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“Hi, honey,” she thought. Obviously a wrong number. Also, she knew nobody named Rachel.
Lois removed her earbuds as Gemma put her phone down. “Going out tonight?” she asked hopefully.
“With Miko,” Gemma replied.
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Well, that’s nice. But, really, Gemma, you should get out more, find a woman to settle down with.”
Gemma turned to catch Lois’s eye. She grinned. She liked to show how open-minded she was by making remarks like that. But Gemma hadn’t forgotten that five years ago when they first met, Lois had been extremely uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a cube with a lesbian. She tried not to show it, but it came through in subtle ways. She seemed to be afraid that Gemma was some kind of sex maniac who would attack her and, somehow, maybe with witchcraft, force her to do unspeakable things with women.
As if! Gemma thought, rolling her eyes. Five years later, Lois seemed to have evolved. Maybe because Gemma was single. A lesbian who doesn’t sleep with women isn’t all that offensive to anybody. Maybe I don’t even deserve to be called a lesbian, she thought. Although she had not been celibate the entire five years, not completely. There was the occasional date that turned into two or three dates before everything blew up in her face. But Lois knew nothing about those dates. To her, Gemma was a safe and cuddly kind of lesbian. Didn’t give offense. Easy to love.
“How’s your mother?” Lois asked.
“I’ve got her in a new place, River Gardens. It seems okay, so far. Except, of course, for the food. I take her homemade things as often as I can. I just don’t understand why institution food has to be so bad. Maybe in prisons it makes sense. After all, it’s prison and things aren’t supposed to be high class, but in a nursing home, why can’t people get some fresh fruit or a salad now and then? Everything’s preservative-laden, highly processed, monotone brown stuff. I’ve tasted it plenty of times, so I know how bad it is, and it would be even worse if you had to eat it every day.”
“I know what you mean. My father was in one of those places for a while. That was the main thing he complained about, the tasteless food. When you have an eighty-five-year-old suffering from a dozen different ailments and the food is his main complaint, something is seriously wrong with it.”
“Why can’t somebody do something about that?”
Lois shook her head. “It’s probably just too big a challenge. They have to feed a lot of people with a small budget and staff.”
“I know, but there ought to be some improvements possible within those parameters. Somebody with some drive and a few good ideas could really make a difference.”
Lois nodded thoughtfully, then put her earbuds back in and proceeded to hum.
* * *
Miko placed a glass of chardonnay in front of Gemma, then took her seat and settled her own glass beside her plate where four cherry tomatoes had been pushed to the side as she had eaten her salad. Gemma had a hard time understanding somebody not liking tomatoes, but Miko had her quirks. She crossed her legs, adjusted her blouse, then picked up her glass for a sip. Miko always looked ready for a photo shoot—her flaxen hair was shiny, clean and orderly under a royal blue tam-o’-shanter, and her makeup, expertly blended with her natural skin tone, looked freshly applied. Miko liked hats and they helped show off her mood and personality.
Miko took a lot of trouble with her looks, and maybe the end result was worth it. She was always lovely, well-groomed and well-coordinated. She was one of those women who had to have two hours to get dressed in the morning. Maybe that was the reason she still lived alone, Gemma surmised, tasting her wine. In Gemma’s experience with lesbians, they didn’t have much patience for Miko’s style of “getting ready.” A lot of them were ready five minutes after you said, “Let’s go.” They wriggled into a sports bra, shoved their feet into sandals, and they were out the door. Gemma was somewhere in between, and she had heard her share of exasperated sighs, jangling keys and toe tapping. Sometimes she was ecstatic that she was single. Sometimes.
“Thanks for having dinner with me,” Miko said. “After that reaming by my boss, I needed to vent. He’s just such a jerk. How was I supposed to know that girl was somebody? She looked like a hooker. So why would I give her the royal welcome? Then she turns out to be somebody’s bitch of a daughter and he says, ‘You should have known. It’s your job to know.’ Really? It’s my job to know everybody’s kids’ names?”
