When they announce the performance dates and put tickets on sale Isabelle gets tickets for Nick and Kolya based on their game schedule and invites her family to come from Minnesota. November isn\u2019t a hugely busy time on the farm, so she hopes a few of them can make it out.<\/p>\n
In the end, her mother and father and her sister Emma can make it to the second night of the show. Isabelle chooses to take that as good luck, since Nick will be on a road trip for the end of the production, and it means all of her family will be there on the same night. The director even arranges to have Isabelle be the one singing Cherubino that night, because it\u2019s not opening night, and the senior with whom she\u2019s splitting the role is surprisingly awesome about things.<\/p>\n
Nick takes them all out for a late dinner after Isabelle’s production, at the Tavern on the Green, which is even more ridiculously posh than Isabelle expected, and humming with a blend of tourists and the quietly wealthy New York elite on a Friday night. Her parents compliment her on the production going well and Emma is enthusiastic about the costuming more than anything else. Isabelle is wired from post-performance jitters, but doesn’t have much to say that they’ll really understand, so she people-watches avidly while her family discusses the Rangers’ playoff chances, and Nick’s selection for the upcoming Olympics in Sochi.<\/p>\n
“I’m sorry, Izzy,” Nick had said, pulling her aside when he told her that afternoon before telling their parents. “They’re going to make a big deal about it over dinner. It’s supposed to be your night.”<\/p>\n
But Isabelle doesn’t mind that much, really. She’ll perform again, but Nick might never get to compete for the USA in the Olympic Games but this once, and it’s not like he had any control over when the team was announced.<\/p>\n
“You’re totally taking me out with Kolya to make up for it,” Isabelle tells him, though, because Nick likes having a concrete thing he can do when he thinks he needs to apologize.<\/p>\n
If Isabelle drinks a little more wine that evening than she should have done as conversation lingers on the Olympics for what feels like forever, well, she doesn’t have morning classes the next day, and Sarah, the senior, is performing the next two evenings: Isabelle just has the Saturday and Sunday matinees left.<\/p>\n
Sunday evening’s performance is followed by strike. Some of the singers try to beg off, but Isabelle gets drafted by the lighting crew, who learned somehow that she knows left from right, can handle a wrench, and isn’t afraid of heights.<\/p>\n
“I grew up in haylofts,” Isabelle tells Roy, the guy who is the show’s Master Electrician. “Never fell out of those, don’t think I’ll fall off a ladder here.”<\/p>\n
“Oh my god,” someone dressed in all black snorts. She has short-cropped hair and a wrench on a bungee-cord at her belt. “A singer who isn’t trying to do costume strike?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle makes a face.<\/p>\n
“You think I know how to pack that shit up without wrinkling it?” She demands. “I’m not afraid of a little lifting or carrying.”<\/p>\n
“Fine,” the other girl allows. “You’re with me. Keep up, and first round of drinks are on me; lag, and you’re paying.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle could tell the girl she’s not old enough to drink legally, but that’s not the point. Besides if Isabelle can haul hay bales with her dad and uncle, she can manage an electrical strike. It’s just lights and ladders.<\/p>\n
Turns out lights are heavy, gels are a pain in the ass to sort, and some of the ladders are rickety as fuck. Isabelle grits her teeth, grabs a length of leftover black rope to tie her wrench to her belt loop in case she loses her grip, and keeps up.<\/p>\n
“Damn,” the girl says, when they’ve got it all tucked away in the boxes and bins and the pipes and things are all disassembled. “Not half bad for a singer.”<\/p>\n
“Screw you too,” Isabelle says with a smile, because she spends time with hockey players. She knows rough affection when she sees it. “I kept up. Drinks are on you.”<\/p>\n
“Ah, ah, ah,” the girl says. “One thing first.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle must look confused, because the girl starts laughing.<\/p>\n
