Chapter 4
If Justine believed in anything, especially after a deliciously cold bottle of Korean beer, it was finishing what she started. In fact, she prided herself on it. No half-truths and certainly no half measures.
“In that case,” Justine said. “I might just have to invite you to my messy house.” That smile on Sienna’s face was entirely impossible to resist and when it came to things like this, Justine was not one to overthink. Sienna Bright responding like this was not an opportunity she was going to ruin by imagining future regret—or possible reprimands.
“Shall we get the rest of the food to go?” Sienna finished her beer and put the bottle on the table with a slow, controlled gesture, all the while keeping her gaze trained on Justine.
Justine nodded and tried to find Min-ji. She was busy welcoming a sizable group of customers, but another server rushed to their table at the mere sight of her looking around, probably under strict instructions from Min-ji to swiftly cater to Justine’s every wish. It was always like this when Justine came here—and why she kept on returning.
“Can you box this up to go, please?” Justine asked.
“Of course.” The server made quick work of wrapping up the food. Justine couldn’t decide if the turmoil in her stomach was hunger or because of what was about to happen. Was she really taking Sienna Bright home with her?
“Leaving already?” Despite being rushed off her feet, Min-ji always kept track of everything happening at each table. She might be busy and, as she had repeated many a time, forever in Justine’s debt, but that didn’t stop her from giving Justine a puzzled look—or was that pure judgment in her glance? Justine brushed off the thought. Min-ji was certainly clever, but she was not clairvoyant. “I told you I wouldn’t tolerate leftovers.” She followed up with a knowing grin. “Make sure Justine eats all of it,” she said to Sienna. Maybe she did have a touch of the clairvoyant about her then.
Also as usual, Min-ji refused payment, despite both Justine and Sienna’s insistence to pay for their meal.
“Give the money to the Rainbow Shelter instead,” Min-ji said. “A generous tip included.”
“Deal.” Sienna rose from her chair. “Thank you so much for all of this. Judging by the queue outside you don’t need the extra promo, but I’ll tell everyone I know about your amazing restaurant.”
Min-ji hugged them both goodbye and a few minutes later Sienna and Justine were walking back to Justine’s car. The shelter’s parking lot wasn’t far, but there was plenty of time to inquire further.
“Are you sure you want to see my untidy house?” Justine asked, the paper bag with food dangling from her hand.
“Truth be told, it’s not your house that interests me, Justine.” Sienna glanced at her sideways.
Now that they were out in the open and the fresh air cleared her head, Justine must be second-guessing herself, because she asked, “Is this part of your process somehow?”
“My process?” Sienna bumped her shoulder lightly against Justine’s. “My acting process, you mean?” She slid her fingers under Justine’s arm. “Of course not, although I’ve never played a real person before.” She chuckled. “But I believe in seizing special moments that present themselves. I believe in the magic of spontaneity. In serendipity, if you will. I also quite like you.” She gave Justine’s arm a light squeeze.
“Quite, huh? That sounds pretty good.”
Sienna stopped walking and turned her body to face Justine, dropping her hand. “Of course it’s totally okay if you want to rescind your invitation. Just say the word and I’ll get a car home.”
“Are you crazy?” Justine reached for Sienna’s hand. “I quite like you, too.”
And so Justine found herself driving Sienna to her house, which was located between the shelter and Rochelle’s house. The ride didn’t take very long. As she unlocked the door, she tried to remember the state of her lounge—and her bedroom. Justine wasn’t a very good housekeeper even though, for far too long, she hadn’t had a house to live in. It was messy and, perhaps to someone like Sienna rather shabby as well, but this was her house. The furniture was all secondhand and the kitchen could surely do with a revamp, but it served its most important purpose without being glitzy or trendy. The house had Justine’s name on the deed. It was her home, the first and only one she’d ever owned. And plenty of women had passed through without much complaint. Although as far as Justine could remember, Sienna was the first bona fide movie star to cross its threshold—and not one who had grown up in squalor until she’d made it, either.
Bobby Bright still fetched ludicrous amounts of money—multiple millions—for the movies he made and from Rochelle, Justine knew that Maxine Brewster had signed a multi-million streamer deal—whatever that was—a few years ago.
“It’s cute,” Sienna said and Justine opted to not look for condescendence in her tone. Sienna might as well mean it, although Justine would never think of her house as cute, more as functional.
Sienna’s gaze was drawn to a picture on the sideboard . “Is that you with Raffo Shah?”
“It is.” Justine pointed at a painting of an improbably feathered heart in deep rainbow colors above the non-used fireplace. “That’s one of hers.”
“No effing way.” As if pulled by an invisible thread, Sienna strode toward the painting. “I have two Raffo Shahs at my place. She’s so out of this world fantastic. That’s one of my favorites of hers. I tried to buy it, in fact, but I was told it wasn’t for sale.”
“She made it for me.”
Sienna turned away from the painting. “Did Raffo also stay at the shelter?”
Justine nodded.
“Fuck me.” Sienna returned her gaze to the painting. “These colors. I don’t know how she does it. Do you know her secret?”
