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  Alarmed he stepped back.

  Grace leaned over and said “Joan, get in the car.”

  Giving her another angry look she said “No!”

  “Joan, get in the car or I’ll make a scene.”

  Looking straight into Graces eyes with all her anger she said “Go ahead.” She made as if to walk away.

  Grace tried once more, “Please.”

  Sighing loudly through her nose she allowed the parking attendant to help her into the Jaguar. He closed the door with a thunk, grateful that this woman was gone. Grace pulled away from the curb.

  “What do you think your doing?”

  “Driving” Grace responded dryly.

  “Too funny, but was it necessary to kidnap me?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Well, you wouldn’t talk to me, so yes it was necessary.” Joan was sure Grace referred not only to the gala but to a year ago.

  Joan sat there mutely for awhile and then “Do you know where your going?”

  “No actually, where are you staying?” she inquired solicitously.

  “Malibu” came the short reply.

  Grace steered them onto the 405 freeway and headed south to the 10. The silence in the car was unbearable and it went on for the entire length of the freeways. When the 10 ended she pulled on to Pacific Coast Highway heading north. Finally she broke the spell. “So how are you?” She could smell a perfume that must be coming from Joan, it was musky and she inhaled deeply. A jolt of desire swept through her suprising her.

  “Fine” came the tight lipped reply. Joan was looking intently out the window at nothing as it was dark and you couldn’t see far. She just stared out at the nothingness.

  “I meant it when I said you looked fabulous tonight.” She offered. This wasn’t going to be easy obviously. Joan wasn’t making any effort.

  Joan didn’t answer.

  “Is that a new hair style?” Grace tried again. Gawd, this was awful.

  “No.”

  “Oh, so how long have you had it?”

  “Over a year” you could hear the tightness in her voice. There was no give here. What she hadn’t intended was to infer to WHAT had happened a year ago.

  Grace ignored the obvious inference of a year ago and said “It looks nice, it suits you.”

  No answer.

  They were coming up on the first buildings of Malibu. “Where are you staying?”

  “The gallery” came the tight, quiet answer.

  Trying to remember from when she’d been there once before she started looking along the highway at the buildings. After awhile it began to look familiar.

  “There” Joan pointed at a driveway and Grace pulled the Jaguar in. She parked in front of a sign that read ‘Private Parking violators will be towed at owner’s expense.’ Joan reached for the door handle and Grace childishly locked the doors from her side. Joan looked over at her waiting patiently.

  “Wait.” There was a pleading note in Graces voice that she tried to quell.

  “What now?” The anger was apparent in Joan’s voice. She’d been trying to hold it all in on the ride so far but she was on a short fuse.

  “You don’t want to talk to me, fine. At least explain to me why you stopped talking to me last year. I think you owe me that much” Grace was getting angry herself now. Not only AT Joan but at the desperation she was feeling. She wanted to hash this out, she needed to know.

  “You really want to get into this NOW?” Joan looked at the digital clock on the dash. It was already 11 PM.

  “Now would be nice” the sarcasm slipped out.

  Joan was quiet for perhaps a count of 30 thinking it over. Sighing she turned to Grace “Would you like to come in?”

  Nodding, Grace turned off the engine and unlocked the doors. Locking them again when both were opened. She put her keys in her purse and slung it over her shoulder, she slammed her car door at the same time Joan did. It was cold with the ocean breeze and she pulled her coat tighter. She followed Joan to a door on the side of the building.

  Joan turned off the alarm with her thumb print and a code. Very high tech. Opening the door with a key she reached inside and turned on some lights. Grace followed her down the hall and up the stairs. Another key and they were in the apartment. Joan flipped on the lights by a panel near the door, soft music began from the speakers in the living room. Grace looked around curiously. Joan took off her coat and hung it on the rack by the door. Gesturing, she indicated Grace to do the same “Make yourself at home.” She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, throwing her purse on the counter bar.

