Turning the Page (13 page)

Taylor reached out, catching the older woman's chin, and gently turning her face so their eyes

finally met. "What is it? What's bothering you?"

Blue was absorbed by soft brown for several long seconds before Melanie felt Taylor slowly

let go of her face. The redhead sighed. "This is hard. You have to understand that this is so

hard for me. I'm not a worrier. I'm a go-getter. A doer. I always have been. But this..." She

licked her lips and swallowed, making a grand sweeping gesture with her arm to encompass the

whole shop.

"I'm nervous, Taylor. I don't get nervous. I just don't. But...I'm nervous about whether or not I know what the hell I'm getting myself into. This is a big frigging step."

Taylor nodded slowly. "That it is. Okay." She kicked off her pumps and pulled her legs up to tuck them under her body, getting more comfortable, sinking into the soft fabric beneath her.

"Let's talk it through then. You said you visualized the changes you'd make. Tell me about

them."

Melanie watched Taylor shift herself into a cozy, red ball on the overstuffed chair, and

decided to follow suit. She felt better already. She could almost feel the confidence oozing

from the brunette across from her, making her own strength and usually ever-present

assurance slowly seep back into her body. She closed her eyes for a moment.

Taylor watched as Melanie visibly relaxed. Good. That had been her intention. She knew in her

heart that Melanie was more than capable of making the shop into a success. Now, she just

had to make Melanie see it, too. Because once she did, everything would be okay and Melanie

would be here, in Rochester, in her city, for good.

"First, I'd do what you said," Melanie began. "Specialize. You were absolutely on the money about the size of this place. I was kind of leaning towards the feminist market." At Taylor's

raised eyebrows, she hurried on. "This is a prime location. Feminist, woman-oriented stuff

would be popular, I think. I did some research at the library the other day, just to see what's

out there." She widened her eyes. "Wow."

Taylor chuckled. "Wow is right. Okay. Feminist bookstore. Then what?"

"Image change. New paint for a more inviting exterior. Clean and welcoming inside. I want

people to think it's okay for them to sit and relax for a bit." She waved her hand. "Done."

"Very nicely, I might add. Then?"

"Computerize," Melanie said with conviction. "Everything is on paper right now and I hate it.

It's messy. Jeff did all right with it, but it's not how I do things. I've got a PC in my

apartment in Chicago that will do nicely. I'm pretty knowledgeable when it comes to software.

My inventory has to be on computer. That's the only way to keep track of things."

Taylor nodded in approval. "Good. What else?"

"Advertise." Melanie ticked off selections on her fingers. "Print, flyers, radio." She grinned at the brunette. "Maybe I'd sponsor a softball team or some of the local women's or gay

events."

Taylor stifled her surprise at the last comment, deciding not to broach the subject at that

moment. Melanie was on a roll. "See? It sounds to me like you've got this all mapped out."

Melanie blinked once. "I do, don't I?"

"I think so."

"And you know what? If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. At least I will have tried, and I won't ever be sitting around regretting the fact that I was too chicken to give it a shot."

They sat in companionable silence for a long moment, Melanie's eyes sparkling with confidence,

Taylor enjoying the view. "Feel better?" she asked.

"Much." She favored Taylor with a beaming grin of thanks. "You are the best. That is exactly what I needed. Where'd you learn to pep talk like that?"

"Hey, you did all the talking. I just got you started." "You did. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Taylor unwillingly glanced at her watch, rolling her eyes, then slipped her stocking-clad feet

back into their shoes of torture and stood. "I've got to run." She didn't miss the flash of disappointment that flickered across Melanie's face, and it warmed her insides.

Suddenly, she blurted out, "Hey, what are you doing on Friday?"

"Um...Friday, I'll be here, and then back at Sam's, I guess."

"They're calling for rain and I've got those Xena tapes you wanted to see. What do you say?

We can order a pizza or something."

"Or you can cook for me." Good God, who said that? Taylor poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue.

