Authors: Fiona Zedde
"I'm Nikki. All three of these are my children."
Lydia laughed at his expression. "Stepchildren, she means.
At least us two. That one over there is Sinclair. I'm Lydia."
"Good to meet you," Alton said with a smile. "I was just
about to say that you don't look your age, Nikki."
"She looks every day of her twenty-two years, so don't
you dare try to tell her otherwise." Lydia slipped her arm
around her stepmother's waist, chortling.
"Alton, help me out here, please." Kathleen's desperate
voice interrupted their lovefest.
"Excuse me." Alton went to help gather the fleeing children.
"Come on, Xavie. You can visit with your friends later."
Nikki took his hand and waved at Alton and his brood, then
they were off again.
"They were nice people," Nikki said.
"Yeah, that Alton guy kept staring at your breasts the
whole time."
"Shh!" Nikki shushed Lydia, pointing to her son.
"Sorry to burst your parental bubble, but he already
knows what breasts are."
"He does not!" She looked at Sinclair for support, but her
stepdaughter merely shrugged and walked ahead.
Lydia grinned and gave her brother a hundred-dollar bill
to buy the ice-cream cake he was so obviously ogling. They
all waited while he got his cake and the change before forging their way through the crowd to get to the main stage.
Two hours later, with darkness coming swiftly on the heels
of the falling sun, they piled into the convertible and headed
for home.
"That was the best!" Xavier hopped up and down in the
backseat, straining against his seatbelt. "Spragga jumped so
high and sing so fast!"
"That's what he got paid to do." Lydia guided the car
through traffic, smiling.
"We had a really good time, Lydia," Nikki said, resting
her fingers lightly on her son's neck. "Thanks for coming by
to get us."
"No problem."
Lydia seemed to have needed the distraction of their company as much as Xavier had needed this outing. She looked a
little tired.
"Everything been all right with you, Lydia?"
"Good. Everything is good." She looked back at Nikki in
the rearview mirror as if still trying to convince her.
At home they put Xavier and Nikki to bed, poured two
glasses of something stronger than carrot juice and sat on the
verandah. Sinclair was the first to speak.
"So is everything really OK, Lydia?"
"Not really. But you know people are always saying that,
if you say that something is, then it will be."
"Right." Sinclair was unconvinced. "So what's wrong?"
"You know that Hunter and I broke up last week, right?"
Sinclair stiffened. Had it only been a week? "I didn't know
for sure, but I suspected when Papa made such a big deal
about you not bringing her to the beach cookout."
"Did you?" Lydia sipped her Grand Marnier. "I guess I
wasn't being as subtle as I thought."
"What happened?"
"The details aren't that important. We hadn't really been
talking for a few days, then I tracked her down at the party
to get some things out in the air. I let it slip about why I
couldn't let her touch me and she broke it off." She sighed. "I
thought I'd be relieved, but I'm not."
"Do you want her back?"
"No. It's not even that. She's the best looking woman on
this island. The most eligible dyke bachelor so to speak, but
I-" she sighed. "I do want her back."
"Does she know that?"
"No, not yet. But I'm going to let her know this week."
"Don't you think you're being a little flighty?"
"What do you mean? It's a woman's prerogative to change
her mind, isn't it?"
"Not when it means jerking somebody around emotionally." Would Hunter jump at the chance to have Lydia back if
she was willing to put out?
They both looked up as the door opened and Nikki came
out of the house rubbing her eyes. She had the telephone in
her hand. "It's for you, Sinclair."
"Thanks. Excuse me, Lydia."
She took the phone and walked into the house behind
Nikki. The younger woman slid her a quick look but said
nothing before disappearing into her bedroom door.
"Hello?"
"You didn't call."
Sinclair leaned back against the kitchen wall, smiling stupidly. "Is that why you tracked me down?"
"I was going to come over, but I thought two nights in a
row might be a little bit much."
"A bit much for what?" Sinclair's voice was breathless,
low. She forgot about Lydia waiting for her on the verandah.
"Not that. Definitely not that. I just didn't want to turn
your father's house into my personal playroom."
