay. So we get to see each other next weekend. That’s pretty soon, yeah? Week and a half. And for a road trip? I can’t wait.”

*****

Victoria left Markie alone the next few days. Perhaps more accurately, Markie left her alone because at least Victoria smiled and said: “Good morning,” Good night,” “How were classes?” and that kind of stuff. She was lucky if Markie responded with a grunt.

Despite Markie’s gloom, Victoria kept a cheerful smile running. Wasn’t hard. After all, she was in love, gloriously and head over heels in love.

When Friday afternoon rolled around, she considered asking Markie what party (or parties) she and Caleb planned to hit up that night. Ended up not asking her anything. For one thing, Markie wasn’t the prettiest drunk. Victoria’s categorizations of drunks:

Pretty drunks: Friendly, flirty, playful (alcohol serves as a true social aid)

Ugly drunks: Screaming, belligerent, fighting, vase breaking, random, wanton sex, flashing boobies, urinating in the living room and more

Boring/functional drunks: (Daniel’s type) Drink slowly and steadily until passed out, usually has a buzz of sorts going

Shrill, wasted, throw-uppy drunks: (Markie’s type, somewhere in between pretty and ugly drunks) Talks at least twice as loud as necessary, brays and shrills at anything remotely funny, goes around kissing whomever, whines, pouts, complains, thinks he or she is the life of the party and cuter than in reality, will probably end up puking at some point

Yeah, Victoria decided she was better off going to a party without Markie. She grabbed dinner in the cafeteria. Markie wasn’t around, so Victoria sat with her backup group—girls from the dorm. They were nice girls, Victoria supposed. Superficial, vain, gossipy, but they didn’t ask her many questions, and for the most part, their eyes didn’t ooze nosiness. With them, Victoria tried to eat as quickly as possible. Tonight, however, she ate slowly and picked up several party possibilities. A party on Maplehurst Avenue seemed most promising.

“What’s that address again?” Victoria asked Holly, a rail-thin blonde.

Holly’s mouth rounded in surprise. “You going?”

Victoria smiled bravely. “Yes.”

*****

Victoria arrived about midnight, having taken a nap from nine to eleven. Maplehurst Avenue was a few blocks from the main entrance to James Madison and stood in a residential neighborhood of sturdy, brick houses. A few students (at least Victoria assumed they were students) milled about in the front yard. Rock music blared from the windows, and she forced herself to the front door. Let herself in.

Bedlam. Chaos. Ears hurting. Eyes hurting.

Soooo not her scene.

A few pairs of eyes turned and…yep. Recognition in more than a few gazes. The murmurs began. Look who’s here, isn’t that Marissa Victoria she’s in one of my classes, I’ve seen her around a lot… More staring.

Victoria cried out: “Where’s the beer?”

The stares turned to grins, and seconds later, a beer can was pressed into Victoria’s hand. The presser stood tall. Waaay tall, like six feet five inches. Honey blond hair hung in his eyes.

“Oops,” he said. “Let me open that for you.”

Pop!

“Thank you, sir.”

“Sir Xavier.” He held his hand out.

“Lady Victoria.” His palms were sweaty. Clammy. And huge. Ew, ew, ew. Victoria shook quickly, but he kept her hand a second longer than necessary. Great. One of these moments.

Her not-knight swilled from his beer, and Victoria took a delicate sip of hers. She hated beer. It was piss. Seriously. Which was why she asked for it—wouldn’t be tempted to drink more. She’d imbibe it slowly and dreadfully.

“I’m a senior,” Xavier said.

“I’m a graduate student.”

“Really?”

Sure, let’s see where this goes. “Yep.”

“Thought you were a freshman.”

“I’m both. I’m a freshman and a graduate student. Special, right?” Another delicate sip of pee pee wee wee urine beer. “Actually, I’m a sophomore.”

Furrowed brows. “How come?”

“I took college and AP classes in high school.”

“You gonna graduate in three years?”

“I could. I might do a double major. Who knows?” Victoria smiled and edged away. “The possibilities are endless.”

“I had a friend whose cousin was kidnapped. At least, they thought he was. Turns out his grandma picked him up from school. Dementia and stuff, you know? He wasn’t missing long.”

“Yeah, okay.” Victoria edged away some more. “I’m gonna mingle. See ya.”

The next half-hour saw Victoria exchanging pleasantries with a few classmates. She also witnessed a fair share of vomiting and heavy making out. And not-so-discreet cellphone picture taking. No doubt a few pictures of her would be scattered on some gossip websites tomorrow. What a dubious club she belonged to. Elizabeth Smart. Jaycee Duggard. Shawn Hornbeck. Natascha Kampusch. Marissa Dourne.

She wanted Felicianna. She whipped out her phone and texted Felicianna: I miss you. This party is okay, but I’d rather be doing other stuff. Rather be doing YOU!!! Can’t wait for our trip.

“Haaaay, Vic.” A slurred male voice.

Victoria looked into brown eyes she scrambled to place. Right, right. Tom Johnson—the guy Markie fucked the first few days of school. “Hi. Hey! How are you?”

“Ahhhright.” A dopey grin. “Where’s Markie?”

“I don’t know. At some other party probably.”

Tom mumbled an incoherent string of words. A slightly more coherent sentence followed: “Alwuuhys admired the poster on your side.”

“The zombies poster?”

He raised his fist. “Zombies!”

Victoria fist bumped him. “Can’t go wrong with the undead.”

He found this hilariously funny and bent over in laughter.

The beer must have started to affect Victoria, because she found her comment hilarious as well. She continued: “Hey, Tom. Tom, guess what? Everyone here is a zombie! Like, rah rah let’s party, let’s be zombies!” Victoria held her arms straight in front of her. “Braaains! Beer!”

Tom grabbed her, his fingers digging into her back, and jammed his tongue in Victoria’s mouth. She reeled. A zombie’s breath would’ve been better. Talk about rancid, ripe alcohol fumes.

Victoria fought and kicked her way out of his grasp, and anger drove away her buzz. “Don’t do that again!” She propelled him against the wall. “Don’t touch me!”

He held his hands up. “Chill.”

Victoria threw her mostly empty can at his face. “Shove this up your piece of shit ass!”

*****

Someone happened to tape on his (or her) cellphone the exchange between Victoria and Tom. The next day, the video amassed tens of thousands of YouTube hits. And praise, lots of praise, for Victoria.

Kick-ass! Ninja! Superwoman!

Victoria fielded calls and emails from Felicianna, Brenda and various family members, including both of her grandmothers. She reassured them she was perfectly all right. Whatever. In her gut, she knew she’d gone to the last party of her college years.

Chapter Twenty

Markie pretended that the next week passed uneventfully and prettily (October leaves starting to turn fall colors, lots of sex with Caleb). She expressed horror to Vic about Tom’s behavior, and Vic shrugged it off. “No biggie,” she said, and in the overall scheme of things, it wasn’t.

In its own little way, though, it was another wedge between Markie and Vic. Not only the fact that Tom knew Vic through Markie, but also Markie wanted to ask why Vic didn’t simply just go to a party with her and Caleb. They could’ve covered her ass. Why did Vic strike out on her own? Yeah, kinda made Markie mad, and she tried to ignore the crumpling in her stomach.

She’d dived into Vic’s instant messenger account. Actually, she did it a couple of days before the infamous Tom kiss—when Vic went to meet Felicianna at whatever motel. They would be otherwise occupied, so Markie figured her chances of being caught were next to nil. First, she tried signing into Vic’s account. No go. Damn girl had changed her password. Markie tried Vic’s computer—maybe she could access the site through the laptop like the first time when Vic was still signed into the account.

Vic had changed the password for the entire laptop. No surprise. She didn’t trust Markie anymore. In dismay, Markie read the password hint. Same damn clue: a very red buffoon. It was like Vic was taunting her.

Markie tried “uee7341brva,” the opposite of the original “avrb1437eeu” password. Ha! Like she really thought it’d succeed. She texted Caleb and promised him a blow job—a task she’d demurred thus far.

Caleb’s little brain won out, and Markie was in Vic’s computer not long after she texted him. The new password: “ndyaavrb1437avrb.” Vic, in all her suspicion, had devised a separate password for the dating site, but Markie enlisted Caleb’s help for this, too. Under his bemused gaze, she used her own computer to sign into the “lite” messenger. She maneuvered to the archives and copied and pasted all of Vic’s conversations into a Microsoft Word document. Markie signed out of the messenger service and hid the document in the same folder as the masturbation videos.

While adventure and deception made Markie feel guilty, it also turned her on. Made the blow job that followed tolerable enough.

After Caleb left, Markie settled in to read lots and lots of conversations. The ones between Leigh2323 and anyone who wasn’t AnnaSparkle proved flimsy and boring. The Leigh2323 and AnnaSparkle talks filled about two hundred MS Word pages. Vic and Felicianna were kind of superficial until June, when their relationship really took off.

AnnaSparkle: I’m drunk. Excuse my tpying.

Leigh2323: Uh oh. What kind of drunk gal are you?

AnnaSparkle: Depends. Usually Im fun and frisky.

Leigh2323: But not tonight?

AnnaSparkle: Not tonigh

Leigh2323: How come?

AnnaSparkle: Can I tell you something—deepest darkest secret?

Leigh2323: You can tell me anything. I won’t judge.

AnnaSparkle: Had a friend when I was a kid. Her nsme was Katie. Her dad was pleasant, and y parents liked him. Not me. I always got a creepy vib. Hard to ecplain.

Leigh2323: You there? Did you pass out on me?

AnnaSparkle: Oops went 2 get more drink

Leigh2323: Don’t have too much fun without me.

AnnaSparkle: Never! :) So anyway Katie and I wer about 10 yrs old. On same basktballt eam. 1 day I stayed @ her hse befoer game. Saw she had bruses on her back. I asked what happened. Her muth furrowed, and this really…this inrible fear entered her eyes. “Fell fwonstairs,” she said. I didnt belive her. I asedk why bruses only on her back. She said she didnt kow.

Leigh2323: Her dad was abusing her?

AnnaSparkle: I think so. Kind kept an eye on him and her. Notced stuff I didnt befoer.

Leigh2323: Like her flinching from him?

AnnaSparkle: Ecacamente.

Leigh2323: Exactamente? Haha. You are blased, you know that.

Leigh2323: Oops. Blasted. Now you’re making me typo! So what happened?

AnnaSparkle: :( Nothing I did nothing

Leigh2323: You were ten years old.

AnnaSparkle: Ten years old is old enough to be brave

Leigh2323: That’s true, but you learned from it, right?

AnnaSparkle: Ah yes trot out “we all learn from our mistakes” adge

Leigh2323: It’s a cliche, but yeah, we learn. We try to, anyway. What happened to Katie? Y’all still friends?

