Staying True - A Contemporary Romance Novel (9 page)

“So you hide?”

She cocked her head. “I read a lot of
lesbian romance novels and live vicariously through the characters. It’s safe
and comforting and all I need. Freedom is a good thing in my case.”

“That’s not freedom.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Maybe not
for you. For me, it is.” She popped off of the stool and leaned against the
bar. “Enough talk about love. Go ahead and ask me something else. It’s your
open invitation. I don’t do this often.”

I gazed into her eyes. In them I saw
a softness, an innocence and a desire to connect. “I’ve never met a
transgendered person before.”

“So, I’m your first?” A hint of a
smile played out on her lips.

“My one and only.” I rolled out a
wink and a flirty twirl to my hair.

“Ask me anything.” She studied my
twirling finger.

“I just want to know how it all
works.”

“How my body works?” she asked with a
trace of anxiety.

I wrapped my hand around her wrist
and smoothed my voice. “I meant psychologically, not physically.”

She pulled in her bottom lip and
bowed her head. “The physical is so much easier to explain.”

“Hey.” I lifted up her chin with my
finger. “We can stop.”

“No.” She shook off my comment. “I
don’t mind. Not with you. I feel oddly safe with you.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I told you
I think you’re gorgeous and I’m jealous of your boobs?” I glanced down at her
cleavage. “They’re curvier than mine, that’s for sure.”

She smiled. A moment later she looked
down at my pathetic boobs. “A pushup bra would do you good, dear.”

I scanned mine. “No doubt.” I pointed
my eyes back down to her boobs. “They’re perky.”

She cupped them, tilting her eyes up
to the ceiling, thinking about it. “The hormone therapy is finally starting to
perk these babies up. That and a pushup bra.”

“Hey, Shawna,” the other bartender
called out to her. “Can I get some help back here?”

“I have to go,” she said, standing
up.

“So that’s it? That’s all I get to
understand? You have gorgeous boobs from hormones and a pushup bra?”

“I’m such a tease, aren’t I?” She
curtseyed and flung her hair over her shoulder with melodramatic flair. “Just
stay away from my girl crush.” She winked.

I tripped over this request. “I can’t
promise that.”

She smiled and messed my hair.
“Relax. I’m just kidding. She’s not in my league anyway.” She laughed and
walked away.

“Hey,” I yelled out to her. “She’s
not out of your league.”

“Who said anything about me being out
of her league?” Amusement flirted on her face. “You twisted that one around.
I’ve got standards to uphold.” She flounced away like a drag queen all done up
on Pride day.

I had the distinct feeling she and I
were going to become great friends.

I sat at the bar and sipped an iced
tea while waiting for Nadia. A few minutes later, she arrived wearing dark blue
jeans and a delicate brown and blue top. Her cat eyes latched onto mine as she
swaggered towards me.

“I’m so sorry. I ran a little late.”
She doled out an apologetic smile and fell onto the stool beside me. “You do
work miracles I hope?”

She smelled like the spring earth,
sweet and flowery. My heart raced.

When she waved at Shawna, I imagined
nuzzling up to her and getting drunk on her soft skin and beauty.

Shawna walked over. “What’ll it be,
boss?”

Nadia looked to my iced tea.
“Whatever she’s having.”

Shawna squared off towards the bar
with a nod.

I cradled my iced tea glass between
my hands, swiping the condensation, searching for my voice. “So,” I said.

She relaxed into an easy smile. “So.
Thanks for understanding my lateness. My brother-in-law held me hostage to a
phone conference. Once he gets talking, there’s little to do to stop him.”

“Brother-in-law? So this is a family
operation?”

She looked ahead, staring at the
bottles of liquor. “By marriage.”

Of course. That explained everything.
The mystery, the pullback, the guard. “You’re married?”

She turned away from the bottles and
back at me. “My sister’s husband.”

I paused longer than customary,
mesmerized by the delicate curve of her upper lip.

Shawna returned with her iced tea.
“Don’t forget, pottery tomorrow ten a.m., right?”

