Heteroflexibility (18 page)

“I’m not unruly!” Nikki said. “Ten beers.” She pulled a wad of cash from her pocket. “Thank you.”

The flight attendant walked away without anyone designating the brand. Whatever she had ten of, I guessed, glad there hadn’t been a scene. With our position in the back of the plane, I really couldn’t see anyone in front of us, regular passengers who might be reacting.

Nikki twisted around in her seat. “Time for more gay jokes. Anyone, anyone?”

When no one answered, she said, “All right. It’s all on me then. What’s the difference between a lesbian and a Ritz cracker?”

“Nikki!” several people chorused. “Don’t do it!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll whisper the answer. She stopped at the end of our aisle, cupping her hands around her mouth. “One’s a snack cracker, and the other’s a crack snacker.”

I pinched my lips tightly, almost laughing despite myself.

“Gotta love Nikki,” Bradford said.

“How do you know all these women anyway?” I asked him.

“A couple of my friends play on the league. They asked me to sponsor their team.”

“You sponsor the Hoebags?” I asked. “I didn’t see a salon name on their shirts.”

“I’m a silent benefactor,” he said.

Nikki heard him. “He doesn’t want everyone to know he pays off the Hoebags,” she said. “Might ruin his sterling reputation.”

“I have to watch my associations,” he said.

“You got that right.” Nikki waved at the flight attendant, who trundled the cart down the aisle. “Whoo hoo! It’s Miller time!”

She snatched the beers off the top of the cart, much to the attendant’s chagrin, tossing them across the seats. “Heads up, Hoebags!” she called.

“Airplane surfing!” She flung herself across our laps. Her elbow apparently found a tender spot, because Bradford let out an elongated, “Oooof.”

“Sorry dude,” Nikki said, rolling on her back to gaze up at him. “I’d give you a blow job to make it all better, but I’m not very well practiced.”

His face had turned pink. “I’ll pass,” he said. “But you can get up now.”

“Spoilsports,” she said, wiggling her way backwards.

Aud leaned over the top of our seats. “Riding cooter?” she asked.

Nikki looked up at her. “Don’t you know it! Straight cooter no less!”

“That’s the best kind.”

I glanced at the movie screen.
Baby Mama
still played, so presumably Audrey was still engrossed. But these couples seemed fine with sexual entendres between friends. I’d have diced a woman into chopped beef if she’d talked that way to my husband. Not that anyone had. Other than my…best friend.

Everything had to come back to Cade. I wondered, for a moment, what he was doing. He had no idea I was on a plane to California to shoot a mass lesbian elopement, flirting with a gay man, and drinking, ugh, Miller Light.

I wondered if he’d gotten in touch with Fern. She’d been so, well, busy (I flashed with an image of her boss in chains), that she had to have been ignoring him. He probably didn’t require a lot of attention, poor guy. She only had so long, though, before he’d know she wasn’t pregnant.

I’d probably be hearing from him when THAT happened. I might should speed up the divorce.

I popped the top of the beer and downed it in one long swallow. Nikki, who had shoved up the armrest so she could face the aisle, saluted me. “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about.” She raised her beer in the air. “To our photographer—an equal-opportunity public snogger, penis lover, heteroflex and image-snapper extraordinaire, who knows how to PARTY!”

Everyone held up their beers. I clinked my empty one against the others. Just a week ago I could never have imagined women like this would be my best—and pretty much only—friends.

I turned to Bradford and whispered, “Can you explain to me what a heteroflex actually is? Nikki’s called me that twice now.”

He grinned. “Heteroflexible means you’re primarily straight, but you’re willing to be, well, flexible on that.”

“Flexible meaning that I will sometimes be with a girl?”

“If the mood strikes.”

I leaned my head back against the seat and crunched my empty beer can. “I’m something I didn’t know existed.”

“Not a bad thing.”

“And cooter is—”

“The part you have that I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Bradford cocked one of his half-smiles. “Glad we can talk about these things.” He handed me his beer. “It might be a long flight,” he said. “I’m more of a wine guy.”

I opened it gratefully. The last thing I needed was for Bradford to figure out that a silly flip of a homeless photographer was falling for him a mere six days after her husband filed for divorce. I’d never actually felt this giddy before. Cade had been a long slow agonizing decision, a mutual agreement after we realized we’d missed our chance to easily meet other people in college.