AnnaSparkle: She n her mom were gone 1 day. Vamoose. Virginia Moose. That’s a funny word, vammose. Vamoose.

Leigh2323: They got away from her dad. That’s great.

AnnaSparkle: He left few weeks later. Maybe tracked the down. Idk. He coulda kilt them and hid the bodies and thats y they disppered. She or her mom arent online that I know of

Leigh2323: They’re probably fine. Living under a different last name or a married last name.

AnnaSparkle: You goodygood lady whats your deepest darkest secret?

Leigh2323: I’m boring. Don’t have one.

AnnaSparkle: You gotta give me somethin

Leigh2323: Okay. Okay, well, speaking of friends…I’m in love with one of mine. My best friend.

AnnaSparkle: Oooh. Do share.

Markie read in horror as Leigh2323 professed love for her best friend (referred to as “bf”) but said that “bf” was straight. Too bad, Leigh2323 said. They clicked. Laughed. Got along great. Leigh2323 had been in love about two years and refused to tell “bf” because that’d make things weird between them.

That night, as Vic and Felicianna no doubt fucked, Markie tossed and turned. She spent several hours wide awake in the dark. Vic in love with her? Her? Oh shit. Over the next few days, the information vacillated between being a blooming rose in Markie’s stomach and a bleeding, shrieking pig. It took all Markie had to not jump into bed with Vic the nights they both stayed in the dorm room. No, Markie had to deliberate. She had to think.

A huge line would be crossed if she told Vic she loved her, and if they had sex. They couldn’t stop at just one time. They’d fall in love—more so than they were already. Vic would eventually want to start holding hands around campus. Maybe Markie could go along with that. But there would be the inevitable photo snapped by one of their fellow students and sold to some website or magazine. Markie had fielded her share of emails from tabloids (Tell us Victoria’s secrets, snap a few candid photos of her, and we’ll pay you).

VICTORIA DOURNE AND ARKANSAS GAL PAL IN LOVE!

And Markie’s parents would find out. Or a time would come when Vic pressed Markie to introduce her as Markie’s girlfriend. No. That wouldn’t do.

So Markie didn’t talk much to Vic. Didn’t ask about Vic’s new ninety-nine-year-old girlfriend. Markie didn’t offer to visit Vic’s dad in prison, and Vic didn’t ask her to.

Chapter Twenty-One

“I hope the cabin’s safe,” Victoria said as she and Felicianna traveled the bumpy path to Victoria’s former home. Victoria had skipped classes the day before, a Friday, for the trip.

Speaking of bumpy paths. The damn way to the cabin didn’t qualify as a road. Nowhere near that, and so far it measured at least two miles long per Felicianna’s odometer. It was pothole heaven too; the wispy, white ghosts of dearly departed tires floated about. Good thing Felicianna wasn’t picky about keeping her car in tiptop shape.

She shot Victoria a glance she hoped was reassuring. “It’ll be safe and dandy,” Felicianna said.

“Squatters could be living there. Or rats. Skunks.”

“Did we bring tomato juice?”

Victoria laughed. “No. We forgot garlic, too.”

“Vampires might live there? Now that’s bad.”

Another laugh. The best laughs came from Victoria.

Felicianna squeezed her hand. “I might have a stake in the trunk. The wood kind, not the kind you eat.”

“A vampire might enjoy a raw steak.”

“True, true.”

Finally, the cabin came into view. Tiny. Squat. Chimney. But seemed in good shape. One problem, though: a forest of weeds surrounded the cabin. Thigh-high weeds.

“Dad built this place,” Victoria said, pride in her voice. “Did I tell you that?”

“Several times. But I love hearing it.”

Victoria sighed and surveyed the weeds.

“Are you thinking about snakes?”

Victoria smiled. “Yep. Snakes. I don’t mind rats in the cabin. I mean, I would prefer no rats. But at least I could see them. This…” Victoria shuddered. “Can’t see anything with those weeds. A snake could bite us.”

Felicianna stuck out her hand. “Come on. I’ll lead you through. I’ll protect you.”

“You hate snakes more than I do.”

“Not today,” Felicianna said. “Today I love snakes. Today I want to fuck snakes and marry them and make little cute baby snakes with them.” She waggled her fingers. “Come on. Do you have your flashlight?”

Victoria grinned that grin Felicianna loved and gave her a little look. A little, lingering, secret, sexual look. Felicianna’s body, her heart, kicked into overdrive. Thank goodness she had given Victoria a chance. She would be a Class A idiot to let the girl get away. Class A++++ idiot.

*****

Victoria let go of Felicianna’s hand once they reached the front porch. Felicianna tried the doorknob, and the door protested open—Creeeeeeak!

The inside of the cabin, at least upon immediate gaze, was what Felicianna expected. Sunlight streamed through the windows and exposed a dusty, filthy floor. No flashlight needed. Crime scene tape was tangled most everywhere. When Frances claimed Victoria at the Little Rock FBI office, the cabin remained an active crime scene. Victoria hadn’t been allowed to return to pick up possessions.

“I want to see if anything of ours is left,” Victoria said in a little voice. She ventured deeper into the cabin, and Felicianna followed her lead. The living room was devoid of furniture, and Victoria said: “Why would the FBI or police take our couch and TV?”

“Maybe they didn’t. Other people could’ve come in and…remember that article we read? How people used to break in a lot after the FBI was done with it?”

“The tourist spot cabin,” Victoria said, her nostrils flaring. “Where Daniel Dourne kept little Marissa for years.”

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s squatting here right now. I don’t see animals, either.” At that moment, of course, a squirrel chose to scamper across the room. Felicianna and Victoria jumped.

“Hey. Show me your bedroom.”

“I…” Vic’s voice broke. “I left Daddy passed out.”

“Hey. Hey.” Felicianna snuck an arm around Victoria’s waist. “You saved yourself. That’s what you did. Imagine if you’d stayed. What would your life be like now?”

Victoria chewed her lip. “I’d still be at college. Maybe the University of Arkansas at Little Rock. That isn’t too bad.”

“Okay,” Felicianna conceded. “But before that. What would’ve your life been like?”

Victoria didn’t answer. She wandered to a space about three times the size of a closet. “My room,” she said dully. “Also known as my shoebox.”

Felicianna fought not to gape.

The next room was Daniel’s bedroom. After that, Felicianna and Victoria peeked into the bathroom. Yeah, it’d seen better days. Glass from the window littered the floor, and grime and a tattered sleeping bag lined the tub.

That was the cabin, basically. Four rooms.

“Do you want to check out the shed?” Felicianna asked.

“No. Let’s leave.”

“Okay.” Felicianna’s chest was about to burst. She wished she could erase the pain from Victoria’s face. She wished she was brave enough to tell Victoria that she was falling in love with her. Erase that. Felicianna was in love with Victoria, no “falling” about it.

“Sorry,” Victoria mumbled. “That long drive for less than thirty minutes here.”

“The drive doesn’t matter.” Yes, it had been grueling. Extensive. An overnight in Tennessee and probably another coming up tonight. Felicianna didn’t care. Anything for Victoria.

Victoria swallowed. “No one knows this, so you can’t tell. I wasn’t all that isolated. My dad had visitors, especially in the earlier years. He had…accomplices. Helpers. He and I went out. To the mall, to the library, to stores. It wasn’t as bad as the news made it sound. Look, I was a freshman at a regular high school, right?”

“He was, and is, a good dad in many ways,” Felicianna agreed. “Have you decided if you’re going to tell him you were here? Or your mother, for that matter?”

Victoria grimaced. She fished her camera out of her pocket. Roamed the cabin and snapped a few pictures. “I haven’t decided.” Her lips curled up. “Hey, I want a picture of you.”

Felicianna hesitated. Pictures had a way of finding a wider audience, but in the end, she agreed. Fear wouldn’t rule her life anymore. “Sure. As long as I can get a picture of you too.”

They posed for a couple of photos in front of Victoria’s camera and Felicianna’s cellphone camera. Then Victoria swooped in for a lengthy, passionate kiss.

Click. Click.

Victoria grinned as she examined the kiss pictures. “We look good together.”

“Let me see.” Felicianna’s stomach twirled. “Yes. Yes, we do. We’re perfect together.”

Victoria fumbled with the button on Felicianna’s jeans.

Felicianna laughed but didn’t try to stop her. “You want to do it here?”

Victoria’s brown eyes gleamed, and she managed to undo the button. “Dusty cabins make me horny.”

“Right.” Felicianna pulled her pants down and drawled: “Blame the cabin.”

*****

Felicianna and Victoria hadn’t eaten in public together. In fact, their public outings were limited to the walk from Felicianna’s store to her apartment that one time and then the waaaay early-morning walk to the Metro. For this Arkansas trip, they’d eaten their meals in the car and in the hotel room.

Yeah, it was cumbersome. And getting old. For now, though, it was what they had to do. So when they stopped for the night in Knoxville and Victoria suggested: “Let’s eat in a restaurant instead of taking food back to whatever hotel we pick,” Felicianna couldn’t help but blanch.

“Eat together in a restaurant?”

Victoria smiled hesitantly. “Yes. Together.”

Felicianna reminded herself that fear would no longer rule her life. “Okay,” she said. No further discussion. They didn’t need to talk about the possible repercussions. They knew. They also knew the move signified they were, well, together now. Officially a pair. The time to tell Victoria’s mother and stepmother would come soon, but they could hash details over at the motel later.

Right now, Felicianna’s stomach grumbled, and they headed into a Denny’s.

Felicianna thought that the waitress, her name tag reading MONICA, recognized Victoria. Monica’s flickering brows and earnest cheerfulness gave her away, but Felicianna’s suspicion was confirmed at the end of the meal when Monica proffered the check and pocketed it. She said with a beam: “You know what? On me. My treat.”

Victoria’s sigh reflected anxiety and exasperation. She’d told Felicianna she hated these occasions. “Charity works,” she called them. Occurred too often. Victoria, poor lost girl who’d been through so much. Victoria, apparently a perpetual victim. She effing hated it. She didn’t want help.

“That’s a sweet offer,” Victoria said with a smile. “But no thank you.”

Monica frowned. “Why?”

“How about an autograph?”

Monica’s eyes lit up. “And a picture of us together? You sure did grow up nice. Such a lovely girl you are.”

“Just an autograph, please.” Victoria grabbed a napkin. “How should I sign my name?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Monica fretted.

“How should I sign my name?” Victoria repeated.

“Marissa?”

A tight smile. “But of course.” In grand, swooping letters, Victoria wrote: To Monica, the best waitress a girl could have! –Love, Marissa Leigh Dourne

Victoria handed Monica the napkin. “There you go. Can we have our bill now?”

Monica turned to Felicianna and said: “Please let me take care of the check.”

“Uh,” Felicianna replied.

Monica beamed. “You look familiar too, honey, but I can’t place you.”

