The Girls Club (12 page)

As they were putting themselves back together Sarah kissed the back of her neck.  It was strangely erotic, no one had ever done that to her before and she shivered.

“You’re going to go far. Stick by me. I’ll make everything sweet for you. Promise”

She couldn’t think of anything to say though. 

“Just one more thing you can do for me.” she followed Sarah to her office, fastening the last buttons on her shirt.  Sarah rummaged in her desk drawers, Karen noticed with some amusement what looked like a vampire mask appear and then disappear again.

“Ah, here” she tossed her a chauffeurs hat. 

Karen grinned.  She couldn’t help it.

“I need to show up in a limo driven by a hot bitch. Want to fill that position?”
“Sure thing boss” she popped the hat on her head.  She was going to get to see number 10. 

This might be a test you know.

Could be.  All she’d done lately is be tested.  This was a test of her discretion.  She could drive a car. 

Sarah kissed her all the way down in the lift.  Karen felt such a fiery mix of emotions.  There was something under the surface with this woman that she was sure she didn’t like, but she had a body to die for and a smile, it spoke of coming home.

Sarah went into ‘Office Relations’ and across to the bar manager, he gave her some keys and a black jacket.

Karen black Armani’s had been just the ticket, as it turned out they matched the drivers jacket perfectly.

“Here” Sarah placed some reflectorised shades on Karen’s face.  She had a weird feeling then of being rather masculine. 

Opening the back door of the limo she wondered what in blue fuck was going to happen if she couldn’t drive this boat.  It wasn’t the biggest she’d seen but it was the biggest she’d ever driven.

What’s that beach boys song go like, Wipeout!  You could take out half a dozen pedestrians at once with this thing.

A window purred down behind her, “Take it nice and slow, when you’re in a limo you want everyone to notice you.”

Just as well really.  Going quickly wasn’t going to be possible. 

Sarah guided her to a hotel and she hopped out.  Sarah’s date was a tall woman.  She recognised her at once and wasn’t the least bit surprised.  She opened the back door for her and let her in.  Sarah started to chatter with her before the door was even closed. 

The route was simple.  They were going to drive a large circle.  It would take just short of two hours, they’d never be going much more than 20 miles an hour.  Then they would drop the lady back at her hotel.  Sex on the move.  Karen wondered what was happening back home and wondered why she’d not thought of it sooner. 

Behind the tinted glass that separated the back from the front a frenzy of female passion was ensuing.  Sarah took the initiative and ravaged the number 10.  Getting it on with a member of State was going to bode well for her shot at District Attorney one day.  Fuck Scientology for career progression.  This is where a much more powerful axis spun on a different angle.

Karen tried her best not to think of Sarah naked in the back of the limo on her knees in front of the number 10.  A worm of jealousy that was quickly dispelled by her near surety that Sarah knew Demi was actually dead and that she had played some part in it.

She cruised the streets.  Taking it slow, when the ladies in the back started getting vocal she turned the radio on and rolled her side window down to let some night air in.

She couldn’t wait to get home.  She wanted a long hot shower.  Her mobile buzzed in her pocket telling her she had a text.  It would have to keep until she got home.

It was the longest couple of hours she had ever had to live.  When she hopped out onto the side walk to go and open the door for the lady she felt absurdly grateful it was over.  It kinda reminded her of the times she had awoken as a child to hear her parents groans from the next room.  Loud and sickening.  When the quiet came it always felt like some horrible thing had been bypassed.  Peaceful almost.

The lady left the car without a hair out of place.  Sarah also looked as if she butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.  Karen got back behind the wheel and the dividing glass rolled down once more.

“You were great. That was the best ride I’ve ever had.”

“Thanks boss. Where to?”  And she gave her the directions to drop her back off home.  The limo would have to stay there too and Karen would have to cab it back to her place.   

“Want to come up for a coffee?” Sarah asked, she looked very pleased with herself.

“Do you mind if I don’t. I’m beat.”

Sarah looked like she did mind.  But only a little.  She’d be playing a waiting game now.  The report.  Was she in?  A little more tussle would pass the time.

“Ok. See you at work Monday. I appreciate your help”

There you go.  You’ve snubbed her.  Maybe you want to make yourself a sign - ‘Slaughter me now, I’m British and have my suspicions‘.

She went over to Sarah and placed a very hard kiss on her cheek.

“If I had the energy I’d want more than coffee. Its been a fun night” she handed her the hat, jacket and keys.

Sarah softened at once.

“Yeah. Fun for sure. Later Karen”

That was better.  It was time to get home and sort through the mixed bag of emotions that had been dumped in her cerebrum this evening. 

Karen would do well to remember Sarah pulled a lot of strings and if her union tonight had been successful?  Well.  The stars really were the limit.  And people had to leave LA in fear for their lives all the time.  Didn’t mean they were dead.  What was patently obvious though was that Sarah wasn’t what she had built her up in her own mind to be.  The huge steps she had made in personal expansion wouldn’t allow room for murder.  Of that much she could count on 100%.  Sex with women sure.  Murder?  No.  Never.

You keep thinking it like its true.  You don’t know that it is.

A cab finally stopped for her and she gave the address.  Her mobile buzzed again.  The message she’d forgotten.

Waiting for you at yours - Rochelle

That was ages ago. 

What the hell?

The day had been 37 hours long already and it wasn’t over yet.  She paid the cabbie and rode the elevator up to her floor.  Rochelle was sat outside her door.  When she looked up Karen saw she had been crying.  Her face was hectic and wet with tears. 

“Oooh. Come ‘ere”

Rochelle stumbled into her arms from her sitting position, Karen opened the door with one arm clutching the shaking girl to her.

