Page 44 of Games We Play
Now here I am… by myself.Alone in First Class, though? Not a bad thing at all! Especially when it came with free wine and all the leg room her short stature could want. Nothing was better than fully reclining on an airplane. Who knew it was possible?
At first, she had turned down Sloan’s invitation to meet her in Chicago. Really! What had she been thinking? Did she really assume that Leah could drop everything in Portland and hop the next plane from PDX Saturday morning? Of course she did. Because Margaret Sloan was no stranger to going where she pleased at any time it convenience her. Must have been nice having her own plane!
Ironically, it was Karlie who encouraged her sister to go when the invitation came late Thursday afternoon.“You should go! How often will your sugar mama offer to pay for a free weekend trip to Chicago? I wish I could go! Go for me, and tell me all about it! Well, not the gross parts. Don’t tell me that.”Leah felt guilty telling her sister about the invitation, knowing that shameless, kinky lust was the only undercurrent to it, but who else could she tell? Gina and Melissa barely knew about Sloan.
Yes, telling my seventeen-year-old sister about it was clearly the mature choice.Leah lay back in her seat and enjoyed the smooth ride across half the country. The moment she agreed to go to Sloan’s playground, she received an itinerary with her name on it. Somehow, she had still been shocked at the words “First Class” on both of her tickets.
She tucked her typewriter purse in her lap and nursed her club soda as she watched a movie fresh from Hollywood. Briefly, Leah wondered what it would be like to do something as mundane as watching a movie with Sloan. What kind of movies did she like, anyway? Action? Drama? Was she an indie buff, or did she barely pay attention to what came and went in entertainment? It was the kind of thought that made Leah then wonder if she could ever have a real relationship with Margaret Sloan.
A real one. Because what they had was so fake…
She doesn’t have to spoil me all the time. We could stay in on a rainy day and watch movies, talk about ourselves, tell each other our hopes and dreams…That’s what friends did. What girlfriends, of both meanings, did. Yet Sloan had made it clear that they were lovers first, everything else second. Distant second. That’s what Leah had signed up for, and her desperate ass hadn’t seen anything wrong with it.
Leah knew it was dangerous to indulge that fantasy, but she couldn’t help herself. Car rides to the coast. Meeting each other’s families. Showing up after work with take-out.
Telling each other their innermost secrets – and the demons that ate them alive every time they closed their eyes.
Wasn’t that one of the reasons Leah was attracted to her forlorn lover?There’s something lurking beneath her hard exterior. Something that made her that way.Leah could relate. Except instead of turning into a hardass few people liked, Leah had grown up to become a quiet woman who didn’t know how much of herself was naturally submissive, and how much was a product of her earlier life experiences.
A therapist could probably help her with that, but that required half-decent insurance and the time and patience to search for a good one. There weren’t many, even in Portland, who could help her poor, queer, possibly traumatized soul.
Why are you thinking these poor-me thoughts?Leah finished her club soda and searched for a new movie to watch.Think about how much fun you’re going to have this weekend! Chicago! You’ve never been there before!
They arrived an hour later. Leah was one of the first off the plane, her carry-on rolling behind her and eyes searching for a sign that said VAUGHN. Her itinerary told her to look for a personal chauffer at O’Hare, so where was he?
Oh, with the throng of other people dressed in their Sunday best, each one holding signs with different names. There were two men holding signs with VAUGHN written on them, and after a few moments of confusion, they sorted out which man was to abscond with her in his car.
“I’m leaving O’Hare,”she texted Sloan.“Am I heading to your place?”
“You’re heading to one of my places. Somewhere we can be alone tonight.”
Leah glanced out the window as they entered downtown Chicago. The buildings were imposing enough to remind her of Sloan’s resolute personality.“I can’t wait to see it. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Soon. I have a thing I need to go to in the evening, but I’ll get there as soon as I can. The fridge is stocked and the TV is hooked up to satellite. Enjoy yourself. I also left some instructions for you. They’re on the bed.”
Instructions? Leah hadn’t hoped to do much exploring that evening, but she wasn’t prepared forinstructions…On the other hand, it certainly gave her something to look forward to while she waited for Sloan to get back from her event.
I wonder where she’s going.Sloan hadn’t told her. Only that it was some boring party she had to attend for business-related reasons.I want to go to a party with her.Hang on her arm, have people comment on what a beautiful couple they were… but Leah supposed that was too lofty of a dream in their situation.
***
The photographers from the lifestyle and high society presses ate up Sloan’s look for the benefit that night. She had gone for a “shockingly feminine” look, as she had described it, because part of her plan was upping her public profile in the coming months. People were bored of her pantsuits and ever-changing hairstyles. If she wanted to attract as much visual attention as possible that night, she needed to be nigh unrecognizable to people who hadn’t known her a decade ago.
“What a tramp,” some has-been theater actress muttered within Sloan’s earshot. “Is she shopping for a husband or looking for some quick cash tonight?”
Sloan blew the hag a kiss on her way by. The old woman scoffed in bemusement, but her younger companion spared the overly-confidant woman in their presence a small smile.
“Whoareyou wearing?” That question came from Christie Yearwood, one of the most talked-about socialites in Chicago, and one of the few people assigned to sit at Sloan’s table.Like pocketbooks have to sit together, of course.Sloan couldn’t be in better company if she wanted to be photographed. “I demand to know. My wardrobe is woefully stale, and I’msoootired of American designers right now. Who’s hot in Europe? That’s European, right?”
“I believe so,” Sloan said. “It’s honestly so old that it must be vintage by now. I think I had it custom made, because there’s no tag of any kind in it. Don’t know. I dug it out of my closet for this event.” She kicked one leg over the other, showing off her freshly waxed gams and the bronze pumps adorning her feet. “I centered my look tonight around my wig.That’sthe new statement I’m making. Look at this thing. Isn’t it divine?”
“May I?” Christie extended her fingers to touch the fake fringe adorning Sloan’s forehead. “Is it real hair?”
“Yes. One of my assistant’s, if you can believe it.” That was a lie, but it made for an infuriating story. Christie was a gossip queen. She would tell one of her friends, who would leak it to someone else, and this time next week? All over the blogs. “She has the most beautiful chestnut hair. When she said she was cutting it off to get over a breakup, I insisted that I pay her for it. My stylist did the curls before I put it in. Go ahead. Feel them. Nice and bouncy, yes?”
“I’m envious, but I’d rather have your dress. It’s too heavenly for words, and makes your figure the best in the room. Better than mine. Did you get new breasts?”
“No.” That was the only comment that night to make Sloan shudder. “I’m completely plastic free. I’m a cream-only girl.”
