Our Secret Summer

Chapter 42

“If the lesbians aren’t doing it, it’s almost certainly the invisible influence of the patriarchy,” Alexis Dalton playing Justine Blackburn said on the screen.

Dylan chuckled so hard at that particular line of dialogue, she had to pause the movie—she didn’t want to miss a second of Gimme Shelter now that they were finally watching it.

“If you keep pausing, we’ll never get to the end.” Raffo tightened her arm around Dylan, their bodies nestled into the couch. “You’re sixty now. You’ll probably fall asleep soon.” Dylan’s body shook along with Raffo’s as she laughed at her own extremely lame joke.

“This Justine is just too much,” Dylan said. “Did she really say that or was that something the scriptwriter came up with?”

“I’m not sure, but it sounds like vintage Justine.” There was a reverence in her tone, a subtle softening that Dylan had learned to recognize whenever Raffo talked about Justine Blackburn.

“I’d love to meet her.” Dylan shifted in Raffo’s embrace, turning to catch her expression.

“Sure. I’ll set it up. Maybe we can drop by the shelter next week.” Raffo sat up straighter. “You know how I absolutely refuse to think of myself as special just because I have a talent for arranging paint on a canvas?”

Dylan wholly disagreed with this, but she knew how adamant Raffo was about this, so she nodded along.

“It’s because of women like Justine.” Raffo looked Dylan straight in the eye. “What Justine does is special.” Raffo was far from the sentimental type, except when it came to the Rainbow Shelter and what it had meant to her. “She is how I measure being special. Compared to Justine, to what she does for unhoused kids, I’m nothing special.”

Dylan knew not to argue against this. Instead, she simply settled back into Raffo’s arms.

“We’d better keep watching, because I have one last birthday present for you today,” Raffo said. “You’ll get it after the movie is finished.”

“What?” Dylan pulled back just enough to search Raffo’s face. “You do?”

“Oh yes, and you might even say I saved the best for last.” Raffo sat there beaming.

“How am I meant to enjoy the rest of the movie now?” Dylan tilted her head and pulled her lips into a seductive smile. “It’s all I’ll be able to think of now that you’ve said that.” She blinked dramatically. “You should probably give it to me now.”

Raffo shook her head, but she was smiling, her features softening—along with her resolve, Dylan hoped.

Then it dawned on Dylan that, perhaps, this last gift Raffo was referring to was something she could only give her when they were in bed together—even though they’d already spent plenty of time there today.

“Is it a gift of a sensual nature?” she asked, coyly.

“Hm.” Raffo tapped her finger against her lips, as though she had to give that some serious thought. “Kind of, but not really,” she said, finally—and infuriatingly.

Dylan made a show of checking her watch, startled to find it was already past eleven. Her sixtieth birthday had been a day full of celebration. First, Raffo had given her a brand-new painting, for Dylan’s eyes only. It was much more provocative than her other work and it was the most beautiful work of art Dylan had even seen, because it featured Raffo in all the glorious colors of the rainbow in a pose meant for the bedroom only.

Connor and Murray had cooked her an elaborate lunch and the four of them had had a wonderfully relaxed meal that had stretched long into the afternoon. Raffo couldn’t possibly have saved the best present for last because spending time with her son and his boyfriend alongside Raffo as her partner was the best gift possible. For her and Con to be able to share a laugh about her relationship with his best friend, and even engage in a private eye roll—just between them—about Raffo’s matter-of-fact tone when making a point, was all Dylan wanted.

Before they’d started watching Gimme Shelter , Dylan and Raffo had spent a few hours in bed, many of those with Dylan’s hands pinned above her head.

On all fronts, emotionally, artistically, and physically, Dylan couldn’t be more satiated, so what other gift could Raffo have for her? But that was the thing with Raffo. She always had one more trick up her sleeve.

“It’s almost midnight,” Dylan said. “My birthday’s nearly over.”

Raffo snickered, folding herself into a cross-legged position on the couch, and nodded at Dylan. “From that first day in Big Bear, it’s been impossible for me to resist you,” she said.

Celebrities had been flooding Raffo with commission requests, offering serious money for paintings of themselves or their families. Raffo’s answer was always no. While she’d filled canvases with Dylan’s image, she neither considered herself a portraitist nor enjoyed working on commission. Until someone very specific called.

