BeautyandtheButch Page 2

  “Ella Northington.”

  “Where are you from, Ella?” Lindsey had done similar interviews a thousand times, but for some unknown reason, she sensed this one was significant.

  “I’m from a small town called Lafayette near the Georgia and Tennessee border. Where are you from?” Ella asked, the question surprising Lindsey. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be answering, not asking.”

  Lindsey let out a little laugh. “That’s okay. I’m from a small town in Pennsylvania, but now I call New York home.”

  “How exciting,” Ella said, but her tone wasn’t patronizing. She sounded genuinely intrigued.

  Best to stay focused. “How many pageants have you been in?”

  “Miss Georgia National makes my twelfth.”

  “So, you’re a pageant veteran. How many have you won?” Lindsey stepped back from the camera and looked over the top of it.

  “I’ve been a finalist in four and have won two.”

  “Impressive,” Lindsey said blandly. “Why do you do it?”

  Ella never missed a beat. Her smile remained fixed, her eyes determined. “I compete in pageants for the scholarship money, and of course to promote my platform.”

  Platform? She made it sound as if she were running for some sort of political office. Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your platform?”

  Her chin lifted slightly. “I want to raise awareness for cystic fibrosis.”

  “So, I understand there’s a talent portion for the contestants who reach the top twelve. What is your talent?”

  “If I am lucky enough to reach the top twelve, my talent will be a baton-twirling routine.”

  “Were you a high school or college majorette?”

  Ella shook her head slightly. “No, I was never a majorette. I was a USTA competitive twirler.”

  “USTA?”

  “United States Twirling Association.”

  Lindsey raised an eyebrow. “Is that like the X Games?”

  Ella’s smile widened but she never lost her almost icy control. “I suppose it is similar to the X Games. It’s considered a sport.”

  Lindsey sucked on her top lip. “I understand your father’s a congressman?”

  At this, Ella’s resolve seemed to waver, but only slightly. Lindsey wouldn’t have noticed it had she not been studying the contestant through the camera.

  “Yes.” Ella didn’t elaborate.

  Instinct told Lindsey there was something more but now was not the time to pursue the obviously sensitive topic of the congressman. She glanced at Maurice, who seemed rapt by Ella’s icing-on-the-cake perfection. This was going to be a long week. Here she was interviewing ditzy baton-twirling blondes when she could be producing a real news show.

  “One more question,” she said. “What will you do if you win Miss Georgia National?”

  “If I’m lucky enough to win, I’ll go on to compete in the Miss USA National.”

  “Are you excited about the possibility of meeting David Thurman?” Lindsey asked, watching for some sign of emotion in the contestant’s eyes. Surely any beauty queen would be thrilled to attract the attention of the billionaire sponsor of the national pageant—especially given the fact that his name was often romantically linked to former winners.

  “Who wouldn’t be thrilled to meet Mr. Thurman?” Ella had dodged the question with aplomb.

  “And if you don’t win?” Lindsey asked. “Will you continue to enter pageants?”

  “I’ll definitely continue to participate in those pageants with good reputations.”

  The door opened and a smiling brunette with dark-chocolate skin peeped in. Her lips formed an O when she saw the camera was running.

  “No, come in,” Lindsey said. “We’re just about through.”

  The contestant slipped in but stood next to the door to wait her turn.

  Lindsey skirted the camera to remove the mic from Ella’s clothes. Normally interviewees ran on at the mouth, revealing things they didn’t intend to. It was funny how a camera and the idea of being on national television did that to a person. Suddenly they thought themselves interesting enough to have their own reality series.

  Not Ella.

  She remained friendly but frustratingly tight-lipped, no doubt thanks to lessons she’d learned from her politician father. Once she was free of the mic she stood. “Thank you.”

  Lindsey nodded. “Leave your contact information with Maurice. We’ll be shooting throughout the pageant.”

  “I have a card,” Ella said, retrieving her clutch. She reached in, withdrew two cards and handed one to Lindsey and then one to Maurice.

  Maurice chuckled. “I like this job. Girls are giving me their phone numbers.”

