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“Don’t you ever want to settle in one place? Lay down roots?”
“I’m not made for that sort of stuff.” I shake my head. When I left for New York to start working for Level Up, Lara was devastated. She didn’t speak to me for a month. Eventually, she came around and now we talk at least once a week. I don’t need roots. New York is just where I lay my head most often. Flying high is where I want to be, and I have Lara to bring me back to earth.
She bites her lip in that way she does when I’ve upset her. There’s nothing that would keep me in one place for long. It’s not in my nature. “At least I have you for the weekend.”
“That you do. Catch me up with what’s going on in your life. Have you met any cute girls lately? Anyone we’ll be meeting up with at Pride?”
“No. I haven’t had time to go out, and you know I don’t like those dating apps. I’m a single agent. But I have a new friend at the moment. Batty the bat. He got injured, and I’ve been looking after him for a few weeks. The vet thinks he’ll be well enough to go to the Butterfly Garden soon for his new home.”
Neither of us has ever had a serious relationship. I’m too skittish, but I’m not sure what her excuse is. She has commitments to the animals she cares for, but they don’t need her all the time. She chooses not to go out. I know of a few hook-ups she’s had, but there haven’t been many girls between her sheets that I’ve heard about.
We cross the city and finally make it to the small village where Lara lives. Her car makes one last puff of black smoke before she kills the engine. This place is full of bad memories for me. Things I don’t like to think about. I lost both my parents too soon and I don’t like to dwell on what could have been. Lara is the same as me in that respect. We both lost the people who were supposed to guide us through adolescence, and that’s partly why we’re such good friends, even though we’re opposites. We leaned on each other to get through the dark days.
The dirt track behind the row of terraced houses is uneven and full of rocks. It isn’t wide enough to park directly next to Lara’s house, so we have to walk the short distance. I drag my suitcase from the backseat and we make our way to her home. My luggage bumps over the stones and I see a few curtains twitch from our arrival. It’s been at least a year since I last visited, so they probably don’t remember me. Lara’s long blue dress flaps in the wind as she walks. Her outfit is unflattering and doesn’t show off her curves. Not that I’m checking out my friend.
She puts the kettle on when we get inside. I open my bag and show her the rainbow feathered bra I bought for tomorrow’s parade. It’s a custom piece by one of my favourite designers at Rebel Jacks. The vibrant colours are going to look gorgeous against my tanned skin, and I’m proud to be wearing it. I met Victoria Ainsworth, the designer, at a fashion show in New York, and she was excited about creating my outfit.
“What do you think?” I hold it up to my tank top over my bust. The feathers are soft as they graze over my upper arms.
Her eyes home in on me. They’re big like a cartoon character’s as she takes in what I’m showing her. A pink tinge brightens her cheeks, and she looks away. “That’s really nice. Although it’s barely going to cover you. I have a rainbow dress that I bought from town last week.”
“Does it cover everything right down to your ankles?” I scrunch up my face to show I’m not impressed by that idea.
She frowns. “It’s long and flowing. Similar to the one I have on.” She glances down to look at the dress.
“Of course it is.” I shake my head. A little skin on show doesn’t mean you’re going to have a night of sin. Lara has a beautiful body from what I’ve seen, and it’s a shame for her to keep it covered up.
“I’m not as confident as you, and that bra wouldn’t look as good on me.” She bites her fingernail while looking back at my top.
“You don’t know that. You wouldn’t even try it on to find out.” I fold my arms across my chest, bunching the feathers higher up towards my collarbone.
I’ve never seen Lara in a bathing suit, never mind a bra top.
The kettle boils, and she focuses on the kitchen counter. “Do you want sugar in your tea?” she asks, pouring the water into the cups and ignoring my challenge.
“No, thanks.” I put my bra back into my suitcase and zip it up before pushing it towards the living room door. Taking a seat in one of the wooden chairs, I sit with my arm resting on the tabletop.
She adds milk and a spoonful of sugar to her cup, then brings them to where I’m sitting. She empties cat biscuits into a bowl before joining me at the table. Her tabby cat quickly makes its way into the kitchen and starts wolfing it down.
“How is your New York apartment coming along? Have you painted your bedroom yet?”
I’ve been talking about decorating for a long time, but honestly, I don’t spend much time there. I prefer to be out on the road, and my boss is happy to line up my business trips so they flow together. “Actually, I have. There’s a guy at the office whose cousin is starting out as a painter and decorator. I gave him the keys before I left for Utah.” The only time anyone would catch me at home is when I have to hand deliver something to Level Up or I’m needed for a charity event. Handing over my keys was an easy choice, even though I’ve never met the guy doing the job.
“So, you haven’t even seen it?”
“No. I’m sure it looks fine.” I told him to paint it an off-white, so I’m pretty certain it can’t look that bad.
Her lips press together in a side frown. “One day, you’re going to burn out. I just hope you find a sanctuary that will give you the comfort you need.”
There’s no need for me to slow down even if Lara thinks I should. I’d rather live my life to the fullest and die young. Finding myself locked between four walls in what she calls a home sounds like hell to me. My cleaner spends more time in my apartment than I do, and I’d like to keep it that way.
We drink our tea before moving into the living room. Like old times, we watch re-runs of Glastonbury videos, and I crack open a bottle of wine as the sun goes down.
CHAPTER2
MALLORY
Wakingup with a cat clawing your forehead is like being beaten up by a hangover. Not that I drank that much last night. We shared a bottle of red, but the dregs still need pouring down the sink. I sit up and push the cat off. The sofa creaks as I unstick my ass from the fake leather.