  Grace hung up her coat and looked around at the soft lighting. The room they were in was a good size. The kitchen on her right the door at her back she looked into the living room with it’s balcony overlooking the gallery. Plants lined the balcony. A pretty sectional sofa faced the gallery with it’s back to the kitchen and facing a wide screen tv and stereo system. A few books lined the shelves that the equipment didn’t. She could see a hallway leading to the right and a doorway to her left.

  “So you stay here when your in town?” she asked looking at Joan.

  Joan shrugged, neither confirming or denying it. She took out two goblets and lifted the bottle of champagne she had in her hand raising her eyebrow in mute question.

  Grace nodded and proceeded into the living room. She couldn’t see down either the hallway or through the doorway as they were both dark. Turning back to Joan who was filling both goblets half way on the counter bar. Joan lifted a carafe of orange juice and again looked at Grace with the eyebrow raised, again Grace nodded as Joan mixed the drinks. Taking them she handed Grace one and proceeded into the living room.

  “Would you like to sit down?” She asked indicating the sofa.

  “Actually, may I use your bathroom?” Grace asked.

  “Sure, go either way it’s on your right down that hall on your left going that way.” She pointed with her finger gesturing while she held her drink. She sat on the sofa with her back to Grace.

  Grace put down her goblet on the bar and headed right. Turning on the light in the hallway it too was soft and lit up not only the bathroom but a room that was obviously Joan’s studio across the hall. She quickly used the bathroom to freshen up staring at her reflection in the mirror. What in the heck was she doing here. Joan made it apparent that she didn’t want her here. What, was she going to force her attentions on Joan? She couldn’t see herself doing that. Yes, she acknowledged, she still wanted this woman who sat out there, but at what cost to her own self esteem. Taking a deep breath she washed her hands and left the bathroom.

  Joan looked up as she opened the door. Grace indicated the studio and asked “Would you mind?”

  Shaking her head she answered in a dry voice with a clear touch of sarcasm “No, go ahead, I said make yourself at home.” Turning back around she reached again for her drink.

  Grace looked in the studio. It was smaller than the loft in Wausau but cleaner and much brighter with the windows facing the ocean. You couldn’t see much outside the windows except for the lights across the street and a few from the beach. Joan was working on a canvas that was set on an easel but she couldn’t tell what it was yet. Turning to leave the room she caught her breath. There on an easel in the corner of the room stood a copy of the painting presented at the gala that evening. It was slightly different though. It was the angel ghost silhouette with the cheekbones, the nose, the curly hair to below the shoulders, her right arm wasn’t holding out to children, no children appeared on this canvas but the word GRACE was in bold italic lettering across the bottom. This probably wasn’t a copy she realized but the original. Mixed emotions flitted across her face. Why would Joan have this? Why the word GRACE, was it a sign? Did Joan feel for her what she still felt for Joan? Was this of herself? So many questions, the only one who could answer them though was Joan herself and so far she wasn’t too inclined to answer any. Grace left the room and turned off the lights including the one in the hallway on
her way back.

  Joan looked up. She had counted the minutes Grace was in the studio. She realized just about when Grace had seen the portrait. She cringed inwardly wondering what Graces reaction had been. What she had been thinking. What was she thinking now?

  Grace indicated the other darkened doorway, “May I?”

  Joan got up to get another goblet of champagne and orange juice and said in passing “by all means, help yourself.” She was trying to keep her emotions in check. She wondered though if Grace had guessed once she saw the portrait. Why in the heck though was Grace being so nosy? This wasn’t like her, or what Joan had thought of her. Well they’d both changed or perhaps she never HAD known Grace after all.

