Flaw Less (10 page)

—
Kina Battle

 

 

Kina entered Angel's great room and playfully twirled around to make her strappy yellow sundress flutter and fall at her knees. “You like?”

“Wow, don't you look pretty!” raved Angel, as she and the other ladies decorated for Miley's birthday party. “What's the occasion—a hot date?”

Kina blushed. “I don't know if I'd call it all that, but I do have dinner plans.”

“Ohhh, so you've been holding out on us!” teased Lawson. “Who's the mystery date, Kina? Do we know him?”

Kina's mood shifted. She pressed her lips together and dropped her eyes. “It's no one special.”

“Does ‘no one special' have a name?” asked Angel.

Kina pouted. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” snapped Sullivan.

“You'll just ruin it for me,” whined Kina.

Sullivan tied string around one the balloons. “We're not going to give you a hard time about him. Trust me, I'm just glad you're getting out of the house and away from that les-ho you've been running around with. I've gotta tell you, Ki, we were worried about you for a minute there.”

Kina was offended. “Why? Joan's great.”

“Yes, but
Joan
lacks a
shlong!
” Sullivan pointed out. “You don't need to get caught up in her girl-on-girl drama.”

Kina frowned. “Sullivan, just shut up! You have no idea what you're talking about.”

Lawson was taken aback. “Dang, why are you so sensitive today, cuz?”

“And secretive,” added Angel. “Why don't you want to tell us who this guy is?”

Kina stomped her foot. “Because it's not a
guy
,” she confessed. “I'm having dinner with Joan.”

They were all stunned into silence, followed by judgmental grumbling.

Lawson was the first one to recover from the shock. “So, is this dinner as in a
date?
”

“What's so wrong with that?” argued Kina. “I go out to eat with you ladies all the time.”

“The difference between the two is that we're only interested in eating what's on the menu,” replied Sullivan. “We can't say the same for your little lezzy friend.”

Kina rolled her eyes. “Sully, don't be gross.”

“Honey, you can't replace your problems with men by turning to women,” spoke up Angel. “This isn't a good idea, Kina.”

Kina set her hands on hips. “Why not?”

Angel draped her arm around her. “You're still really vulnerable. I mean, E'Bell's only been dead a year—”

Kina broke away from her. “So has Theresa, but that hasn't stopped you from moving in on Duke, literally
and
figuratively!”

“Sometimes I think I shouldn't have,” admitted Angel. “Besides, my situation with Duke is nothing like yours.”

Kina snorted. “I don't know why you think that. From where I stand, it's exactly the same.”

“For starters, it's legal for Duke and Angel to marry in this state,” tossed in Sullivan.

“And I've known Duke my whole adult life, Kina. I was his wife long before Theresa was.”

“Look, I know that this whole thing with Joan has caught you all off guard, but I think you're all blowing this way out of proportion,” explained Kina, attempting to allay their concerns. “It's not like I'm coming out of the closet or am about to go lead the Gay Pride Parade. I'm having dinner with someone I enjoy spending time with, who enjoys spending time with me, and who just so happens to be a woman.”

 

 

Joan greeted Kina at the door with a smile. “You look nice. Come on in.”

Kina returned the smile at the compliment. “Thank you. So do you.”

Joan welcomed Kina into her home. Her apartment was as eclectic as Kina imagined it would be with anomalous furnishings accentuated with bright lights and large candles. A few pictures of Africa's lush landscapes punctuated the walls.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable.” Kina sat next to her on the sofa, being careful to keep a respectable distance between them. “The food is ready, but I thought we should talk first.”

“All right,” replied Kina, swallowing hard. She could feel the sweat beading on her palms. Being so far out of her comfort zone was daunting.

Joan picked up on the tension. “You're nervous, aren't you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Kina laughed nervously.

“A little, but there's no need to be. I want you to feel comfortable in my home, Kina. In fact, I hope to have you here more often. Would you like some wine?” Joan didn't wait for Kina to respond. She pulled two glasses and a bottle of wine from her buffet. “I have to say, I was a little shocked when you accepted my dinner invitation.”

“Why?”

“It wasn't exactly a platonic invitation.”

Kina wrung her hands together. “I know, but I'm trying to keep an open mind about things these days. I guess you could say that I'm sort of experimenting.”

Joan shook her head and poured Kina a glass of wine. “You know, women like you can be dangerous. A girl could get her heart broken once the novelty wears off and you realize you like men after all. A lot of women start dating the same sex because they're frustrated and have had it with men. They don't realize that it's not enough to be through with guys. You've got to
want
to be with a woman.”

“I think I could do that. I mean, I can appreciate a beautiful woman as much as any guy can.”

Joan smiled. “Do I qualify as a beautiful woman?”

Kina bashfully averted eye contact. “Yes, you do.”

