Chapter 5 Not Long Ago
Not Long Ago
Jace got to the tapas place fifteen minutes early for her third date with Lina, hoping to arrive first for once.
She wanted to be in total control of the environment: stake out the table, touch base with her favorite waiter to ensure she got the check before Lina could offer to pay, confirm they were serving the flatiron steak and white sangria that night, the works.
Because this was their third date: the make-or-break date. The one where she either invited Lina to spend the night or broke things off to slink back home alone, frustrated, and even more convinced that she’d been stupid to try dating again in the first place.
Lina was a year older than Jace and ran a solo accounting practice from her house in Bloomfield Hills.
During the pandemic, she had broken up with her girlfriend of four years when the quarantine had magnified the little things that bugged them into massive, multi-legged problems that no amount of couples’ therapy could solve.
Her friends had forced her to sign up for speed dating after she’d thrown her phone out the car window in a fit of pique over being ghosted one too many times on the dating apps.
Likewise, Jace had been strong-armed into giving speed dating a try by Sabine and Mo after the Adoption Academy contract went belly up.
“You need to focus on something other than work, sweetie,” Sabine had said, handing her the flyer when the three of them were doing dinner and a movie on a night when the Artemis was dark.
“You have funneled way too much of your soul and psychic energy into your business, and you’ve put off dating way too long.
You deserve to find someone who’ll love you for who you are, not what you do for a living. ”
“I’m not interested in finding a life partner,” Jace said.
“Well, shit, maybe you’ll have to settle for sex,” Mo added. “Poor you.”
“This is coming from two women who haven’t had a date since the Obama administration,” Jace responded.
“Well, one of us has to blaze the trail, right?” Mo said. “If you can do this, there’s hope for the two of us.”
So Jace had speed dated, and Lina had caught her eye.
At that first meeting, Jace discovered they both were small business owners, childless, terrible at any sport involving a ball, and haunted by their exes in ways they admitted were unhealthy.
At their second meeting, Jace was pleased when Lina correctly identified the band (Chiaroscuro) and the title (“Love Bong”) of the song playing overhead.
And if that wasn’t enough of a turn-on, it didn’t hurt that Lina looked like Susan Sarandon as a sexy librarian, poised to take the clip out of her hair and loose her auburn tresses while removing her glasses to bat her long-lashed, wide brown eyes.
Not that Jace sought out that kind of fantasy, but if the situation presented itself, she would be there for it, especially since Jace felt a jolt of electricity when Lina’s fingers brushed against hers.
Yet there were some red flags. Most of Lina’s anecdotes were about the horrors of tax season.
She micromanaged tipping, sticking to a strict 15 percent on food and beverage (not the sales tax) and refusing to round up to the nearest dollar.
And as for music, her tastes were squarely in the pop camp and set in amber prior to the 1995 edition of “Now That’s What I Call Music. ”
Despite all that, Lina’s hair clip seemed to promise something Jace hadn’t experienced for more years than she’d care to admit. And she needed someone to desire her, remind her she wasn’t dead—convince her that she was still capable of turning someone on at this point in her late-middle-aged life.
“You look beautiful,” Jace said as Lina approached, wearing a fitted cotton dress printed with enormous yellow flowers and a pair of green, pointy-toed high heels.
“Thanks,” Lina said. “I figured I’d step things up a notch.” After a hug, she settled into the chair, looped her Chanel purse strap over its laddered back, and studied Jace for a moment. “Why does it seem like we dressed for two completely different dates?”
“Well, I told you this place is pretty casual,” Jace said, folding her arms over her graphic tee with Welcome to South Detroit printed over a Canadian flag. “And I dressed this way because I’m taking you somewhere special after dinner: I got us tickets to see the Loverladdies at the Magic Bag.”
Lina’s face fell. “A concert?”
“You said you liked MTV back in the day.”
“I liked the music videos. I hated concerts. Hate concerts.”