“Damn,” she says. “I like you. Isabelle, right? I’m Erica. We’ve gotta wash up, get some of the black off ourselves. Look a little less chimneysweep Dick Van Dyke and a little more like we have running water, you know?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle looks down at her hands, and sees that they’re smudged with shades of grey and black.<\/p>\n
“Good idea,” she says. “But then drinks are on you.”<\/p>\n
Erica laughs and ruffle’s Isabelle’s hair.<\/p>\n
“Cast party it is,” she says. “But we’re hitting up a liquor store for vodka first, I don’t want to drink the punch. Everclear is really not your friend.”<\/p>\n
The cast party is at the apartment of one of the seniors who played the role of the Count. Isabelle rolls up with the lighting crew, some of whom have decided to adopt her, one of whom is trying to woo her away from singing and toward technical lighting work. Isabelle laughs, but she can’t help but remember the high she’d felt when she nailed the high notes in Cherubino’s arias at the matinee performance today, the way Amy had lit up backstage and given her a kiss full on the lips \u2013\u00a0for luck, she’d said. Remembering it makes Isabelle glow all the more.<\/p>\n
When they walk in, Amy is already there with the costume crew, holding a glass of punch and giggling at something Isabelle didn’t hear.<\/p>\n
“Bella!” Amy says, and comes straight over to her. “You’re here!” Amy slides in under Isabelle’s arm and presses a kiss to her cheek, wrapping an arm around Isabelle’s waist. Isabelle tries not to lean into her too obviously.<\/p>\n
“Hi,” Isabelle says. It looks like Amy has been hitting the punch. “Did you strike with costume?”<\/p>\n
“Yeah,” Amy says. “God, it was so easy, it was great. But I heard you got stuck on lights?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle flushes. “It was fun,” she protests.<\/p>\n
“You’re so weird.” Amy says. “I’m glad you’re here, though.” And she wanders away.<\/p>\n
Erica gives Isabelle a look. “Someone’s got it bad,” she says. Isabelle winces, and Erica just shakes her head. “Come on,” she says. “First round of drinks is on me. I’ll even mix something sweet and strong.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle shrugs. “If it’s decent vodka, I’d rather do shots,” she says. Mixers are fine, but she doesn’t see anything except cranberry juice, which she hates.<\/p>\n
Erica grins. \u00a0She, Roy, Dan from the sets crew, and a couple of guys Isabelle doesn’t recognize end up doing two rounds of shots. Dan watches Isabelle in a way that she’s sure would have her brother Nick looming, but Nick isn’t here, and it’s kind of nice. Then the conversation turns to some of the technical details of the theater: something about flies, or maybe booms, and Isabelle pours herself another drink of vodka and makes her excuses.<\/p>\n
She’s just stepped into the living room when Amy finds her again, cuddling up against Isabelle’s side. \u00a0Isabelle puts an arm over her shoulders, because Amy fits there nicely. She could just stay there, Isabelle thinks.<\/p>\n
“Guys,” Amy says to a bunch of people who must be the costume crew: Isabelle can’t think of anyone else who would wear that many safety pins in their jeans, or that many patches on their jackets. “This is Bella, who was a very handsome Cherubino in her very first pants role!”<\/p>\n
The costume crew giggles, and Amy drains her punch.<\/p>\n
“I’ll get more drinks,” she says, and Isabelle nods.<\/p>\n
“Just soda,” she says.<\/p>\n
“So. You prefer witches, bitches, or britches?” One of the costume boys asks, with a wink. One of his patches reads “Evan” in a looping embroidered script. He looks after Amy with a leer. Isabelle smiles politely because even after two rounds of shots she knows the costume crew can screw you over if they don’t like you, and takes a sip of the vodka.<\/p>\n
“I guess I just like singing,” Isabelle says, trying to avoid the topic.<\/p>\n
Amy gets back with their drinks soon enough, and if Isabelle drinks her soda faster than she should, well, it’s better than making conversation. She wishes she’d stayed with the lights and sets crews, who were definitely crazy and macho, but in a way that felt familiar after all the time Amy’s spent with athletes. Erica and the other techies would just tell her if she fucked something up, and they did just that during strike more than once.<\/p>\n
Isabelle makes a face when she finishes her soda.<\/p>\n
“I’ll get you another,” Amy says, and heads off. Isabelle sits down on the couch and just watches the party for a little bit. She must be more tired than she thought, because she feels heavy. Maybe the production adrenaline is wearing off.<\/p>\n