  Grace flipped the lights beyond the doorway. Track lighting lit up a bed with a bench at the end. A dresser opposite the bench held a TV and what looked like a VCR. There were a few speakers set around the room. Next to the dresser was a cabinet that looked like it held jewelry. Next to that was obviously a closet and next to that another closet. Beyond that was a balcony door. To the right of the bed was another balcony door which must overlook where her car was parked, she hadn’t noticed it when they drove in. The room was pretty bare though of furnishing and the only things on the wall was a set of speakers. To her left was another bathroom. Turning around and shutting off the lights she returned to the living room. Joan was just sitting down with another goblet full as she stretched her legs out and flicked off her shoes.

  “You live here” she stated grabbing her own goblet off the bar counter.

  “Yes” the tone was very dry, slightly sarcastic.

  Grace joined her on the couch, sitting at the other end but facing her. “How long have you lived here?”

  Joan was looking at the design on the goblet, a cobalt blue with white crystal cut in the design of the cup, the long handle was clear and the base a cobalt blue as well. Looking up she looked straight into Graces blue eyes and answered “over a year.”

  Startled Grace could put two and two together. Joan had obviously moved here about the time of the communication breakdown. A slight understatement of what really happened she thought.

  Taking the bull by the horns she decided to try again, nothing ventured, nothing gained, “So, why did you stop calling me last year.” She was starting to get angry as well. She looked defiantly into Joan’s face, waiting for the answer that seemed a long time in coming.

  Joan turned the words over in her mind. How should she answer? What was the game that Grace was playing? Did she think Joan was a fool? She must believe that Joan wasn’t the wiser about the situation. Taking a deep breath she looked up from examining the goblet and into Graces blue eyes. What the heck? Blue eyes? Startled for a second she hesitated again in answering, finally “I just didn’t want a threesome, I don’t enjoy sharing.” She surprised herself that it came out calmly.

  Of all the things Joan could have said this wasn’t anything Grace could imagine her saying. A threesome? What in the world? “What do you mean a threesome?” Her eyebrows frowned, the worry lines between them showing in stark contrast.

  “Do you really wish to play this game?” she answered sarcastically taking another drink from the goblet which was only half full at this point.

  Shaking her head at the question “I’m not playing a game, I’m trying to find out what happened” she answered quietly. The music in the background was playing a country music song about cheating.

  Joan noted the switch in the song and thought it ironic. Standing up suddenly in her anger and agitation she took her goblet with her as she walked to the balcony, turning around and facing Grace but giving her some distance to work with. “I saw you that day you know? I saw you with that man. I’m not stupid or dense” she shook her head “you could have told me that you were involved with someone else. Instead I had to find out for myself.” She shrugged in emphasis. So saying she drank the rest of her drink. There, she had gotten it all out. She headed for the counter to pour herself another drink.

  Grace was shocked. What man? What was Joan talking about? Confused she turned to watch Joan stalk up to the counter for another drink. Her own drink wasn’t half done and Joan was on her third. That must be it, she was drunk. “What day? What man?”

  Whipping around, Joan was very angry. So she was going to deny it all then? Lie about it? Damn, didn’t that beat all. “Don’t tell me you don’t know? I SAW it. Why lie about it?”

  Patiently in her best doctor’s voice she said “I’m not lying to you Joan, I never did. I don’t know what you saw or thought you saw. All I knew is that you stopped calling. You stopped emailing. You stopped everything. I didn’t know WHAT had happened. I was worried.” That last part she could have left off she felt. Oh, well.

  Joan turned and finished fixing her drink. The champagne wasn’t going to last with four goblet’s gone already. Shrugging it off she turned and resumed her stance at the balcony. Her dress sexily showing off her legs. “Dammit Grace, I don’t know what game your playing but I’m tired of it, I don’t wish to play.” You could hear the resignation in her voice. She was tired, it had been a long night. Dealing with Grace just now was causing the tension in her to build.

  “I’m not playing a game. I wouldn’t do that to you, EVER.” She emphasized the word. “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Fine. I’ve had enough of this.” She nearly spilled her drink in gesturing. “I came to your apartment that morning as a man left it in a business suit. You were at the door, obviously you just got up, and don’t think I didn’t know what that would look like. You two exchanged a kiss. It was obvious you two were lovers.” So saying she took a gulp of her drink. The hell with it, she’d get drunk. She just didn’t care anymore.

