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  • Big Flipping Deal Ch. 05

Big Flipping Deal Ch. 05

123

[The story so far: Nick and Lindsey are renovating a house together thanks to the unusual provisions of Lindsey's aunt's will. Nick has grown progressively more attracted to Lindsey, despite the fact that he's straight and she's a pre-op MTF transsexual. Lindsey has been trying to keep Nick at arm's length. But then Lindsey's bigoted father shows up at the house, and when Nick tries to defend her against the man's insults and verbal abuse, he gets punched hard enough that Lindsey takes him to the ER to be checked for a concussion. After that, Lindsey's barriers begin to come down ...]

Thursday at work, my cousin Sam called. I saw it was him, and I knew why he was calling, and I thought about letting it go to voicemail, but decided to face the music instead of being an asshole.

"Yeah, Sam, hi," I said, hoping my tired tone would give him the hint.

"So are you coming or what, Nick?" His tone said he was tired of me trying to give him hints.

"Sam," I complained with a sigh, "my car's still out of commission. Plus, I haven't gotten a present."

"Dude." He only said the one word, but I could hear the other three in his voice: don't be a dick. Then he gave his own sigh and tried another tack. "Okay, look, let's work it this way, then. Come to the bachelor party, be our designated driver, you can drive Pete's car home and bring it to the wedding Saturday. I'm telling you, you don't want to miss this wedding. Seven bridesmaids, all single, all fucking hot except Denise, and she's our cousin so you wouldn't want her to be hot anyway. You need to get off the shelf and back in the action."

I really didn't want to go to Sam's sister's wedding, and I even less wanted to go to her fiancé Pete's bachelor party. So I gave the first excuse that popped into my mind. "Sam, I don't need to be hitting on bridesmaids. There's kind of someone I'm already interested in."

Why the hell did I say that?

"Even better! Bring her Saturday and maybe she'll catch the bouquet. She catches the bouquet, you're gonna score for sure."

Oh, fuck. I literally could not even respond.

Then Sam pulled out the big guns. "Dude, Aunt Kim told my mom she's making the drive from Houston. You really want Kim to go back home afterwards and tell your mom you skipped? Because you know she will. It'll be the first thing she says when they see each other at church."

My fate was sealed. I told him I'd go and asked when he'd pick me up for the bachelor party.

"That's the spirit. Seven o'clock." And before I could agree and hang up, he added, "And bring this chick you're seeing to the wedding. Seriously, that bouquet is an aphrodisiac."

* * *

That night: painting the front hall and living room. Right at the start, I told Lindsey I'd only be able to work until 6:30 Friday because of the bachelor party, and only until 4:00 on Saturday because of the wedding. She was totally cool with it.

And right at the end, when we'd sealed up all the paint cans and were about to head out, my mouth opened itself and asked her about the wedding.

"Hey, listen, do you want to go on Saturday? The bride's parents are loaded. It'll be open bar and a hell of a spread at the reception."

Her face made a start on two or three different expressions, settled on one I'd call here-comes-the-sympathetic-apology - and then stopped itself when her eyes met mine. They rested there, looking into me with their perfect, penetrating blueness, and then her mouth kinked to one side and she said, "Sure. Why not."

When I got to my front door, I was still blinking, and I didn't even remember walking home from Mrs. P's place.

* * *

Saturday we tore out the front hall and living room carpet, spent several hours getting padding and tack strips up, then put down the laminate flooring. I installed the floor in the hallway while Lindsey did the front room, so we wouldn't be in each other's way as we clicked the interlocking flats into place. Over the half-wall that divided the two spaces, I gave a brief description of the bachelor party, which was really more of a pub crawl with stops at some strip joints. It had been a pretty boring night for me as everybody else got steadily more plastered and I drank soda.

"Well, at least you got to see some boobs at the strip joints, right?" She sounded distracted as she said it ... pretty much how she'd sounded ever since we got there that morning.

Probably trying to figure out a way to back out of going, I thought. Aloud, I just said I'd never really been into that sort of thing.

"Strip joints, I mean," I clarified. "I'm generally into seeing boobs, just under more natural circumstances."

Oh, great. Way to remind her her boobs aren't natural.

By two we'd gotten the flooring done and split up to get ready for the wedding. If she'd been working up the courage to cancel, she didn't manage it. Instead, she just said she'd see me in a couple of hours.