* **<\/p>\n
Some time later, and an indefinite number of drinks later, it’s clear that adrenaline wasn’t the problem. It was people slipping booze in her soda.<\/p>\n
Isabelle stands, gathers her things, and takes a cab home from the cast party, because she doesn’t think she can handle the subway right now.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou okay?\u201d The cabbie asks. He has a Russian accent and kind eyes behind a leathery face. He reminds Isabelle a little bit of Mikhail, Kolya\u2019s father. He looks tough, but he’s sweeter than anyone would ever give him credit for, at least to Isabelle.<\/p>\n
\u201cNyet,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cBut I don\u2019t want to talk about it, please.\u201d<\/p>\n
“Bud’ chto budet,<\/i>” the cabbie says. Isabelle has no idea what it means. \u201cBeautiful girl, deserves good things.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle bites back a sniffle and tips him well. She pastes a smile on her face for the doormen: she\u2019s pretty sure they like her better than they like Nick, or at least well enough not to tell tales, but she wouldn\u2019t put it past her brother to have asked them to keep an eye on her while he\u2019s out of town. It doesn’t hurt that he’s the one who gives the tips around Christmas.<\/p>\n
\u201cNight, Tonio,\u201d she says, waving cheerfully. \u201cTell your wife I say hi!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNight, Miss Isabelle,\u201d Antonio says. Thankfully, his phone rings, so he doesn\u2019t look up beyond checking that she is who he thinks, and she doesn\u2019t have to explain her reddened eyes.<\/p>\n
Isabelle holds it together until she gets into the apartment and into her bedroom, and then breaks down into ugly gasping sobs.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s nearly three am, and the Rangers have a game tomorrow: she can\u2019t call Kolya. Her family won\u2019t understand, not really, and her classmates will think she\u2019s stupid for thinking Amy was someone she could trust, someone she should like.<\/p>\n
Isabelle posts a black and white picture of her dying pitcher plant on her locked instagram, the one she keeps locked just for family. The caption reads only \u201cFeelings suck.\u201d Emma will make fun of her for being emo, but maybe Amanda will be willing to talk about it eventually.<\/p>\n
Then she turns her phone off, clutches a pillow to her chest, and sobs, burying her face in the soft polyfill and wishing it were a person. \u00a0She desperately wishes that someone was here, that someone cared enough to tell her it wasn\u2019t her fault for getting drunk, that she wasn’t stupid or being a sucker.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
Isabelle wakes up to her phone’s alarm a few hours later feeling hung-over and dehydrated. The remnants of her stage makeup feel sticky in the corners of her eyes and mouth. She’s glad all over again that she doesn’t have Monday morning classes and her voice teacher canceled today’s lesson to let her voice rest.<\/p>\n
She lets herself snooze her alarm once, then stumbles out of bed and gets breakfast together. \u00a0She cooks a complicated omelet with bacon because she knows how to make herself feel better, and if she keeps busy, she doesn\u2019t have to think about how stupid she was to think Amy might have been taking things seriously last night.<\/p>\n
Nick is out of town, so she doesn\u2019t have to explain herself, or see his \u201cmy little sister was drinking\u201d face, which is good. Of course, that also means that Kolya is out of town, and so Isabelle can\u2019t go over to his apartment and complain to someone who might understand what she feels like. Nick tries, but he really doesn\u2019t get it the way Kolya does.<\/p>\n
Isabelle\u2019s phone dings when she\u2019s about to get in the shower, and she checks the notification on her lock screen before she looks at what it says. She has no interest in talking to Amy right now, or maybe ever, and she\u2019s half-tempted to just delete all their texts.<\/p>\n
But it\u2019s from Makayla, the CUNY student who worked as a PR intern for the NY Rangers last year and whom Isabelle helped wrangle hashtags and social media when Nick was a total Instagram train wreck.<\/p>\n
\u201cU ok?\u201d the text says.<\/p>\n