"Or I could cook for you. Okay. Anything you don't like?"

"Sausage, veal, and I'm not crazy about onions."

"Sausage, veal, onions. Got it. I'll be over about six-thirty, okay?"

"See you Friday."

The little bel jingled as Taylor left. Melanie stood looking at the closed door for a long time,

smiling like a teenage girl who'd just been asked to the prom.

OKAY, I’M GETTING signals. I am definitely getting signals. If those aren't signals she's

sending me, then I haven't the foggiest idea what a signal is.

Taylor took off her suit coat and hung it across the back of the passenger seat, noting the

sweat rolling down her side. She'd never felt like such a love struck kid before. How the hell

did Melanie do that to her?

Taylor Rhodes prided herself on being a sensible, in-control young woman. She had a sense of

humor, yes. She liked to have fun, yes, but giddy schoolgirl was not a phrase she wanted to be

used to describe her. She flopped into the driver's seat of the Honda and scrubbed a hand

across her face. She sighed from deep down in her bones.

She was falling for Melanie Larson.

She was falling fast.

She was falling hard.

Slowly, she pounded her head against the steering wheel.

Chapter Thirteen

TJ’S HAD BEEN a small, quiet bar and restaurant at one time in its history, before new

managers came along and made it into a dark, loud, dance club. The weather was gray and

rainy, so the patrons were all inside, rather than out on the deck, where the majority of them

would hang during the summer evenings. The place wasn't packed, but it held quite a crowd for

the early evening hour. The DJ hadn't started yet, but there was a throbbing dance beat

coming from somewhere anyway. The overhead fans and invisible ventilation system did

nothing to subdue the thick blanket of cigarette smoke that floated conspicuously in the air.

Melanie had to blink several times, then stand still and allow her eyes to adjust to the sudden

darkness. Lynda had her by the wrist; Julie trailed behind her. When they could see, the café

owner led them to the far corner of the bar where two other women waited.

Melanie had been unexpectedly nervous about this evening out. She didn't know why, except

that she'd never been to a gay bar before and wasn't sure what to expect. Picking out the

right outfit had been a more difficult task than usual. Lynda had said to dress casually.

Actually, her exact words were, "Christ, Melanie. It's a bar." That came with plenty of eye rolling and teasing pokes. She hadn't packed much that was suitable for a night out, but after

much deliberation and a quick trip through Samantha's closet, Melanie had finally decided on a

comfortable pair of jeans and a sleeveless button-down top in a deep green. Brown sandals, a

leather belt, simple gold hoops in her ears, and a touch of perfume, and she had been ready.

Scrutinizing herself in the mirror, she had been pleasantly surprised by what she saw. She

wasn't used to having a tan. She'd spent so much of her time in her office, she barely noticed

the changing seasons. She'd smiled at the unfamiliar bronze tint to her normally fair

complexion, as well as the shining blonde highlights the sun had coaxed from her auburn hair.

She'd felt a nervous, yet exciting pang in her gut, heading to the bookshop to meet Lynda with

an uncharacteristic spring in her step.

Lynda was introducing her to the two women at the bar. "Mel, this is Dina and Steph. Guys,

this is Melanie Larson. She just bought the bookshop next door to my place."

Dina and Steph each shook Melanie's hand. They were closer to Lynda's age than Melanie's,

and were dressed similarly, in jeans, polo shirts, and work boots like Lynda's. Melanie tried not

to notice the not-quite-as-subtle-as-intended appraisal she was getting from two sets of eyes.

She swallowed nervously and turned to Julie, who was asking her what she'd like to drink.

"Um, beer is fine. Anything light."

Julie was a small, mousy young woman in her late twenties. She was very soft-spoken, but

Melanie noticed almost immediately that she had a biting wit, which seemed to come out of

nowhere. She handed the bottle to Melanie, who sipped gratefully, scanning the crowd around

her, trying to take it all in.