Jace was so shocked she couldn’t stop herself from tittering. “Oh. Shit. Why?”
“I was forced to go with my brother to the Silver Dome when I was in high school,” she said, her brows bunching up.
“We were sitting miles away from the stage, and it was still way too loud. It took forever before the band he wanted to see went on stage because these other two shitty groups had to play first. Then the roof leaked, and we were stuck in the parking lot for an hour afterward because the guys with the light-up wands giving us directions didn’t know their asses from a hole in the ground. ”
Even while dissing an experience Jace would have given her adolescent eye teeth to be a part of, Lina was overwhelmingly sexy, so she wanted to give her one last chance.
“Not all concerts are like that. Not all venues are like that, either. The Magic Bag is a great space: not too big, great sight lines. Lots of parking.” When it didn’t seem to sway her opinion, Jace added, “And the roof is watertight.”
“If you say so.” She leaned in, offering Jace a devilish smile and an unobstructed view of her cleavage. “But maybe we’ll want to do something more exciting after dinner instead.”
Lust flooded Jace’s synapses as she contemplated the possibilities. “What do you have in mind?”
Lina unzipped her purse and pulled out her phone. “Let’s find out.” She opened an app and handed her phone to Jace, who half expected to see kinky photos of Lina, or maybe a still from The Hunger, with or without Catherine Deneuve. Instead, there were words. A lot of words.
“Is this a test?” Jace asked, confused.
“More like a ‘getting to know you’ quiz,” Lina answered with a sly wink.
Jace scanned downward. There were pages and pages of questions about preferences relating to every element of a potential sexual situation: physical locations for both public and private encounters; body part nicknames; favorite brands of lotions and lubricants; body position in terms of degrees from horizontal; acceptable noise levels for various toys.
She also noticed there was a button to view Lina’s personalized report based on her own answers, but she refused to “Click Here.”
Lust dissipating, confusion continuing, Jace asked, “Did you come up with this yourself?”
“I adapted it from an Autostraddle article I read a few years back,” she replied. “They covered the basics, but I wanted extra layers of specificity.”
The white sangria Jace had preordered arrived, and she didn’t hesitate to pour herself a glass as she contemplated a dreadful question: Was everyone in the LGBTQ+ community expected to pass this sexual SAT test these days?
Jace poured some for Lina. “Kinda kills the spontaneity, doesn’t it?”
“Spontaneity is overrated,” she said. “At this point in my life, I don’t want to fart around. I know what works for me, and if I have a heads-up on what the other person wants, I can lay in supplies and be ready to go. Everybody wins.”
“I noticed there was nothing in there about relationships,” Jace said after taking a large swig.
“Oh, that’s a whole separate quiz,” Lina said, sounding rather proud of herself. “It’s pretty extensive, too. There are questions about polyamory, income inequality, and all that. Want me to show you?”
“No, I believe you,” Jace responded, a little too quickly to be polite.
Lina had a point. Why waste each other’s time if they were into different things?
And Jace was on the prowl instead of looking for lasting love, and filling out some erotic paperwork—in the middle of a public place, which was more terrifying than titillating—might be worthwhile if it meant Lina was raring to go.
“So,” Lina said in a foxy voice, “want to get started?”
Unbidden, a memory bloomed in Jace’s brain from the night she met Paloma for the first time.
After she’d finished her set at that sports bar in Ann Arbor, they’d found a corner away from the drunken frat boys so Jace could make her pitch about coming to the Artemis.
Even as she tried to focus on business, she would lose her train of thought any time she looked at Paloma.
It was like trying to hold a conversation with a beam of light, as Paloma seemed to glow brighter and more beautiful with every word Jace said.
