Coming Attractions (12 page)

“You’re nuts,” Blair said. “And how do you figure in with this grand display of yours? Hide behind your column and write about it afterward? How incredibly brave of you, Ms. Townsend. We risk our necks so you and Chamberlain can hold hands in public.”

Blair’s sarcasm brought a quick reaction from Cory. With a snap of her arm she shoved her bottle of spring water into Kim’s hand and quickly approached Blair who stood with a smile.

“Watch your words, Blair,” Cory said, her face inches away from Blair’s. “I won’t permit anyone to speak to Helen like that.”

Helen smiled to herself as she listened to the exchange. Protection? Possessiveness? Territorial boundaries not to be trespassed upon, and especially by the likes of Blair? Helen looked over to where Kim stood—still smiling. Maybe Helen should set up a few boundaries of her own.

Don’t cross my line, Kim who plays a cello. I trust the Japanese with my electronics but not with my woman.

“Come off it, Chamberlain,” Blair said. “Do you have to be so damn honorable?”

“Honorable is better than inebriated, and it’s because of your inebriation that I won’t ask you to apologize to Helen.” Cory quieted. “Now…” She reached up and straightened Blair’s collar. “Listen to Helen or don’t. Just keep your pretty lips shut.” She returned to her place beside Kim.

Blair was appalled. “Stacey, are you going to allow her to talk to me like that? Can’t you put a leash—” She was mortified when Stacey grabbed her by the arm, led her to a sofa, and pushed her down with a heavy hand.

“Yes, I can. Stop being a pain in the ass, Blair.” Stacey sat beside her and nodded for Helen to continue.

Helen answered Blair. “I want to be there, as MC for the evening. I’m not the talent showcase. That will be provided by all of you.”

Marty joined Helen and placed her hand on her leg. She turned to the group. “I want to do it. Let’s shake ’em up a little.”

“Someone’s already shaken Helen too much. Her brain’s loosened up,” Blair said.

Cory started for Blair but stopped when Stacey grabbed Blair’s arm. Stacey warned her. “You’ve got nothing on me, you little actress. I won’t think twice about sending you out the door.”

Blair seethed with anger and humiliation. She glared at Stacey and pushed herself from the sofa. “I don’t have to take this abuse. Get my coat,” she demanded of her hostess.

“Get it yourself,” Stacey said and joined the women at the bar. Blair stormed to the closet and pulled her coat on. “Good night, Blair.”

Blair pointed to Helen. “Don’t let her fuck up your lives,” she said to the room and then pointed to Stacey. “I’ll talk to
you
later.” She slammed the door behind her.

Except for Judy torching “Stormy Weather,” the room was quiet, and when Stacey brushed against Helen’s arm, Helen jumped.

“Turn up the volume, Jenny. Come on, guys, relax,” Stacey said to her guests.

“So that’s Blair Whitman. Whew!” Helen pretended to wipe her brow.

“That was nothing, sweetheart,” Marty said and grabbed a celery stick from the bar. “She behaved rather well.”

Cory still watched the door. “Why did she act like a wounded puppy when you—”

“I’ve never seen her react to anyone like that,” Marty said to Helen.

Stacey grinned. “I’ll pay for it. Blair and I, well, we’ve been…sort of, uh…seeing each other for the past month.”

“What?” Marty said.

“Nothing serious. You know me. We’re just dating,” she said and poured herself another glass of wine.

“We do know you,” Marty said. “You’re dating her brains out.”

With Blair out of the way, Helen mingled and found that everyone was at least talking about her idea. There was an air of skepticism combined with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

“Give it some thought,” she said to them. “Just let me know in a few weeks.”

Helen joined Cory, who was again closerthanthis to Kim. Stacey ousted Judy’s album and replaced her with Doris Day. What would be, would be.

“It’s an interesting idea,” Kim said. “I’ll think about it, and I’d like to have your number.”

“Of course. Before we leave.” She turned to Cory. “Let’s finish our dance.”

“I think you’ll win some over,” Cory said. “Artists love power, and you’ve just offered us the world.”

Cory placed her hands near Helen’s throat. Helen enjoyed the soft stroke of fingers that brushed her neck. It was Cory’s favorite resting place for fingers and her lips.