“Hey, Monica,” Victoria said. “How long have you worked here? Are you married? You dating anyone? Do you like sex?”

“Um, er…” Monica stiffened. “I don’t see why that matters.”

“Yeah, see. Your intrusive questions don’t matter either, but just this once: that woman is my girlfriend. My lover. We have lots of crazy nasty sex. Better sex than you have!”

*****

“You don’t mind?” Victoria asked worriedly once she and Felicianna climbed back into Felicianna’s car. “That I said you were my girlfriend? And lover?”

“Her reaction was worth it.”

“Nosy bitch,” Victoria seethed. “Why does the whole world think it’s okay to ask me everything?”

Felicianna stuck her key into the ignition and started the engine. Drove to the nearest motel. Checked them in while Victoria stayed in the car.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Victoria asked once they were in the room. “You seem off.”

Felicianna sighed. “I’m fine. Tired.”

Victoria sat Felicianna on the bed and ran her fingertips over Felicianna’s shoulders. “You have a knot.” Victoria rubbed gentle circles, and Felicianna sank into her touch.

“I overreacted,” Victoria whispered as she kept working on the knot. “I usually keep that anger in control, but…ugh. Ugh. I’m sorry, Felicianna. I should’ve let Monica pay the check and be done with it.”

“I don’t care about her. We don’t know her.” Felicianna pictured Elena—her red hair, her gold-flecked hazel eyes. Felicianna remembered Elena reading a bedtime story to a six-year-old Isaiah—and calling Felicianna into the bedroom so the two women could act out the story together. Isaiah’s giggles rang in Felicianna’s ears as she mangled the story on purpose. She pictured Frances too—the firm posture, the wary, guarded blue eyes.

Chances were that very soon Felicianna would see Elena for the first time in four years. Felicianna would see her under circumstances that Elena would no doubt find appalling. And she was pregnant. There would be another child for Elena to read to.

“Are we going to tell your parents about us?” Felicianna whispered.

Victoria sat on the bed and faced her. “Do you want to?”

“I’d like to be with you publicly. Hold your hand anywhere.”

Victoria smiled widely. “I want that too. So…we’ll tell them. I will tell them.”

“Right. Better you do it alone.”

Victoria drew a deep breath. “I’ll tell Brenda first. Kinda feel her out. Maybe get her on our side a little. And Dad, too. I’ll write him an e-mail.”

“Don’t think about it in terms of sides.”

“No, no. I meant...you know. As a barometer.”

Felicianna leaned in to kiss her. “I know. Well, let’s figure this out. When do you want to tell them?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Markie had decided, and she felt good about it. The time had come to express her love for Vic, and Markie planned to do it tonight. Sunday. No further dawdling. Nope, the moment Vic stepped foot in their room from her weekend with the so-called “Anna,” Markie’s plan would shift into gear.

About nine p.m., Vic got back.

“How was your weekend?” Markie asked carefully. Sharks filled her stomach. Her life was about to change. Irrevocably.

Surprise entered Vic’s gaze that Markie was re-taking an interest in her life. Vic smiled. “It was good.”

“Did Anna have fun?”

A brighter smile. Markie loathed it. “We always have fun when we’re together.”

Gag me, please. “What did you do?”

Vic’s eyes hooded over. “We actually…we…”

“What?”

“We went back to the cabin,” Vic said in a whisper. “To Arkansas.”

Shock and betrayal rang Markie’s ears. “What? Come on, Vic. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go? We could’ve gone together. Stayed at my house.”

Vic shook her head. “Why would I tell you? You’ve been weird since I came out. So what if I’m gay? I don’t have the plague. I’m the same best friend I always was.”

Apprehension bubbled on Markie’s heart. Here it was. The time to tell Vic. Markie had meticulously prepared and recited a speech that started with: “I love you very much, Victoria. I’m gay too. Please give me a chance.”

WHOOSH! The speech abandoned Markie.

She blurted out: “It’s easy for you, okay? But not for me. My parents hate gays.”

Vic’s lips parted, and she stared. “Um,” she said at last. “Um. Okay. Your parents are, they seem nice. They let you visit me. Why would they care too much if I’m gay?”

“They let me visit you because I told them you needed help! My help. My influence. Because you lived with your mom and Elena. Lesbians. Undesirables.”

More staring. More blinking. “Oh.”

Markie wrung her hands. “Look, Vic, I don’t plan to live in the closet forever. I plan to be happy one day. I do.”

Flushed cheeks from Vic. Wide eyes. “Are you saying you’re gay too, Markie?”

“Fucking guys isn’t so bad. I kind of like it, and I might find a guy I click with someday. If I don’t…” Markie shrugged. “I’ll come out when I’m ready. When I’m financially independent and have a job.”

Heat covered Vic’s face. “You’re supposed to experiment in college,” she muttered. “Not later. Or later too. But in college, mainly. Why don’t you find girls to, you know, do stuff with?”

Markie pulled her hair out of its ponytail and snapped the band over her wrist. “Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I don’t know. Because I don’t want to. Because I might fall in love with a girl, and it wouldn’t be fair to her. But…but Vic, I have to tell you something. I love you. I love you very much. I’m in love with you.” Markie swallowed. Her mind was a mess, never mind her stomach. “For you, I would do anything. I’d come out to my parents. All that.”

Vic shuddered. Never a good sign, and caution entered her eyes. This wasn’t what Markie expected. Sure, Vic was dating Felicianna, but they hadn’t known each other long. Not like Vic and Markie had.

Throughout all Markie’s agonizing, she never doubted Vic would give her a chance. Now…now Markie didn’t know.

Vic rubbed her forehead, and Markie ventured: “Can we sleep together tonight? I don’t mean sleep sleep like sex. Just cuddling and like how we were before?”

“No!” Vic snapped. “Of course we can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m with Anna.”

“So? You can’t love her. Not already.”

Vic’s shoulders slumped. “I do, though, Markie. I do. I haven’t told her, but I love her.”

“But you love me more.”

Vic looked away. “I’m going to sleep. We’ll finish this conversation later.”

Markie sprang to her feet. “You owe me a chance, Vic. You know you do. Why do you think I’m here at JMU, huh? Paying crazy tuition to be with you? Because I love you! Because I love you! You owe me a chance.”

Vic smiled, a cold-ish smile, a smile Markie had never seen from her and that chilled Markie’s bones. “I’m sorry,” Vic whispered, and off she went, disappearing behind the mashed-together wardrobes.

“Fuck you,” Markie muttered, Vic’s icy smile already ricocheting around her brain. “Fuck you.”

*****

Vic caught Markie in the morning as Markie was about to leave for psychology class. Markie didn’t want to attend, but she’d been awake all night. Figured going to class beat pretending to sleep. From the looks of her, Vic hadn’t slept either. Circles ringed her eyes, and her skin was pale.

Good. She shouldn’t be all lovey-dovey happy. Traitor. How hard could it be to give Markie, her longtime best friend, a measly chance? A kiss? A cuddle?

“Can we sit?” Vic asked, and Markie gave a stony nod. Plunked down on her bed. Vic pulled up Markie’s desk chair instead of joining Markie on the bed. Avoiding intimacy. Yeah, this wouldn’t be a good talk. Vic’s pajamas comprised of a thin T-shirt and loose black shorts that showed off her muscular legs. Thoughtful of her.

She leaned forward, and Markie ignored the anxiety, the earnestness in her brown gaze. Also ignored the cleavage. “Markie,” Vic began, “you are right that I owe you a lot.”

Markie willed herself to meet Vic’s gaze. Maybe this would go Markie’s way after all.

“Okay,” Markie said slowly.

Vic exhaled a puff of air. “I will explain the best I can. Um…” She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “If I had known this a month ago, I wouldn’t need to think about it. I’d jump into your arms. No question. It’s different now. I’m with—”

“You barely know her!”

Warning flashed in Vic’s eyes, but she composed herself into a smile. “Remember we met online,” she said mildly. “We’ve been chatting since March. We’ve had plenty of time to get emotionally close. And we’re…” Untucking and re-tucking the same strand of hair. “We’re great together. I want to give her a chance. Her and me a chance.”

“And not me.”

“I can’t right now. Maybe later. Who knows?”

“I appreciate being second choice. Thanks very much for that.”

Vic’s mouth tightened. “It has nothing to do with first choice and second choice.”

“Yeah, it does actually. You’re casting aside your best friend for some online person.”

Vic groaned. “Markie, no. No! Just…” Vic flung her hands up. “She and I click. We click like crazy.”

“Better than you and me?”

“Maybe,” Vic whispered. “Probably.”

The admission tore apart Markie’s heart—more so than anything that preceded it. “How?” Markie managed to rasp.

Vic shook her head. “Our interests are more aligned. Like, partying isn’t her scene. You know?”

In other words, Felicianna put up with Vic’s debates. Enjoyed them. Felicianna liked art museums, nerdy stuff and slutty masturbation videos. Fine. Whatever. Let Vic have her boring old perv.

“That’s nice,” Markie said. “As for me, I’d rather not date pedophiles. Don’t take her to a daycare center, huh? She might leave you for a two-year-old girl.”

“She thought I was twenty-five when we talked online. I lied to her.”

Markie jerked to her feet. She needed away from Vic. “My dear, I don’t give a damn.”

“Do…” Vic sighed. “The time to switch roommates has passed, but we can probably do something unofficial. I can ask Crystal and Lorrie down the hall about an informal—”

Markie walked to the door. “I don’t care what you do. Just stay out of my face.”

*****

Markie sent the email two days later, on Wednesday. She created a Yahoo address with the screen name “Samaritan1234567890” and CCed Frances and Elena. At their public, business email accounts, of course. The message was simple.

Hello,

Your daughter/stepdaughter is fucking Felicianna Grey.

-A Good Samaritan

There. Frances and Elena would confront Vic when she visited this weekend—or maybe they’d confront her even before. They’d take care of the nasty business of breaking Felicianna and Vic up. In no way would suspicion fall upon Markie because as far as Vic knew, Markie thought her girlfriend’s name was Anna.

Vic would come back to the dorm room in tears. Wrecked. Markie would comfort her. Kiss her. At long last, they would have their time.

And on the off chance Frances and Elena dismissed the email, Markie would keep sending messages until they realized the truth.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Victoria stopped by Brenda’s place (Elena’s old condo) Friday afternoon. Victoria had driven into D.C. because she was spending the night at Frances’s penthouse in Arlington, Virginia.

“Victoria! What a nice surprise.” Brenda drew Victoria in for a hug, and Victoria sank into the feel of the older woman’s soft, fleshy body. “Come in, come in. You’re in time for freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.”

“Aw, Brenda. You’re a mind reader.”

Brenda grinned and piled six cookies onto a plate. Poured two generous glasses of milk. Victoria bit into a cookie. Gooey, delicious perfection.

“I’ve died,” Victoria said. “Died and gone to heaven.”

