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What had been a raucous conversation around them had become loud whispers. Gia found herself in the spotlight. All eyes were on her. And Savannah. It was a way to be remembered, she guessed, but not the way she wanted. She wouldn’t remember any of their names now, but they wouldn’t forget Basic Dyke Gia.
“Nah, I’m good,” Savannah slurred and pushed Roxi away. Savannah had a good eight inches on her “girlfriend,” and that apparently came with superhuman strength. Roxi hit the deck, popped up in an instant, and brushed the dust off like nothing happened.
“What’s your problem?” Gia puffed her chest. Again.
“Isn’t it obvious?You’remy problem, bitch. You don’t get to come into my house with your European tan-all-the-time look and your holier than thou sobriety and your rules—I know about your fuckin’ rules—and pretend to be all innocent. I know you’re after my girl, and I don’t like it.”
What the hell? Again.
But did Savannah have a point? Gia had rules, and was predisposed to looking tan, thanks to gene pool blending beyond her control. She was pretending not to want Roxi when the only thing she wanted was Roxi. And a stiff drink. And a drag on an unfiltered cigarette. But she was still sober, that day, and the one-hundred-seventy-seven before it.
Those things were true. But since when was Roxi Savannah’sgirl?
“Far as I know, she’s not your fuckin’ girl.” Gia pushed. More whispers.
“What d’you know, anyway? Have you asked her? Have you asked her why she stays?” Savannah’s voice carried over the pop music, over the whispers.
“I have. And that’s between her and you. But if I were her, I’d run so fast I might just set a new mile record.” Gia knew nothing about mile records. What could she say? She’d seen enough bar brawls to understand ridiculous trash talk involving sports and sports teams was part of it. For whatever reason, the mile record was the first thing that came to mind.
“Vannah, let’s go inside,” Roxi insisted, grabbing for the tumbler one more time.
“I don’twant togo inside!” Savannah threw her drink. Glass everywhere. Amber liquid seeped into the cracks of the pool deck in an instant. Whispering became squealing. Leave it to a bunch of lesbians to scream like little girls. Nina was on the phone. Wait, was that Nina?
Gia broke her rule and looked down. The sting in her right foot insisted, and a quick glance confirmed it was bleeding. Not a full-on gush, but not a trickle, either. Her heart was beating as if she were trying to set that mile record. But Savannah had stormed off after she threw the glass, so there was relief. At least for the moment.
“I think I’m gonna go. Walk me to my car?” Gia whispered in Roxi’s ear. Her lips grazed Roxi’s cheek—raspberries. And a last-minute thought emerged. “It was nice meeting you all!” Fake enthusiasm solved everything, right?
Roxi led the way. “Lo siento.I’m so sorry, G. I didn’t realize how much she’d had. I’ll talk to her later. But we need to patch up your foot.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. Can we talk about the fact that you live with someone I only assume is an alcoholic?! And who thinks you’re hergirl?” Gia didn’t whisper that time and took big steps towards the side gate. So much for making some queer friends. “After all the work you’re doing, you watch her drink like that? After how she behaves, you came back? I don’t get it, Rox.”
“I know.” Roxi reached for Gia’s hand and laced their fingers together. “It’s complicated.”
“Bullshit.” Was there actual steam leaking out of her ears?
“Come on, G. You said yourself you see why I didn’t want to lose this place. So, I put up with some bad behavior. It’s a small price.”
“Whatever. It’s your life. But I wish you had more respect for yourself.”
Oops. That might not have been as gentle as it could’ve been. But it was warranted, right?
“I do respect myself.” Roxi pulled her hand back and stopped in the damp grass of the side yard. The sprinklers were running, and she didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t understand. You can’t understand. I’m glad you came, and I’m sorry she did that. But it doesn’t give you the right to judge my decisions.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. My adrenaline is up, and I have like zero tolerance for drunk assholery anymore. I’m sure I’ve done worse.”
“Me too.” Roxi sighed and leaned against the house. “You know it’s not as easy as that. I’m not making excuses for her. But it’s not that easy.”
Gia joined her on the wall, the cool stucco scratchy against tank-topped shoulders. She’d pieced together a cute makeshift swimsuit, thanks to Courtney’s gear closet, and no one saw. No one knew she had the start of a six-pack, or that her breasts filled out the sports bra better than ever, courtesy of plenty of chest presses. Not that she cared. But the work was showing. “What are we gonna do?”
“About?”
Cue the cotton mouth. Tell the angel on her shoulder to stuff it.
“Look, I know it’s my rule and you’ve been totally respectful. It’s just—I guess I feel so protective of you because I realized—”
“Don’t say it if you can’t do something about it. Don’t say something you can’t take back if you’re gonna tell me you have a rule. That’s not how this is gonna go.”
“That’s fair.” Gia slumped into the stucco, letting the course texture dig into bare skin. Letting the house punish her in ways Savannah couldn’t. The party had resumed, and someone was belting a Janet Jackson song in the Karaoke machine. “Thank you.”