In fact, I remembered his exact words. “It’s you and me or singles bars.”

The height of romance, that Cade.

But no one else had made it even that close. EPT-stick man, who introduced me to Fern, wasn’t anything special. And my lone boyfriend in high school was more a way to ditch my virginity than an affair of the heart.

And now there was Bradford, completely inappropriate, out of my league even if he liked women, which he didn’t. For him to know what was going on in my clueless head would be far more humiliation than I could bear, even in a week like this one.

But as he grinned down at me, relaxed, his head resting against the plaid cushion, I had a feeling he could already tell.

Chapter 22: Signs, Signs, Everywhere Are Signs

Everybody, well, other than Bradford, had their buzz on by the time we landed. I sloshed through the terminal, trying not to bang my camera bag as I walked. Some professional I was turning out to be. But the women were singing and hugging, and I was right in the middle of it.

“We’re naming you an honorary lesbian,” Bella said, her arm around my neck. We stumbled to the baggage claim.

Nikki rushed past us, shouting, “She’s already halfway there!” Then she sprinted ahead.

“I think she’s going to jump on the conveyor,” Bella said. “Let me go fetch her.”

Bradford neatly intercepted Nikki first, steering her away from the carousel, which still trundled a random bag or two from the previous flight. He pushed her onto a plastic chair and said, “Stay.”

Bella and I burst into giggles. “Stay, Nikki, be a good girl!” Bella said. “Where’s Butch? He can show you!”

Bradford turned to me. “And you, be careful with your equipment. We want it—and our photographer—in one piece tomorrow.” He took the bag from me before it banged against a pole. “Let’s get this more secure.”

I sank into a chair next to Nikki. “Thanks. You’re a peach.”

He tried not to smile, but failed. “Such a southern girl.”

Bradford dropped my camera bag in my lap, sobering. “Don’t let go. Got it?”

“Got it.”

He stood by the conveyor where the light was already beginning to flash.

“How is he going to know which ones are ours?” I asked Nikki.

“He marked them all, probably. He’s organized like that.”

The bags began appearing and Bradford stood in front, snatching bags as they came out. The other passengers began moving forward, obscuring our view.

“I’ve got to see this,” I said, sliding the strap of my bag over my shoulder. The searing light of the terminal was already beginning to sober me up.

I snuck up behind him, trying to find the common denominator on the bags. It wasn’t hard to spot. Each one sported a bit of white lace and a red tag that read “Not just a bag, a Hoebag.” Since I had checked in early, mine wasn’t marked. But he still lifted it from the belt as it passed by.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“I’m observant,” he said. “Part of my trade.”

“But when?”

“Your dad’s house. I tripped over it, actually, in the bathroom.”

He slung the duffle easily over his shoulder. “You just hang on to the important one—the camera.” He waved the women over and got out of the way, towing a pearlized pink Pierre Cardin behind him.

Nikki grabbed her bag and Bella’s. “Oh, Bradford. Your bag! It’s so gay!”

He shook his head. “It’s from the salon. All the makeup for you ladies.”

Nikki laughed. “That is the gayest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Well,” Bradford admonished. “If certain ladies hadn’t kept me out all night, I’d have repacked it into something more manly.”

Why did he care if he looked gay? Did he try to hide it, usually? I remembered the moment I first saw him, his arm draped around another man. Did he have a boyfriend? He always seemed to pop up places alone. I couldn’t bear to ask.

Mary snatched her bag. “The van’s waiting! Let’s go!”

We stepped out into San Diego, my first visit to California. Palm trees where everywhere, as if the city wanted to present the stereotype immediately upon a visitor’s arrival.

The Hoebags loaded into the huge red van, everyone animated now, watching out the windows. We drove along the upper part of a bay, the water extending forever. “The ocean,” Bella breathed. “I can’t wait to get in it. When are we going?”

“Sunday, after the game,” Mary said. “We’ll have time before our flight.”

“I say we go skinny dipping tonight,” Nikki said.

“Nobody wants to see you naked,” Blitz said. “Least of all me.”

“You’re just jealous,” Nikki said. She pushed her chest up beneath her pirate vest. “I got me some double D action.”

Blitz grunted.