  Ella gave him an indulgent little laugh.

  “I’ll be calling you,” Maurice added with a wink.

  “I’m counting on it,” Ella said and then with a little wave to Lindsey, she left.

  Lindsey watched the vision in pink disappear out the door. Ella’s close-to-the-vest responses to the questions could only mean one thing. She obviously had something to hide and it most likely had to do with her congressman father. Determination to ferret out the beauty’s secret fueled Lindsey. This blonde might be just the ticket she needed to get that coveted interview with Global Now.

  Chapter Two

  Statuesque beauties flocked around Maurice, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the attention. Lindsey sat at the hotel bar nursing a beer and watching for Ella Northington to make an appearance.

  Lindsey had spent the rest of the afternoon pondering the blonde contestant. On the surface she seemed like the typical pageant princess. But the camera didn’t lie and when Lindsey looked back at the footage she’d filmed, she noticed a taut sense of control, an icy veneer that never cracked, even for an instant.

  Doubtless, whatever lay beneath that polished exterior would make for good television. But something darker—something Lindsey didn’t want to define—also powered her interest in Ella.

  Something more than just Ella’s blatant femininity reminded Lindsey of Reagan.

  Lindsey drained her beer and sat it on the counter, intent on catching the bartender’s eye to order another when she noticed Ella walking quickly through the hotel lobby.

  If Lindsey hadn’t been looking for her, she wouldn’t have seen her. Ella’s ponytail, gray tank, skin-hugging jeans and flats were a far cry from the pink perfection she’d worn that morning.

  Lindsey pulled a five out of her pocket, tucked it under her empty bottle and followed. She reached the door to the hotel just in time to see Ella crawl into a cab. “Did she happen to say where she was going?” Lindsey asked the bellhop. When he didn’t readily answer, she continued. “She left her…wallet in the hotel bar. I’m with TLN and she’s filming with us.”

  “I heard her ask the cabbie if he could take her to Twist.”

  “Can you call me a cab?”

  The bellhop stepped into the drop-off area and raised his hand. Immediately a yellow van pulled around. “Thanks,” Lindsey said and pressed a couple of bucks into the bellhop’s hand before she climbed into the van.

  “Where you headed?”

  “Twist.”

  As the cabbie pulled away, Lindsey speculated as to what Twist might be. Ella hadn’t been dressed for fine dining. From the name, it was probably a bar or a club. Lindsey hoped it’d be some sort of place where she could watch from afar. She’d hate to run into Ella and come off looking like a stalker.

  Twist happened to be all the way uptown in the fashionable Buckhead section of Atlanta. Lindsey leaned up in the seat when she caught sight of the sign. A flash of blonde ponytail indicated Ella had arrived and was headed through the door.

  Lindsey paid the cab driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Bass reverberated from the modern-looking brick-and-glass building. Two women walking hand in hand passed her and entered the bar. Realization stunned Lindsey as yet a second pair of females walked in.

  Tw
ist was a lesbian bar.

  Was that Ella Northington’s secret?

  Lindsey’s insides knotted from a mix of dread and desire. Had she mistaken the way Ella watched her when she’d pinned on that mic? Surely Ella hadn’t been flirting. Or had she?

  Lindsey swallowed thickly. Heat flamed in her cheeks and she spun around to get back into the cab. More than anyone, she understood a person’s need for privacy in the matter of their sexuality. Ella certainly didn’t need to be outed by the Learning Network on a tawdry reality show.

  The cab had already sped away.

  “Damn,” Lindsey muttered. It wouldn’t be weird if Ella saw me at a lesbian bar…

  No. It wouldn’t be at all. She turned and walked inside, surprised to find women actually dancing in a dark, unpretentious setting. The place looked fun. An upstairs overlooked the dance floor, which was surrounded by bars lit with brightly colored tubing. A mix of butch dykes and lipstick lesbians sat scattered across the barstools and plush-looking sofas while others danced.

  Squinting, Lindsey scanned the darkened room for Ella, finally discovering her, arms up, eyes closed, moving to the rhythmic dance music. What would a congressman’s daughter be doing in a lesbian bar?