Isabelle stares at it, then goes and takes a shower. She hasn\u2019t talked to Makayla much since the end of the PR campaign, but Isabelle knows Makayla finished her internship last spring at the end of the school year and is doing something else now.<\/p>\n
When she comes back out, her phone has a new message from Makayla. \u201cB\/W instagram filter??? Who do I bitch-slap?\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle can\u2019t help her smile at that. Makayla always got along well with Nick\u2019s more violent impulses, though she moderated it well when she was at \u201cwork\u201d for the Rangers. Isabelle pulls on jeans and a tank top, and unlocks the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m fine\u201d Isabelle sends. \u201cMisunderstood something is all. Not anyone\u2019s fault.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her phone rings a minute later. \u201cBullshit,\u201d Makayla says, not even letting Isabelle say hello first. \u201cWhat did that bitch Amy do to you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle catches her breath. \u201cIt was just a joke,\u201d she says. \u201cI mean \u2013 I just took it the wrong way, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was a joke?\u201d Makayla asks. \u201cBecause you\u2019re really not clearing this up, so Amy\u2019s still on my shit list.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle sits down, and wraps her left arm around her knees. \u201cShe made out with me kind of a lot at the cast party,\u201d Isabelle admits. \u201cI just \u2013 I took her seriously, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo shit,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cYou\u2019ve been gone on her forever. Did she know that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI \u2013 um,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cI might have said something at the party. After.\u201d<\/p>\n
Makayla lets out a sigh. \u201cLet me guess,\u201d she says. \u201cShe didn\u2019t mean it that way. She didn\u2019t know, and she\u2019s not gay, she\u2019s just, what, heteroflexible? A bitch?\u201d<\/p>\n
It\u2019s alarmingly accurate. Isabelle hasn\u2019t dated women before, but it sounds like Makayla\u2019s speaking from experience. \u201cShe wanted Jordan\u2019s attention,\u201d Isabelle admits. \u201cHe likes girl on girl porn, and Amy figured I\u2019d be up for a threesome once she got me drunk on Everclear.\u201d It almost worked, too, but Isabelle isn\u2019t inclined to admit that right now.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat bitch<\/i>,\u201d Makayla spits.<\/p>\n
Isabelle wraps her arm tighter around her knees. “I \u2013” she says. “I wasn’t that drunk?” She kind of was, though, is the thing.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, fuck that shit,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cGirl got you drunk to make out for a dude? Not cool. You\u2019re not some performative porno cheerleader.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle files that away to think about later, because it\u2019s an alarmingly specific example. \u201cI \u2013\u201c Isabelle starts. \u201cYeah. It was shitty. I just left, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLast night?\u201d Makayla asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cCast party, after strike,\u201d Isabelle agrees. She wonders if she can change the subject. \u201cI learned how to take down theater lights,\u201d she offers. \u201cIt was pretty cool, and they were surprised I wasn\u2019t scared of heights. I scared them with hayloft stories, I think.”<\/p>\n
Makayla laughs.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d she says. \u201cFine. But we\u2019re talking about this eventually. Now tell me what your idiot brother has been up to, his Instagram has been completely dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle segues into a running commentary on Nick\u2019s summer, which she edits a little bit to protect Nick and Kolya.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd his Russian shadow?\u201d Makayla asks. \u201cHe still in that ridiculous apartment he complains about all the damn time?\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle laughs, because Kolya complains about his apartment an awful lot, but he seems to really like it at the same time.