“So Zest, you going to photograph us skinny dipping?” Nikki asked.

I glanced at Bradford, who shook his head. I hugged my camera bag closer to me. “You going to get arrested the night before your wedding?”

“Lame!” Nikki said. “I knew it!”

“I’m all for it,” I said. “But if you get busted, I’ll claim I never saw you before in my life.”

“Ha, we’re all from Texas,” she said. “No one will believe you. Like Peter trying to deny Jesus.”

“Leave Jesus out of this,” Mary said. “We’re coming up on downtown.”

“Where are we staying?” Bella asked.

“In Old Town,” Mary answered. “It’s really close to a lot of shopping, restaurants, and the historic district. We can walk to all of it.”

“Is the wedding hall close by?” I asked.

“Yes, in fact, I’ll ask the driver to pass by it on the way so you can see.”

Mary moved to the front of the van. The palm trees would make for stunning shots all on their own, easy contrast against a white sky. I would have the most amazing wedding album I’d ever done.

Mary returned. “He’s turning that way now. It’s a couple exits before Old Town,”

We drove down a smallish street. “It’s coming up, I think,” she said. “I’ve only been here once before. It’s called Brownstone.”

“That’s it!” Jenna said. “I see the sign.”

We approached a long stone wall with an arch. Outside of it, quite a few people were milling around, setting up tables, and painting signs.

“Must be something happening here tonight,” Mary said. “But we have it free and clear in the morning.”

“It looks nice,” Audrey said.

Neither Bradford nor I talked, both assessing the location as we idled by. I could see lots of green grass, some wrought iron chairs, a few trees. All good for portraits outdoors if the inside was too dark or cluttered. I sat back. “I can work with that.”

“It looks good,” Bradford said. “Only Bella is wearing heels, but we’ll keep her off the grass if it’s soft.”

“True,” I said. I’d seen more than one bride sink into a lawn, muddying up her shoe or losing it all together.

“The hotel’s coming up,” Mary said. “I’ll jump in ahead and make sure all the rooms are in order.” She checked her watch.  “Don’t forget to fall back two hours. We’re arriving well after check in time, but you never know.”

As the van approached the front, we spotted a line of people waving signs and marching in a circle.

Blitz smacked her fist against the window. “Can you read that?”

I leaned forward, peering at the lettering. One said, “Marriage is sacred.” Another showed a symbol of two women holding hands with a line through it.

“Is that for us?” Bella asked.

“Surely not,” Mary said.

“Prop 8 is crazy here,” Nikki said. “That’s why we’re trying to get in before the election.”

I pulled my camera from my bag and laid the lens against the window. The van was waiting in line to access the front walk. I snapped a series of shots.

“You shooting this?” Bella asked.

I nodded. “Good documentary stuff.”

“I don’t like the look of it,” Bradford said. “I say let’s find another place.” He pulled out his phone.

“Hopefully they’ll let us out of our reservations,” Mary said. “Surely.”

Branford tapped madly on the screen. “I’ll handle it.”

The driver swerved out of the line of cars and headed back down the street. “There’s scads of hotels around here,” Mary said. “He’ll find one.”

“One that isn’t swarming with wingnuts,” Blitz said.

***

The new hotel was set back from the highway, a sprawling yellow stucco with four separate buildings. The Hoebags got rooms on the ground floor, with mine and Bradford’s above.

“That’ll help you poor saps who aren’t in on the love action get some sleep,” Nikki said as we separated.

I’d no more gotten my Halloween trinkets off and begun arranging my equipment in a day pack when someone pounded on the door.

“Surprise!” Nikki said. “We’re kidnapping you. It’s time for some fun!”

I groaned. “Not another gay bar. Please, Nikki.”

“Just sightseeing. Come on! What else you going to do, sit up here and watch television?” She tugged me by the hand. “Besides, Bradford’s coming!”

Good Lord. Everyone knew.

“Okay okay.” I pulled my arm away. “Let me get my camera.”

***

We walked along streets lined with small shops catering to tourists and into the historic district. Everyone in our group had changed out of their costumes, switching to jeans, although many of the people around us were in full Halloween regalia.

“That’s six Sarah Palins we’ve passed now,” Krieg moaned. “Does everyone with an updo and glasses think they can pull that look off?”