Wedding Bell Blues - [39]

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WAR GIFTS. Lily couldn’t tell if the store was closed for the day or for good.

As she drove north, toward Fort Oglethorpe, the roadside attractions took on a seedier appeal.

Concrete block taverns called SHOOTERS and COWBOY’S appeared to be doing a good business,judging from the number of pickup trucks in the parking lot. One bar, the PINK PUSSYCAT, evenclaimed to have EXOTIC DANCERS. Lily wondered what passed for exotic in rural northern Georgia.

On her right, exactly where Jack said it would be, was a small brick building with a large signannouncing TATTOOS BY HONEY. Smaller signs on the Store’s windows proclaimed, HEALTH

BOARD APPROVED and TATTOOS WHILE U WAIT. Lily pulled into the small gravel parking lot andtook a deep breath.

Walking into a roomful of people had never been her favorite thing, and since Jack’s red truck wasnowhere to be seen, she’d be walking into a room full of strangers. She considered going home for a dullevening alone with Mordecai, but finally said to herself, “Goddamn it, if I can do aerobics with a bunchof straight Southern Baptist women, surely I can find the courage to walk into a roomful of dykes.”

She walked around to the rear of the building, as Jack had told her to do, and knocked on the backdoor. It felt so secretive. She wondered if there was a secret password, like Sappho or something.

A full-figured, fortyish woman with wavy, naturally golden hair answered the door. Lily noticedright away that the woman’s arms were completely covered by tattoos: a medieval unicorn resting in agarden of vibrantly colored flowers, a fairy with diaphanous wings sprinkling stardust with her magicwand, and a frog in a golden crown squatting philosophically on a lily pad. The designs were morefanciful than what Lily would have chosen for herself, but the artwork was undeniably beautiful.

“Hey,” the woman said, grinning. Her face was as round, flat, and wide-eyed as a Persian cat’s.

“You must be Lily.”

“Urn...yeah. I didn’t know you’d be expecting me.”

“Jack said you might come by. I kinda recognized you ’cause I didn’t recognize you. We don’t seemany new faces round here.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in and meet the gang. I’m Honey, bythe way.”

“Nice to meet you. Love your sleeves.”

Honey surveyed her tattooed arms with genuine pride. “Thanks. Designed ’em myself. Here, letme introduce you to the usual suspects here. The ingrate hogging the La-Z-Boy over there’s Mick. She’smy old man.”

“Hey.” Mick raised her Bud tallboy in a half toast. Her hair was cut in a salt-and-pepper dykespike, and she wore a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt and a black leather jacket — a shocking fashionchoice, given that Honey’s apartment was cooled only by two oscillating fans, which were doing nothingmore than stirring the hot, soupy air.

“And over here’s Dale and Sue.”

On the overstuffed tan sofa sat a couple who were at least as old as Granny McGilly. The butchmember of the duo — Dale, Lily presumed — had close-cropped, snow-white hair and wore a GeorgiaBulldogs jersey and sweatpants. The femme’s silver hair was shampooed and set, and she wore a lilacshell top with matching slacks. She put a long cigarette to her lips, and Dale dutifully leaned over to lightit.

“Hey, babe,” Sue said to Lily, her voice a husky smoker’s rasp.

“Lord, girl, how old are you?” Dale asked, her voice having all the subtlety and modulation of BigBen McGilly’s. “Seventeen?”

Lily smiled. “Twenty-nine, actually.”

“What a coincidence!” Dale whooped. “Me, too!”

“Don’t you pay no attention to her,” Sue said to Lily. “I ain’t heard a word she’s said in thirtyyears. I just keep her around ’cause she lights my cigarettes.”

“Now, I’m good for a little more than that,” Dale teased, letting her hand rest on Sue’s knee.

“Oh, that’s right.” Sue waved her cigarette for emphasis. “You do take the trash out. I forgot aboutthat.”

Lily laughed. Butch/femme, it seemed, had never gone out of style in northern Georgia. Lily hadalways enjoyed the butch/femme dynamic in a postmodern, theatrical, and mainly reserved-for-thebedroom kind of way. But these women played their roles without a trace of irony.

Settling down in a nest of oversize floral-print cushions on the floor, Lily wondered what thehyper-politically correct women at Athena’s Owl Bookstore in Atlanta would make of these dykes. Wouldthey think these rural women were living their lives according to oppressive patriarchal standards?


Who cares if they are? Lily thought. The two couples obviously loved each other, and the sexualsparks between them were warming up the room faster than the Georgia summer heat. Lily ached forCharlotte.

Honey was sitting on the arm of the La-Z-Boy, running her sky-blue nail-polished fingers throughMick’s hair. “You wanna beer, Lily?” she asked, when she caught Lily looking at her.

“Yeah, a beer would be great, thanks.”

Honey sashayed over to the fridge, which, along with a sink and stove, was in the far end of theliving room. It was a tiny apartment. Lily could give herself the grand tour while sitting in one place and


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История девушки с большим и тяжелым грузом за плечами. Ни в коем случае не из робкого десятка. Переезжает во Францию. Новая школа давалась нелегко. Но все же, она ищет свое счастье, но ее тянет на дно прошлое, которое она не может забыть. У ее маленького и когда-то открытого сердечка еще не зажили раны от предательств и издевок… Она старается выживать и возможно побеждает в этой неопределенной войне.


И улыбнется счастье…

Три подруги. Три девушки из провинциального городка, мечтающие — каждая по-своему обрести счастье. Виолетта. Красавица, обладающая уникальным голосом — и одержимая жаждой стать певицей. …Алена. Девочка «из хорошей семьи», отчаянно завидующая успехам подруг и их трогательным, теплым отношениям. …Ася. Добрый ангел для всех, кто обращается к ней за помощью, всегда готова выслушать, помочь, поддержать. Что ждет их? Какой будет их судьба в нашем мире, зачастую несправедливом и жестоком? В мире, где женщине так трудно найти свою судьбу?


Набросок скомканной жизни

Скитающийся по городам и весям художник ищет модель для нового заказа. Подобрав юную путану у вокзала, он еще не знает куда приведет его это знакомство. Но ему, в принципе, абсолютно наплевать!


Любовь подскажет

Сказочная любовь может случиться с каждым, надо только не искать её и верить в свою счастливую звезду.Минск. Девяностые. Молодая мама двоих детей живёт на грани нищеты, губит здоровье на двух работах и не думает о себе как о женщине. Лишь встреча с уверенным в себе, удачливым предпринимателем и настоящим мужчиной заставит её вспомнить о любви и страсти. Но вот найдут ли они счастье, когда судьба, кажется, играет с ними?


Подруги так не поступают

Возвращаясь в родной город после долгого отсутствия, Марат и представить не мог, какой сюрприз готовит ему судьба и чем обернутся в конце концов те самые ошибки молодости. Лера с детства была не по годам ответственной и серьёзной. Так, может, именно поэтому жизнь раз за разом ставит её перед нелёгким выбором: либо собственное счастье, либо счастье дорогих для неё людей.


Возвращение в Ноттингем

Как происходит таинственный процесс развития женской души? Как из наивной самоуверенной девочки рождается Женщина? Какими собственными падениями и разбитыми мужскими сердцами оплачиваются попытки найти себя? В новом романе Паолы Стоун наши читатели встретятся с уже полюбившимися им героями «Рождества в Ноттингеме» и узнают об их дальнейшей судьбе. Ранее книга выходила под названием Полина Поплавская «Уроки любви».