"Oh, Camila. God, what you do to me," Ariana moaned. She was naked on the pillows in front of the massive fireplace. She sighed and looked at Camila kissing her chest, her long slender leg gently rubbing against her. "My God, you're the best lover I've ever had," she whispered with a deep moan.
Camila lifted her head, her brown eyes gazing deeply into hers. She purred against Ariana's chest, causing the woman to gasp and grab Camila's brown hair.
"I'll take that as a compliment, considering I believe you've been with half of the North Shore of Chicago," Camila murmured.
Ariana laughed and tugged at Camila's hair. "I'm serious. You're just amazing."
"My mother always said that anything worth doing is worth doing well. And, my dear Ari, it's worth doing well to you." Camila moaned against her chest, her teeth gently nibbling her hardened nipple. She grabbed the chilled martini shaker and poured its contents into the long-stemmed glass. As she placed it on the table, she traced the icy metal against the side of Ariana's breast.
Ariana arched her back. "Camila," she exclaimed.
"Yes?" Camila offered her the martini.
Both drank in silence for a moment, then Camila took an olive from the glass and sensually placed it on Ariana's belly button. She laughed as Camila whispered in her ear, "I'll talk more about that later."
Camila then showed lovely Ariana just how incredible she could be...
They were entwined in front of the fire. Camila was lying on top of Ariana, both breathing heavily. "Did I eat that olive?"
Ariana laughed. "Yes, you did, and everything else in sight."
Camila lifted her head and looked up, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. "I was hungry."
"You should get back to your work. I'm afraid I interrupted," Ariana sighed as she ran her nails up and down Camila's strong back.
"A wonderful interruption. I needed a break. I couldn't sit at that piano for another minute." She kissed Camila's shoulder, releasing a deep moan when the phone rang. "Ugh..." Camila growled and didn't move.
"Answer it. It might be your producer," Ariana said, gently prompting Camila.
"Shit." Camila rolled onto her back and picked up the phone.
"It better be good," she said into the phone, staring at the ceiling.
"Camila? It's John. You better come back to Chicago. I have a registered letter here from a lawyer in Albuquerque. Who do you know in New Mexico?"
Camila furrowed her brow as she heard the concerned tone of her lawyer; she continued to gaze at the ceiling with wooden beams. "Nobody. I don't think so." She chuckled and looked down to see Ariana moving between her legs. Camila held her breath as Ariana spread her legs and kissed the inside of her thigh. She ran her fingers through Ariana's brown hair.
"J-John, I'll be in t-tomorrow morning..." She sighed and hung up the phone.
"Who was on the phone earlier?" Ariana asked some time later. She snuggled against Camila, who was looking at the fire; she absentmindedly stroked Ariana's shoulder.
"My lawyer, John. Someone in..." She paused and struck a thoughtful pose. "I can't remember the name of the place. Anyway, he received a letter. He seemed worried." She stopped and yawned. "But John always worries."
Ariana pouted. "Does that mean we have to leave?"
Camila laughed. "Don't act like it bothers you. I know how you just love the great outdoors."
Ariana looked up with a lazy smile. "I'm a city girl. I love Chicago."
Teasing Arina, Camila grunted and got up. She offered her hand. "You love to spend money." She lifted Ariana and pulled her close.
"Don't bring the whole country up on me, Ms. Cabello. You love the city's spotlight too. You can't stay away from Chicago for too long." She reached out and held Camila's chest. "I'd like to take credit for that."
"You should too," Camila whispered, then laughed and stepped away. "I need to get organized. We have to leave in the morning." She slapped Ariana's rear and walked down the hallway to the bedroom.
It was a long trip back from Wisconsin. Well, long for Camila. Ariana snored the whole way to Chicago. She parked in the underground garage of Ariana's apartment building. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty."
Ariana groaned and stretched. "Are we back already?"
"Yes, darling. Thank you for keeping me company." Camila unbuckled her seatbelt. Ariana leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
"Come on, Ariana, I have a meeting with John." She opened the trunk and took out two suitcases. Shaking her head, she accompanied them to the elevator. Two suitcases for three days, she thought.
