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“What are the terms of the deal?” Greta asked, her prior life as a corporate lawyer flickering under her sweet demeanor.
“I didn’t waste my time listening to them.”
“You’re being stubborn,” Blanca decided.
“Petulant I’d say,” Lolly chimed in.
“Why? Because I won’t offer up the most special part of my career as a burnt offering to the Hollywood altar?” Sam’s resolve hardened, but she reminded herself that her friends didn’t understand how these things went.
Blanca shook her head. “You said yourself that you shot her down without even listening to her offer. How do you know you don’t want it? You haven’t given it a fair chance. More than just academia should get your work.”
“Bulls, man,” Lolly said with a laugh, as if having been born a Taurus was some kind of curse. “So, fine. You don’t want to sell your book. It seems to me her interest wasn’t strictly professional.” She topped off Blanca’s wine glass.
“What does my star sign have to do with anything?” Sam chuckled. Lolly and her wife were obsessed with this.
“Um… everything?” Blanca picked up her drink. “What’s her sign?” She was reaching for her phone before Sam had a chance to say she didn’t know. “Oh, Jesus. She’s a Capricorn. A goat and a bull. Lord help us.”
“We can’t all be Aquarian butterflies or Piscean Koi,” Sam joked, pointing between Greta and Blanca.
“Now who doesn’t believe in horoscopes?” Lolly pointed at her. “Capricorn and Taurus can be a very challenging match. Capricorns are all about ambition, status, and success. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she added quickly. “But they can be very focused on their goals and not great with emotions.”
Lolly glanced at Blanca, who nodded in agreement. “Tauruses, on the other hand, are much more easy-going and stable. You want comfort and security. So a driven Capricorn might make you feel pushed out of your comfort zone.”
“The sex though…” Greta wiggled her brows. “Hot.”
“Not to mention,” Blanca continued undeterred, “Capricorns can be very controlling. They want things their way. And you...” She gave Sam a knowing look. “You don’t like being told what to do.”
“And yet here you are anyway,” Sam said with a chuckle. “I appreciate whatever this is,” she drew circles in the air, “but there’s nothing to worry about. I don’t know what Natalia and I are doing, but I doubt it could ever be serious.”
“Why?” Blanca cut into her lasagna.
Sam took a cleansing breath and told them about how distant Natalia was. How she didn’t have walls as much as she had siege towers and an alligator infested moat around herself. It was fun and addictive and intriguing, but there was surely an expiration date stamped on them somewhere. Natalia wasn’t going to drop her guard. There would be nothing more than a little push and pull until Natalia grew tired of not getting her way.
They’d been right about the sex being incredible — even if Natalia hadn’t let her give her an orgasm. She wasn’t shocked that Natalia wouldn’t give up even that to another person. And she didn’t mind. Watching was just as fun.
After dinner, Sam stood at the sink washing dishes before they went in the dishwasher. The transformation into her mother was nearly complete.
“Last ones.” Blanca dropped four used wine glasses in the sink and started loading the clean things into the machine to get cleaned again.
They’d been friends long enough to read each other perfectly. Sam knew what was coming before Blanca said, “You’ve never been great with risk.”
“Not true, but go off, as the kids say.” Sam took the knot of steel wool to the lasagna pan.
“Very cute.” Blanca’s side eye smacked her in the temple.
“I know you think it’s a great opportunity, but that Hollywood glamour is just?—”
“You know that’s not the risk I’m talking about,” she replied more sternly than Sam expected.
Finished with the mess in the sink, Sam dried her hands and turned to lean against the counter. “What? Natalia? She’s not?—”
“Before your protestations begin,” Blanca put up a hand, “let’s remember, Dr. Reyes, that I saw you two tonight. When you looked at each other, all the oxygen was zapped out of the room.”
“You’ve been out of the teaching game a long time. How do you still have the terrifying English teacher voice?”
Blanca didn’t laugh. Didn’t give the slightest hint of suppressed amusement. Instead, she took two steps forward and pressed her hand to the middle of Sam’s chest. To where she knew the rings were hanging from a thin necklace. “I know your work is so important to you, but that’s not the risk I mean,” she repeated.
Sam tensed, every muscle in her body going rigid as Blanca’s fingers brushed the rings under her shirt. It was an innocent gesture, but the contact cracked something open inside her — something raw and aching that she normally kept walled off.