Brenda dipped her cookie into the milk. “Are you getting plenty of junk food at JMU?”

Victoria cringed. “Yes. More than I should.” Yeah, her jeans were getting tighter. So what? Not a crime. “Hey, how’s Greg?”

“Fine. Same old. Still angling to move in.”

“Poor guy. You’re a ball breaker.”

Brenda laughed. “He’ll learn.”

Victoria licked her lips and replayed Felicianna in her arms. Felicianna’s hand in Victoria’s. “Hey, Brenda. I need to tell you something.”

Brenda grew serious. “Victoria, dear, what’s going on?”

“Why do you still visit Felicianna Grey?”

Shadows dimmed Brenda’s eyes. She took her time replying. “Felicianna was good to Elena and Isaiah. Very good. She was like a daughter to me. Still is.” Brenda sighed. “And why do you want to be her friend?”

The truth. Nothing but the truth. Victoria ran through the story quickly but left out a few choice parts. Got the gist across: Curiosity prompted her to email Felicianna under a different name. Felicianna fell for it, they clicked and became friends—which Victoria hadn’t intended at all. She decided that she owed Felicianna the truth and went to Antiques by Anna in person.

“I see,” Brenda said when Victoria finished. “I see.” Disappointment crackled her voice.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t expect us to click.”

“No, dear. Of course not. May I suggest that…” A long exhalation. “I suggest you let her be. You’ve apologized and told her the truth. Now do what’s best for everyone and leave the poor woman alone.”

Victoria gritted her teeth. Brenda was one to lecture her about seeing Felicianna. Ha! “It’s not that simple, Brenda.”

“It is.”

“No, Brenda.”

“Tell me why.”

“I went to the store a second time. I asked Felicianna to give me a chance. Dinner. Just one dinner. If, after that, she wanted me to stay away, I would.” Victoria busied her hands with a cookie. “See, we weren’t quite friends online. We were more. We flirted and played and got in emotionally deep. I’m gay, Brenda.”

Brenda attempted a smile. “Oh.”

“I did a not very nice thing to Felicianna,” Victoria admitted. “She thought it was safe to tell me stuff because I lived in Chicago, and…and…I don’t know.”

“The bottom line, Victoria. What’s the bottom line?” Brenda asked.

Victoria’s mind fluttered away in anxiety. “We’re together. Felicianna and I are together. In person. In a relationship. I’m telling Mom and Elena this weekend.”

Brenda went pale. Several moments passed before she found her voice. “Good luck, dear.”

“Will you, like, sit with me when I tell them? Like, come over sometime this weekend and help me out a little?”

A hard-edged chuckle. “No, Victoria. You got yourself into this mess. You get yourself out.”

“Yeah,” Victoria mumbled. “Yeah, thanks.”

Back in her car, she texted Felicianna: It went OK with Brenda. Can I still stop by for a kiss?

Felicianna replied: You better stop by! <3

*****

Felicianna flipped the store sign to CLOSED and ushered Victoria into her office. Victoria wrapped her arms around Felicianna, kissed her slowly and sensually. Drank in the feel of Felicianna’s firm, womanly body.

Victoria had made the right decision. Yes. Markie wasn’t the one for her—at least not right now. Victoria found herself at peace. The trip to the cabin, spending more time with Felicianna, being with her in public…yep. She was the one for Victoria, and Markie’s proclamation didn’t shake that.

True, a few weeks ago, Markie’s announcement would’ve sent Victoria scurrying to her side. But then wasn’t now.

Victoria only hoped Felicianna wouldn’t freak. She’d agonized all week about if, or when, to tell her. Decided she had to tell Felicianna. No secrets. She’d lied to Felicianna enough. Okay, issue one settled.

Calling Felicianna and telling her casually about Markie would signal it wasn’t a big deal—a good thing. But Victoria wanted Felicianna to see her expressions, her sincerity. If she called and asked Felicianna to meet halfway in, say, Front Royal on Wednesday, Victoria could tell her in person. Then again, making a point to meet in person just to tell Felicianna about Markie might send the wrong signal.

Victoria absolutely did not want Felicianna to push her away.

Their tongues parried for a good few minutes, but Felicianna broke the embrace with a reluctant smile. “I have a meeting soon with a possible buyer. He’s loaded.”

“Can I say something really quick?”

Felicianna nuzzled Victoria’s neck. “Sure, babe.”

“Markie told me that she’s in love with me.”

Felicianna stiffened. Drew back. Walls clapped shut around her, especially around her eyes. Great. Perfect. Iron formed in Victoria’s stomach, and in that moment, anger filled her. Incredible anger toward Markie.

“I told her thanks but no thanks. My heart is with you, Felicianna.”

A tremor brushed Felicianna’s lips. “You’ve been in love with her two years.”

“Sure. Yeah. But the thing is, she’s not the one for me. Not even on paper. We have fun doing stuff together, but it’s once-in-a-while type of stuff. She’s changed. I’d go crazy if I had to spend a day straight with her, much less a weekend. It’s funny, when she told me she loved me, all I felt was panic at how it might affect you and me. I don’t want us screwed up. I could spend days and days with you. Just you and me. We wouldn’t even have to kiss.”

Felicianna’s walls remained firmly rooted, and Victoria straggled on: “I talked with a couple of girls down the hall. One of them’s considering switching rooms with me.”

Felicianna sat on the loveseat, and Victoria joined her. Covered her hand over Felicianna’s. “Please don’t say I should give Markie a chance because it’ll be easier. Because she’s right there. Because I won’t need to drive to see her and because she’s my age. All that. I’m urging you, please don’t do that. Please trust me when I say I want you. Please trust how you feel about me and how I feel about you.”

Pain flickered in Felicianna’s green eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.

Victoria smiled. “Okay. Okay. And I’m looking into transferring. I want to go to a college I picked in the first place. Probably GWU or American.”

Felicianna gave into a grin fighting to spread. “You’d be much closer next school year.”

“That’s for sure, and I’m doing it because it’s best. I miss Mom. I do. I want to be closer to her and to my little brother or sister. I want to be more challenged academically and culturally. I miss D.C., the museums, the plays, just the urban life. Harrisonburg’s too similar to being back in Arkansas. I feel cut off at JMU.”

Felicianna nodded. “I hope…hope it works out. After this weekend. With your mom and Elena. Did you email your dad?”

“I decided to tell him after I tell Mom and Elena.”

“Will Brenda be with you?”

Victoria touched her lips to Felicianna’s. “No, but it’ll be fine.” Victoria almost said: “I love you,” but figured they’d wrestled with enough heavy issues for now.

So of course the next words out of Felicianna’s mouth were: “Do you think you love me, Victoria?” Felicianna spoke as if she were in a daze, as if the answer couldn’t possibly be yes. As if she couldn’t possibly have asked the question.

“I love you,” Victoria said.

Felicianna inhaled a quick breath. Her lips parted slightly, and her gaze moved to the clock. “You better go. He’ll be here soon.”

Victoria hadn’t expected Felicianna to return the “I love you” sentiment. Not when their relationship was new and precarious, like a premature baby who might not live. Not when AnnaSparkle said several times that she had trouble telling her girlfriends she loved them. She did love them, AnnaSparkle said, but she hated how these three words opened her heart up, opened her emotional core up. She was twenty-five the last time she told a woman she loved her.

Victoria got to her feet. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Vic, wait. Wait.” Felicianna pulled her back down. Wound her arms around Victoria and held her close. “I love you too.”

*****

Dinner that night consisted of pot roast, potatoes, carrots and Hawaiian rolls. Cooked by Elena, of course. Frances didn’t spend much time in the kitchen. Never had.

Victoria pretended to put on a good eating show, but her stomach crimped and cramped. She would tell her mother and Elena about Felicianna tonight. No putting it off, or she might expire of nervousness before the sun rose tomorrow.

“This is great,” Victoria enthused to her stepmother.

Elena smiled in agreement, but a shadow lurked in her gaze. “One of my juicier roasts.”

“You okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Elena stabbed a potato wedge and brought it to her mouth.

“How’s the pregnancy?”

Elena was chewing, so Frances began the answer: “Pretty good so far. Not a lot of morning sickness.”

Elena swallowed the rest of her potato wedge. “Craved pickles last night.”

“You hate pickles.”

Elena grinned but not with her usual ease. “I sure do. By the time your mother got back with a jar of pickles, the craving had passed.”

Frances chuckled. “At least we have a jar ready if it hits again.”

Victoria tried a second time: “Hey, Elena, are you sure you’re okay? You seem subdued.” If something was bothering Elena, Victoria might be better off waiting until tomorrow or Sunday to break the Felicianna news.

Elena shrugged off the question. “I’m fine, really. Your mom and I got one of these nasty crank emails, that’s all.”

“Must’ve been really bad.” Victoria pictured a screen filled with words including faggot and whore. However, these emails tended to bother Frances more than Elena.

Elena baited a carrot to her fork and took a bite. “It was from someone who said you were dating Felicianna Grey.”

Victoria froze. “W-what? Felicianna Grey?”

“My former best friend.”

Victoria’s heart choked her throat. Thumpthumpthump. “I remember who she is.”

Frances snorted and shook her head. “Some people have no lives.”

“Who, like…who sent it?”

Elena pushed the carrot off her fork. “A good Samaritan someone. Hmph.”

“You didn’t reply?”

“Of course not!” Frances said. “We never do to these emails.”

Irritation fingered Elena’s cheeks. “Attacking me or your mom is one thing, but there’s no sense attacking you. I’ll never know what goes through people’s minds.”

The sender had to be Monica. The waitress at the Tennessee Denny’s. Shit. Stupid Victoria for royally pissing her off. “Can I see the email?”

Elena shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I brought it up. I just…it bothers me so much.” She clenched her fingers around her fork.

This was awesome. Totally awesome. Frances knew Victoria was seeing someone named Anna, yet her and Elena’s blind faith didn’t allow for the possibility the email had a point. A world of hurt awaited.

“I’d really like to see the email,” Victoria said.

“I deleted it,” Elena replied.

“I think I kept…let me see.” Frances fished her phone out of her pocket and moved her finger up and down the screen. “Here it is, still in the trash.” She gave Victoria a pointed gaze. “The language leaves something to be desired.”

Hello,

Your daughter/stepdaughter is fucking Felicianna Grey.

-A Good Samaritan

Sent Wednesday evening. Monica had let her resentment stew a few days—or she’d needed a few days to place Felicianna. Victoria chuckled feebly as she returned the phone to her mother. “Wow.”

Frances cleared her throat. “While we’re on the subject, how are things with Anna? You haven’t said much in emails.”

Elena faced Victoria. Narrowed her eyes slightly. Yep. Maybe Frances didn’t doubt Victoria, but a new, faint light of suspicion radiated from Elena’s expression. Victoria’s gaze hung with hers. This woman across from Victoria, this woman, her stepmother, she’d fucked Victoria’s lover. And said lover had fucked Elena over.