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s bigger than the place he grew up,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cI mean, they had two rooms and a communal bathroom when he was a kid, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn,\u201d Makayla whistles. \u201cThat\u2019s tough. My grandma had a 2 bedroom, at least, and the living room had a door.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d Isabelle asks. Makayla hasn\u2019t talked about her family much, usually changing the subject.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe all lived with her for a while when I was a kid,\u201d Makayla says, and there\u2019s an edge to her voice. \u201cMom and grandma in one room, kids in the other.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI shared with my sisters when I was a kid,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cIt was bunk beds and a lot of yelling.\u201d<\/p>\n
Makayla laughs. \u201cMe and my brothers,\u201d she says. \u201cI took over the living room when I was twelve, put up a fake wall to have a tiny bit of space where they wouldn\u2019t steal my tampons or pads to have a snowball fight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, ew,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cSeriously? Boys are so gross.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me about it,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cSeriously, I don\u2019t know why anyone dates them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle laughs at that, because she knows Makayla isn\u2019t out, exactly, not when she\u2019s still in college and looking for a high-powered PR job, but Makayla isn\u2019t closeted either, and she\u2019s also not bisexual the way Isabelle is.<\/p>\n
\u201cI dunno,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cSome of them aren\u2019t so bad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, well.\u201d Makayla sounds dubious. \u201cI don\u2019t see the appeal.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle stretches out her legs and leans back against the headboard of her bed, and settles into a discussion of the relative merits of dating men and women.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
She and Makayla fall into regular contact via text and Instagram in the next few daysand it\u2019s kind of nice to have someone Isabelle can talk to who\u2019s also in school, but isn\u2019t a theater person, isn\u2019t a musician or a singer (or a singer who is offended at being called anything other than a vocal musician, which Isabelle just can\u2019t handle the insanity of).<\/p>\n
When Nick and Kolya get back from their latest road trip, Isabelle goes over to Kolya\u2019s place in the evening with a stack of reading.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she says. \u201cNicks, seriously, I\u2019m going to go study at Kolya\u2019s, you watch game tape here, I want to get out of the apartment and not be on campus, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nick shrugs in agreement, and Isabelle heads downtown.<\/p>\n
\u201cIzzy,\u201d Kolya says. \u201cSurprised.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI texted like an hour ago,\u201d Isabelle points out. \u201cYou gave me a key, and I needed to get away from Nicks, he\u2019s being nuts after those losses. He\u2019s so damn cranky.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kolya shrugs. He\u2019s wearing team sweatpants and an old Traktor shirt that\u2019s a little too tight in the shoulders, and Isabelle can tell he doesn\u2019t want to talk about it.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on,\u201d she says. \u201cI have reading, and then I\u2019m going to complain about Amy and you\u2019re going to tell me I\u201dm not a complete idiot, and that girls are stupid anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kolya laughs, and steps aside to let her come in.<\/p>\n
\u201cPut ice cream in the freezer first,\u201d Kolya advises. \u201cYou\u2019ll get distracted reading, it will all melt.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did you know I had ice cream?\u201d Isabelle demands. It\u2019s in her backpack!<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want to complain about Amy,\u201d Kolya points out. \u201cYou\u2019re going to have ice cream with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle settles on Kolya\u2019s sagging couch and tucks her feet under herself while she reads a summary of the next opera she\u2019ll be learning parts from. It\u2019s one she\u2019s never heard of before, a twentieth-century piece that looks decidedly weird, all about aliens and school children. Finally she\u2019s finished her self-assigned reading. When she looks up, Kolya is settled at the far side of the couch, reading a battered copy of Pale Fire.<\/p>\n
