4: Whispered Words

The reasons we can’t sleep at night
are usually the same reasons
we don’t truly live during the day.

Michael Xavier

Lucy smirked as she headed to bed, unfastening the last of her buttons. Instead of paying attention, Em paced, flexing her fists.

“Comments cut a little close to home?”

Em sighed. “No, although I dislike discussing my private life, it didn’t bother me. Becky was curious about our lifestyle, and Francine wanted to catch up on everything we’ve never discussed. No, my problem is with the situation.” She stopped pacing, turning to Lucy as she held her hands up. “She called me on the road, saying they’d be here in a few days. Instead they show up while I’m at work. I was hoping to get someone to put them up for a few weeks. Maybe Stacy in Bridgehampton or Devon on Fire Island could cover for me. Both would be better than here.”

Lucy scrunched up her face, scowling at the idea. “Stacy? Really?”

“What’s wrong with Stacy? She’s pleasant enough, her place is ideal for a young girl, and she’s crazy about kids.”

Lucy kicked off her heels. “Oh, I’ve got no problems with her apartment. It’s Stacy I have the issue with.” She turned, addressing Em. “I don’t mind you having several girlfriends. I’m patient and figure I can wait the others out. But Stacy is anything but. She’d prefer to eliminate her competition, the sooner the better.”

Em cocked her head, her eyes widening. “Stacy? She’s nice to everyone.”

Lucy gave her a sad smile before unzipping her skirt. “You only see her public persona. She’s always delightful with you. But every time we’ve met, her jealousy is visceral. I’m sure, given her druthers, she’d rip my heart out, chew it up and spit it out at your feet. She’s catty on a whole different level, and I and your other girlfriends are your pet canaries.”

Em studied her as she removed her blouse. “I’ve never seen that side of her. Are you sure it isn’t just the two of you?”

“I’ve only dealt with her a couple times, but whenever we run into each other, she glares at anyone you associate with. Hell, she even punishes Maria—the cute waitress you flirt with—even though you’ve never done anything and she’s happily married.”

Em laid her shirt over her lap, considering Lucy’s revelation. “That’s disappointing. She seemed ideal.”

Lucy set her foot on the bed to unroll her stockings. “Oh, she’d be pleasant ... as long as they give her something—like information on how to get further into your good graces. But as soon as their usefulness waned, all bets are off.”

“How about Devon? I’m sure a young girl like Becky would love Fire Island, even if it’s colder. She’d have miles of open beach, lots of fascinating gay guys to entertain her, and no one to fight off.”

“I don’t think either Francine or Becky has the slightest interest in being anywhere other than here. They came to New York because they trust you. So what’s this tirade about? Do you have issues with Francine? I don’t know her, but she seems pleasant enough and is eager to please.”

Em bundled her blouse into a ball and threw it against a nearby chair, scowling as if targeting someone in particular. She immediately reconsidered, picking it up and carefully folding it.

“Yeah, she sandbags me, and then sics her daughter on me. She’s definitely trying to make points.”

Grinning at Em’s need to maintain control, Lucy casually dropped her stockings on the bed, removing her skirt as if she hadn’t done anything. “You’re exaggerating. She encouraged Becky to open up and not hold back. That’s not an aggressive action. It’s a sign of faith. She trusts you to guide her child through a delicate time with a difficult topic. Which you handled wonderfully, despite your diatribe about the evils of committed relationships. Somehow, I don’t think you’ll convince either to give up on monogamy.”

“Ha, Francine could stand to be a little more discerning. If she’d listened to me over the past decade, she wouldn’t be in this situation. She’s only pleasant because she’s got nowhere else to turn.”

She stopped ranting long enough to collect Lucy’s discarded hosiery. She straightened, folded and placed them neatly on the chair beside the bed.

“You’re not being fair. Although she may not have listened then, she kept your warnings in mind. It just took this long for her to build the nerve to act. I don’t know your brother, or what triggered their actions, but it takes a lot to throw your life aside. They abandoned their possessions. She dragged her teen daughter away from her home. She’s asking the alienated relative of her abusive husband to put them up.” Holding her skirt up, Lucy wiggled her hips, trying to attract Em’s attention. “Again, what’s really bugging you?”

Em sighed, stepping back. She smiled at Lucy’s display, appreciating the delicate Agent Provocateur panties, but shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know. It’s the disruption. They storm into my life with little warning, throw my life upside down and demand attention. Did you witness what they did to my living room? And the wine! I kept moving Francine’s glass to a safe location on a coaster, yet she continued waving it around to emphasize her points. That’s all I need, cheap wine stains on my expensive leather couch.”

“You mean your favorite seduction setting.” Figuring the moment was lost, Lucy unfastened her matching bra, breathing a sigh as her breasts were freed from their constraint. As pretty as it was, it wasn’t designed to support Lucy’s size. “It’s funny how you never complain when one of your conquests drinks there, yet as soon as someone you can’t seduce tries it, you throw a hissy fit. And don’t forget, it’s your wine.”

“It isn’t only the wine, it’s everything. The popcorn on the floor, the clothes thrown everywhere, the way they shoved my stuff into the corner to make room for their crap.”

Lucy indicated her clothing, which Em was arranging on a side chair, arching her eyebrow. “You’ve got to admit, your little bachelorette apartment doesn’t have much room for anyone else. Is your need for control so important you’d turn away family in their hour of need?”

Em sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed as she folded Lucy’s bra before removing hers. “No, I suppose I won’t dump them on someone else. But it’s disconcerting not being able to anticipate and plan things. You know what my life is like. I’m gone most of the time, get unexpected calls at all hours and have to take off at a moment’s notice. I like order. It helps me cope with the disorder in my life. It’s how I deal with the death, destruction and chaos I face daily. It’s the only thing which separates me from the worst of humanity. Every day I witness intelligent people undone by thoughtless actions, one moment of anger destroying their lives. My ... need for control is a way to separate from the uncertainty of my job. It’s my attempt to prove I’m not in the same boat as those I investigate, that my future won’t be destroyed by a stray event. That, by being organized, I can hold the world of uncontrolled anger at bay.”

Lucy laughed as she climbed on Em’s lap. “Yes, your obsession with order is the sole obstruction keeping the hordes from the citadel’s gates.” She gave her girlfriend a kiss before pulling back to stare her in her eyes. “People don’t get into trouble because of a lack of order and structure. They run afoul of the law because they fuck up. Organization has nothing to do with it. Life choices do. Don’t sell your relatives short. Even though they never acted on your advice, your sister-in-law always respected your opinion.”

Em kissed her girlfriend, keeping her tongue in play rather than saying something stupid. But when Lucy pulled back, she couldn’t constrain herself. “Speaking of bad choices and hanging by threads, did you notice how much Francine drank? I checked the fridge, she went through three full bottles.”