Nadia cocked her head. “Wouldn’t miss
it, my friend.” She squeezed her lemon in the tea, watching Shawna sashay her
way back to the customer at the far end of the bar. “We’re creating matching
mugs.”

“I love pottery. It’s so earthy, so
pretty.”

She sipped her tea. “Can’t leave out
fun.”

“The way this place is running you
ragged, I’d imagine you need to have some fun.”

“This place is my escape.” She ran
her fingers through her hair, tossing the front fringe over to the right.
“There’s a soothing quality about this place, don’t you think?”

I scanned around the lounge. Soft
lighting, greenery in the corners, and leather chairs added a peaceful element.
“If it didn’t smell like chicken wings and beer, it’d be a perfect massage
room.”

“Yes. I guess the chicken wings might
detract a little from the whole Chakra thingamajig.” She giggled. Her skin
glowed when she smiled. “Speaking of,” she continued. “Tell me more about this
traveling masseuse business. I’m very curious. How does it work? How do people
find you?”

I sipped some tea. “Well, it’s just
getting started.”

“What’s your plan look like?”

I twitched. “My plan?”

Her eyes bore into mine. “Yes, your
plan.”

I didn’t like her interrogation. I
shifted on my stool. “Well, I’m trying to get some contracts with some
corporations. Most are a little closed-minded to it. I’m working on it.” My
face grew hotter by the second. “So, I was thinking until those leads come in,
I could pass out my card and travel to people as needed.”

She twisted her mouth. “Hmm. Like I
said on the phone that sounds dangerous.”

Well, we all didn’t have families who
owned hotels. “It’s entrepreneurial.”

“Entrepreneurial.” Nadia stared off
to the bottles in front of us again. Her cheekbones went on forever. Her lips
curved as if flirting with the rest of her face. “You know…” she paused,
reflecting in a sip. “We’ve got lots of people walking through our garden patio
all day long between business meetings and luncheons and dinners. We also get a
lot of foot traffic from local businesses. The garden area serves as a pass
thru between the business districts. We don’t have a spa on site. We should. A
portable massage chair in the right spot could address our clients’ needs and
not be an expense for us at all.”

I liked where she headed with this.
“It could be a cash cow,” I added.

“Indeed. What would you need, some
scented candles and a chair?”

My heart raced, and a smile too big
to contain took over my face. “Are you serious?”

“The massage you gave me that time
did some major wonders for me. I think we could work something out, don’t you?”

My hope rose, and I did my best to
keep level. “Yes. Oh my gosh, yes. I have a chair. I just need a relaxing
space. I would just need to curtain off a section of the lounge to bring it to
life.” My words sped up and tumbled out in a mess. I wanted this more than
anything. I needed this. “It would be super easy and hardly any stress for
you.”

Nadia giggled. Her face lit up. Her
eyes sparkled. “Okay, let’s have a walk around shall we?”

“We shall.” I jumped off of my stool
and grabbed my pocketbook. I followed her and then I remembered I hadn’t yet
paid.

Nadia grabbed my wrist and pulled me.
“My treat.”

She kept her hand on my wrist for a
few seconds longer than she needed. When she slid it off, my breath escaped in
a gush.

She motioned for Shawna. “I’ll be
back to settle the bill in a few minutes.”

I followed her lead, through the
lounge doors and out into the open foyer where large palm trees grew in
enormous planters. People checking in lined up at the guest services counter.
They all had shoulders and necks that could use my touch. I got so excited.

She waved to bellhops, and they bowed
to her. My head buzzed. The potential excited me. People lurked everywhere.

She skirted us through a maze of
floor plants and couches. Soon, we landed on the corner of the grand garden
patio area that housed a tall banner stand promoting the Gateway Suites
Executive Packages. “Right here.” She waved her arms around. “What do you
think?”

Joy bubbled up inside of me. I saw a
future filled with opportunity. “It could work,” I said in my most reserved
voice.

“Well think it over. Then, we can
negotiate.”