Jace had gotten to the point in her pitch where she’d try to hide the lousy performance fee behind a promise of “great exposure” when Paloma placed her hand on Jace’s forearm, locked eyes with her, and said over the din, “Why don’t we finish talking about this at my place? ”
The next morning, Jace was putting on yesterday’s clothes and scanning the room to make sure she had everything she’d come in with when she stopped in front of Paloma’s Stratocaster case, lying open on the floor.
The guitar was nestled in velvet, its pearl white face smudged and worn down, its jet-black body marred by nicks and scrapes.
Jace stroked the strings, creating a muffled mash-up of notes.
Paloma returned from the bathroom and kneeled next to her. “You ever play guitar?”
“No, I’m happier being a fan of those who can.”
“Wanna try it anyway? Just for fun?”
Jace shook her head, staring at the Strat. “It looks fragile and expensive, and I don’t want to break it.”
“It’s stronger than it looks,” Paloma said, bumping Jace’s shoulder with her own. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
Paloma stood and picked up her guitar, then waved to Jace to join her on the other side of the room where her amp was.
Once everything was plugged in, she looped the strap over Jace’s head.
Standing behind her, she positioned the fingers of Jace’s left hand into an E5 chord and demonstrated how to hold the pick with her right.
“Ready?”
Without waiting for an answer, Paloma put her right hand over Jace’s and strummed. The roar of that chord, the thrum of the guitar, the arc of Paloma’s body echoing her own, the sheer joy of being with each other: Jace had never felt so in harmony with another human being before.
As Lina waited for her reply, Jace realized that sex really wasn’t all she was after, after all.
She wanted to see something, feel something, that promised more.
She wanted that click! like when Paloma first put her hand on Jace’s arm, completing a circuit between them that was amazing while it lasted and what she longed for even now.
Shit. She did want to find love.
Jace looked across the table. “Look, I’m sorry, but…”
Lina’s confidence evaporated. “Oh,” she muttered as she quickly slid her phone back into her purse.
Sensing her embarrassment, Jace wanted to keep things light. “It’s good information to find out at some point, but it’s a little too much, too soon for me. Hey, I don’t even know if you’re a vegetarian yet.”
“It’s clear this isn’t going to work out,” Lina said, ignoring Jace’s attempt at a joke. “I should go. I’m sorry.”
Jace saw her forlorn expression and couldn’t help feeling bad for her. “Hey, no offense taken. Why don’t you finish your drink before you go?”
“Why would you want me to?”
“Because you’re a nice person, Lina,” Jace said before pointing to the sangria. “And I can’t drink this whole pitcher myself.”
Lina scooted back in. “That’s really kind of you.”
Jace filled Lina’s wineglass as she settled back into her seat. Lina took a sip then closed her eyes in shame. “Jesus, why did I think this stupid quiz was going to be the answer this time?”
“What do you mean?”
“As she was moving out, the last thing my ex said to me was, ‘After all this time, you still don’t know me at all.’ And thinking about it later, she was right.
When we got together, I was so overjoyed she wanted to be with me, I didn’t dare say anything that might cause a rift.
I’d keep my opinions to myself and do my best to accommodate her—sometimes at my own expense—but that wore me out and didn’t make her happy anyway. ”
Jace froze, as if Lina had witnessed her final months with Paloma. “I understand how that can happen.”
“I decided this time out, I’d leave no question unanswered. It was going to be honesty or nothing. I’d be upfront about myself and expect nothing less from whoever I was getting to know.” She looked at her hands. “Anything not to be hurt again, you know?”
Jace knew. She had no intention of being hurt that badly again, either. But she also didn’t want to settle.
Lina put down her drink. “Let me get this. It’s the least I could do.”
“It’s already paid for,” Jace assured her. “And don’t feel awful on my account. You need to do what’s best for you, and I hope you find someone who checks all your boxes.”
“You, too.”
Once Lina left the restaurant, Jace placed an order to go and texted Mo and Sabine.
Hey there! Date was a bust, so first one to reply gets to be my plus one to see the Loverladdies as long as you don’t give me shit.