Victoria had kind of fucked Elena over too.

“Stuff is going well with Anna,” Victoria said. “Um, did I tell you how we met?”

“No,” Frances said.

“We met online.” Victoria forced a chuckle. “Kinda funny story. I told her I was twenty-five.”

“Why?” Elena asked.

“I like adults better. I just do, and who’s gonna talk to an eighteen-year-old?”

“Wait a minute,” Frances put in. “Anna goes to JMU.”

“She doesn’t.”

“You told me she did.”

“I didn’t, Mom. Promise. But I kind of sidestepped when you asked if she did.”

Frances’s blue eyes darkened. “How old is this woman? What…” She leaned in. “What exactly is going on, Victoria?”

Victoria looked at Frances, at Elena, then back to Frances. About ten years separated Victoria’s mother and stepmother; twenty-one separated her and Felicianna. “We talked for like six or seven months before I told her I was really eighteen. I went to meet her in person, and she recognized me. She was, you know, really unhappy that I lied to her about my age.”

“I would imagine so,” Frances muttered.

“She told me to go away. To stay away.”

Elena sighed. “Oh, Victoria. You didn’t?”

Victoria spoke before thinking: “She emailed—” No. No. Wait. That makes Felicianna look bad.

Frances: “What?”

Ugh. Fine. “She emailed and said thanks for telling her the truth but that we couldn’t be friends. I went back to see her anyway. I begged her to give me a chance. Dinner, you know? One dinner. We clicked online, and I knew we’d be good together. She just needed to get over her shock.”

Elena: “She had dinner with you?”

“Yes, because I promised to leave her alone after that if she wanted me to.”

“And she didn’t want you to,” Frances said. Not a question. A statement.

“She kind of did, but, you know, we’d chatted online seven months. I was the same person I always was, just a bit younger and with a different name.”

Frances exhaled a weary sigh, and Victoria popped a rapidly cooling carrot into her mouth.

“How old is this woman?” Frances asked. “Where does she live?”

Victoria swallowed, her heart on the verge of attacking itself. “I love her. I love her very much. She loves me too. She’s—”

“Victoria! Answer my questions.”

Victoria should’ve thrust her chin proudly forth and declared her lady love’s identity, but instead she said: “She’s Felicianna’s age and lives where Felicianna lives.”

Her stepmother only stared, a horrible, icy, betrayed stare. Elena clamped her lips, and poison radiated from her gaze.

“I don’t understand,” Frances said. “Was this a coincidence?”

“No.” Victoria explained about borrowing Elena’s laptop and finding the program. Victoria’s boredom, her loneliness, her curiosity to know what Felicianna was about. Elena’s sharp eyes murdered Victoria the entire explanation. Scalloped, mutilated, bombed, knifed Victoria to a bloody pulp.

“You were never going to tell us?” Frances asked.

“I was. Tonight. The email beat me to it. I promise.”

Elena scoffed nastily. “Why should we believe you?”

“Yeah,” Victoria said. “Okay.”

“And you love her?” Frances moaned.

“Absolutely.”

“There’s nothing Felicianna won’t do to hurt me,” Elena muttered.

“With all due respect, Elena, this has very little to do with you.”

Elena looked at Victoria as if to say: Shut up, you shitty little twerp. “Felicianna is with you to get closer to me. That’s it. The only reason.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Felicianna’s that kind of person. It’s a fact. I know her. Trust me. She misses me and wants back in my life.”

“I know her too. Better than you do.”

Elena crossed her arms and smirked. “You say she loves you?”

“She does.”

“More than me? More than me, huh? Is that what you think? If I went to Felicianna right now and asked for a try, she’d say no?”

Victoria hated her stepmother. The arrogance. The cockiness. Victoria didn’t know the answer to Elena’s questions. Honestly didn’t, and on some level, she didn’t care. The heart loved in mysterious, myriad ways, and Victoria was confident in Felicianna and her together.

“She would say no,” Victoria replied.

“She doesn’t love you! She’s a weasel who’s using an eighteen-year-old girl!”

“Elena. Elena.” Frances reached for Elena’s hands, but Elena flung the touch away.

“Does Felicianna still live in that basement apartment?” Elena snapped.

Victoria gulped. “Um…I’m not telling.”

Elena jerked her chair back and strode into the living room. Frances and Victoria followed in time to see Elena grab her purse from the couch.

“Where are you going?” Victoria asked.

“Where do you think?”

“I’m going too.”

“No!” Elena shrilled. “You stay right here.” She stormed out the penthouse front door.

Frances shot Victoria a frantic gaze. “Stay here, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it.”

“I want—”

“No! No! You’ll be a fuse. I’ll go with her. Stay here, please, Victoria. Please.”

And then Frances grabbed her purse and sprinted after Elena.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Felicianna, where are you?” Vic asked breathlessly over the phone.

“Home. I’m—”

“Elena and Mom are on their way over. Elena’s furious. Hopping furious.”

Felicianna’s pulse jumped into overdrive, and she forced jelly legs upright from the couch. “Over here to my place?”

“Probably.”

Felicianna pressed one of her fingers to a cactus prickle. “Okay, when did they leave?”

“Just now. Like a minute ago. Mom told me to stay because Elena was so mad.”

“She’s right. Stay where you are.” Felicianna glanced at the time on her cell. About thirty minutes remained before hell broke loose. She could make a run for it, find a coffee shop or somewhere to pass the next few hours, allow Elena to calm down before they inevitably met later in the weekend.

Felicianna toddled into the bathroom and ran gel through her hair. No. She would stay.

“Elena will accuse you of all kinds of stuff. She thinks you’re with me to get back into her life.”

Felicianna studied her reflection in the mirror. Grim expression, grim green eyes. “There are lots better ways to get back into her life. Bopping her stepdaughter’s gotta be number three hundred.”

Vic giggled, a welcome sound. “I know!”

Felicianna wet her toothbrush. “I’m gonna tidy up.”

“Will you be okay?”

“I hope so.” Felicianna grinned. “Yeah, yeah, sweetie, I’ll be fine. You still love me, huh?”

“I love you,” Vic said seriously.

Felicianna squeezed Crest onto her toothbrush. “I love you too.” And she did. After this, Elena would hate her immeasurably. Beyond all possibility of a reconciliation. Only for genuine love would Felicianna suffer the woman’s wrath. “I’ll call you back after I survive Hurricane Elena.”

*****

Time never passed uniformly. Felicianna spent perhaps fifteen minutes pondering what clothes to change into—and during each of these minutes, she must’ve checked the time every ten seconds. Yet when the fifteen minutes had passed and she was spic and span in natty corduroys and a black silk shirt, the minutes might as well have hurtled by.

She felt nerves she didn’t know existed. Her stomach jangled with new depths of torment. More memories of her time with Elena returned, covering about nine years in a few minutes. Their first meeting when Felicianna clerked at the old antiques store, Felicianna seeing this gorgeous redhead and her little gorgeous boy, Felicianna almost too nervous to approach them. Elena impressed with Felicianna’s easy way about Isaiah, Felicianna impressed by his good behavior in a store with expensive breakables. Their quick friendship. The many outings with Isaiah, the amusement parks, the weekend trips, Felicianna in relationships here and there but really living for the occasional hand brushes with the boy’s mother.

And then of course Isaiah’s body—the beeping machines keeping him alive. Elena’s angry face, her lack of tears as Brenda and Kevin wept over the prone child. Felicianna kissing Isaiah goodbye and trying to hold Elena’s hand as the doctor turned off the sounds on the machines.

A few minutes later, Isaiah officially dead.

Elena refusing all touches, so Brenda grasping both Felicianna’s hand and Kevin’s. Getting back to Elena’s apartment, Elena saying she needed to pee, Felicianna fixing dinner and realizing, hey, she’s been in there awhile…

Finding Elena with a knife in the bathtub. A knife to her wrist.

Elena in treatment. Elena getting out, saying she was okay as could be, announcing she’d quit working for Betsy and would strike out on her own as a party planner. Elena and her new business doing well, Elena turning into a workaholic. Gone all hours. Odd hours. Then even odder hours. The phone calls that sent Elena scurrying. Elena’s expression as she told Felicianna that their sex had to stop because she didn’t feel for her that way. Felicianna asking Elena if she was into drugs, Elena’s evasions, Felicianna snooping, realizing Elena had to be a call girl, Kevin coming to Felicianna, them meeting Darren…

Felicianna replayed all this as she tidied the living room. Not that it needed tidying, but she needed busying. Twice, she folded the blanket that hung on the back of the couch. Once, she ran the vacuum cleaner over the carpeting. Four times, she rearranged the bamboo plant and the cactus. Three times, she inched the TV around.

Elena lived in a castle, more or less. Felicianna lived in the dungeons. Elena had gone far in the past four years—set up her own legitimate business, married, gotten with child. Felicianna…well. She’d gotten with child too—in an entirely different way. Okay, horrible joke.

Was Elena right? Was Felicianna with Victoria to re-insert herself into Elena’s life? Felicianna couldn’t deny that her nervousness stemmed in part from excitement in seeing Elena again.

Whatever. Didn’t matter.

Time check. Twenty-five minutes dearly departed. Survey of the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator. Four cans of Coke, a pitcher of lemonade. It’d do. Three pictures of Victoria and Felicianna magneted to the front of the refrigerator. Photos from the Arkansas trip. Felicianna peeled them off the refrigerator and shut them inside a drawer. Pulled them back out, clanged them back onto the refrigerator. Victoria was her girlfriend, her lover. Felicianna wouldn’t shy from that, wouldn’t alter her behavior to hide the fact. An eighteen-year-old girl lied to her for months, made her believe she was someone she wasn’t. Except, yeah, the core of Victoria was the woman Felicianna knew online, and they clicked in person too.

The best Felicianna could do was tell Elena she tried. Really did try to stay away from Victoria. Elena wouldn’t understand or accept it, of course. She’d say Felicianna should’ve tried harder. Maybe she was right, but in the big picture, Elena was even less of a saint than Felicianna.

*****

The rapping sounded thirty-five minutes after Felicianna answered Victoria’s call. Too late for a wild dash of freedom.

Felicianna scraped the door open and looked into two faces. The first: the pale, strained, concerned Frances Dourne. The second: the angry, blazing hazel eyes of Elena, the jutting, uncompromising chin. Felicianna’s heart smiled at the sight of her former lover, her former best friend, however angry she was.

“Come in,” Felicianna whispered.

Elena and Frances stood in the middle of the living room, and Felicianna wasn’t stupid enough to ask if they wanted to sit. They’d sit if they wanted. The time for pleasantries would never arrive.

“She is eighteen years old,” Elena seethed, her voice firing bullets into the living room walls. Rat tat tat! Va voom!