I stood with my hand on my hip,
holding back a series of cartwheels and rolls. “Okay I’ll let you know.”

We stood staring at each other. A
warm silence filled the space around us. A woman wearing a name badge sprinted
up to Nadia. “We’ve got a situation at the front desk with the guy from Nike.
He’s saying they should’ve had an extra conference room. We don’t have that
booked. He’s not happy. He prefers to speak to someone in charge.”

She sighed at me. “Can I take a rain
check?”

“Of course.” I stepped back and let
her pass. “Shall I call you when I decide?”

“I hope you do.” She smiled and
walked away.

I looked at my corner. My corner. A
knot sat in my throat. My own corner. I swallowed my silly smile and walked
back through the maze, through the foyer, and past Nadia at the front desk
addressing a man in a dark suit who waved his arms all around him. She looked
up at me as I passed and waved. She hung onto my gaze, then winked and returned
to the rants of the man.

Chapter Seven

Nadia

When Jessica first landed in jail, I
took up pottery with my sister, Sasha. I needed to keep busy. Sasha needed a
companion. Pottery cost a lot less than therapy. So, why not? I agreed to
attend a girls’ night at a local pottery café. A group of us sat around a long table
and ate nachos, drank cheap wine, and giggled over our inabilities to paint
straight lines. That first night we painted peacock platters. I painted mine
with chili pepper red and orange.

The day I went to pick it up at the
pottery shop after it had dried in the kiln, I took one look at it and hated
it. The orange overtook the chili pepper red. It reminded me of Jessica’s
orange jumpsuit in prison. I paid the lady for the platter, drove home with it
in the trunk of my car, and later smashed it against the patio in my backyard.
After sweeping up the mess and tossing away all remnants of it, I wiped my
hands clear of ever loving the color orange again. I tore through my house and
tossed anything orange into an oversized trash bag and heaved it into the trashcan.

Eventually, I graduated from merely
painting pottery to actually crafting it myself. Creating something out of
nothing fascinated me. Sasha and I even grew closer, and our conversations
evolved into honest ones. She’d fess up that her kids drove her crazy when they
whined, and that she hated when Keith traveled and left her alone in their big
house without a dog or an alarm system for protection.

My sister and I met up for class
every Tuesday when I was in town, which wasn’t often anymore. I traveled quite
a bit up to our Rhode Island office. I didn’t protest against this. I begged
for it. My job offered me the greatest excuse to not have to spend my nights
visiting my wife in jail.

Jail, what a depressing place. I used
to visit Jessica every possible chance I could in the beginning. We’d cry the
whole time, shedding tears over our pathetic situation, over the life we lost
for the next year or two.

She spent our visits complaining
about the food, the rough girls who coerced her to do things for them, the
uncomfortable bedding, and the ridiculous rules imposed. I’d sit and console
her, trying to get her to see the positive in the negative. I urged her to
connect with others, to get involved in working out, to start reading. I wanted
her whole again. I wanted to reclaim our special love.

For two long months we endured these
painful visits. Then, one day I entered, and a smile had taken over her face.
Finally. She told me all about a new job she started in the laundry room. “The
girls are so sweet,” she said. “They invited me to sit in on their bible
study.”

I smiled at this. “I can’t picture
you sitting down reading bible passages with a straight face.”

“What choice do I have but to
mingle?” Hope sparkled on her face.

I nodded and agreed.

Future visits turned into educational
sessions for me. She talked for thirty minutes straight about religion, sins,
and forgiveness. Forgiveness entered her heart and lifted her spirits. Soon,
though, she couldn’t eat a peanut or sip coffee without first offering up a
prayer. Once I made the mistake of laughing at this new side of her, and she
refused to talk with me.

Just like with alcohol, she couldn’t
just attend a few bible study classes and call it a day. She had to dive into
it with everything she had and let it consume her.

Before jail, we never fought. We
laughed and fucked a lot.

Now with jail barging in between us,
we cried and fucked ourselves a lot. Me in our bedroom. She in her jail cell.