“Goodness no.” Justine knew the heartbreaking secrets of Raffo’s past, however.
“It’s one surprise after the other with you.” Sienna spun on her heels and dug her fists into the pockets of her jeans.
Justine never took credit for anything the kids she’d welcomed at the shelter achieved later, because whether they went on to become a famous painter, an applauded chef, a school teacher or, like Darrel, a social worker—all equally successful in Justine’s view—she was not responsible for that. Only they were, despite their crappy start in life. To go from almost nothing to something, that was the achievement. The option of something, no matter how big or small it was regarded by society, was what Justine tried to shine a light on with the kids that came to her.
Justine shrugged. “I’m going to put this in the fridge.” She held up the bag. “Can I get you anything?”
“Hey? What just happened?” Sienna took a step closer. “Did I offend you?”
“You didn’t. I just—” Justine let out a breath. “I wouldn’t want you to think that I took you to Min-ji’s or have this Raffo painting on my wall to impress you. Or anyone else for that matter. These kids mean something to me that goes so much deeper than a work of art that sells for a couple of grand. That’s not how I quantify what I do.”
“That’s the absolute last thing I would think of you.” Sienna pulled her lips into that mad-driving smile again—the same one as at the restaurant earlier.
“I also don’t want you to think of me as some kind of saint, because I’m anything but.”
“Can’t wait to find out about that.” Sienna stepped closer still.
Justine was still holding the bag in her hand and no drinks had been poured. Her pulse picked up speed.
“I like you and I like sex.” Sienna dipped her head. “Most of all, I like finding out what it’s like to kiss someone new for the first time.” She bridged the last distance between them, leaving only a whisper of space between their lips. “Would you like to find out what it’s like to kiss me ?”
The boundless, brazen audacity of privileged youth, Justine thought, before closing her eyes and leaning in. Sienna smelled like the height of summer. Like the promise of a hazy day in the sun with someone who utterly delights you.
Their lips brushed against each other, and Justine’s shoulders relaxed. The first touch was soft and cautious. Explorative and promising. A tingle ran up Justine’s spine. The bag of food dropped from her hand, to be forgotten on the floor.
Sienna’s fingers glided across her cheek and wound their way into Justine’s hair. They opened their lips to each other. The tip of Sienna’s tongue dipped gently into Justine’s mouth. Justine responded in kind, that tingle up her spine taking over the rest of her body.
She wasn’t the type to question what another woman saw in her, but with Sienna, the thought did sneak up on her. Justine was almost twenty years older than the woman kissing her so tenderly, so deliciously. Objectively speaking, Sienna was the kind of woman who could be with anyone she wanted, yet here she stood, in Justine’s cluttered living room, pulling her ever closer as their kiss deepened, their lips engaged in a delicate dance of sudden intimacy and promise of what was to come.
Sienna pulled back for a moment. “I haven’t told you how beautiful you are,” she whispered.
Before Justine could respond, Sienna continued their conversation without words, in the silent language of kissing. When their lips touched again, it was like the softest chord struck on a guitar, oh-so gentle yet deeply resonating.
The world seemed to pause and everything else in Justine’s life became secondary to the electric tension crackling in the air between them. She gave in to the moment, this prelude to whatever would happen next, which was predictable but also not. Because just as Sienna liked finding out what it was like to kiss another woman for the first time, implying that it was different every time, so it was with taking someone new to bed.
They kissed and kissed, lingering in their embrace, in this newfound, exhilarating connection between them, their hands exploring more of each other’s bodies, but remaining chastely above their clothes. Each kiss was a new discovery, each touch of their hands a declaration of intent.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” Justine breathed into Sienna’s ear, after having kissed her way up there from her delicious, moreish lips.
“Fuck yes,” Sienna said on a deep, heartfelt sigh.
“Come.” Justine took Sienna’s hand and led her up the stairs to her bedroom. And while the time for rational thought was long gone, Justine pondered how every time she invited a woman into her bed, as she was doing now, it was a small victory for her. It reminded her of what she had so gloriously managed to become—the very thing her parents had despised. It reminded her of who she was, of what defined her, of her core self and how that could make some people so profoundly uncomfortable, it made them turn on their own flesh and blood.
Sex could be uncomplicated, as Sienna had said earlier: I like you and I like sex —and that was that, apparently. That had been plenty of reason for her to kiss Justine and start things up between them. But for Justine, sex was tangled up with a whole host of emotions. Although she very much liked sex as well, and she’d had plenty of practice in her life, it was always complicated because, after all these years—decades, really—she still felt as though she had something to prove. That it meant something beyond the sheer pleasure it provided. Something beyond what happened in the privacy of her bedroom. Even though it took place behind closed doors, to Justine, it was still an act of outward rebellion. Because of who she was, where she came from, and what she had devoted her life to. She could scream from the rooftops how normal it was to be gay, but too many people on this planet still refused to believe her.
So she pulled Sienna onto the bed with her and kissed her with renewed abandon. She didn’t just owe it to herself, she owed it to the world as well.