Stormy came by to collect their plates and the glasses from their first round of drinks. “Anything else, girls?” she asked, her voice raspy from decades of smoking. Stormy was a tough-looking fifty-year-old with straw-like hair held back in a tight ponytail. She had dark roots and dark eyebrows, but even without the roots, the dye job wouldn’t have fooled anybody. She wore a sleeveless top, exposing her tanned, hide-like arms and a classic barbed wire tattoo around her bicep. The barbs, like the arms themselves, had lost some of their definition over time.
“No, thanks,” Gemma said. “This’ll be it.”
“I’ll get your check.” Stormy withdrew.
“What was her name?” Gemma asked.
“Whose name?”
“The girl you threw out this afternoon?”
“Ashley Roth Livingston.” Miko pronounced the name with her nose in the air. “I’m not going to forget that name now, believe me.”
Gemma fingered her napkin thoughtfully, avoiding Miko’s eye.
“You know who she is!” Miko guessed.
Gemma shrugged. “She’s the daughter of our state senator, possibly on her way to becoming the daughter of California’s next governor.”
“How do you know that?”
“I watch the news. Sorry, Miko. Maybe you shouldn’t automatically assume every grungy-looking young woman is a prostitute. The shabby look is very popular these days. The kids want a hairdo that looks like they took a weed whacker to it.”
Miko narrowed her eyes skeptically. “Is that the look you’re going for? Shabby chic?”
Gemma looked down at her clothes, the pants worn almost through at the knees and the shapeless sweater with a small stain over the left breast. She hadn’t noticed it until she was at work. Dabbing at the stain with a wet paper towel in the restroom had done no good. “So you’re going to attack me now, your best friend?”
“Sorry. You look beautiful, as always.” Miko fluttered her eyelashes, making Gemma smile. “But your hair…”
Gemma stroked the back of her hair self-consciously, thinking, It isn’t that bad.
“You really should make more of an effort.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how you’re going to attract your dream girl, that’s why. You’re not some princess in a fairy tale where some gorgeous dyke is going to ride in on a white horse, take one look at you and fall madly and forever in love. You have to put in the effort.”
Gemma sighed. “If I see anything remotely resembling a gorgeous dyke on a white horse, I’ll put in some effort. But for the last few years, they’ve all been toads, so why bother?”
Miko smiled. “All the more reason to try harder. There aren’t that many good ones out there.”
A rush of cool outside air drew Gemma’s attention to the door as it opened. A police officer stepped inside and took off her cap, revealing wavy sable-colored hair with bangs hanging down over her left eye. She swept the bangs aside and glanced around the room, her gaze lighting on Gemma. She seemed momentarily startled, but she held Gemma’s gaze, looking at her as if they knew one another. The cop was nicely proportioned and attractive with well-defined cheekbones, a generous mouth and deep brown eyes with naturally thick eyelashes.
Miko leaned across the table and whispered, “Look what just walked in!”
“I saw it.” Gemma turned back to her table and took a sip of wine.
“Nice, huh?”
Gemma watched out of the corner of her eye as the cop walked up to the bar and slid onto a stool, facing away from them. “If you like that kind of thing,” she said indifferently.
“You mean a hot-woman-in-a-uniform kind of thing?”
Gemma shrugged.
“Look at her,” urged Miko. “She looks terrific in that uniform.”
Gemma looked at the straight back of the police officer. “Yeah, so what? Take off the uniform and what have you got?”
“You got lucky!” Miko laughed her shrill cackle, drawing a glance of curiosity from the cop.
“You know what I mean,” said Gemma quietly. “I prefer brains to brawn.”
“Girl, there is no rule that says you can’t have both. If you’re not interested, she’s all mine, which is more than fine with me.”
“Go for it,” Gemma said with a wave of her hand.