There were only two couples on the dance floor, a pair of men and a pair of women. Melanie

found their presence interesting, since the DJ didn't start for another three hours, so they

were essentially dancing to the radio. At the other end of the bar, a group of men were

laughing loudly. All were painfully good-looking, two of them holding hands. Melanie smiled at

the stereotype that said gay men were gorgeous, and how, sometimes, stereotypes were more

on the money than people cared to admit. Two women were standing across the room, a blonde

with her back to the wall, a black woman facing her, resting one forearm against the wall near

the blonde's head. Judging from the looks on their faces, their discussion was heated,

although Melanie couldn't hear them over the music. The blonde was frantically talking with

her hands, and the black woman suddenly looked guilty, dropping her eyes to the floor. The

blonde looked away, and Melanie could see unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. Feeling

suddenly intrusive, she pulled her gaze away.

The majority of the patrons were men, which surprised her since Lynda had said it was Ladies'

Night. She turned to ask Julie about it and found the younger woman observing her with a

smirk. "What?" she asked self-consciously.

"First time in a gay bar?"

Melanie was grateful for the darkness that covered her furious blushing. She cleared her

throat. "That obvious, huh?"

"You're watching things much too intently to have ever seen them before."

Not sure how to respond, she smiled and took a somewhat nervous sip of her beer.

Julie chuckled, excusing herself to the ladies' room, which was on the other side of the room,

very near the spatting couple. As Melanie watched her go, she noticed the couple was now into

a heavy make-out session, complete with quite a bit of tongue and much groping.

Suddenly finding herself very warm, Melanie turned to Lynda and her friends.

"How we doing?" Lynda asked, a twinkle in her eye.

"Great," Melanie answered with a smile. "Hey, I thought you said this was Ladies' Night. There seem to be an awful lot of men here."

Lynda exchanged glances with Dina and Steph. "It's a men's bar. Nobody in Rochester can

seem to keep a women's bar open for longer than six months," she explained, the disgust clear

in her voice. "They open something new, expect it to turn a profit in a week.

When it doesn't, they give it a complete face-lift. Nobody knows where the hel they are the

next time they walk in. I keep telling these people, 'Don't change it. Leave it alone for a while.

Let people get used to the place. Customers like familiarity, especially in their bars.' Nobody

listens to me. They change it anyway. Not long after that, they close it."

"The guys who own this place are nice enough to offer us a Ladies' Night here and there,"

Dina told her. "They understand our frustrations."

"It must be nice to have someplace to go," Melanie offered.

"So, you're from Chicago?"

Melanie nodded. "I didn't grow up there, but that's where I've been for several years now."

"Must be a wild gay scene there, huh?"

Melanie blinked several times, trying to formulate the right answer. What the hell did she say

to that? Oh, I'm not gay. I wouldn't know...? Or, how about, Yeah, baby. You better believe it.

It's wild in the windy city...? She glanced at Lynda, hoping for help, but her café-owning friend

was leaving her hung out to dry. That's when Melanie realized that Lynda herself was probably

wondering exactly where Melanie was coming from.

She was saved from embarrassing herself any more than she already had with her hesitation

by the bartender, who brought a shot glass turned upside down and set it in front of Melanie.

"The lady at the end of the bar would like to buy you a drink," he said, smiling.

Melanie's eyebrows raised in surprise, and she met the eyes of a tomboyish blonde who raised

her glass in salute. Melanie panicked.

"What do I do?" she whispered to Lynda.

"Go talk to her. Apparently she likes what she sees."

"I don't want to talk to her," the redhead hissed. "You said you'd protect me."

Lynda was finding this all very amusing. "Oh, all right. Say thanks."

Melanie smiled, mouthing thank you in the direction of the blonde. Lynda was talking to Dina

and Steph again, but Melanie suddenly felt a heavy arm around her shoulders, gentle fingers

twirling a lock of her hair. She smiled in quiet appreciation. Lynda had quickly put up a No

Vacancy sign without even looking at the offender. When Melanie found the courage to steal

another glance at the blonde, she was gone.