The logical side of me understood
this side of her was temporary, and that just as soon as she completed her jail
sentence our life would resume. Good thing because this new sober Jessica was
challenging and serious. I never would have sought out this version of her. I
would’ve tossed that Frisbee right back at her and retreated back to my
calculus studies.

She refused my help and turned to God
instead.

So, I escaped this version of Jessica
by working hard.

When I first talked with Sasha and my
brother-in-law, Keith, about wanting more time up at the Rhode Island location,
they called me crazy. I convinced Keith by convincing my sister. Sasha loved
rescuing me. This placed her in the one-up position. I forfeited that position
over to her a long time ago because frankly, she smiled more, and we fought
less. I didn’t need to outshine her to be whole.

I told her that things weren’t going
well in my marriage, and that I needed some time away. “It’s the only thing
that will help save my marriage.”

“That’s just going to tear you more
apart,” she said.

“Trust me. It will only improve.”

Keith handed over the Rhode Island
location to me the very next day.

When I did come home to Connecticut,
I always got together for pottery with Sasha. This particular night I was
shaping a vase into an hourglass. Sasha was molding her wet clay when she asked
me, “I have several bags of old clothes I cleared from my closet the other day.
You can stop by and pick out the ones you want before I send the bag to
Goodwill.”

I pinched my clay to mold the lip a
bit better than I had it, sinking into it to avoid the sudden stab of anger.
“I’m not poor.” I left it at that. Short. To the point.

She folded her clay in on itself,
then rolled it on the table. Her palms steamrolled it, pushing it back and
forth, with an air of authority to it. “You always take my old clothes.”

“I’m capable of taking care of
myself.”

“Sorry,” she said, folding up her
mouth in a tight line.

I focused harder on my vase, avoiding
her stare. “You know, in the time she’s been in jail, I’ve gotten along just
fine.”

“Of course you have.” Her voice
pierced too high, mocking me. “Keith pays you extremely well for what you do.”

I pressed too hard on my vase, and
the side of it collapsed. I stared at its carnage, a wilted gray mound of now
shapeless, useless clay. Growing up I always felt sorry for Sasha and
downplayed to her. I hated that I no longer had to downplay. Life did that all
on its own now. When did I become the one who needed fixing? “Well what I do is
stressful.”

She twisted her mouth. “Yes, I’m sure
it is.”

I grabbed my clay and tore it up,
mashing it against the table. “I landed a new account for the hotel. The
Women’s Expo is going to start hosting their quarterly events in the main
conference room.”

“Fantastic,” she said, trying out
this new emotion where I, the one who always slid into the backseat so she
could possess the front, now pushed her aside and challenged her for the prized
shotgun position.

“Yes. I also hired a masseuse to be
on hand during peak hours to take care of stressed guests.”

“Keith never mentioned that to me.”

“He doesn’t know, yet.” I looked up
at her. Disbelief spilled into the fine lines around her eyes like she’d just
witnessed a UFO landing in the parking lot.

“Keith doesn’t like surprises.”

“Well, life is full of them. So,
maybe that husband of yours just needs to get used to them.”

She stopped molding. “Something’s
different about you. Is everything okay?”

“Oh everything is just fucking
lovely.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, blowing out a deep
breath.

“I don’t know how you do it,
honestly.” She pinched her clay.

My sister thrived on the idea that
Jessica wore permanent scars now. “We’re fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “She fucked up.
I don’t see it getting fine.”

I stood up, pushing against the
table. “I’m getting coffee.”

“I’ll take mine black,” she snapped.
She could be so curt.

“Fine.” I turned and plowed towards
to the old man serving it up at the pottery café.

My sister dug at every turn. She
loved holding the ace card. This made her feel good about her life, about her
husband who I doubted loved her the way she loved him, about her misbehaved
kids, and about her lonely existence. I hated that I protected this façade for
her by not challenging her on these things. After all of these years, I still
protected her by taking on her attempted manipulations.