\u201cIce cream?\u201d Kolya asks. Isabelle nods. \u201cAnd vodka?\u201d Kolya asks. Isabelle thinks about it, then shakes her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust ice cream,\u201d she says. \u201cFor now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kolya shrugs, and comes back with a pint of ice cream for her and a glass of vodka for himself, no commentary, just agreement.<\/p>\n
\u201cAmy,\u201d he prompts. \u201cProduction went well, so what happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle shoves a spoonful of the chocolate ice cream into her mouth and thinks for a moment. \u201cPerformative bisexuality, I guess,\u201d she says. \u201cShe wanted to make out with me to impress the guy who played the count.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kolya swears in Russian. \u201cBitch move,\u201d he says after a moment. It’s obviously not a full translation, but Isabelle picked up the gist of it anyway.<\/p>\n
Isabelle eats another spoonful of ice cream, with a chunk of brownie in it this time. It\u2019s cold against her teeth. \u201cI\u2019m more mad that she spiked my drink,\u201d she admits. Isabelle doesn\u2019t have problems being around heavy drinking the way her sister Emma sometimes does, but she wants to know what she\u2019s drinking, have the choice on her own.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe what?\u201d Kolya demands. \u201cIsabelle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI had some vodka, because the punch had Everclear in it, and I \u2013\u201c Kolya knows she doesn\u2019t like grain alcohol. \u201cShe gave me a soda, told me it was straight from the bottle.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kolya swears again. \u201cThen she kissed you?\u201d He asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cUm,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
Kolya narrows his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cOnly kissed you?\u201d He asks. He sounds like he\u2019s waiting for her, but not like he\u2019s about to fly off the handle. This is why she\u2019s telling Kolya, and not Nick, who\u2019d just get fucking pissed and fly off the handle before Isabelle could finish talking.<\/p>\n
\u201cUm. No,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cWe played strip poker first. It got a little heated.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kolya swears again, and tips back about half of his drink in one draft. \u201cYou\u2019re okay?\u201d He asks. \u201cShe hurt you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle stares at him. this is going better than she expected. \u201cUm,\u201d she says again. \u201cI mean, not, like, physically. I\u2019m pretty pissed off.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, good,\u201d Kolya says. \u201cBe angry. That\u2019s fucking illegal, what she did to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe just wanted to get Jordan\u2019s attention,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cI mean, I get why she did it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStill a shitty-ass thing to do,\u201d Kolya says. \u201cNot buddies. Tell me you\u2019ve cut her off.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2013\u201c Isabelle says. \u201cNot really. I mean, no one there knows she got me trashed, so I can\u2019t really…\u201d she trails off. \u201cI mean, she\u2019s acting like everything was fine and it was all my fault, so.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kolya finishes his glass of vodka. \u201cFuck that shit,\u201d he says. \u201cCalisse, Izzy, what the hell was she thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle shrugs. She doesn\u2019t know, but she\u2019s not sure it matters. It\u2019s still going to hurt.<\/p>\n
\u201cMakayla says I can\u2019t say anything to her face, because she\u2019ll just drag me,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cI think she\u2019s right. Our year is more scared of Amy than they are of me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d says Kolya. \u201cFine. Whisper campaign.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle forgets sometimes, that Kolya grew up in Russia. Things like this remind her that his mother’s family survived Stalin’s purges, that his father’s trusting nature isn’t the only thing Kolya inherited from his family: his mother is more vindictive and protective than anyone else Isabelle has ever met, though you’d never guess it on first glance.<\/p>\n
