Think Pink

Chapter 1

Chapter 1For Selene Parish’s thirty-eighth birthday, her best friend Eileen gave her three things. Each one was wrapped individually inside a bright pink gift bag which she thrust towards Selene’s chest at the Toronto Pearson airport drop-off area.

“Eileen!” Selene let out a low gasp. “We only have fifteen minutes here. I can’t open this in fifteen minutes.”

“So it will take sixteen,” Eileen said with a wry smile. “And then what?”

Selene bit her lip, knowing that her friend was making fun of her. Just a little bit. The sun had barely come up over the horizon. Her plane wasn’t boarding for another three hours. She was still anxious about getting through security—especially since she was going to be travelling over the border, all the way down to Key West, Florida from the Toronto airport—but she was also overthinking things. In between texting her friend last night about the exact size of containers she could bring on the flight, along with vague wonderings if she should bring her breakfast or wait until she was in Key West, Eileen had basically told her to shut it. With love, of course. I’ll drive you tomorrow morning, she’d texted close to midnight, so cancel whatever strangely cheap yet super-efficient bus you’ve found online. And get some sleep!

Selene, of course, wanted to overthink and argue. But she’d cancelled her taxi reservation and let Eileen drive her. It was her birthday, after all. And it was her vacation; her first true vacation in at least five years, and even if she ended up booking the celebrations for the week after the biggest events had left Key West, she wasn’t going to let that stop her from having fun.

“We’ll tell them we’re lawyers,” Eileen said, filling in the silence with another sigh. “And we solve any problems our own way. Like always. Right?”

“Like always,” Selene repeated quietly. “I still don’t think that our—”

“Ah.” Eileen narrowed her eyes. “No negative talk on your vacation. Not even arguing. Not—”

“But arguing is, like, my favorite thing. Finding holes. Not like that. But finding—”

“I know, I know! But you shouldn’t be finding legal loopholes right now. You should be finding different types of holes. Hence…well, you’ll see when you open your gift. If you ever do.”

Selene looked back down at the bright pink bag. Nothing’s stopping me. “This does seem like it’s for a niece’s christening—”

“Everything else in the store was geared towards Halloween. I know how much you hate pumpkin, so enjoy the pink. Hey. Think pink!” Eileen smiled wide. “Yeah, that’s good. Now open it before the big security man will scare us into submission.”

“What?” Selene looked around for airport security and only heard Eileen sigh again. She nudged her shoulder. “If we get caught, you’ll just have to use whatever’s inside to inspire security to let us go. So open it! Unless you do like giving people a show.”

Selene’s face went as pink as the bag. And in order to not have this entire ordeal spawn out into her flight’s run time, she opened it. Past the crinkly paper was a book. She ran her fingers down the side of a freshly printed spine while reading How Stella Got Her Groove Back. The woman on the cover was actor Angela Bassett and the other, hunky male actor named Tae Diggs was beside her. Selene raised a brow as she looked at Eileen.

“This is…”

“You’re not the intended audience, no,” Eileen said. She combed her hair over her ear as she gestured to the bestseller sticker in the corner of the book. “It’s for people like my mom and aunts to read and get all hot between the sheets as they imagine themselves going on their own tropical vacation where they finally get their groove on.”

“But I’m not going to Jamaica,” Selene said as she read the blurb. “And I know Justice is supposed to be blind, but I’m, like, super white. I don’t even think I packed enough sunscreen because of the limit restrictions, and—”

“But you are Stella. To our customers, at least.” Eileen chuckled. Their first two years at their criminal and family law practice lead to a lot of mispronunciations of their names. A lot of jokes, too, but the one that seemed to stick the most was the fact that everyone thought one of them was Stella and the other was Ella. “And,” Eileen went on, “you do need to get your groove on.”

“Well, thank you. I will definitely read this in my long waiting period.” Selene added the book to her carry-on bag and surveyed the drop off area once again. They had only another five minutes before she felt comfortable pushing against the rules. She opened the next item in the bag, which was a thick card stuffed with two gift certificates. The card featured a birthday cake on the cover and a generic message inside that Eileen had underlined in some ways and then added her own commentary. Be cool. Be bold. And don’t take too many notes. Happy Birthday, girlie.

“I’ll do my best, girlie,” Selene said. She’d managed to book this Key West Tour, not only because it was a gay mecca and tropical to boot, but because there was a legal conference happening in one of the adjacent hotels during the first two days of her vacation. She would fly down today, on a Friday, complete some lovely lectures with some of her old friends from university, and then she’d be free to be herself.

Then maybe, just like Stella, she would get her groove back.

Selene opened the first gift card and found that it was for a clothing store located in the heart of Key West called Damsels and Duchesses. “Why here?” she asked. “It’s not close to the parrot heads, is it?”

“No. I know you don’t exactly want to get smashed near the retirees. The guy online—at least I think it was a guy—told me that this place was known for the gay crowd. You’ll find something nice there. And make sure it’s nice! Nothing practical.”