Plenty of time for her to back out by phone.

But as of 5:00, no last-minute cancelation call had arrived, and after parking Pete's car at the Reunion hotel where he and my cousin Sandy would be spending their wedding night, I made my way through the underground connecting tunnel to Union Station, the venue for both the wedding and the reception. Up on the second floor, I signed the guestbook and then loitered outside the hall in my blazer, slacks, and tie - a collection of navy and tan that made me feel like the poor relation I was as Sandy's more affluent family and friends arrived.

And then there she was, coming up the stairs, and my mind had lots of other things to do besides being self-conscious.

"Hey," she said with a slight smile and up-tilt of her chin. She had on a pale green satin evening gown that went asymmetrically over the right shoulder and gathered in a subtle flower design at the left side of her waist, falling in elegant curtains that hinted at the amazing legs beneath them with every step she took. "You clean up pretty good, Nick."

Undercutting the compliment a little, she reached out and straightened my tie as she got close. I swallowed.

"I'm glad you came," I said.

"Sure." Her eyes swept across my face and landed on the left side of it, where I still had the bruise from her dad hitting me. "Only you look like you got beat up at the bachelor party. Come on, let's fix that."

Looking around, she led me to a nook down the corridor where we could step into the shadow of a high column. There, she fished a little compact out of her handbag and quickly patted some foundation around my eye.

"Not great," she said, examining her work when she'd finished. "But it'll do unless somebody's looking really close."

Which they won't be doing as long as I'm standing next to you, I thought. Aloud, I just said, "Thanks."

We made our way into the hall, a huge, vaulted space that had once been the waiting area for the train station. The usher led us to the bride's side, where we sat midway back as the place filled up.

"You look amazing, by the way," I told her.

She laughed. "I'd better. This fucking dress cost me enough."

She smelled really good too - something faint and sweet and floral mixed in with the scent of fresh-washed hair. But I didn't say anything about that.

"You didn't buy a new dress just for this, did you?"

The question brought a frank expression from her. "Do I look like the kind of girl who passes up an excuse to go dress-shopping?" Without giving me a chance to answer, and with her eyes wandering the venue and the guests, she went on, "So tell me about this cousin of yours who's getting hitched."

I gave her a bit of a rundown on Sandy and how I was really closer to her brother - Sam being a year older than me and Sandy a few years younger. The conversation passed the time until things started happening up at the wedding arch and the whole hall quieted down.

Weddings give me mixed feelings.

I can get pretty sappy about the idea of romance and true love. And being in a room with so many women dressed to celebrate those ideas, to commemorate a supposed example of them - it usually fills me up with a combination of hope, anticipation that something similar could happen to me, and envy of the bride and groom and of the husbands and dates of every attractive female in the room. Plus, there's the music. The bridal march almost always really gets to me.

But today, all those yearnings and jealousies and joys slunk quietly into the background, because my brain couldn't escape the fact that I was sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the entire room and I didn't even know if I should technically be thinking of her as a woman at all.

At least, I didn't know until Pete and Sandy said their I do's and I heard Lindsey sniff, just once, and looked and saw a tiny well of tears in the corner of her eye.

God, I am so fucked, I thought as I turned back to watch the happy couple receive the minister's go-ahead to kiss. My own eyes did their best to turn on the waterworks as the celebratory fanfare struck up and Pete and Sandy made their beaming, ecstatic way down the aisle past us. Thankfully I got it turned back off by the time the wedding party finished exiting and the rest of us had to vacate our seats so they could rearrange the hall for the reception.

At this point we had a couple hundred people stampeding for the open bar that Sandy's dad announced when the wedding party had gone. I asked Lindsey if she wanted anything.

"Yeah, I could go for a White Russian. But first I have to hit the ladies room."

So I headed for the bar line and she made her way toward the hall exit. On my way to the bar, I had two different near-misses with other guests because my head was turned trying to watch Lindsey weave through the crowds. Then I got in line, and it became a little safer to spare a glance away from the people in front of me, though it turned out Lindsey had almost made it to the far door. I don't know why I felt so compelled to grab every glimpse I could of her, but I did, and I felt disappointed that she was almost out of sight.