“Goodness, you're so tense, Kina. Let me loosen you up.” Joan stood to massage Kina's back. Kina involuntarily jerked away. Joan looked a little hurt. “You don't want me to touch you?”

“It's not that. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all. You know, this is the first time I've been on a date with anyone, male or female, since my husband died. The fact that I'm here with a woman is . . .”

“It's a little overwhelming.” Kina nodded in agreement. “I understand. It's a little overwhelming for me too.”

“Why?”

Joan cupped Kina's face. “Because you drive me crazy, you know that? I think about you all the time. It's like I crave you.”

Joan admission's shocked and fascinated Kina. No one had said anything to her like that in years, and she'd ceased to think that anyone ever would. “What kind of thoughts have you had about me?”

“I think about holding you, touching you . . . kissing you.” Joan moved in closer to her. “Have you ever kissed a woman, Kina?”

“No, I mean, I've kissed my mother on the cheek and forehead, but not kissed another woman, no,” she stammered.

“I want to kiss you.”

The revelation made Kina dizzy, but she knew it was time to pee or get off the pot. She resigned herself to at least being open to the idea of kissing another woman. “Okay,” she whispered.

Joan planted a kiss on Kina's cheek. Then she looked into Kina's eyes and tenderly kissed her lips. Kina flinched. Undeterred, Joan leaned in and kissed her again. Kina forced herself to sit still while Joan kissed her. She relaxed a bit and began to feel a sensation that she hadn't expected. Joan's lips were warm and soft on hers, and she found herself returning the kiss.

Joan broke away from her and smiled. “See, that wasn't so bad, was it?”

“No, it was kind of nice,” admitted Kina.

Joan initiated another kiss. Wrapping her arms around Kina's waist, she moved her mouth from Kina's lips to her neck. The transition snapped Kina out of her trance.

“I've got to go,” she announced abruptly, bolting from the sofa.

Joan was dumbfounded. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Kenny has an appointment with his counselor today, and I totally forgot about it.” She grabbed her purse and inched toward the door. “I should get going . . . right now!”

“He has an appointment this late at night?”

“It was a last-minute thing.”

“Well, you're already late. What difference would a few more minutes make?”

“A lot! I've got to go, Joan. Bye.” Kina raced out of the apartment and into the hallway to catch her breath.

She could still feel Joan's lips on hers. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She was thinking of the kiss when she felt Joan's presence again, only this time it wasn't in her head. Joan was standing in front of her.

“Your son doesn't have an appointment today, does he?” Kina shook her head. “I know why you ran out like that,” said Joan. “You were scared by what you felt back there. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come back inside.”

“I can't,” whispered Kina.

“Yes, you can. I know you want to.” She grabbed Kina's hand, gently pulling her back toward the door.

Kina closed her eyes, trying to decide whether go with Joan or bolt in the opposite direction. She couldn't deny the influx of emotions she felt whenever Joan looked at or touched her, but was that enough to classify her as gay?

Kina had been attracted to men all her life, yet not only had she let another woman kiss her, she didn't stop her. She wondered if she was bisexual or just desperate. Did it really matter that Joan was a woman? After all, what man had treated her like anything other than a piece of meat? She asked herself if Joan, with one kiss, had shaken everything she believed about herself and what she wanted.

—
Sullivan Webb

 

 

Sullivan had spent most of the night tossing and turning, so much so that she was tempted to break nearly two years of sobriety for a quick shot of Patrón to calm her nerves. She decided against it, realizing that she needed all of her wits about her if she was going to go through with what would be the scam of a lifetime.

It had taken several days, some serious self-talk, and a positive ovulation test for her to finally settle on a decision. She considered adoption and artificial insemination, but she wanted to experience being pregnant, and she wanted to know who her child's father was. She knew God would never give His approval, so she didn't bother seeking it. Besides, hadn't she given Him ample time to act? Charles was making a modest contribution in the bedroom, but Sullivan feared that his lethargy the last two times they'd made love could have a negative impact on his sperm. She could've very well waited for another month to pass to try again, but waiting was never her style. She didn't wait for sales, she didn't wait in lines, and she definitely wasn't going to wait another thirty days before trying to get pregnant.

As Sullivan slipped into a red dress that left all of her dangerous curves exposed, she thought, of all things, about
The Scarlet Letter
, the Nathaniel Hawthorne novel she'd been forced to endure for American literature in high school. She likened herself to heroine Hester Prynne. Like Hester, she was also destined to bear a child conceived under less-than-ideal circumstances, shrouded in a veil of secrecy and shadowed by adultery. Sullivan was adamant that her story wouldn't end like Hester's, however. After all, this wasn't Colonial America, and she was far craftier than the simple-minded, scarlet letter-bearing Hester.