“Helen,” Cory said, “there’s something you need to know.”

Helen’s stomach knotted.

Damn it. She seldom called her Helen unless it was serious. And that damn Kim still watched them and smiled. Fine. Tell me you and Kim are seeing each other. Tell me you need your space. Just go ahead and shred my heart to pieces, right here in front of Marty and Jenny and Jay and Stacey. Damn it all. I’m falling in love with you. Don’t you know that?

“Why doesn’t she take her flawless face right the hell out of here?” Helen grumbled loudly.

Cory took a step back. “Excuse me?”

“Kim.” Helen narrowed her eyes toward Kim and then she looked at Cory. “Is she what you have to tell me about?”

“You think Kim and I—”

“I understand you may see other women—”

“Really?”

“—but you could have chosen a better time.”

Cory grabbed Helen’s belt buckle and yanked her closer. “What kind of a person do you think I am?”

“Ambushes are in your blood. How pompous you must feel having both of—”

“Both of who?”

“Well, look at the two of you. All night. Smiles and giggles.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling.”

“It’s perfectly clear, Helen. You’re jealous.”

“It’s not like I’ve put a ring on your finger, but—”

“I see.” Cory’s expression softened. “Would you like the bottom line?”

“The very bottom line, and don’t look so smug.”

“Okay.” She looked into Helen’s eyes and with her fingertips drew a line from Helen’s chin to the back of her neck. Helen tried not to weaken from her look and her touch, but the situation was hopeless. “I’m Delphinus,” she said.

Helen remembered the constellation and leaned her cheek into Cory’s warm palm. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked with all of the weakness that the touch had provoked.

“I want you to take another look, Helen. Look deeper, beyond the surface. You’ll find where I am with you.”

Helen searched the eyes that she hadn’t resisted from day one, that she couldn’t resist tonight, and that she knew she wouldn’t resist thirty years from now. That she was sure of. She was also sure that Cory was the most important part of her life. Helen looked long into those eyes and soon caught her own reflection, the reflection of a woman in love. That’s what Helen found.

Cory pulled Helen slowly against her. Her arms wrapped tightly around her, and Helen melted into them. Helen kissed Cory’s neck, her ear. She nuzzled into her silky hair, wanting her, not wanting to share her.

She’s yours, Helen. Tell her.

“I love you,” Helen whispered into Cory’s ear.

Cory murmured a soft sound of joy and held Helen tighter. “I love you, too.” She brushed her thumb across Helen’s lips and replaced it with her mouth. Their kiss was gentle and finalized their words. Cory moved back slightly. “It’s early for us, but in the future we might decide to be together permanently. We can’t be married in New York, but if we could, I’d be sure to ask you.”

Helen liked the thought. She cocked her head. “Ask me now.”

“Maybe someday you’ll marry me? Would you be my bride?”

Having Cory to love and to feel loved by her presented an irresistible package for Helen. But there was one matter that, if they couldn’t agree upon it, could change the course of their relationship immediately.

“One of the first things you knew about me is that I want out of the closet,” she said and Cory nodded. “Living together is a statement without much danger. Boasting about it to an auditorium full of people, however, could prove hazardous to our careers and to our lives. If we’re together, I need you on stage with me or we won’t work.”

“I’m proud to love you. I’ll be with you that night.”

Helen took Cory’s hands into hers, pulled her close, and held tightly. At the very least, they could exchange rings with private vows. Maybe invite some friends and maybe not. They could legally take the other’s name. Helen Townsend-Chamberlain. She liked the hyphen.

“Yes, baby,” she said in answer to Cory’s proposal. “The odds are in your favor.” As an afterthought she joked, “Do I get a pre-engagement ring?”

“I had something a bit different in mind. Close your eyes.” Helen closed her eyes and felt Cory’s fingers place something around her neck, and then she turned her around. “Now open them.”

She’d been strategically danced to a mirror. In the reflection dangled a delicate gold chain around her neck with a stunning pear-shaped emerald. It rested gracefully below her throat as if cultured specifically to lie there.

Tears came to Helen’s eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she said and ran her fingers along the chain. It was Helen’s bottle of Midori, the same chromatic essence that became Cory. She turned back to her. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Yes.” Cory gathered the stone into her hand. “It took a while to find the right stone.”