* *

I met Ruby at her corner the
following week. I had arranged for planted trees to be brought in to form a
privacy wall. Patina art now hung on both walls of the corner. I purchased a
heavy-duty portable massage chair along with a trolley cart that carried some
scented candles and plants.

I arrived carrying a tote bag filled
with new business cards, a cell phone, and a name badge. Ruby stood behind a
man, massaging his neck. His arms dangled by his side, and his face relaxed in
the head rest. Ruby massaged his shoulders from behind, digging her hands into
his skin. I waited outside the privacy wall, peeking in on her through the
leaves. She wore an adorable prairie-style top that showed off her femininity
with grace and style. She worked the man’s shoulders with great focus,
directing each knead with purpose.

My blood flamed. What I would’ve
given to be that man in that moment.

Once the bell dinged, the man paid
her the ten dollars for the ten minute massage. Then, she strolled up to me
wearing a sassy smile that stole my breath. I didn’t recall seeing a woman more
beautiful than she in that moment. Everything about her spelled simplicity and
beauty.

“You look radiant right now,” I said.
“You’re in your element, I can see.”

“It’s only noon and I’ve already made
three hundred bucks.” She looked ready to twirl. Could she be any more
adorable?

“How many people have you massaged
today?”

“I lost count. There are so many. Did
I tell you how happy you’ve made me?”

This flattery tugged at my heart. I
could only smile.

“Shawna’s sending all of the
breakfast customers my way. You’d think she was getting commission or
something.” She leaned against the freestanding register counter and counted
this new money the man handed to her.

“Treat Shawna with the respect she
deserves, and that girl will bend over backwards for you.”

“She tells me you are close.” She
looked up at me with a coy arch to her eye.

My cell rang. Jessica calling on her
lunch break. I dismissed the call and looked back up into Ruby’s angel eyes.
“We take care of each other.”

“She admires you.”

I held Ruby’s gaze. “We’re just
friends.”

“What a shame for her.”

My heart galloped. “She deserves
someone less complicated than I am.”

“You don’t look complicated to me.”
Ruby eased her sweet voice out and landed on a smirk.

“You don’t know me.”

We shared a quiet moment.

My body buzzed to a new level. Even
my tongue tickled.

“Maybe we need to do something about
that,” Ruby said.

“Maybe we do,” I said, running right
over the consequences of employer/employee relations or of my wife for that
matter. I didn’t do this. I didn’t flirt with pretty women.

Shawna rounded the corner and saved
me from committing to anything stupid. “Got another one for you.” She turned
behind her and ushered in a middle-aged lady wearing a taupe suit. “She’s the
one with the magic touch.”

Ruby greeted her with a hug. “Nice to
meet you. Come right over here, and I’ll take good care of you.”

I waved and followed Shawna back to
the lounge, leaving her to sprinkle some of her magic dust on someone else for
the time being.

* *

I got back to my hotel room by two
o’clock that afternoon to refresh for a meeting. Not more than ten minutes into
a quick nap, Jessica called again. I groaned, then answered.

“I missed you earlier. Where were
you?” she asked.

“Working.” My tone was too dry. “It’s
been so crazy busy,” I said with a little more life.

“Everything okay? You don’t sound
like you.”

“I’m just tired.” I sat up now and
fanned myself with a brochure about Block Island. “I had to sit in on an
important meeting.” My first lustful lie. “Did you have something important you
needed to tell me?”

“Not really. I just wanted to say
hi.”

That’s all we ever said to each other
anymore. “Hi,” I said, trying out my best light-hearted tone.

“Hmm.”

The typical dreaded silence seeped in
on us.

“So, did you read the email I sent to
you?” she asked.

“Not yet.” I rolled my eyes. Fucking
bible passages.

“It’s a good one. Really opens up the
mind.”

All of her emails were these long,
drawn out passages about the mystery and awe of God. I believed in God, but I
didn’t want to read about man’s interpretation of Him in an email from my wife
who spent the better part of her life sinning up on a stage.