Selene thanked her friend and moved onto the next gift card. The writing on it was script-like, cursive. It seemed to be for some kind of art show. Selene narrowed her eyes as she read the exact wording on the gift certificate.

“A caricature?” she gasped. “You got me a gift certificate for a caricature drawing?”

“Yes!” Eileen clapped her hands together, barely able to contain her excitement. “Oh, come on. You will love it.”

“So someone can make my nose three feet long and or my ass that long. And so I can then what? Become a clown?”

“It is not that bad. It’s fun. Practically a rite of passage. I got one years ago. Remember?”

Selene vaguely recalled the framed photo of her friend drawn with strange proportions. It was framed in her mother’s place, right next to her father’s law degree, and right next to her father’s similar caricature. When Selene thought hard about it, there had been a lot of character drawings in their basement, too. “Is this a family tradition? Will I be officially one of the Digg-Bradleys, now?”

“You’re always one of us. But this is more like lawyer tradition. My father’s law firm got them done for everyone on staff. As a kid, I grew up looking at that and wondering when I could get mine done, too, and put it next to Dads’ degrees. Didn’t realize that they didn’t come together, you know? By the time I did, I was already dead set on law, so this just seemed like a fitting thing to do. For me, anyway, on gradation.”

“And me now?”

“Yes! To celebrate. I know we’ve only been doing this together a while,” Eileen said, referring to their still baby practice at three years old. “But I have a good feeling.”

“Same.” Selene added the gift cards back to the bag and gave her friend a hug. Eileen hugged back tighter than Selene thought possible. In spite of both of them being gay, there had never been a spark between them. Just a connection over the tenets of estate law and other domestic laws, along with a penchant for the same shade of lavender painted on their office walls. It helped to brighten the area, especially when everyone thought they did wills and only wills.

“Good,” Eileen said as she pulled away from the hug. “So, be sure to use that when you’re down there. We can frame whatever you get when you come back home, and then our interior decorating of our office is complete.”

Selene wanted to mention the still leaking basement pipe, but she was quiet. That was not the point right now. The point was her best friend wishing her well in all the best ways possible.

“I will,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

“Good. And—oh, and I want pictures of whatever you get at the store, too.”

“Naturally. It shall be submitted to the discovery. Would you also like a court transcripted opinion on Stella and her journey? Or will that be spoilers to you?”

“Very funny. But don’t worry, I’ve read it already. Helped me to realize I was gay, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. While my aunt and mother were drooling over Tae Diggs, I couldn’t understand why the hell no one was bowing down at Angela Bassett’s feet. There were, but they were all men. Anyway.” Eileen gave her friend a look that spoke volumes. It was time to go. I love you, too, but it is definitely time to go.

All the other questions, concerns, or otherwise delaying tactics that Selene might have used fell away in that moment. She gathered the rest of her gift into her carryon bag and then extended the pink gift bag towards Eileen. “So you can use it later.”

“Nah. you keep it. And this, too.” Eileen gave her one last tight hug before she let go. A horn honked behind them. They were now sixteen minutes over the idling time in the lot, and the airport was only going to get busier from this moment on. Selene took a deep breath and stepped outside of her friend’s car. She grabbed her suitcase from the back, and with her carry-on slung over her shoulder, she was good to go. She waved to Eileen as she slid her shades over her nose. Eileen held her hand out the window in a wave as she pulled out of the lot and merged with the rest of the run-off traffic away from the large airport.

Selene sighed. She was alone. She was hours away from her vacation—but she was alone.

Selene turned towards Pearson airport’s entrance on shaky legs. Just hungry, she told herself. She hadn’t eaten very much the night before—too nervous, too busy—and her coffee this morning hadn’t been enough to sustain her through the drive. She needed breakfast, but the sight of the muffins at the first kiosk set her stomach rolling again. She was about to try a vending machine when her stomach tensed. Her body reeled.

And whatever was in her stomach was going to come up, no matter what.

She stared around the front foyer, desperation on her face. She had nowhere to go. She couldn’t see where the bathrooms were and everyone else was in their own little world. The only thing she could do was run back out of the airport, dragging her stuff behind her, and find something to throw up into around the perimeter. Surely there would be garbage cans.

Selene darted back outside. Two men were smoking by an ash receptacle. She needed it, but their smoke cloyed her nostrils and made it worse. She was stuck. Still half in the doorway, she grabbed the pink bag from her gift, now flattened and empty, and hurled into it. She was still coughing when she heard the voice of a woman behind her.

“Whoa, whoa. Are you okay?”

Selene tugged her suitcase closer to her. The woman was just next to her rolling case, and a deep protean fear inside of Selene said to protect her stuff at all costs. If the woman noticed her sudden territorialism, she was unfazed by it. She wore loose jeans slung over nice hips with a wide belt. A tank top revealed an ample chest, while her plaid shirt was open and loose around her shoulders as a way to fight off the October morning chill. Her hair was dark, pulled back in a ponytail, and seemed flattened from a baseball cap.