Luckily, though, my cousin Sam bumped into her and stopped her to chat. That gave me several steps up in line to observe her hair, the way she stood, the way that pale green dress flowed down her form, off one shoulder, delicate and splendid. Then a cluster of other wedding guests walked between us, breaking my line of sight.

The line moved pretty briskly, all things considered. They had several bartenders behind the counter, and clearly good ones. Still, it was a lot of people to serve, and my wait crept on for a couple more minutes before someone gave my shoulder a squeeze from behind.

Holy shit, was that the fastest women's room line in the universe, or did she go to the guys'? But when I turned, it was Sam, not Lindsey.

"Oh, hey, Sam," I said, trying to keep the smile from flattening out on my face where it would be obvious I expected someone else. "Beautiful ceremony, right?"

"Yeah, gorgeous," he replied. But his expression looked less than enthusiastic. "Listen, Nick, about this girl you're dating ..."

He'd stepped in close to keep his voice down. I didn't like where this might be going, so I said, "I didn't really say we were dating."

"Whatever, you brought her to a wedding." He looked around and stepped even closer. "The point is, she's an interior designer, right? Well, Pete's aunt and uncle apparently hired her a while back, and she's not really a she, she's a he. Pete's uncle was sitting next to me before the ceremony, and he said, 'Who's that with the she-male decorator?' Some gay friend of the aunt's recommended this person, and anyway, let slip that she's ... he's ... whatever's a transsexual. I thought you should know."

Trying to keep my face blank, I said, "Wow. Thanks for telling me, I guess."

"Look, I'm sorry, dude," he said with a consolingly masculine slap to my back. "I've got to say, it's no wonder you were fooled. He's fucking hot. Better you find out now though, right?"

My tongue itched to tell him I already knew. It itched even more to tell him not to call Lindsey 'he.' But I didn't have the balls. I told myself it wasn't like he'd really badmouthed her - he was just being ignorant, not nasty. But it still felt like I wasn't sticking up for her the way I should be.

The best I could manage was, "Sure. No harm, no foul. Could you not spread it around, though? I don't want the Bible-thumper part of the family looking down their noses."

"I gotcha." He made a lip-zipping motion, then said, "Don't worry, though. I'm sure even the Jesus-crew will give you the benefit of the doubt." He used the Spanish pronunciation to make it rhyme - Hay-soose crew.

At least he's being equal opportunity offensive, I thought.

Sam disappeared, I made it to the head of the line, ordered two White Russians, then found a corner from which to watch the venue crew expertly replacing the rows of seating with dining tables. Eventually, Lindsey showed up at my elbow, looking annoyed.

"So ... your cousin tells me you're straight," she said. "I think he needs to work on his conversation skills. 'Hey, are you Nick's date?' 'Your name's Lindsey, right? And you're a decorator?' 'You do know Nick's straight, don't you?'"

"I'm sorry. He's not usually such a dick." I handed her drink to her. She took it and sipped, then dismissed Sam with an eye-roll and a little wave of her hand.

"I've had lots worse."

"You don't want to go, do you?" Just asking the question made my heart rate go up from stress.

"Fuck no," she said, sipping her drink. "Open bar, free food, and as much as I paid for this dress?" She looked at her glass. "This is a damn good White Russian. You tip the guy?"

"It was a girl," I said. "But yeah, I tried to. She and the other bartenders were turning tips away, though. I guess they're paying them well enough to keep the bar open-open, not just open-plus-tips open."

"Well that's nice."

We wandered a bit, working away at our drinks. A couple of cousins, aunts, and uncles bumped into us, and I introduced Lindsey to them, then told her any funny stories about them I could once they'd passed out of earshot.

When everything was ready and they seated us for dinner, we had the bad luck to end up next to that aunt and uncle of Pete's. They gushed about Lindsey's design work and how amazed everyone who came to their house was, and at no point did the conversation veer toward the aunt's gay friend or Lindsey being transgender. But knowing that they knew kept me tensed up all through the meal, expecting some kind of bombshell to drop. With the size of the guest list, tables got served in waves, and ours had to wait a bit, so we hadn't finished eating when the DJ started up the music for dancing. That took some edge off my nerves; the sound system would keep any embarrassing revelations from reaching too many ears.