* * *
God, this is painful, Dani thought, resisting the urge to turn around and look at Gemma again. She looked just as she had this morning when they had said their strained good-byes. She was beautiful, her light brown hair framing her face in soft waves. It was a face Dani knew better than her own, a face she had awakened to each morning and fallen asleep with each night for the last four years. But when their eyes had met, there was no recognition there. In fact, there was no interest either. When Gemma had turned away just now, Dani had felt like somebody had stabbed her in the heart.
Maybe coming here was a bad idea. But after an hour of waiting at the apartment, she had decided to try looking for Gemma at one of their hangouts with both hope and dread building in her mind. By this time, Dani was forced to admit to herself that she was either still stuck in an incredibly realistic nightmare or the unthinkable really had happened. She had known on her way over here that it was likely Gemma would have no more familiarity with her than anyone else had, and that was going to hurt like hell. Still, how could she resist?
She had at least been able to prepare this time, but preparing intellectually did little to cushion the emotional impact.
When Stormy came over to take her order, she said, “Hey, Storm, how are you?”
She took a long look at Dani and said, “Do I know you, Officer?”
Geez, what a dipstick I am! For a moment, Dani had forgotten that nobody knew her in this nightmare. She had to be more careful.
“I’ve been around before,” she said, “but it’s been a while. Nice to see you’re still here. Officer Daniella Barsetti. You can call me Dani.” She set her cap on the bar. “I’ll have a club soda with a lime twist.”
“This isn’t an official call, is it?” Stormy asked.
“No, no. I’m off duty. Just need to relax.”
Stormy’s upper lip lifted to reveal her top row of teeth in her characteristic grin. She popped open a can of club soda and poured it into a glass. Then she went about her business, leaving Dani to slowly make her way to the bottom of the pretzel bowl. She was close enough to Gemma’s table to hear Miko’s piercing voice, but not close enough to hear what she was saying, not over the noise of the squeaky electric fan running behind the bar. Like a lot of San Francisco buildings, this one didn’t have air-conditioning. It wasn’t normally needed. It had been a warm day, but not hot enough to need a fan running at top speed. But Stormy always ran hot lately. Sometimes she’d put an ice cube between her boobs and let it melt there, much to the amusement of customers. The fan was for her, not them.
Miko laughed frequently and Dani’s nightmare began to take on new levels of horror as she considered that without herself in the picture, Miko and Gemma might actually become…or might already be…lovers.
“Miko and I could never be more than friends,” Gemma had said more than once. It was the sort of thing you said to your wife to reassure her. Not that Dani had ever worried about Miko. Those two had been friends since high school. They loved one another, but it just wasn’t like that and it never had been. It never had been in her reality, she cautioned herself, but who knew what could happen in this one?
She took a surreptitious look in their direction. There was no ring on Gemma’s left hand. Not Dani’s and not anybody else’s. She glanced at her own hand, at the wedding ring Gemma had placed there. They’d told her that inanimate objects could go back and forth unchanged, that she would be wearing whatever she wore when she transported, that objects in her pockets could travel with her. That was why she was able to bring the transport beacon with her, a device that had obviously not yet been invented in this time.
She shook her head. She would never understand all the bullshit Hale had given her. Probably because that’s what it was, bullshit. It wasn’t like she was stupid or something. She wasn’t stupid enough to believe that line of time-travel bullshit, for instance.
Even if—so far—everybody was acting just like Swenson and Hale said they would.
She put her hands below the bar and slipped off the ring, tucking it into a case on her belt.
“Rough day?” Stormy asked, coming by to check on her.
“Very rough day.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Dani had to laugh. “Yes,” she said, “but you wouldn’t believe me, so, no. Thanks.”
Stormy shrugged and stepped away. As Dani turned again to glance at Gemma, they caught one another’s gaze. Gemma smiled. It wasn’t the comfortable smile of a good friend nor the shy smile of a self-conscious lover. It was the polite smile of a stranger. Dani tried to smile back, but was sure it fizzled. She turned back to the bar, feeling devastated. After a few seconds, she pinched her forearm. Yep, it hurt. What was that supposed to prove? she wondered.