“No, I mean you.” Helen slipped a ring from her hand. An opal was surrounded by tiny pearls. It had belonged to her great-grandmother, Emily Townsend. Helen placed it on Cory’s left hand. “Now it’s complete.”

Cory twisted the ring back and forth. Fiery orange and fluorescent green came alive. She’d always admired the ring, had often toyed with it during their hours of snuggle-talk, and she knew the ring was an heirloom.

“Are you sure you want to let it out of the family?”

“You’re my family now, baby. You’re my future.”

Chapter Thirteen

If nothing came of Helen’s proposed cavalcade of stars, at least she’d made friends with Marty. They were almost inseparable when Cory was away. Shopping, dining, and even an occasional night of just two girls sitting around and shooting the bull over cocktails. Marty was fun, but brutal with her exercise, especially when she needed to burn some calories.

In Marty’s living room, Helen dropped to the floor, exhausted from their tyrannical workout. She panted and coughed. Her hair was plastered to the sides of her face. Sweat streamed down her back, between her breasts, down the back of her shorts. Vast wet spots soaked her underarms. She wiped her face with a towel, coughed again, and stared at the hardwood floor. Marty stretched onto her back and continued with cool-down exercises.

It took all her remaining energy for Helen to ask the big question. “Are we sweating or glistening?”

Marty laughed. “We smell like the Bronx Zoo. My guess is sweating.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled and watched Marty, who was obviously not sharing Helen’s near-death experience. “How can you do this day after day?”

“It’s my life, sweetheart.” She lifted both knees from the floor toward her chin, lowered them, and repeated the exercise several times. “Gotta do it to dance.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “What do writers do to keep their fingers in shape?” She made crawly spider motions with her hands.

“Hell, I still don’t know how to type.” Helen wiped her face again. “My eyes dart around that keyboard like I’m watching a miniature tennis match.”

“Really? Tiny Martinas and Gabriellas battling from A to L. Come on.” She grunted, pushed herself up, and yanked Helen to her feet. “Let’s get some fluids back into us.”

Helen plopped onto the kitchen chair and chugged her glass of orange-pineapple juice. She then dangled her arms, resigned to exhaustion. “Just shoot me now.” She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “I must have a death wish. I’ve been doing this for three weeks with you. This isn’t a friendship. This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“You’ll live. Besides, we need you.” Marty took a Salem from the pack on the table, lit it, and inhaled deeply. “Do you mind?” she asked and blew out the smoke.

“No. What do you mean? Who needs me?”

She dragged again. “People listen when you talk. Do you realize that?”

“Well, yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have a column. What people are you referring to?”

“The gang. Us. That group of dummies you sliced your wrists for. We’re selling our souls for you, sweetheart. Hasn’t anyone called you?”

“No,” she said, dumbfounded from the sudden news.

“It figures. They think everybody can read their minds. Stardom does it.” Marty scratched vigorously at her scalp. “I need a shower.”

“I can see that. Now tell me what’s going on!”

Marty tapped ashes into the ashtray. “We figured you would take care of all that.”

Helen threw her arms into the air. “All of what? I didn’t even know—” The phone rang.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t believe this,” Helen said with disgust to the empty kitchen. Then she sighed. “I seem to spend a lot of time lately talking to empty rooms or condiments. Or myself.”

Marty returned, in a flurry of excitement. “I have to run out.” She shoved a towel and facecloth into Helen’s hand. “Grab a shower. I’ll be back soon.”

“Marty!”

“Later,” she said while trotting down the hallway. The front door slammed shut.

Helen found the bathroom, stripped, and studied her body in a mirrored wall. Sideways, definitely her favorite angle because she couldn’t see the width of her hips, which weren’t so bad except in her own mind. Her breasts were still firm and her thighs were holding up well.

A light birthmark, the shape of a quarter rest, near the top of her right thigh reminded her that Cory would return from Atlanta tomorrow. She touched the mark and smiled. Cory often rested there. Helen missed her with her constant traveling, but if the symphony decided to accept her as maestro, she would settle in or around Boston and then they would deal with how to be together. At least she wouldn’t be gallivanting all over the world.

During her shower, Helen remembered one of the many discussions they’d had concerning Cory’s relocation.