Ariana lazily met Camila in the elevator. "I suppose you can handle two suitcases on your own," Camila said as the elevator doors opened. She kissed Ariana and patted her cheek. "See you at rehearsal. Study your music. I want to hear some feeling in those chords."
"Don't be a jerk, Mila," Ariana said as she carried the luggage with her and pressed the button. "I had a great time. See you later." She waved and blew a kiss as the doors closed.
Camila stood still for a moment, looking at the elevator door; she smiled sadly. "I'll miss you too." She shook her head and walked away.
After dropping off Ariana at her sleek skyscraper, Camila drove through the bustling streets of downtown Chicago – something she hated doing. Ever since she made enough money composing music for movies and television, she moved from her high-rise to a cozy wooden house up in Wisconsin, her beloved adopted state. Situated by a small lake, it was a world apart from her busy hometown.
Camila smiled as she reminisced about her childhood in this city. Her mother was always there, nurturing Camila's love for music and the piano. She laughed openly as she remembered the day she told her mother and grandmother that she was gay.
She was nineteen and had just started college on a music scholarship...
Flashback On
Camila sat at the piano in the living room. She ran her fingers through her long brown hair and cracked her knuckles.
"Arrrgg," her grandmother shouted. "Don't do that. Sinuhe, tell her to stop that."
Camila heard her mother laugh; she did it again. Sometimes she loved teasing her grandmother. She then opened the sheet music and began to play, feeling alive as her fingers touched the black and white keys. With smiling eyes, she played the music she had composed. As she played, she looked up and saw her mother smiling, though tears welled up in her eyes.
Her grandmother sniffed loudly and sipped her tea. "How the hell are you going to make it to Carnegie Hall if you don't play the classics?" she asked gruffly.
Camila smiled as she played. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No, you might as well finish," her grandmother said, then winked at Camila's mother.
Camila stopped and furrowed her brow deeply.
"What's the matter, Camila?" Sinuhe walked up to the piano.
"I can't find an ending for it," Camila said.
Their eyes met; her mother tilted her head and smiled. "It sounds very romantic."
"I guess so."
"For someone in particular?"
Camila shrugged. "Maybe."
With that, her grandmother quickly approached. "Who? Don't say mine. The Gentry boy, what's his name?" she said eagerly.
Camila's mother never took her eyes off her. "It's not him. Is it, dear?"
She felt the tears welling up in her eyes; they mirrored her mother's. "No, Mom. It's not the Gentry boy."
"Then who is it?" her grandmother asked cheerfully. Camila knew she had visions of a grand wedding at St. Patrick's Cathedral; she would be so disappointed, Camila thought.
"I don't think you want to know," Camila said, breaking eye contact with her mother as she looked at the keys and lovingly ran her fingers over them.
Her mother placed her hand beneath Camila's chin. Camila turned toward her mother's smiling face, filled with curiosity. "I do."
"Well, so do I," her grandmother chimed in, not wanting to be left out.
Camila took a deep breath and looked into her grandmother's eyes. The eager face before saying, "Veronica Iglesias."
Her mother blinked and for a moment seemed stunned; a curious smile then appeared on her lips. She swallowed hard and hesitated as if trying to register this information.
Camila waited, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked at her grandmother, who was utterly confused.
"Veronica?" she asked. "But she's a woman. I don't understand..."
Camila's mother raised her hand. "Mom, please."
"I'm sorry, Mom." Suddenly, Camila felt ashamed.
"Well, I suppose you should think of it this way..."
"Mom," Sinuhe warned with a stern voice. She looked at Camila with so much love in her eyes that Camila almost started crying. "Is it someone special? I've met Veronica. She's a nice girl."
"Oh, my God," her grandmother exclaimed and collapsed into the nearest chair. "Sinuhe Cabello, I can't believe your daughter is telling you this, and you..."
Camila and her mother paid no attention. "Yes, she is, Mom," Camila said. "I-I don't know why or how, but all I know is that she makes me feel the same way you said you felt for dad."