Raffo pointed at the screen. She wasn’t just going to come out and say it. She loved watching Dylan squirm too much for that.

“Do you know who wrote the screenplay for this movie?”

Dylan shook her head. “Is that something I should know?”

“No.” Raffo was just stretching out this delicious moment. The whole day had been a string of beautiful moments. Even though it was Dylan’s big birthday, it felt like Raffo’s celebration too, that’s how much she had enjoyed it. She couldn’t get enough of the smile that kept appearing on Dylan’s lips, and of how much she relished simply sitting at a table with her son, just chatting away, basking in all the love around her.

Because of her own unfortunate family history, Raffo had been so afraid of coming between Connor and his mother, perhaps because she’d never been taught that simply loving each other can make so much possible. That being part of a family is not conditional, like being part of Raffo’s family had been after her mother’s death. That Dylan and Connor’s bond was strong because it was forged in the kind of unconditional love Raffo had gone without since the age of thirteen.

“ Gimme Shelter was written by Charlie Cross, who is married to Ava Castaneda,” Raffo said.

“I definitely know who Ava Castaneda is.” Dylan’s eyebrows danced suggestively. Every time they caught Knives Out on TV, they found themselves mesmerized by Ava’s signature move—that slow, deliberate way she’d taste from a spoon. “And I surely also know who Charlie Cross is,” Dylan said. “I had a few of her Underground books with me in Big Bear.” She put a hand on Raffo’s knee. “I only just finished the one I was in the middle of that night you so brazenly seduced me.”

Raffo refused to take the bait. “Are you not really interested in this present? Is that why you’re goading me?” She shrugged. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go alone.”

“Go alone where?” Dylan dug her fingertips into the flesh around Raffo’s knee.

“Do you know who Ava’s best friend is?”

Dylan shook her head again. “I’m too old to be abreast of all that.” The grin on her face told a different story.

“Ava is best friends with Faye Fleming.” Raffo wasn’t one to waste time on celebrity friendships and affiliations, but after Gimme Shelter had come out, she and Min-ji and a few other people she’d been at the Rainbow Shelter with had mapped out the links from Justine to the biggest celebrity they could think of. Their own degrees of separation between the likes of Faye Fleming had vastly decreased because of the movie about Justine’s life. That was Los Angeles for you.

Dylan’s fingertips tapped an anxious rhythm against Raffo’s knee. “Faye Fleming is married to the one and only Ida Burton,” she breathed, her voice catching on each word.

The memory of that day in Big Bear still brought heat to Raffo’s cheeks—Ida Burton’s voice floating from the deck speakers, narrating that sultry sapphic story, revealing exactly what Dylan had been up to. So when Ida Burton’s people had called to commission a portrait of her family, Raffo had said yes in a flash—on the condition that she could bring Dylan.

“Would you like to meet Ida Burton?” Raffo asked. It sounded as solemn and serious as she imagined a marriage proposal might sound.

Dylan’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“I’ve agreed to paint her family portrait,” Raffo said, edging closer. “We’re meeting next week, and you’re coming with me.” She pressed her hand to Dylan’s chest. “If your sixty-year-old heart can handle it.”

“No way.” Dylan leaned in, studying Raffo’s face with laser focus, searching for any hint of teasing. “Are you messing with me?”

Raffo slowly shook her head. “I wouldn’t mess with you about something as big as meeting Ida Burton, babe.”

“Where are we meeting them?”

“At their house in Malibu. Connor has set it all up. I wasn’t sure he’d manage not telling you. I owe him big time. I might have to paint Ida’s gay ex-husband to pay him back.” Raffo wasn’t even kidding about that.

“Connor kept his mouth shut so you could surprise me?” Dylan’s voice cracked with emotion.

“He sure did.” Raffo should have known this tiny tidbit would get to Dylan the most. As a mother, she’d had to overcome quite a few things to get to this moment with Raffo. To have them celebrate her sixtieth together, as a couple. “Happy birthday, babe,” Raffo said. She leaned in closer. “Sixty looks damn good on you.” She kissed Dylan on the lips.

“What on earth am I going to get you for your birthday after you’ve given me all this?” She pulled her lips into one of her irresistible smiles.

“Don’t worry about that for even one single second.” Emotion roughened Raffo’s voice. “You’ve already given me everything.” She caught Dylan’s inevitable protest with a kiss.

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