  Ella didn’t seem to be with any one particular person, but just the same Lindsey decided she’d observe from above.

  Lindsey climbed the stairs and took a seat at the bar that offered her a prime view of the dance floor.

  “What’ll you have?” a pretty dark-skinned bartender asked.

  “Whatever beer’s on special,” Lindsey said. Normally she would have taken the opportunity to flirt, to talk, to make a connection that might lead to a one-night stand. That wouldn’t be happening tonight.

  Leaning on her elbow, she watched Ella who danced…well, literally as if nobody were looking. The music seemed to hypnotize her.

  Here, she looked at ease. She looked normal.

  Free.

  Lindsey, who’d never tried to hide her sexuality, tried to imagine how difficult it would be to live a life in fear of someone finding out. Her job had never hinged on her choices. And she hadn’t given a shit what her family thought. Her father certainly hadn’t been an elected official.

  Oh, they’d been concerned at first. But they hadn’t been judgmental. Lindsey’s own mom had told her she’d known long before Lindsey herself had figured it out.

  Lindsey had mixed emotions about the responsibility of gays and lesbians coming out. On the one hand, the more who revealed their sexuality, the more society accepted them. And on the other…many were afraid they’d lose their jobs, their friends, their families. Still, if Reagan hadn’t been bullied, she might have been able to be open about her relationship with Lindsey.

  Ella never stopped to drink or fraternize. She danced, song after song, moving to the music as if she were made of it. Misted with perspiration and with errant strands of hair eluding her ponytail, she was even more beautiful than she’d been in her pristine suit.

  After her third beer, Lindsey had lost all inhibitions and decided to dance. No sooner had she stepped foot on the dance floor than the DJ switched to a slow song.

  Ella stopped moving as if she’d decided to take a break and her gaze found Lindsey’s.

  Lindsey’s breath froze.

  Ella’s eyes widened and she looked as if she might bolt so Lindsey reacted. She put her arms around Ella and drew her close. “Dance with me.”

  Toe-to-toe they were surprisingly the same height. She’d seemed much taller in that pair of killer heels she’d been wearing that morning.

  “Did you follow me here?”

  Lindsey smirked. “Do I look all that out of place in a lesbian bar?”

  Ella didn’t smile. Nor did she laugh. Her feet reluctantly moved to the plaintive strains of the love song. Every muscle in her body seemed tight and inflexible. “I only come here to dance,” Ella offered. “I just don’t want to get hit on by a bunch of sweaty guys.”

  Up close, the beauty queen’s perfume was even more subtle than it had been earlier. More alluring. As she closed the distance between their bodies, the corner of Lindsey’s mouth tugged into a smile. “And you don’t think a bunch of sweaty chicks aren’t interested in hitting on you? Try again, princess.”

  Ella’s gaze searched hers and Lindsey knew she was looking for some sort of commonality that would render them conspirators. And confidantes.

  Lindsey let her smile fade. “Look, I’m not here to out anybody. Okay?”

  “But I’m…I’m…”

  “I understand,” Lindsey reiterated. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Finally some of the tension melted out of Ella and she relaxed into the dance. “You did follow me, didn’t you?”

  “Sort of,” Lindsey admitted. “Well, yes.”

  “Why?”

  Lindsey shrugged. “I suppose I recognized something different about you. But frankly I never guessed it was this.”

  At that, Ella laughed.

  Lindsey gestured toward a group of professional-looking women wearing suits and drinking martinis. “I mean, most lipstick lezzies look like those gals.”

  Ella’s smile looked almost sad.

  “I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. “I shouldn’t have followed you.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Ella said softly. “Now I have someone to dance with.”

  Everything in Lindsey’s body jolted from the shock of Ella’s admission. This could fast become dangerous and Lindsey quickly checked herself. Who was she kidding? She was from the wrong side of the tracks for a beautiful woman like Ella.

  And yet, Lindsey was unable to stop herself. She blamed it on the beer. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  Ella shook her head. “I stay too busy on the pageant circuit for a serious relationship.”

