Cat fight

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Cat fight

Alcohol may destroy your liver and cloud your judgment but it’s the best social lubricant in the world. After one bottle Annabelle and I were chatting like old friends. Her expertly styled hair got frazzled because she couldn’t stop twirling it around her fingers. Her sharp, all-seeing gaze became a bit more mellow and her cheeks flushed pink.

“What’s it like wanting to look perfect all the time? Like you just stepped out of a make-up ad?” I asked.

She looked me straight in the face, her mouth starting to curl into a small smile. “Don’t tell me you don’t know the word for that, Lee. I thought you were an expert.” She took another big gulp of white wine. “I believe it’s generally referred to as being femme, or lipstick lesbian if you will.” And just like that she came out to me. I didn’t even have to probe.

“Do people actually still use those terms? They seem like ancient concepts to me.”

She held my gaze and twisted her glass around on the table. “Oh really?” She blinked once, then again. “Because you sure do seem to like your femmes.” She was a sly one. All night she’d led me to believe I was getting the upper hand, slowly, with every new sip of wine, but she was in control, then and always. “I’m her assistant, Lee. I see everything, including all the things I’m not supposed to.”

“I think we need another bottle.” I strutted to the bar and realised that Lucy was probably right. I should have just gone home. I wasn’t exactly sober anymore either, and the first thing that always goes out of the window when I have a few is my common sense. Hence my subsequent questionable decision to go on the offence. I sat back down opposite her and refilled her glass until it nearly ran over. “How’s Lynette Henderson?”

“She’s perfectly fine.” Annabelle seemed unfazed by my question, she didn’t flinch, her poker face remained intact.

“How long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” The first thing that cracked was her voice, just a tiny bit, but enough to give me an opening.

“It must be hard, you know, with her being married. The secrecy—”

“Spare me your sympathy. What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something from you, Annabelle? What could you possibly have to offer, anyway?”

“So you know about Lynette and me. Big deal.”

“I’ve met her and, well, let’s just say I find it hard to see the appeal.”

“What are you accusing me of?” Her tone got nastier.

“Nothing, I’m just trying to understand.”

“It’s not because you have the boss wrapped around your finger that you can sit here and judge me.”

“I’m not judging—”

“I know your type, Lee. You go from woman to woman, taking advantage of the good ones like Lucy. Some drama here, some heartbreak there. I just wonder what will happen once you tear Lucy to shreds again.”

“I’ve no doubt you’ll be there to comfort her.” What was I thinking going up against someone like Annabelle? “Then you’ll have both the board and management in your pocket.”

“And you’ll be out in no time.”

“What do you have against me? What did I ever do to you?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you very much.”

“The feeling is completely mutual.”

She burst out laughing, spraying high-pitched giggles over our table. I was puzzled but her shrill shrieks proved to be contagious and soon I was snorting along, spurred on by the alcohol pooling in my blood and the comic quality of our catty conversation. It was all rather hilarious.

“How about a real drink?” she asked. “Wine is for pussies. We need some shots.”

To be continued…

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