Banging the door shut she walked over to the couch and she let Rochelle cry a little more.  It almost got her to crying, she sounded so hurt, so
pained.

“Come on.” she put her out at arms length, “What’s got you like this?”

Between hitched breaths Rochelle told her about the visit she’d had from the cops.  They’d taken her down town and talked to her in harsh words about the last night she’d seen Demi.  They’d shown her photographs.  Photographs of Demi.  Demi in pieces hung from the Hollywood sign.  A hand.  A forearm.  Half a foot.  One of her breasts.  Someone had even taken the time to loop string through each of her earlobes and hang those to. 

“Oh shit” Karen hugged her closer and wondered when she’d get to see the picture show.

“They said they know it wasn’t me,” she sniffed hard, “…but they say that I know who did it and I needed to tell them about, about, oh, stuff…I, I…I NEVER SAW ANYTHING LIKE THAT BEFORE!”

And she w
ailed. 
Her heart sounded as if it were breaking.  Karen clung to her and let her break.  Something tainted had entered her simple little world and if she didn’t vomit it up it would sit and rot.

“Do they think its me?” 

“They never said. I CAN SEE IT WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES!”

“Jesus” Against her best wishes she was now crying a little.  What a frightful loss of innocence, Rochelle didn’t have a harmful bone in her body and now they had raped her mind with gory visions. 
Bastards.

Rochelle was quieting down a little.  Karen made her a good strong cup of tea and gave her two aspirin.  All that crying was apt to give her a headache.

“I never wanted this. Never.”

“I know”

Karen kissed her on the mouth.  Rochelle couldn’t look her in the eye.

Love your friends.

“Come on through. Its about time I returned the favour. You can sleep in my bed tonight”

Rochelle looked dumb struck.  Shell-shocked.

“Will you hold me?”

“Of course.” and she held her hand out.

It wasn’t intimacy Rosh needed.  Karen sensed that.  But she for damn sure would make sure she felt protected tonight.  It was stupid to direct her anger at the cops.  Demi was the real victim here.  Had Sarah known this was to come?  Dammit, if she’d have had her head screwed on right this morning, correction,
yesterday morning,
she have been a wiser woman before making the fatal mistake of sleeping with her boss.

Or seeing the Lady tonight.  If sleeping with Sarah won’t get you killed then who you saw tonight just might.

She pushed it out of her head and concentrated on the here and now.  Rochelle was making feeble attempts to pull her shirt off and Karen went round and undid it for her, she gave her some pj’s to wear.

Snuggled together she could feel the panic that had been thrumming through the office assistants body begin to subside.  She had her arms round her and Rochelle was tucked against her.  Good job it was Sunday am.  They could sleep late.  Maybe sleep would make all of this seem a little less real. 

Like Demi is?  A little less real?

Not what she’d meant but its what she’d thought.

Wonder if Miss Steiger had it arranged special.  Sounds awfully like a word of warning.  A very visible display like that is meant to be taken notice off.

Wonder what they did with her tattoo?

“Karen” she asked in a sleep furry voice.

“Uh-huh”

“Will you take care of me?”

“’Course I will. I said we were best friends and I meant it” she kissed her hair and felt Rochelle relax.

Strange times eh?  If you had money or somewhere else to go maybe it wouldn’t feel so claustrophobic.

Then she slept. 

When she woke up Rochelle was already up.  Karen could smell cooking bacon. 

My God, when was the last time you ate a cooked breakfast?

Smiling she padded through to the kitchen area and her heart was happy to see Rochelle looked a little easier this morning.  There were still dark circles under her eyes but her colour had perked up a bit.  She’d looked ghastly last night.

“Morning Rosh”

“Morning you crazy Brit” she leaned over the counter and kissed her cheek.

“You know, you didn’t have to”

“I know” she cooked with defined skill, Karen had never been a domestic creature and Rochelle made her slightly jealous.

“Any plans for today?”

“Yeah”

“Do tell”

“We’re going to the beach”

Karen nearly choked on her toast.  She started to cough, crumbs everywhere.  Rochelle came round, skillet still in hand and gave her a hearty thump on the back.

“Wha…”,
cough,
“…ell”,
cough,
“…thinking?”

She gave her a glass of water to sip.  Tears were rolling down Karen’s face and Rosh was trying really hard not to laugh, the sides of her lips were wobbling up and down.

“You talk funny”

“I can’t…”,
cough,
“Talk at all”

When she could breathe properly again she asked Rosh if she was feeling alright.

Dishing up the bacon and eggs she looked at Karen levelly.

“I’m fine. And I want to enjoy my day off. Yesterday got kinda fucked up”

“Ok. I can be cool with that. Except for one thing”

Rosh nibbled crispy bacon, “What?”

“I don’t have a swimming cossie”

“What the fucks a ‘cos-sie’?”

“Swim suit” Karen raised her eyebrow and Rosh started laughing.

“I’m sure we can find you one of those all-in-one 1940’s wet suits somewhere.”

“Cow!” she flung toast at her, Rosh threw a fork full of eggs back.  Bacon, toast and eggs became the artillery of choice and diving around the tin can sized flat they did their level best to daub each other in their Sunday brunch.

The whole affair came crashing to an end with an impromptu dive across the bed by Rochelle which ended in a clattered heap and bumped funny bone. 

Karen put a bag of cold peas on it, her eyebrow at its most jaunty angle, Rosh, crying tears of sheer giddiness and pain, watched her as she went round scooping up food from the various points of combat in the apartment.

“We can get you something to wear. Damn you British, don’t you ever shop for clothes?”