As her drink disappeared, she began to consider the possibility that this was reality after all. What if she were awake and this had really happened to her? Was this how it would end for her and Gemma? A polite smile in a restaurant? She would never have known her, never have kissed her? In fact, nobody would ever have known her or kissed her. It would be like the first twenty-nine years of her life had been erased.
Oh, God, Gemma, this can’t be happening!
“Hey, Dani, you okay?”
She realized Stormy was the only person in this world who knew her name. She didn’t know her well, but she had already started to know her. What about Gemma? she thought. In the few days Dani had here, could they get to know one another again? Could they get close enough so that saying good-bye would actually mean something? At least she could say, “Good-bye, Gemma” and get a look from her that wasn’t the polite smile of a stranger. That would be something to take away, something to treasure.
“Dani?” Stormy asked again.
Dani looked up from her puddle of grief to see Stormy looking concerned.
Seeing that look nearly made Dani cry with gratitude. She composed herself and said, “I’m fine. Just a rough day, like I said. But I’ll be fine.”
A moment later Miko was standing beside her. “We haven’t seen you in here before, my friend and I,” she said, thrusting out one hip and jerking her head toward Gemma, who was looking out the window, unconcerned with them. “This is sort of our hangout.”
“It seems like a nice neighborhood place,” Dani replied.
“Can I buy you another one of whatever that is you’re drinking?” Miko batted her mascara-thickened lashes.
“No, thanks. I’m just having the one.”
“Then how about buying me another glass of wine?”
Miko stood very close, her vampire eyes penetrating deep into Dani’s. If Dani had not been so upset, she might have laughed.
“What about your friend?” she asked.
“Naw, two’s her limit.”
Dani shrugged. “Okay, sure. Stormy, can you set up my friend here with another?”
“I’m Miko,” she said, smiling.
“Dani.” She glanced back at the table where Gemma still stared out the window, as if she were determined not to show any interest.
Stormy set the wineglass in front of Miko, who climbed up on the stool next to Dani to set her seduction routine in motion.
Dani took another gulp from her glass and put a hundred-dollar bill on the bar, pushing it toward Stormy. “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got.”
“No problem, hon,” Stormy replied. She took the money to the register and brought back change.
Dani stuffed a twenty into the tip jar.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Miko asked.
“Yeah, I’ve gotta get going.”
Gemma appeared behind them with her purse hanging off her shoulder. “I’m taking off,” she said to Miko.
“Stay a while longer, both of you. The night is young.”
“Still,” Gemma said, “I have to work tomorrow, so see you later.”
Gemma gave Dani a noncommittal look, then slipped out of the restaurant. Dani stood and grabbed her cap off the bar.
“Sit down, Dani,” Miko said. “Let’s talk.”
“Sorry, I’ve got to go too. Nice to meet you, Miko. See you around.”
Miko shook her head, her lips set in an exaggerated pout. Dani knew she would sit there and drink and get sad. That was her MO. After four glasses of wine, Stormy would shove her out and she would stumble down the street to her apartment building.
Dani dashed outside into the cool, breezy evening air and trotted along the sidewalk to catch up with Gemma at the corner where she waited for a green light.
“Hey,” she said.
Gemma looked startled. “Yes?”
“I thought you might let me walk you home.”
“Really? What makes you think I’m not driving?”
That threw her. “Uh, well, you wouldn’t, would you? Not after two glasses of wine. Because then I’d have to arrest you. My name’s Dani, by the way.”
“Gemma. And you’re right. I’m walking, but I hardly need a police escort.” The light turned green and Gemma turned away and crossed the street.
Dani dashed across to join her. “I’m sure you don’t. But I’m feeling a little vulnerable myself and wouldn’t mind some protection.”