"Logic. Sometimes it sucks." She took a trembling breath.
"I want to see you. In the daylight. I know you have work to
do, though."
"That's what all-nighters are for."
"I thought we already had one of those."
"Very funny, Ms. Sinclair. Tomorrow. I can pick you up tomorrow. We can spend the day together, go sightseeing or
something."
Sightseeing? "That sounds fine."
"Don't sound so excited. I'll make it worth your while."
"I'm sure you will." She heard a noise from outside. "By
the way, Lydia is here."
"She's not invited on our field trip."
"She-oh, never mind. I guess she'll talk to you about it
herself. I'm not going to get in the middle of things." Though
it might be a little late for that.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'll see you
tomorrow."
Hunter made a rude noise. "Fine. Tomorrow."
She hung up the phone and went back out to Lydia.
"Hmm, you certainly look sparkly and new," her sister
said, raising her glass. "Must have been quite a phone call."
"It was." Sinclair picked up her glass and took a sip. "So
what are you up to for the rest of the night?"
After a smirking look she shrugged. "I hadn't really
thought about it beyond the visit here. I've been seeing a
woman in the valley on and off, so I might go see her tonight.
She's always good for a bit of fun."
"So you want Hunter and this girl, too? What's that
about?"
"Don't be so judgmental, Sinclair. This woman was giving
me what I couldn't get from Hunter. It was never emotional
between us."
"And that makes it all right?"
"It does, believe me. I'm sure Hunter is getting her kitty
stroked by someone else. She isn't moping around waiting
for me. Della's probably never stopped getting her regular
dose of Hunter in the two years since she's been here."
"That's not fair. Just because you've been cheating on the
relationship doesn't mean that Hunter had been too."
"Why do you care so much anyway? You don't know
Hunter well enough to know that she wouldn't cheat on me.
According to the dyke news around here, when Hunter and
Della were together they were all over each other. Della was
always letting everybody know how she was getting her sex,
how often, and how good it was. If all that was true, how
could she give that up?"
Sinclair resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't know.
Like you said, you've known these people longer than I have
so your guess is much better than mine." She stood, draining
the rest of her drink. "I'm going to turn in for the night."
"Isn't it a little early for you?"
Sinclair's evil twin spoke up. "Usually, but I didn't get
much sleep last night."
After Lydia left, Sinclair stayed on the verandah a little
longer, absorbing the night's quiet and the faint twinges of
unease she felt about her sister and Hunter. She blinked at the
moon wondering if this was what they called dyke drama?
Sinclair rode the early morning bus that Nikki normally
rode to work. This time she was alone, sitting up front near
the driver so she wouldn't pass her stop. Her fellow passengers were silent, swaying in an early morning stupor with the bus's movements, staring straight ahead or out the open windows at the passing landscape.
"Here you go, miss." The driver stopped the bus and
pointed down the road. "Take that road to the left and it will
take you straight to Rincon Street."
"Thanks." She got off the bus and stepped away from the
road to wait for it to pass on its way higher up the hill. This
was a stop below where Nikki usually got off and, according
to the driver, should get her to Hunter's street faster. Ten minutes later, she knocked at Hunter's door. It was six thirty in
the morning.
"Don't you look all touristy," Hunter said when she
opened the door.
Sinclair grinned and twirled on the doorstep, giving her a
glimpse of her loose floral sundress and the matching widebrimmed hat she wore tilted low over one eye.
"I came early on the off chance that you were here and
awake. I hope you don't mind."
"Not even a little bit." Hunter tugged her into the house
and kissed her quickly on the mouth, lending Sinclair the
faint flavor of mint tea from her tongue. "Come in."
Hunter waved her into the hallway and into the immaculate living room. "I'm doing some work in the study. Give me
ten minutes to wrap up and I'll be right back."
"Take your time." Sinclair dropped her hat and bag on the
coffee table. When Hunter came back almost a half an hour
later, she was propped up on the sofa with her shoes off,
reading a history book about the Nanny and the Maroons.