Vaughn was a creature of habit, and weeks of a sordid affair with him made her quite familiar with his routine and favorite haunts. One thing she knew for sure was that he never failed to start his day without a cup of coffee from the McDonald's around the corner from his apartment. She decided to accidently bump into him on purpose that fateful morning.

Before condemnation had a chance to set in, she spotted Vaughn's car outside of the restaurant as soon as she wheeled into the parking lot. She gave her makeup a quick inspection before hopping out of the car and heading for the glass entrance.

Sullivan spied him right off, sitting at his usual booth—newspaper in one hand, coffee in another. Not much had changed about him. Although he'd traded his trademark cornrows for a more conservative Caesar cut, he still had that velvety dark skin and athletic build, as well as that boyish swagger and those ruggedly handsome features that attracted her to him in the first place. Much to Sullivan's chagrin, he still looked good.

As she stared at him, Sullivan recalled their last liaison, which was also their traumatic breakup. After announcing that he was tired of sleeping with her, Vaughn tossed Sullivan out on her posterior and locked the door behind her. Not only had he embarrassed Charles, but Vaughn had humiliated Sullivan, and
no man
humiliated Sullivan Webb and lived to tell about it!

She wanted to move, but her feet felt cemented to that spot in front of the entrance. She'd sworn to her husband and herself to never see Vaughn again. She had promised to be faithful from now on. How could she do this to Charles? How could she spit in the face of God, who had shown her so much mercy?

“This isn't a good idea,” Sullivan murmured to herself and turned in the opposite direction toward the door. Just at that moment, Vaughn stood up to grab some sugar from the condiments stand. Sullivan ducked out of his line of vision.

Meeting Vaughn had profited her nothing except a few mind-blowing sin sessions. The way she saw it, he still owed her something. The perfect atonement for his nearly destroying her marriage could be his providing the one thing that could possibly save it.

Why not use him the way he used me?
she thought.
An eye for an eye, right?
She compromised with herself and the Lord by promising not to enjoy it. . . . Well, maybe just a little bit.

Sullivan took a deep breath. The decision was made.

She strolled up to him. “Vaughn, is that you?” she asked with all the shock she could assemble.

Vaughn almost knocked over his coffee, surprised to see her. He sprang to his feet, “Sullivan . . . hey.”

“Long time no see.” The tension between them was stifling. “You're looking well. I hope life is treating you as such.”

“I can't complain. You're looking good, but you always do.” He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “What are you doing over here? I thought you hated this part of town.”

“Well, I'm here for my mission work,” she lied. “I, um, I'm feeding the homeless this week.”

Vaughn cracked up. “You—Sullivan? Feeding the homeless?”

“You don't have to sound so surprised,” she barked.

His eyes drifted over her body. “Well, you don't really look dressed for the occasion.”

She glanced down at her dress, scrambling for a logical explanation for feeding the homeless in heels and a curve-fitting frock. “Red triggers the appetite.”

“Yes, it does.” He dragged his tongue across his lips, practically salivating over her. “This is a switch. The Sullivan I knew couldn't give a rat's behind about the homeless.”

“Maybe I'm not the Sullivan you remember,” she drawled, holding his gaze in a fearless stare.

He sucked his teeth and looked her over. “Nah, she's still in there somewhere.”

“I've turned over a new leaf, Vaughn. After all of that campaign drama and nearly losing my marriage, I decided to straighten up and fly right. I'm officially one of the good girls now.”

He smirked a little. “I hear you, but you know what they say, once a good girl goes bad, she's gone forever.”

“There's an exception to every rule, Vaughn, and I fully intend to be the exception. I love my husband, and we are very happy together. I love the life we share, and I don't intend to jeopardize that ever again,” vowed Sullivan, almost meaning it.

“That's good if that's what you want. I kinda miss the old Sullivan, though. She was my kind of woman.”

“Yes, I'm sure she was. She was a heathen and an adulterer who lived for pleasure.” She piously folded her hands together. “Thankfully, all of that riotous living is a thing of the past. Now I live for the Lord.”

“Is that right?” he asked, making no attempts to hide his skepticism.

“Perhaps one day we can sit down together, and I can tell you about my transformation from the girl you used to know to the woman I am now.”

“Yeah, we'll have to do that. Are you still painting?”

“Yes, when I can.”

“I'm sure feeding the homeless and building temples keeps you pretty busy. Hopefully when you get some free time, you'll let me see some of your artwork.”

She paused before responding. “I guess there's no harm in that.”

“All right, well, you know where I live. Stop by anytime.”

“Do you mind if I bring my husband with me?”

Vaughn laughed a little. “You can bring whoever you want, Mrs. Webb. I'm sure your husband is just
dying
to get reacquainted the man who was breaking his wife's back while he was on the campaign trail.”

A quick flashback made her tingle. “I don't like it when you talk like that.”