Finally, dessert rolled around, and because the aunt was diabetic and it was getting late, they excused themselves to say their congratulations to the new couple.

Lindsey had the tiramisu, and I had the dark-chocolate-marbled cheesecake, and before she'd made it three bites in, she pointed her fork at her dessert and said, "Damn, we should have had Gus and Wendy order theirs before they left so we could double up. Is your cheesecake as good as this is?"

"You want to try it?" I asked, cutting a bite loose with my fork and holding it her direction. She glanced around, then said, "Sure."

Parting those glossy red lips, she leaned slightly forward, and I raised the fork, edged it carefully nearer and nearer her mouth until she opened wide and let the bite pass her teeth - her eyes on mine the whole time. Closing, she slid her mouth back off the fork and chewed.

"Mmm," she said, nodding and creasing her eyebrows. "Mm, yeah, that's good. I don't know if it's as good as mine, but I admit I have a big coffee bias."

I waited to see if she would offer me a bite in exchange. Instead, she put her cheek in one palm, elbow on the table, regarding me.

"Nick," she said, "when Sam told me you were straight earlier, I shrugged and said we were just friends, so I didn't know why it mattered. You know what he told me?"

I shook my head.

"He said, 'That's not how I heard it.' What do you think he meant by that, Nick?"

With my face rapidly heating up, I decided to just go with the truth. "The other day, he was pestering me to come tonight, and he tried to bait the hook by telling me about all the hot bridesmaids. So I said something about having someone I was already interested in. I thought it might get him to stop bugging me."

"That's all?" she asked, cheek still resting on her hand.

"That's all," I said. Her lower lip moved in a way I couldn't quite read. So I went on. "I mean, that's the only reason I told him. I don't mean it wasn't true."

Her eyes closed slowly and then opened again after a solemn breath.

"What are you doing, Nick?"

The reprieve my nerves had gotten when Gus and Wendy left now officially came to an end. My whole body tensed. I think my toenails tensed.

"Honestly?" I asked.

She nodded against her palm.

"I have no idea."

"You know this can't possibly work."

The cheesecake in my stomach tried to calcify into solid rock - and then my brain turned her words over, heard them again, and suddenly filled up like a helium balloon.

She must have seen the change on my face, because her brows furrowed and she asked, "What?"

"You just admitted that there's a 'this.' I kind of assumed it was just me. But you just said it. 'This.'"

Her head was off her hand now, and she leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, so there's a 'this.' But I also just said it was impossible. Was your cousin wrong? Aren't you straight?"

"What I am is confused as hell," I said. "But I'm not confused about the fact that you're amazing, Lindsey. And I don't mean the way you look, I mean everything about you. You're fantastic."

She blushed a little, maybe searching for something to say, not immediately finding it.

"And," I went on, "I've been watching nothing but transgender porn lately, and it's not even freaking me out anymore."

Her arms squeezed tighter across her chest. She had that vulnerable look again. Was she shaking?

"What are your friends going to think? What's your family going to think?"

"I don't care." I said. "Want me to prove it? I'll kiss you right here."

I realized I was probably overcompensating for my cowardice talking to Sam earlier.

Then I realized that was a good thing.

Lindsey uncrossed her arms and leaned very slightly toward me. I could see her working to keep her breathing steady.

Something told me to go for it.

Almost of their own will, my hands went around her - one to the nape of her neck, the other to that floral design at the side of her waist. They drew her to me, and I saw her lips part again, in a way that was different and yet not so different from when she'd opened her mouth for the bite of cheesecake a minute earlier. The look in her eyes, too, echoed the cheesecake-bite look. Not because preparing for a kiss meant nothing, but because we'd both known what was happening before was more than a bite of dessert.

And then her eyes closed and her lips were on mine and the music and soft lighting of the banquet hall faded away somewhere distant.

I felt her, soft, in my arms - tasted the sweetness of her mouth, floated through the mingled scents of her perfume and her hair. I let my eyes close to match hers as our lips moved against one another, flower-petal soft, mother's-breast warm, hungry yet also fulfilled, searching yet also calm. The wet, slippery delight of her tongue peeked into my mouth, bumped against my own tongue's tip, withdrew again. Her hands laced through my hair. Her breasts grazed my chest, eased back with an outrush of breath through her nose, then settled against me with steadily increasing certainty.

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