\u201cOr we break into her apartment, put Nair in her shampoo, maybe reverse all her doorknobs?\u201d Kolya offers, with a wry smile.<\/p>\n
Isabelle smiles back. \u201cNo whisper campaign,\u201d she says. \u201cShe\u2019s better at that shit than I am anyway. And I\u2019m not breaking the law, Nick would kill me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPapa knows a guy,\u201d Kolya says. Isabelle has no doubt that his father, MIkhail, knows someone: he probably knows a lot of someones out in Brooklyn, and some of his chess buddies would probably find breaking and entering to play a prank dead simple on the scale of things, not even really worth calling in a favor.<\/p>\n
\u201cKolya!\u201d Isabelle protests. \u201cMy god, no!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThink about it,\u201d Kolya advises. \u201cHe likes you, he\u2019d find someone quiet.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle smiles. “No,” she says. “I’m not pranking Amy, I’m not trying to get back at her. I’ll just — not really talk to her much, I guess.”<\/p>\n
“Could bring charges,” Kolya says. “She drugged you.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle shrugs. “She says, she says,” Isabelle says. “I’d never get cast again if I did that.”<\/p>\n
Kolya frowns, obviously thinking about this. “I thought it was better for you,” he says after a moment of silence in which Isabelle digs for brownie chunks in her chocolate ice cream and Kolya stares at the bottom of his empty glass. “You don’t have to worry about being outed, not the same way, as a singer, you know?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle nods. “I mean,” Isabelle says. “It’s still easier to date guys, socially.”<\/p>\n
Kolya makes the face Isabelle associates with any discussion of bisexuality, which is something between confused and disappointed. His life would be a lot easier if he were bi, what with Russian laws being what they are.<\/p>\n
“But,” Isabelle says. “This wasn’t like, some kind of new thing. I’m just surprised it was Amy, you know?”<\/p>\n
Kolya makes another face, this time his pissed off but trying to hide it face. “That’s not right,” Kolya says.<\/p>\n
“What do you think happens to drunk girls at parties?” Isabelle says. “You’ve seen your teammates pick up, you can’t tell me they’re all paragons of affirmative consent.”<\/p>\n
That’s a wince, right there.<\/p>\n
“I’m not saying that to make you mad,” Isabelle says. God, she’s glad her parents made her get so much therapy after Uncle Jordan’s life exploded in their faces. “I don’t think it’s right, and I’m not making excuses. But I’m not surprised that someone spiked my drink, you know? I’m just surprised it was a girl who did it, is all.”<\/p>\n
She shrugs and looks down at her ice cream. “It sucks,” she says. “It comes with the territory. Let’s talk about something else.”<\/p>\n
Kolya tells her stories from practice, and about how he’s teaching some of the rookies to cook without burning down their apartment buildings, which Isabelle finds hilarious.<\/p>\n
“I want to join you,” she says. “That sounds like fun.”<\/p>\n
Kolya glares. “Nick will kill me,” he says. “No way.”<\/p>\n
They bicker amiably until Isabelle’s phone buzzes at her.<\/p>\n
“Gotta go,” she says. “Makayla and I are getting drinks.” Kolya smiles, and Isabelle gives him a hug. “Thanks for listening,” she says. “I’ll tell Nick sometime. But you know he’ll just get mad and try to hit something, get all red in the face the way he does. It won’t help.”<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
Isabelle doesn’t have Amy in any of her classes, but her fellow cast members seem to be everywhere these days. She takes to studying at home or in coffee shops near the apartment, sometimes ventures downtown to Think Coffee where she can camp out for an afternoon and they have free wifi and great grilled cheese.<\/p>\n
Makayla meets her at Think sometimes, and they work on papers and reading together. Sometimes they split a sandwich, because Isabelle can’t manage a whole one without feeling kind of greased-out and Makayla thinks they’re overpriced.<\/p>\n