“Yes.” Now wasn’t the time for defensiveness.

Elena threw her hands up. “Eighteen years old! What the hell are you thinking?”

Felicianna said nothing. Elena needed to rant and rage, so Felicianna would let her.

Frances, by this time, had backed away from Elena several arms’ lengths. Felicianna didn’t envy Frances having to be in a confined space with Elena the past half-hour.

Elena jabbed an accusing finger at Felicianna. “That poor girl thinks you love her.”

Silence. A wormhole of space.

Voice, be strong and steady. “I do love her.”

Elena clenched her teeth, and the hate in her eyes broke Felicianna’s heart. “You haven’t changed.”

“I made a mistake exposing you and Frances.” Felicianna’s voice shook. “I’ll regret it the rest of my life. I am very sorry.”

“You’re fucking my stepdaughter! Yeah, I can tell you’re sorry.”

“We chatted online for half a year. I thought she was—”

“That doesn’t matter!” Elena cried. “The minute you found out who she was, that should’ve been it.”

“Did you want to be with Frances? Is she who you would’ve ideally picked?”

“What?”

“I bet you didn’t. You fought your attraction. But the heart wants what it wants. It can try to protect itself, but—”

Elena’s nostrils flared. “Don’t give me that load of bull. Frances wasn’t my best friend’s eighteen-year-old daughter!”

“Neither was the woman I chatted with online.”

Elena splayed a hand over the lower half of her stomach. Covering her baby’s ears. Don’t listen to the vitriol this Felicianna witch spouts.

Felicianna didn’t congratulate Elena on the pregnancy. That would’ve earned Felicianna a death sentence.

“Break up with her this weekend,” Elena ordered.

Felicianna snorted. Couldn’t help it. She snorted from the bottom of her heart.

Frances decided to insert herself in the fray. “Elena,” she said evenly, “go outside. Take a walk. I will take care of this.”

The look that Elena shot her wife amounted to attempted murder, but Elena did stomp out. The door wobbled wide open in her wake, so Felicianna clicked it into place and found herself alone with Frances Dourne.

The only other time they were alone together, Felicianna had just infiltrated one of Frances’s Gay Is a Choice support groups. Frances took Felicianna to her office so they could air out their so-called disagreements. That meeting ended badly. Very badly.

Frances attempted a smile. “Hello.”

Felicianna’s hands trembled. Forget propriety. “I need a drink.”

“That makes two of us.”

Felicianna walked into the kitchen and pulled out vodka. Turned to see Frances gazing at the three pictures of Victoria and Felicianna.

Felicianna filled two shot glasses. She usually wasn’t capable of drinking alcohol straight, but she tried. Ick. Too much. Nasty. Felicianna got the shot down in two tries, though, and warmth filled her stomach.

“I have Coke in the, uh…if you’ll move.”

Frances stepped backward, and Felicianna fished out a can of Coke. Let the fridge door slide shut. “She looks happy,” Frances said wistfully. She touched a finger to one of the photos. “I don’t see this smile often.”

Felicianna poured Coke into Frances’s shot glass to make her serving half soda, half vodka. “Here.”

Frances glugged the offering down with barely a wince, and Felicianna poured them a second round of half Cokes, half vodkas. After they drank that, Frances Dourne smiled.

Felicianna smiled back.

She had no idea if Frances meant her smile, but Felicianna meant hers. Frances’s behavior was downright homespun after Elena’s shrieks. On further thought, Frances’s smile probably was genuine because she had to be glad about Elena’s absence.

“It wasn’t a nice thing my daughter did,” Frances began. “Deceiving you.”

“No, but…” Felicianna sighed. “She didn’t intend anything to happen.”

Frances nodded. Resumed studying the photos on the refrigerator.

“Victoria loves you very much,” Felicianna said. “I’d like us to get along. To at least tolerate each other.”

Frances chuckled. “Where were these pictures taken?”

“Arkansas. At the cabin where Victoria and your ex-husband lived.”

Frances turned wide eyes on Felicianna. “When?”

“Last weekend. She needed the closure. Asked me to go with her.”

Frances leaned against a countertop as the news sank in. “When Victoria went to therapy—two times—the psychiatrist said…” Frances furrowed her brows. “Did Victoria tell you she was in therapy?”

Vague recollections stirred. “She mentioned it online, that when she was in high school, her mother sent her to totally useless therapy.”

Frances grimaced. “Dr. Vandervoort thought that Victoria lied most of her answers. Partly because she was afraid she’d get her dad in trouble. Partly because Victoria didn’t want to be there. But the doctor did procure some…insight. She said that while Victoria was amazingly well adjusted given her situation, she would probably date older people. I shouldn’t be surprised if Victoria was gay or explored romantic relationships with women. Older women, particularly. Because she’d missed out on a mother, and she had no, I mean absolutely no true contact and relationships with adult women until Elena and I entered her life.” Frances rubbed the edges of her shot glass. “Can you imagine it, Felicianna? Being fourteen years old and not knowing a female until you enrolled in high school?”

“I can’t imagine it.”

“My daughter is an extremely bright girl. I’m not so sure she didn’t plan this all along. Tricking you into falling in love with her. Maybe it was subconscious.”

Felicianna didn’t like Frances’s tack. Made her heart greasy and oily. She preferred Elena’s shouting, so she ran as far as she could from Frances’s approach and said: “I truly am sorry about what I did to you and Elena.”

Frances bit her lip. “People make mistakes. I’ve made more than my share. I don’t judge anyone, and I have no beef with you. In fact, I’m relieved you did it. I hated having to lie about seeing Elena. My coming out was aimed at cleansing myself, but there I was, lying again. I did it because I promised Elena no one would find out, but…well. It was a lie at a time I promised to be honest.”

“You’re relieved? Really?”

Frances’s lips crinkled, and Felicianna saw the daughter’s smile in the mother’s. “Yes, really.” Frances tapped one of the photos on the refrigerator. “Can you email these pictures to me?”

“I—yes. Certainly.” Felicianna fumbled for paper and pen. “Write your email address.”

Frances scribbled her address. Looked up, into Felicianna’s eyes. “Victoria doesn’t drink. Doesn’t do drugs. She loves school and museums and reading and studying. If dating you, someone who has an apartment and her own store, is the worst of it…” Frances shrugged. “She’s happy and healthy and my child. That’s what matters.”

“What about Elena and the stuff Dr. Vandervoort said?”

“Elena will be fine eventually. As for Dr. Vandervoort, I just wanted you to be aware that, yes, Victoria is eighteen years old. She seems terrifically well adjusted, and she is. But in some ways, she’s like everyone. A bit lost. Damaged. She’s going to act like a child sometimes.”

Felicianna’s head throbbed. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. We do talk about some…I mean, we went to Arkansas, and we…I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but she’s in good hands with me.”

Frances patted her pockets. Searching for car keys? “I hope you mean it when you say you love her.”

“I do. I do love her.”

“I can tell from the pictures.” Frances gave up her search and fixed an intense blue gaze on Felicianna. “You took good care of Elena. Well, until near the end. If you do the same for Victoria, I have no complaints.”

“I will take care of her.”

Frances smiled, but this one didn’t reach her eyes. “Stay away from my wife, Felicianna. Don’t hit on her. Don’t try to kiss her. Don’t touch her.”

“I won’t.”

A resolute nod. “Good. Okay, I left my phone in the car or at home. Will you call Victoria now so I can talk to her a minute? It’s best if she’s not home when Elena and I get back.”

Felicianna’s phone was on the kitchen table, and she reached for it. “She can stay here tonight.”

“Thank you,” Frances said.

Victoria picked up on the first ring. “Felicianna! How did it go?”

“Everyone’s alive. Um, your mother doesn’t have her phone, and she wants to talk to you a sec.”

A surprised: “Okay.”

Felicianna handed the phone to Frances and walked off a few steps.

Frances: “Hey, sweetie. We’re heading home soon, and Elena’s still upset. It might be best if you’re gone when we—”

Frances listening. “Right, yes. Stay with Felicianna tonight.”

Listening.

“Yes, thanks for putting dinner up.” Pause. Listening. “No, no, baby, I’m not mad, but we do need to talk. Not now. Later. Maybe tomorrow or Sunday. I’ll call.” Pause. “I love you, too.”

Frances handed the phone back. “Hey, Vic,” Felicianna said.

“Hey.”

“I’m gonna hang up. See you soon, okay? Call in a few minutes if you need to.”

“Are we okay?”

“We’re fine,” Felicianna reassured her.

“I love you,” Victoria said.

Felicianna felt weird returning the sentiment in front of Victoria’s mother, especially so soon after their round of lovey doveys, but she whispered her own: “I love you, too.”

Then she hung up.

“Well,” Frances said with a tight smile. “I’m going to head out and find Elena.”

Felicianna walked her to the door. “Oh, uh, congratulations on the baby.”

“Thank you.” Frances reached for the doorknob. Rested her hand there, faced Felicianna and said: “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why my daughter? Why do you love her? What makes you want to be in a long-distance relationship and be with an eighteen-year-old girl?”

Sweat crowded the entrances and exits of Felicianna’s heart. “It…it…the long distance won’t be forever. She’s probably transferring to American or GWU next school year.” Felicianna added in a rush: “Not because of me, but that is a bonus. She’s unhappy at JMU. It’s too similar to Arkansas and doesn’t challenge her. And she misses you. She wants to be around for the baby.”

Frances took a moment to process the information. “I miss her too. Sometimes I feel like she’s been kidnapped again. But what about Markie?”

“I don’t know.”

Frances cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t…I can’t explain it. I mean, I just love her. I could ask you the same about Elena.” Felicianna cringed internally as the words came out. Major misstep?

A wry grin, and Frances twisted the doorknob. “Bye for now, Felicianna. I’ll probably see you soon.”

“Yes,” Felicianna said. “Probably see you soon.”

Frances went up the steps and turned left. Felicianna closed the door and staggered against it. Oh. Oh. Oh. She’d survived, and wonder of wonders, she liked Frances Dourne.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Felicianna used leather restraints to tie Victoria up that night in bed.

“Can I tie you up too?” Victoria asked. “Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Only if you’re good,” Felicianna said with a wink.

Victoria had to ask a question nagging her. “How was seeing Elena?”

A disapproving noise. “Really? You’re asking that now?”

“It’s a simple question.” Felicianna and Victoria hadn’t talked much when Victoria got to the apartment. Rather, they did talk—excited, anxious chattering. Nothing in depth. Elena had been hysterical. Frances had been calm, practical and level-headed. Felicianna could see herself liking Frances. Stuff like that.

Felicianna’s gaze raked over Victoria’s naked body. Felicianna remained clothed—but not for long, Victoria hoped. Felicianna reached into the nightstand drawer, which was already open, and drew out a blindfold.