Her mother nodded as she smiled. "Then she is special, and I'm happy for you, Camila. We'll talk about this later. You finish this song for her."
Camila furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure if it's for her, but for someone..." Her voice faltered.
Sinuhe walked behind her and gathered her long hair in her hands, running her fingers through them. Camila closed her eyes as her mother absentmindedly braided her hair. She knew this wasn't easy for her mother. She didn't want to hurt her, but she knew the truth had to be told.
"I love you, Mija." She kissed the top of her head. She then walked over to her mother. "We need to talk, Mom."
The older woman stood up, and Camila smiled. "I love you, Gram."
She narrowed her eyes at Camila. "You're just like your mother with those lovely brown eyes," she said, then smiled reluctantly. "I suppose I can see what you ladies are after." She then stood up and cleared her throat. "And why not? You have Cabello blood running through your veins too." She stepped forward and held Camila's face. "I guess the wedding at St. Patrick's is off?"
"Until the laws change, I'm afraid so," Camila said. She then held her grandmother's hand. "But if the time comes, and I-I meet someone, will you be there, wherever it may be?"
Tears welled up in the old woman's eyes. "I don't intend to understand or agree with it." She then nodded. "But try to keep me away."
Flashback Off
Camila smiled now and wiped the tear that rolled down her cheek. Her mother was gone, but that day would never fade from her memory. And speaking of memories, Veronica Iglesias was a distant memory now, although she was Camila's first love. Camila had many loves since then, but no one touched her heart enough to finish her song.
She focused on her music career, and now, at thirty-four years old, Camila could choose her own work and only come to Chicago when it was time to work in the studio. That usually took a few weeks, so she stayed in her Lake Point Tower skyscraper. The rest of the time, she got lost in the woods. She could be making a lot of money if she lived in Los Angeles or New York, but she preferred peace of mind and a small bank account over the frantic rat race of Hollywood. Her grandmother was pleased with that decision. Ever since Camila's mother passed away, her grandmother stepped in and took care of Camila. Not that Camila Cabello needed to be taken care of. Her grandmother, Mercedes Rodriguez, was determined to see her only granddaughter healthy and happy. Wealth was secondary. And if being gay made Camila happy, her grandmother reluctantly agreed.
Camila smiled as she thought of her grandmother taking an interest in her life. She picked up her phone and dialed the familiar number. "Gram? Hey."
"Who is this?"
Camila chuckled. "It's your favorite granddaughter."
"Hmm. You're my only one, so you're lucky. How are you? You're still alive, that's good."
Camila winced at the reprimanding tone in her voice. "I'm fine. Sorry, Grandma. How about dinner?"
"Are you paying?"
"Of course."
"Well then, yes, I'd love to have dinner with you. You choose the place, make it fancy."
Camila laughed. "I will. How about Mickey's on Halsted?"
She waited patiently for a response.
"I'm not spending an evening in that dive of your misspent youth. By my life, I'll never understand you going to that place and playing that piano for the neighborhood. And not even getting paid for it..."
"I remember you and Grandpa going there occasionally."
"Don't get insolent. And for that, you're taking me to Charlie Trotter's."
Camila groaned. "Oh, Gram. We have to dress up."
"It wouldn't hurt you to wear a dress once in a while, Camila Cabello. if for no other reason than to remember that you're a woman."
"I know I'm a woman, Gram. Ask Ariana."
There was a deafening silence.
"You love tormenting me with your lesbianism, don't you? And since we're on the subject, if you insist on this lifestyle, please find a good woman? Someone with an IQ higher than a turnip?"
"Now, Gram. Ariana plays the cello."
"So? She's a wise idiot."
Camila rolled her eyes as she entered the underground parking lot. "I'm at John's office."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing. I'll pick you up at seven. I love you."
"Hmm. You're still not getting my money. I love you too, dear."
Camila laughed and hung up the phone. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was in trouble; it was the guilt-ridden Cuban in her. She stepped out of the elevator when she reached the eighth floor.
"Camila Cabello to see John Jones," she said with a wink. The young secretary blushed and laughed along.
"Do you flirt with my secretary?" John's voice called from the office.