  Lindsey studied her. “Why do you do it?”

  “The pageants?”

  Lindsey nodded.

  “The money to pay off my student loans,” Ella said. “My parents had to use the money they’d saved for my education to cover my niece’s hospital bills. She has cystic fibrosis.”

  Lindsey’s lips parted. She’d seriously misjudged Ella.

  “They’ve got too much to deal with already without me heaping my sexuality on them,” Ella said.

  “They don’t know?”

  Ella shook her head.

  Lindsey brushed a stray strand of blonde hair away from Ella’s glossed lips. “It must be tough for you. Don’t you get lonely?”

  “Yes, but there’ll be time for relationships in the future.”

  “Do you plan to leave the South?” Lindsey asked as the song ended and the DJ played something faster.

  Lindsey had intended her question to be laced with rhetorical sarcasm, but the haunted look that flashed in Ella’s eyes indicated she’d touched on a nerve. This wasn’t really dance floor conversation. Reluctant to let Ella go, Lindsey reached for her hand. “Come on. Let me buy you a drink.”

  They walked back upstairs to the bar where Lindsey had opened a tab. “What’ll you have?”

  “A skinny bitch.” Ella grinned.

  “Besides me,” Lindsey joked.

  Ella laughed, but the way she bit her bottom lip afterward exposed an underlying truth. Lindsey’s nipples pebbled against her sports bra.

  “It’s vodka mixed with Diet Coke,” Ella explained. “Not too many calories. I wouldn’t want to burst out of my formal.”

  “No, we wouldn’t want that at all.” Lindsey didn’t veil her flirtatious sarcasm. What the fuck am I doing? I can’t sleep with her. If the executive producer found out…

  Lindsey’s head spun to think of all the blowback she could get from hooking up with one of her subjects—especially when that subject’s sexuality would put Pageant Princesses on the map.

  “A skinny bitch for the lady and another beer for me,” Lindsey told the bartender. She turned back to Ella as she eased onto the stool. “You haven’t answered my question yet. Do y
ou plan to leave the South?”

  “I don’t want to,” Ella said and sighed. “My family’s here. I already have a job offer from the elementary school I attended…”

  Lindsey pursed her lips. “I suppose we all have choices to make.” She wondered if Ella would become one of those girls who experimented with lesbian sex in college but went on to marry men and have kids, the house, the dog and the whole American dream shebang.

  “What about you?” Ella asked, changing the subject. “Are you in a relationship?”

  “Me? I travel too much.”

  The bartender slid Ella’s drink toward her. “Thanks.” Ella sipped it and turned back to Lindsey. “Do you miss it?”

  “Being in a relationship?” Lindsey shrugged. “I’ve got a lot of friends. A girl in every port so to speak. Nothing serious. I kind of like it that way.”

  Ella’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “What about this port?” Her direct stare left Lindsey with no doubt she was being propositioned.

  For sex. With one of the hottest women she’d ever seen.

  Shit.

  She cleared her throat. “You wanna fuck?” Her pussy warmed and her clit throbbed with need. The thought of tasting this Georgia peach made her mouth water.

  Ella nodded. “I do. I like the idea of having a no-strings-attached fling with you.”

  God damn. Lindsey scooted to the edge of her stool so that her knees sandwiched Ella’s. “I can’t think about anything but kissing you right now.”

  Lindsey’s pulse rioted when Ella closed the remaining distance between them and captured her mouth. She was every bit as soft and sweet as Lindsey had imagined. Her lips tasted like bubblegum and when she opened her mouth Lindsey tasted the bite of vodka.

  She wanted to put her hands on this woman, to touch her everywhere all at once, to deepen their kiss, to back her into a dark corner and finger that delectable pussy. Somehow, she refrained from making a public spectacle. She ended their kiss and resting her forehead against Ella’s, savored it for a moment before she spoke. “I hope you’re ready to go back to the hotel.”

  Ella’s heart pounded as she stepped into the cab. She debated confessing to Lindsey that she’d never actually been with a woman before, but feared Lindsey would back out.