She exuded s****l energy like a flame.

And Selene felt her heat as if she was a moth.

Her face immediately went red, because she was going to throw up again.

“Whoa,” the woman said as she did just that. She hesitated putting a hand on Selene and looked around the bustling airport. “Can I call someone for you?”

“I have a plane to catch.”

“Really?” The woman smiled so wide it reached her eyes. “Usually people do this on the plane. Or after the plane ride. But you’re not even on it yet. That doesn’t exactly bode well.”

“Thanks. You’re very helpful.”

“I am though, sort of.” The woman gestured to the crowd of people coming and going. She extended her stance, as if to cover Selene. “I’m keeping the riffraff away.”

Selene removed her mouth from the bag and sealed it tight. She was still shaky on her feet, but she was sure that she was empty now. Truly. Hopefully. “And you’re…?”

“A bartender. So I see this sort of thing a lot. A pretty woman throws up and it’s practically a mating call in my place.”

“Ew. That’s not exactly—”

“Kosher? No. You’ll notice I didn’t say it was my mating call. I just go into protector mode. So is there someone I need to kick out of the airport? Call you a cab? Or…take you back home?”

Selene had to look away. The woman was so cunning, so audacious in her flirting. How did she even know Selene was gay? Toronto was huge. This airport was huge. There was no way she could know anything about her, yet she felt pegged almost immediately.

Then she wanted to be pegged.

“I’m fine,” Selene said. She shook away her lingering nausea and her latent horniness. “I just need to catch my flight.”

“And I should probably get a cab. It was lovely meeting you…” The woman extended her hand. She waited for a name, a gesture of kindness, something that Selene wanted to give but was still holding out on. “I’m Gil, by the way. So we’re not strangers. And I work at the See-Shell bar in Key West, so you can check into me later if you’re so concerned. That’s See as in I see, not sea as in The Old Man and The Sea. It’s a pun. Sort of.”

“I see.” Selene blinked. Gil laughed. Her smile lingered against her pale cheeks and her dark hair framed her heart-shaped face. Damn, girl. Selene extended her hand in a shake. “I’m Selene.”

“Selene,” she whispered as their handshake went on a beat too long. “Nice. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“I’m actually headed to Key West,” she added. “So I might actually take you up on that offer.”

“Great! I miss it already. I’m only here for like…a day. Hopefully less. Here.” Gil was getting out her phone. Selene panicked that they were truly exchanging numbers, rather than sparring like she sometimes did with defense attorneys when she was at the courthouse and lonely after a loss. But Gil instead brought up an image of a picturesque bar on the beach. It was decked out in driftwood pieces, a kind of sea moss, and a lot of pastel covered seashells. She leaned close to the phone, so close she could smell the scent of salt and coconut on Gil’s skin, and noticed that the bar really was spelled SEE SHELL, not like the sea.

“Ah. Cute place.”

“You will get used to the puns in the Keys,” Gil said. “There are a lot of people who liked to play up the keys analogy. Almost did it myself, too.”

“You own the bar?”

“Nah.” Gil batted the idea away as if it was a fly. “But I almost got a tattoo of a key when I was there, you know, to remember the place.”

Selene noticed Gil’s arms for the first time. Stray pieces of ink and color stretched out from beneath fabric. Her tank top seemed to hold back the darker designs on her shoulders and chest that were practically bursting to get out. “What did you get instead, then?”

“Nothing. I just stayed in the Keys, rather than get something to remember ‘em by. It’s a beautiful place. miss it already, and I’ve only been in Toronto again for a half an hour.”

“s**t. Shoot.” Selene looked down at her watch and then at Gil’s phone. The time was still the same—one advantage of this tropical locale was that she wouldn’t—or shouldn’t—get jetlag as they were in the same time zone—but she really had lost a lot of time with Gil and this whole throw up incident. She looked down at the pink bag she still had in her hand.

“Wow. I need to leave right now. I need to—”

Gil gestured to the garbage area that was now freed up by the smoking men. She seemed to inhale the scent of their cigarettes before she gestured to a cab that had just stopped. “I gotta jet, too. Enjoy your flight miss Selene.”

“Thanks. You too…” Selene bit her lip. Gil was already in the cab. She didn’t bother to wave again, though a part of her wanted to.

By the time Selene was through security, she had another hour until her flight. She got a proper breakfast from a kiosk along with a pack of gum. When that task was done, and there was still forty-five minutes left, she kicked herself for rushing. She could have had more time with Eileen. With her house. Did she water her plants? Turn off the stove? Empty the lint trap on the dryer? She shook her head. She picked out the book that her friend had given her. The first words captivated her from the moment she laid eyes on them.

Sort of like Gil.

Selene was on the plane, gripping the armrest hard, when she realized that Gil had called her Selene. Not Stella, like so many clients had. She’d gotten it right, exactly on the first try.