Camila laughed and entered. "No, but sometimes it's necessary." She sat down and stretched her long, jean-clad legs out in front of her. She absentmindedly spun her sunglasses while brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.
"Well? Is someone suing me, John?"
"You seem serious." He then murmured, "If Camila Cabello could be serious."
"I heard that." She wagged a finger at him. "You sound like my grandma."
"Mercedes is fine, I hope." John opened the manila envelope.
"And I have no idea if anyone is suing you. You must have a guilty conscience." He ignored Camila's laughter. "The cover letter states that you are named in someone's will. A Lucy Vives." He looked over his glasses.
Camila stopped spinning the glasses and furrowed her brow deeply. She leaned forward and took the offered letter.
"I guess you knew her?"
"Knew her? Yes. I knew her," Camila said slowly as she swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her ears. She carefully opened the letter:
Dear Camila,
It's been five years, hasn't it? Sorry for writing like this, but there's no other way. Long story short? I found out I have bone cancer, and when you're reading this, well... it sounds like something out of the movies you write music for. Anyway, I'm in big trouble. Last time we talked, I told you about this wonderful woman I met and fell in love with, remember? Lauren Jauregui. Well, she fell in love with me, go figure. We started a family; you know how much I wanted one. You were right all those years ago. I wasn't ready for a family. You told me I was in love with the idea of a family but could never face the responsibility. You were right. Lauren wanted a family too, she's a great mother. We have a daughter, Lori, a great little girl, although she doesn't know me very well. I'm still working for the airline and away most of the time. I'll always regret that. I missed out on time with Lori. Now I'll miss out on everything. I messed it all up. Lauren tried so hard to plan a life for us, and I just didn't see it coming. I'm afraid I've left the poor woman with one child and another on the way. She's due in December. Please, please, help her. She knows about you. She just needs someone to help her until the baby comes and she can get back on her feet. I think you're the only one I have left that I haven't pissed off. Even Lauren was going to leave me a few times. You loved me once. I know I'm asking a lot, and I have no right to ask, and you have no obligation to me. But I'm begging you to take care of them. I have no one else, Camila.
Lucy
Camila sat there, stunned. John circled around and sat on the edge of the desk. "Camila, as your lawyer, can I?" he asked gently, and Camila, as if in a trance, handed him the letter.
John read it, then read it again. He looked at Camila, who was staring at the ground, scowling.
"Well," he folded the letter, "what are you going to do?"
Camila shot an angry look at her lawyer and friend. "Do?" she yelled and stood up, pacing back and forth. "Nothing. Lucy left me five years ago because she wanted kids. Well, you read the letter... and I was right. She screwed it all up, and now she has a woman with a child and another one about to show up any minute. Damn it!"
John flinched but let her continue her rant. "Camila," he began.
She looked at him. John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I haven't seen you this angry since, well, the incident at Orchestra Hall comes to mind. The poor violinist cried for a week," he said, smiling slightly. "That wasn't nice of you to do to poor Donald."
For a moment, Camila relaxed and smiled faintly. She did make the poor guy cry. He was a terrible violinist. In the next instant, she was angry again. "Damn it!" she said angrily. "And now she goes and dies," she shouted and sat down, burying her face in her hands.
"She obviously knew she could turn to you."
Camila snorted. "Well, she was wrong. What do I know about kids? Look at my life," she said slowly, trying to explain.
John laughed at her sarcasm.
"I'm single. I like being single. Yes, I'm gay and I enjoy the freedom of a physical relationship that doesn't require the second date to involve a U-Haul. I live in the woods on a lake. And you know why I live in the woods on a lake?"
"Not to steal the title from the movie, but to be... Far from the maddening crowd," John replied obediently.
"Yes, exactly."
"She's pregnant and has nowhere to go."
Camila stood up and furrowed her brow in confusion. "How the hell do you know she has nowhere to go?"
He circled around, picked up the referral letter, and handed it to her. Camila read it aloud. "Dear Mr. Jones, it's you. I'm Mr. Harris, it's him..." She skimmed the letter, then it hit her. She read it, and her shoulders slumped. "Damn it. No money, no place... damn it." She sank into the chair.