  Flabbergasted Grace sat there with her own drink about to take one but it was frozen midway to her mouth which was hanging open. Looking up incredulously at Joan she could see that she was indeed serious. She thought she had caught Grace cheating! Ignoring the obvious reference to seeing what she’d look like in the morning she decided to tackle the other issue. “What man? Joan, I really don’t know what your talking about. I haven’t been with a man in about 20 years, not since college for Christ’s sake.”

  Joan was sure she was lying. Her anger flared up and she gripped the goblet stem too tightly. It snapped off in her hand cutting it as it did so. She dropped both but there wasn’t much left in the goblet anyway. Blood flowed. “Oh dammit” she exclaimed.

  Grace hurriedly rose to help but Joan brushed her off on her way to the bathroom adjoining her bedroom. Grace followed anyway. Joan turned on the water and ran her hand under it. There were several tiny cuts from the crystal and one really deep one. The sink quickly became splattered with her blood. Mumbling under her breath “shit” she grabbed a towel from the rack to wrap it.

  “Let me see” Grace reached for her hand which Joan pulled back so she could wrap it. Annoyed at the childishness of the act Graces anger came through in her tone “You need stitches!”

  “I can see that. Thank You” you could have skated on her answer it was so cold. Wrapping the towel around her hand she used her other hand to open the medicine cabinet and pull out a box with the first aid symbol on the front. Grace took it from her angrily. “Hey, I can do that!”

  Ignoring her and giving Joan a glaring look she opened it to find a very complete kit. Taking out peroxide, padding, tape, and a scissors she reached for Joan’s hand.

  Calming down Joan let her tend to her hand. How she would cut with a left hand anyway was what she thought. Grace took the towel off which had been saturated where the hand was and poured the peroxide on it. Joan hissed air through her teeth. Grace then placed the gauze on the palm of her hand thickly. The first few layers immediately filled with blood and stanched the flow. Taking the tape she cut strips to the appropriate size and taped down the gauze to the hand. One or two strips she hooked through Joan’s fingers for added support. She threw the bloody towel in the sink
and began to fill the sink with cold water. Joan gathered up the tape and scissors and put it in the first aid kit with her left hand and closed it, placing it back in the medicine cabinet. Exchanging a look with Grace in the mirror Joan was shocked to feel desire course through her body. It was so strong that her knees almost buckled. How inappropriate she thought as she left.

  Grace washed out the towel as best she could. That’s going to stain she thought shaking her head at Joan’s pig headedness and left it in the sink. She turned and dried her own hands on another towel. Leaving the room she flicked off the lights and went into the living room.

  Joan was cleaning up the pieces of the goblet and the little spatters of the drink with paper towels, double wadded so she wouldn’t get cut. After she had discarded all in the garbage bin under the sink she pulled out another goblet and filled it with just orange juice. Opening the cabinet above the stove she pulled out some aspirin and took 3. Swallowing them in one gulp she looked over the goblet to see Grace watching her from the doorway.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Actually Grace had been about to insist that they get the hand stitched but seeing as how Joan was all set for a fight she hoped her ministrations would be enough. She sat again on the couch.

  Joan sighed quietly. She joined Grace on the couch but sat at the other end, far enough from her on the 6’ couch as she could go. She knew she wouldn’t be escaping this conversation very long. That was one thing she remembered about Grace. She’d get her teeth in a conversation and away they went. It must be her psychiatric training she thought ruefully. Joan sat looking down at her hand, hoping it wasn’t serious. She was right handed and that could be a problem with her painting. The water had stung when she ran it under the tap and the peroxide had bubbled immediately. She was pretty sure it had stopped bleeding though. It was a real pain as all wounds of this type were. Hell of a lot worse than a paper cut she thought, laughing at herself.