His lips plunged into a seductive smile. “Don't worry. I still remember
everything
you like, Sister Sullivan.” He brushed a finger across her cheek before scooping up his coffee and newspaper. “It was good seeing you again. You're still as beautiful and sexy as ever. Take care.”

Vaughn disappeared from view. He'd played right into her hands. This would be as easy as taking candy from a baby. She could only hope that
making
a baby would be just as effortless.

 

 

“I thought you were bringing your ol' man,” teased Vaughn when Sullivan turned up at his door one hour and one strategically placed phone call later.

“He's busy, and he's not that old.” Sullivan pushed her way inside and looked around. With the exception of a few portraits, nothing had changed inside the modest studio apartment since the last time she was there.

“I see you've added some paintings,” she remarked, taking off her jacket and laying it across a chair.

“Yeah, I've had a lot of free time on my hands since getting canned for messing around with you.”

This was news to Sullivan. “Mike fired you from the garage?”

“Yeah, he gets a lot of business from your church. He said keeping me on would be disrespectful to the pastor. It didn't help that my name and face were plastered across the Internet.”

“Things must've worked out for you. I don't see you living on the streets.”

“I know how to land on my feet. Being infamous actually helped me sell a few paintings.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I've got a couple people interested in commissioning me to do some work. I'm thinking about moving up North for a while to check out the art scene up there.”

The prospect of Vaughn moving to parts unknown was almost too good to be true. Sullivan had been contemplating a tactful way to shake him once the deed was done. Now, it was apparent that the work was being done for her. Somebody was definitely on her side. She just couldn't figure out if it was God or the devil.

Vaughn offered Sullivan a seat on the bed and sat down next to her.

“Are you moving for real?” she asked.

He balled up a piece of paper and tossed it into his wastebasket. “Yep, time to move on. There ain't really nothing keeping me here no way.”

Sullivan's lips began to quiver, and her eyes watered. She was a pro at making herself cry. It was a skill that had come in handy ever since she started dating.

“Hold up . . . Are you crying?” Vaughn asked incredulously.

“No.” She sniffed. “It's just my allergies.”

Vaughn wiped a tear from her cheek. “Sullivan, are these real tears, baby?”

Sullivan covered her face with her hands and sobbed into her lap. “I'm sorry. It's just that the thought of not seeing you again . . .” She began wailing.

Vaughn stroked her back. “Dang, baby, I never expected you to react like this. I mean, if you don't want me to go—”

Sullivan's head popped up and her wailing came to a halt. Perhaps she was actually
too
good of an actress. “No, you have to follow your destiny, Vaughn. I'd never ask you to give that up, especially when the two of us could never be,” she added with affectation.

“I'm sure our paths will cross again someday.”

Sullivan reached for him. “Yes, but
someday
could be years from now. I just wish . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“You wish what?”

“I wish that we could have one last memory, something that I could treasure and carry with me always.”

Vaughn scooted closer to her until their bodies were touching. “What about your husband and all that jazz about being a good girl now?”

“That hasn't changed, but this isn't about Charles. It's about here and now and possibly seeing you for the last time.”

He fiddled with a strand of her weave. Sullivan silently prayed that it wouldn't come off in his hand and kill the mood. “So what you wanna do?” he asked breathlessly.

“This . . .” Sullivan closed her eyes, then kissed him lightly on the lips.

Vaughn was pleasantly surprised. “Is that all you want to do?”

“No.” She stood up. “But I should go before we do something we might regret.”

Vaughn pulled her into his lap. “Don't you think you'll regret it more if we walk away now? I mean, like you said, this could be the last time we're ever together like this.”

She kissed him again. “Yeah, you're right.”

Their kissing turned passionate. Vaughn picked her up, with her legs still straddled around him, and lay her down on the bed. Sullivan pushed back thoughts of Charles, fidelity, and marriage and indulged in the moment.

He abruptly stopped. “Shoot!” hissed Vaughn.

“What?”

He pulled his shirt back over his head. “I ain't got no condoms. I gotta run to the store and get some.”

“Don't worry about that!” cooed Sullivan, drawing him into another kiss. “I've got it covered.”

“Oh, you brought some with you?”

“No, I'm on the pill.”

He groaned. “Now, how many dudes have fallen for that line?”

Sullivan sucked her teeth. “Do you honestly think I'd lie about something like that? Besides, I'm very happy in my marriage. The last thing I want to have to tell my husband is that I'm carrying your love child. Now, come on. Kiss me.”

Vaughn set his lips down on hers, allowing raging hormones to take the place of better judgment. Sullivan peeled off his shirt, and Vaughn snatched off her scarlet dress. The discarded dress landed on a heap of clothes in the middle of the floor along with Sullivan's vows, pledge to God, and her promise to only enjoy it a little bit.