“Seeing her was nice,” Felicianna said.

“You miss her a lot, huh?”

Felicianna retrieved lube, a feather and candle from the drawer. “Oh boy,” Victoria said with a shiver. “Goody.”

“I miss her some, but we really are better off not as friends.”

The email! Oh, Victoria had forgotten about it. “Did Mom or Elena tell you about the good Samaritan?”

Felicianna sat at Victoria’s side. Lowered her tongue to one of Victoria’s nipples. Felicianna licked lightly, delicately, and electricity ran wild through Victoria’s body. Her hips arched.

“No,” Felicianna said. “Who’s that?”

“What? Who?”

Felicianna gave a sly grin, and Victoria struggled to remember what transpired ten seconds ago. “Oh, right. Mom and Elena got an email Wednesday that said you and I were, ah, fucking. The sender called himself or herself a good Samaritan.”

Felicianna’s gaze hooded over. “Did you see it?”

Victoria nodded. “Monica must have sent it. The waitress.” She shrugged. “I think that’s one reason Elena got as mad as she did. She spent two days defending me in her mind, and turns out I was guilty.”

“Huh,” Felicianna mused. She put the candle into a holder and lit the wick. “Monica didn’t strike me as that type, but who knows. You were hot at Denny’s. You’re hot when you’re mad.”

“Thanks.”

Felicianna’s next toy was a dildo, and she eased it through the strap Victoria wore.

“Going for a ride?” Victoria asked. “Don’t blindfold me for that part.”

A firm, suggestive smile. “I’ll do whatever I want, Victoria Dourne.”

*****

With more than a little trepidation, Victoria left the shelter of Felicianna’s apartment Saturday and returned to the penthouse. Frances had asked her to come by at four o’clock, and Victoria assumed Elena would be out.

Elena’s car was in the garage, though. Maybe she went for a walk.

Victoria let herself in at three minutes after four. “Hey, Mom!” she called. “I’m home.”

Frances walked into the living room. “Hey, sweetie.”

“Hi.”

They stood stiff, and then Frances beckoned Victoria to the couch. Light purple skeins under Frances’s eyes indicated a rough night. “Do you have dinner plans?” she asked.

“No.”

“Good. I was hoping you, Elena and I could eat together.”

“Is she…better?”

Frances made a vague noise. “Victoria, I don’t know what to say. I don’t. I could fill a book with the questions I have for you, but I’m not sure I want to know the answers.”

“What questions? You can ask me.”

Frances shook her head. “Maybe later. I’m going out for an hour or so.”

“Hey! I just got here.”

“Elena’s home. She’s the one you really need to talk to. She’s in the bedroom.”

“Oh.”

Frances squeezed Victoria’s hand, got her purse and left. Victoria sat on the couch and worked up the courage to go to her stepmother.

The bedroom door was ajar, and Elena stood at a window.

“Hey, Elena.”

She didn’t move, and Victoria approached her. Stood by her, took in the view of Washington across the Potomac River. Lincoln Memorial. The phallic monument.

“I didn’t mean it to happen,” Victoria whispered. “I thought she and I would have one or two conversations. I was just curious. But we—”

“Yeah,” Elena said, keeping her gaze fixed out the window. “Got it.” A moment later, she turned to Victoria, and hurt radiated in her hazel eyes. “You don’t like me.”

“What?”

“You don’t like me,” Elena repeated.

Victoria almost replied: “Don’t be absurd. Of course I like you.” But something in her gut warned her to keep quiet. Something in her gut said maybe Elena was right. Perhaps Victoria didn’t like her, this woman her mother had let in, this woman Frances was herself around, this woman who made Victoria feel like an outcast right from the moment Victoria was reunited with her mother. If Elena hadn’t been around, Victoria and Frances would be closer. A lot closer. Victoria had had her father to herself until she was fourteen, and she wasn’t used to sharing a parent.

Yeah, time to face facts. Deep down inside, Victoria was jealous of Elena. Didn’t like her. Couldn’t help it. Victoria wished Elena hadn’t come up to her at the Little Rock FBI offices. She should’ve let Frances approach first, no matter what. She should’ve insisted that Frances go in alone to see her damn daughter.

Elena wasn’t Victoria’s mother, period.

“I like you,” Victoria protested.

Elena smiled, and a softness entered her expression. “I know you try to. You’re a sweet girl, Victoria. One of the sweetest people I know. Polite and respectful. Too polite and respectful until…you know. Felicianna.”

Elena had been careful the first couple of years to give Victoria and Frances space to get to know each other, but she and Frances were in love. In a new relationship. Elena stayed over a lot of nights. When Frances sat Victoria down to talk about her and Elena and prostitution, Elena did most of the talking while Frances fidgeted and had to end the conversation because she was too uncomfortable. Elena did most the talking for pretty much all the issues. She was a willing crutch for Frances, willing to aid and abet Frances from being a true mother. Elena was much more natural with Victoria than Frances was, and Victoria resented Elena for it. She resented Elena for diverting some/many/most of Frances’s attentions from Victoria, her newfound daughter. Frances and Elena got to laugh in bed, giggle and sleep together at night while Victoria was alone in a huge bed one thousand and thirty miles from the only home she remembered.

“How…how’s the baby today?” Victoria asked.

“Still tiny.”

Victoria’s mouth felt like parchment. “We can work on us.”

“Yes, yes, we can.” Elena sat on the bed and said: “Your mom used to be very scared to be alone with you. She also thought it would be easier for you if other people were around. Of course, you two had plenty of alone time, but I probably butted in more than I should’ve. And you were too polite to verbalize what you wanted. What you needed.” Elena grinned wryly. “Am I still doing it? Should I have made her stay for this?”

“Nah. You make Mom happy. That’s most important.”

Elena smiled. “Polite to the very end. You know, I’ve been thinking. The email.”

“The good Samaritan?”

Elena nodded. “Any ideas who sent it?”

“A waitress named Monica in Tennessee. Felicianna and I had dinner at her Denny’s, and Monica wanted...ah. I was a little rude to her.”

Elena cocked her head as she considered this. “Okay,” she said at last. “But if I were you, I’d ask Markie if she had anything to do with it.”

Victoria gaped. “Markie?”

“She loves you,” Elena whispered. “I see it every time you’re together.”

Could you tell I loved her? “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything. She doesn’t even know I’m dating Felicianna.”

“You sure about that?”

“She thinks I’m with a woman named Anna. Besides, Markie’s my best friend.”

Elena pulled herself to her full height. “I used to have a best friend,” she said slowly, her eyes intent on Victoria’s, “who, unbeknownst to me, pawed through my things, who hired a man to spy to me. Who outed me as a prostitute and who made my life a living hell because she was jealous. And here she is four years later, having sex with my eighteen-year-old stepdaughter. I admit my part in it. I lied to her, and she was desperate for the truth. Doesn’t excuse what she did.”

Victoria remembered Markie saying she saw Victoria logged into the dating site. What if Markie explored the account despite her claims to the contrary? Victoria did change the password, so deep down inside, she suspected that Markie peeked. What if, what if…no. No. Markie wouldn’t have. This was Elena’s little payback, her little revenge.

“Felicianna used to look at me the way Markie looks at you,” Victoria’s stepmother continued. “These feelings are dangerous. They’re why I had to tell Felicianna we needed to stop the physical aspect of our relationship. Even if Markie didn’t send the email, she’s not someone you want to trust in the big picture.”

Some of Markie’s words returned to sneer at Victoria: You’re casting aside your best friend for some online person…As for me, I’d rather not date pedophiles…I don’t care what you do. Just stay out of my face.

“Fine,” Victoria said. “I’ll ask Markie.”

*****

Victoria got back to the dorm about eleven p.m. Sunday. Markie sat in her bed and pounded away at her laptop. Grandpa Jack deja vu.

“Hey, Markie.” Victoria set her bag down and smiled.

Markie smiled back too. Wide, friendly. “Hey, Vic. Good weekend?”

Okaaay. What was up with that smile? Meant Elena had to be wrong.

“It was a great weekend,” Victoria said.

Markie’s smile faltered a nanosecond. Long enough for Victoria’s heart to thicken, long enough for her to know Elena wasn’t out for little, petty revenge. She warned Victoria because she truly cared.

“Good,” Markie said smoothly. “What did you do?”

“I told Mom and Elena about my new girlfriend.”

“You did?”

“Yep. They met her. It went well.”

“They don’t care she’s thirty-nine?”

“I never said she was thirty-nine. I said she was in her late thirties.”

A flicker of “oops” in Markie’s eyes. “Late thirties, thirty-nine, fifty-eight, sixty, what’s the difference?”

“You sent the email.”

Markie stiffened. “What are you talking about, Vic?”

“You didn’t stop when you saw me logged into a lesbian dating site. You investigated.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Victoria nodded. “Okay. Okay. Well, whatever you hoped the email would accomplish, it backfired. Felicianna and I are fine. Mom, Elena and I are fine.”

Markie lowered her gaze. “Yay. Whatever.”

Nary a reaction to the name “Felicianna.” Yeah. Markie knew. She sent the email.

“You should talk to my mom,” Victoria whispered.

Markie scowled. “What for?”

“She can help you with stuff. She kinda went through the same thing you’re going through. The religious parents and coming out.”

Markie laughed. “Oh please. I don’t need to talk to your mom.”

“Talk to someone.”

“Nothing to talk about. I’m not gay. I was confused, that’s all. I’m in love with Caleb.”

Victoria had a flash of Markie at the helm of Gay Is a Choice twenty years from now. She’d be the new Frances Dourne, and Caleb would be on the lam after he came out as gay and kidnapped their child. Victoria stifled a snort and picked up her bag. It wouldn’t happen. Twenty years from now, homosexuality would be way more accepted. Gay marriage would be much more prevalent worldwide. Gay Is a Choice wouldn’t exist.

And maybe Victoria and Markie would be together. Life was weird. The future was endless. Surprising. Victoria refused to be like Elena and hold onto hate and resentment toward someone who stood by her many years, someone who loved her. Victoria would forgive Markie, just as she forgave Frances and Daniel.

“Good night,” Victoria told Markie. “Let’s do something soon.”

“Yeah,” Markie mumbled. “Let’s do something soon. Good night, Vic.”

THE END

Acknowledgements

As always, I give thanks to my wife, Melanie, for her support and her beta reading skills. I’d also like to thank my other beta/editorial readers: Susan Mitchell, Jove Belle, Lee Fitzsimmons and the others who wished not to be listed.

Cover design by Melody Simmons

Ebookindiecovers.com

E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

Ride the Rainbow Books

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced without the permission of the author.