"No."
"Camila," John insisted. "She's almost in her third trimester."
"So when she graduates, I'll throw her a party."
"That means she'll give birth in December," he said dryly.
Camila blinked. "Oh," she said stupidly and threw her hands up.
"There, you see? I know nothing about having kids," she exclaimed dramatically.
John didn't say anything but gave her the paternal look that Camila loved to receive. She saw the look and sat back down.
"Karla Camila Cabello Estrabao."
"Here it comes."
"I've known you since you were, well, a young one. Throughout your life, you've been able to live as you want. You're confident, out of the closet, and don't care who knows it. You're talented and beautiful..."
"I like it so far, but I'm afraid the other shoe is about to drop and kick me right in the ass on the way down," she grumbled and rubbed her temples.
"I've seen you do great things with your music. I've seen you help all those kids when you thought no one knew. But you can be the most arrogant, detestable, self-indulgent, and messy rebel I've ever known," he said firmly. Camila raised an eyebrow as he continued, "You need this woman. You need her a lot because one of these days, Camila Cabello, you're going to wake up alone and lonely. You're halfway there now."
"I'm only thirty-four," she said in a logical voice.
"I give up." He put down the pen. "If you can't see the importance of this..."
Camila made a grimace and took a deep breath. "Fine, give me her number..."
"I-I already called her lawyer last night. He put her on the morning bus. She'll arrive at the Greyhound station in Rhinelander in two days. I offered her a plane ticket, but it seems Miss Jauregui is a proud woman. It'll be hard for her too, Camila." He gave her a sickly smile.
She looked at him and loomed over his desk.
"Now, Camila. You're doing a big thing here. Y-you know that," he said and leaned back. "Don't let that legendary temper get the better of you."
Camila sported a fierce smile. "Yeah, and I don't regret throwing that musician's music stand out the window. The musician was lucky not to be next."
John smiled weakly and quickly hid behind the protection of his glasses.
Camila stopped and took a deep angry breath. She then put on her sunglasses and stretched her neck from side to side.
John heard the vertebrae crack into alignment and winced slightly.
"Y-you could use a massage," he offered, smiling, and Camila looked at him. "If you need anything, call me or Megan. She's had my two kids." He dismissed Camila's strange look. "You know what I mean."
"Good day, John. I'll definitely stay in touch," she said through gritted teeth and stormed out of his office, leaving the door open.
Her secretary stuck her head in.
"Betty?" I need a drink.
Camila swam lap after lap in the pool at her gym. Damn it! Kids? A mother? What the hell am I supposed to do about this? she thought.
Twenty minutes later, she stopped, breathless. She stood in the shallow water, ripped off her goggles, and angrily threw them into the pool. Heads turned, and people watched as she effortlessly hoisted herself out of the pool and grabbed her towel.
Not even the sauna helped. Camila sat naked, a sheet partially covering her long, tanned body. She took a deep breath as she remembered Lucy Vives.
They were together for nearly three years. Camila was happy and content. Lucy worked for the airlines and was away most of the time. That was probably why Camila was happy and content. However, she loved Lucy more than she had ever loved anyone, and that said something to Camila Cabello.
Then Lucy dropped the bomb about kids. Camila tried to understand. However, it simply wasn't for her. A child should have a mother and a father or at least a couple, gay or straight. Lucy wanted that and left Camila because of it. That was five years ago. Since then, Camila had returned to her old habits of casual partners, satisfying sex, and nothing long-term.
Well, I'll help this Lauren Jauregui and her family. I'll let her stay in the cabin, and I'll stay in the city, she thought. "Damn it. I hate the city."
She then thought maybe this Lauren might like the apartment. No. A child on the tenth floor? Hell, that just begged for a call to 911. She could already see the rug rat hanging off the balcony.
"Shit," she cursed rudely and headed for the shower.
———————————
Hello everyone,
A little disclaimer: Camila is a little older than Lauren here. She's also going to be a little taller than her.
That's all. Thank you. And I hope you all enjoy this story.