"Did I mention how great you look?" Hunter asked, dropping to her knees beside the sofa.
"No, not yet." Sinclair marked her page with the attached
red ribbon and set the book aside.
"Well, let me just say," she kissed Sinclair's knee, "that you
look," then the other, "fabulous." Hunter's mouth pressed briefly against the top of her thighs. "Do you feel like breakfast?"
"Like being breakfast?" Sinclair's thighs parted slightly at
the thought. "Or having breakfast with you?"
"Either. Both." Hunter put her arms around Sinclair's hips
and drew her to the edge of the couch. "You pick, food or
fucking." Hunter nibbled on her pouty lower lip.
"What do you think?" She slid her legs around Hunter's
waist. "Feed me." Laughter bubbled easily to her lips.
"Slut." Hunter tasted her mouth again. "Come into the
kitchen and help me."
Between the two of them they managed to put together a
more than decent meal. Meaning that Sinclair provided distracting pinches and kisses to Hunter's butt, back, and neck
while the besieged woman made scrambled eggs, seasoned
potatoes, and hominy corn porridge flavored with coconut
milk, nutmeg, and vanilla.
"You are so useful," Sinclair said later as they sat at the
kitchen table sharing their breakfast. "Talented hands for
every room in the house. I like that."
"I hope you can show me just how much. Later on."
Hunter blew her a kiss over a spoonful of porridge.
After breakfast the dark woman showered and dressed,
then they left the house to go on the promised sightseeing
trip.
"This is going to be fun," Hunter insisted as they drove up
the hill toward Fairfax Castle. The national landmark was a
place referred to in all the guidebooks as exotic and mysterious, and one of the most beautiful lookout spots on the island.
"Some Englishman apparently built the place in the image
of his ancestral home, complete with stone walls, servants
quarters, and a little upstairs prison for his certifiable wife."
At Sinclair's startled expression, Hunter laughed. "I'm not
even joking. It says so right there in the guidebook. Look."
She pointed to the folded brochure in Sinclair's hands. "And
the best part is that they have tours of the place every two
hours."
"I didn't figure you for a history buff, Miss High-Tech."
"Oh, I am. And so much more." She chuckled and guided
the jeep farther up the mountain.
Hunter was right. The view was breathtaking. From the
top of Mount Rosanna to sea level the marker said it was
1,219 meters. Sinclair did a quick mental calculation. That
was about 4,000 feet. Below them sat a sprawling vista of
jungle plants, exotic houses built into the mountainside, and
far, far out, the sea. They stood at the entrance to the castle,
giggling like teenagers at the booth where a tiny man with
tired eyes took their money and gave them flimsy paper tickets in return. He wore a drooping version of some sort of
British uniform, dark blue with red stripes down the sides of
the trousers that disappeared into knee-high black boots.
Hunter dragged her away to follow the crowd walking away
from them up the stone path to tour the tumble-down structure.
The place really was gorgeous, with long arches of marble
marking each doorway, and thick green vines that slid up
through all this impervious rock. It was a fairy-tale house,
one that had more in the way of beauty than practicality. The
beauty came from nature, the elements that had over time
slipped in uninvited to make the marble and stone warmer,
more approachable and photographable.
The tour guide, who introduced herself as Mavis, reminded Sinclair of one of her old teachers with her thick, flyaway hair pulled back into a bun and the dark-rimmed
glasses shoved high on her nose.
"She's kinda sexy, isn't she?" Hunter whispered behind
her.
"Stop it, she reminds me of the teacher I had in basic
school."
The dark woman snickered. "You wanted to lick all over
her, didn't you?"
"Shh! She's saying important things."
"This was built in the late seventeen hundreds when Lord Braithwaite realized that he would never be able to leave
Jamaica for good." The woman's proper English and curvy
behind really did make her very appealing. "Come with me
upstairs-" Mavis's voice faded away under the sound of
treading feet as she and the crowd of sightseers disappeared
up the stone staircase.
"Doesn't that ass just make you want to follow it anywhere?" Hunter palmed Sinclair's ass from behind then stepped
close briefly to press her breasts against her back.