Victoria’s Very Awkward Love Story by Q. Kelly © 2012

Q. Kelly on the Internet

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Email Q. Kelly

yllek_q@yahoo.com

Q. Kelly's Novels

Waiting

All in the Family

Third

The Odd Couple

Switch

Strange Bedfellows (Book 1 of the Strange Bedfellows Series)

Three’s a Crowd (Book 2 of the Strange Bedfellows Series)

Victoria’s Very Awkward Love Story (Book 3 of the Strange Bedfellows Series)

Q. Kelly’s Novellas

The Girl Prince and Her Princess

Love’s Spell

Q. Kelly’s Short-Story Collections

The Old Woman and Other Lesbian Stories

Cupid Pulls a Prank and Other Lesbian Tales

Miss Lucy Parker and Other Short Stories

Check Out Q. Kelly’s Other Works

Love’s Spell: Ava Van Dorn doesn't believe in magic, but she believes in possibilities. So, she figures trying a love spell her grandmother left her won't hurt. Worst case: her life will stay the same. Best case: her fellow second-grade teacher James Friedlander will fall in love with her, and they’ll live happily ever after.

Except...oops!

Ava accidentally places the spell on her principal, Libby Lubbock. Libby is wrestling with her own issues in the love department, namely the fact that she’s deciding whether to give her ex a second chance after the ex cheated. Libby is beginning to think she’s the type who is better off single.

The spell can be undone, but it requires Ava and Libby getting to know each other better. Lots better. Libby agrees to the undo because no way does she want to fall in love with Ava if she can help it. However, perhaps the last paragraph in a letter Ava's grandmother wrote is right: “Why all these crazy steps? My great-great grandmother, the witch, strongly believed that things happen for a reason. This time with the ‘wrong person’ will help determine if the wrong person might be the right person, after all.”

Can Libby and Ava cast a love spell that has nothing to do with abracadabra magic and everything to do with the magic of true love?

*****

The Girl Prince and Her Princess: This fairy tale is set in the kingdoms of Athena and Qax. It’s a magical brew of a big ol’ juicy problem, generous dollops of secrets, castles, kings and queens, princesses and villains.

The king and queen of Athena have a problem. They desperately need a son to marry off to Princess Vexa. She is the unsightly daughter of their neighbor, King Magnatus of Qax. If no prince is born, Magnatus will take over the peaceful Athena and what the heck, kill all the people of the kingdom.

When Athena’s rulers finally produce an offspring, the queen dies in childbirth. The king finds himself faced with the greatest challenge of all—a girl! Boys are scarce, and no one is willing to give up their son to replace the infant girl.

The ruse is on. The sweet baby girl is named Alexandre and is raised to take on the manly duties of being a prince. Eighteen years later, it’s wedding time. Can the deception continue?

*****

Switch: Ellora Landry and June Blue Sky meet after they find out a nurse switched them when they were newborns. Ellora and June are forty years old and have led vastly different lives. June, raised by hippie parents, is an out lesbian who has not had the best experiences in the love department. Ellora, from a conservative family, is coming to terms with her lesbian identity and has just left her husband.

Ellora and June experience an undeniable attraction. However, they are reluctant to risk their hearts, especially since that means revealing secrets and telling the entire story behind half truths.

Will they realize that perhaps they were fated to be together since their births?

*****

Waiting: Caris Ismay, 30, is falling in love with a woman she dares not pursue, and at exactly the wrong time. Caris knew that life after having her baby would be different, especially since her wife did not love her anymore. But Caris never expected post-baby life to be this difficult. Dale, her wife of three years, is in a coma that turns into a vegetative state. Lena, Dale’s 29-year-old daughter, is put in the awkward position of revealing Dale’s secrets to Caris.

Caris and Lena share a perfect, passionate kiss that they cannot stop thinking about. Plus, they can help each other in ways no one else can. They try to build a friendship, but their growing attraction gets in the way. Can Caris and Lena move past the taboo of their attraction and find their path together?

*****

All in the Family: Allison Albrecht and Samantha Cannizarro are thrown together when their parents become engaged. Sam is deaf, so Allison begins to learn sign language. Allison is eager to please Sam and to make a good impression on her. Sam does not care about good impressions. She is a loner, always has been. She resents her new instant family, especially her stepmother-to-be. Sam is also reluctant to bond with three-year-old Allen. However, Allison and Allen gradually crack Sam’s facade, and the two girls fall in love.

But life in a stepfamily is rarely easy. Throw in romance between two stepsiblings, and the ride is going to be bumpy.

*****

The Odd Couple: Morrisey Hawthorne and her four-year-old son, Gareth, have a pretty good life. Then one day they meet Charlene Sudsbury, who is trying to move on from the suicide of her son, JP, three years before. Gareth is nearly the mirror image of JP, and Charlene connects instantly with him. Not quite so with Morrisey, who can’t escape fast enough after Charlene shows her a picture of JP. Charlene is convinced Morrisey is hiding something and sets out in search of the truth.

Despite the circumstances, the two women form an unusual bond and end up with a lot more than they bargained for. But when an old friend of JP’s resurfaces, he challenges the fragile trust Morrisey and Charlene have been building.

Can these two women overcome the obstacles that separate them from the happiness they seek?

*****

Third: Tudor historian Helen Franklin is horrified when her dying scientist father leaves her a most unusual inheritance: Anne Boleyn. Yep, Anne Boleyn as in Henry VIII’s beheaded queen. She is a time traveler and is having trouble adjusting to the modern world. Helen tells herself she does not have time for Anne. Yalia, Helen’s wife, has been distancing herself from Helen for three years, and Helen needs to decide if she wants to save their marriage.

Then the unexpected happens. A romantic relationship develops among Yalia, Anne and Helen. Can the three of them figure out their lives together, especially when time might be running out for Anne?

*****

The Old Woman and Other Lesbian Stories: Nine short stories are in this compilation. The lead story is “The Old Woman.”

The Old Woman: Jessica is a pretty good best friend, but she goes too far when she dares Rachel to ask an old woman on a date. Rachel has no choice; otherwise Jessica will do the asking, and Rachel has no intention of humiliating the old woman. Turns out maybe Jessica’s idea was not so bad after all. There is a lot more to Ada than her age.

Funeral: Olivia takes a drastic step to combat lesbian bed death.

The Lesbian Curse: Becky and Katy are in middle school and tussling over a boy. Becky curses Katy, saying Katy will become a lesbian.

Polly Wanna Cracker: Polly is a bird. A parrot, to be exact. She follows the goings-on of her human family, especially Faye, the daughter, and Glenda, the mother. Polly knows their secrets too. Will Polly spill the beans when she finds herself able to talk after bonking her head against a window?

What Girlfriend?: Bobbie hopes her one-night stand won’t pull the U-Haul trick.

Haunted: Haunted people? Sure, they’re everywhere. Haunted houses? Oooh, spooky. Good movie fodder. Excellent for campfire scares. Haunted cars? They’re not unheard of. But haunted pens? Yep, they exist, as Linda and Victoria find out when such a pen brings them together.

Fortune: Best friends Jackie and Emma go to a fortune teller. Emma is shocked when the teller reveals to Jackie that Emma is her secret admirer.

Lili from the Future: It’s a dream many people have; your future self visits you and fucks you.

Lizzie: Twelve-year-old Shel is not sure if her best friend means it when he says he’s going to kill a person.

*****

Cupid Pulls a Prank and Other Lesbian Tales: Ten short stories are in this compilation. The lead story is "Cupid Pulls a Prank."

Cupid Pulls a Prank: Cupid pulls a prank to end all pranks. For the first time in American history, both the Republicans and the Democrats have female candidates running for president. The Republican is Alice Cowell, and the Democrat is Gillian Marshall. Cupid strikes them during a live, nationwide televised debate, and Alice’s and Gillian’s reactions shock even Cupid.

Roxanne and Ms. Winslow: When Roxanne Rogers was eighteen years old, she did a bad thing. A chance encounter at three a.m. may be the opportunity Roxanne needs to make amends.

Toasted: Lottie finds out that some women do get toasters for converting straight gals. And not just any old toasters, but toasters of all shapes, sizes and colors. Heck, there’s a blue race car toaster, a zebra toaster and a full-sized purple unicorn toaster. Can Lottie win the toaster of her dreams?

Lesbian Speed Dating: Ginny Yost is intrigued when she sees an ad for lesbian speed dating. What happens is a comedy of errors. Will Ginny find the woman she’s meant to be with?

The Jumper: Kim tries to talk a woman out of jumping off a bridge.

Mrs. Claus’s Klondyke Secret: Candace Claus, a.k.a. Mrs. Santa Claus, is on her yearly two-week cruise with Santa after the madness of the holidays. She is tired of living in the shadow of a man who has gone from jolly to cranky, plus she will no longer deny her true self. The time has come for Candace to fess up to Santa that she’s a lesbian.

Westinhoffer, Andrew Brian, 16: Elizabeth is reading the obituaries when one catches her eye. She thought she said goodbye to Andrew Brian Westinhoffer when he was a baby, but she must force herself to say goodbye again.

So This Woman Meets This Chick Online And...: A joke from the early days of the Internet goes like this: a young woman sets up a hotel rendezvous with a man she met online. They meet, and turns out he’s her dad. Yep. They cringe in embarrassment and promise to never tell anyone what happened. Guess what? This happens to Jillian too, only she is gay, so the person she encounters in the hotel room is her mom.

Three Wishes: Evangeline is tired of being lonely. One day, she comes across a bottle. She rubs it, and out pops a genie. Evangeline can make three wishes. Her first wish is for a woman to be her friend, possibly her lover. But, alas, the path to true love is rarely smooth.

The Robot: Ramona is grateful when her scientist husband brings home a prototype for a lifelike maid robot his company is developing. Turns out the robot, Mya, is also functional in the bedroom. Very functional.

*****

Miss Lucy Parker and Other Short Stories: Seven short stories are in this compilation. The lead story is “Miss Lucy Parker.”

Miss Lucy Parker: Miss Lucy Parker is a prim, proper elderly lady. When a Volkswagen Beetle—the new kind, and pink—PINK!—turns onto the winding road that leads to Lucy’s farmhouse, Lucy is sure the car’s occupants are lost. And that the car contains hippies, because hippies drive Volkswagen Beetles. Lucy plans to tell the hippies to get lost. She has no need for their odd speech, beads and marijuana aroma. Except hippies are not in the car. A woman is, a woman wearing a short, blood-red dress that hugs her body. Thus begins Lucy Parker’s great adventure.

A Weird Situation: Karen does not believe her boyfriend when he tells her that he turns into a woman for seven hours every day.

The Interview: The person interviewing Debby has a giant booger. Should she tell him and risk not getting the job?

First Day at Work: A security guard’s first day at a bank has repercussions for him and three workers.

Every Day: A man struggles every day to follow through on a promise to himself.

The Doctor: A doctor salivates at the prospect of delivering bad news to a twelve-year-old girl and her mother.

Guardian Angel: Gabriel fancies himself a guardian angel. But is he really?