“I’m not looking forward to the flight to Sochi,” Isabelle says one day, while picking at the last strings of fontina in the bottom of the wax-paper-lined wicker basket.<\/p>\n
“You’re going to the Olympics.” Makayla sounds shocked.<\/p>\n
“Nick’s playing,” Isabelle says. “We’re gonna cheer him on, you know?”<\/p>\n
“It’s in Russia,” Makayla says.<\/p>\n
“I know,” Isabelle says, and then, because languages have been on her mind recently. “It’s gonna be hard with all the Cyrillic. I think I can order food, but it’s gonna be really hard to get around, you know?”<\/p>\n
“It’s \u2013” Makayla drains her coffee. “You’re going to Russia for like five days and you’re worried about the language?”<\/p>\n
She looks really upset.<\/p>\n
“Yes?” Isabelle asks.<\/p>\n
“I swear, you don’t even live in the same universe most of the time,” Makayla says. “Do you know how much those tickets cost?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle nods. She’s the one who booked them and sprung them on her family so they wouldn’t feel as guilty about Nick paying for them. It’s an odd short-hand they’ve fallen into as a group, but Isabelle’s MO these days has become to ask Nick, then book tickets, then tell the family and ask their forgiveness, not their permission.<\/p>\n
“My god,” Makayla says. “Look, I don’t want to talk about that kind of thing here.” She sounds upset.<\/p>\n
“Nick’s out of town on a roadie,” Isabelle offers. “I could cook dinner at ours?”<\/p>\n
It’s pretty close, is the thing, just a few stops away on the C train. They bundle up and Isabelle is too worried about why Makayla’s upset about the Olympics to really pay much attention until she’s unlocking the apartment door and they’ve walked in.<\/p>\n
Makayla stops dead in the doorway.<\/p>\n
“You said it was big,” Makayla said. “You didn’t say you lived in a million apartments knocked together!”<\/p>\n
Isabelle looks around. Some of the architectural peculiarities of the space do make more sense that way, now that Makayla has pointed them out. She always figured the downstairs was another apartment, but didn’t think about the rest all that much.<\/p>\n
“Oh,” she says. “Yeah, that makes sense. Probably three?”<\/p>\n
“Oh, probably three,” Makayla parrots, and rubs a hand across her face. “Isabelle, you –”<\/p>\n
“I mean,” Isabelle starts. “It’s big. It’s fancy. Nick plays in the NHL, you know? You knew that.”<\/p>\n
“My god.” Makayla looks around, at the view out the windows.<\/p>\n
“I love the view,” Isabelle says, trying to change the subject. “It’s amazing when the sky goes all different colors, it’s so distracting. The sunset never looks that nice on the farm.”<\/p>\n
“Air pollution,” says Makayla. “We had great sunsets over the FDR, but it’s because of the haze from all the cars. Couldn’t play outside in the summer without choking down a lungful of car exhaust.”<\/p>\n
“There aren’t enough parks in this city,” Isabelle says. “It’s just – I mean, what did you do when you had too much energy?”<\/p>\n
“Get in trouble, mostly,” Makayla says. She staring at the kitchen, at the wall of cabinets that back onto the TV room, at the kitchen island and its barstools and how they divide the dining and sitting areas. It’s a lot like Isabelle’s parents’ house at home, in terms of space, but it feels bigger all of a sudden.<\/p>\n
“I’m sorry,” Isabelle says. “I \u2013 let’s go somewhere else. This was a bad idea.”<\/p>\n
Makayla waves a hand.<\/p>\n
“It’s fine,” she says. “I mean, it’s not. It’s weird as fuck, but I’m going to have to get used to this kind of thing, you know? Most people I’m in school with didn’t grow up in a rent-controlled rathole in the projects and count themselves lucky to have two whole bedrooms.”<\/p>\n
“That’s how I feel around Amy,” Isabelle says, because Amy’s apartment makes Nick’s look like their old farmhouse, like the old barn. Thinking about Makayla’s reaction that way makes sense.<\/p>\n
“I mean, there’s all this now,” Isabelle says, waving a hand around to indicate the wide-open windows and large open-format dining and living space. “But, you know, Nicks didn’t make it big until I was in middle school. And the farm was a lot of work. Nick sent me to Shattuck for music, you know, but \u2013\u00a0we didn’t have all this stuff growing up, not ’till he got his contract.” She shrugs. “Emma and Mandy really wanted to stay on the farm, so it was worth it to them, but I fucking hate hog shit.”<\/p>\n
Makayla stares at her. She looks less shell-shocked, and steps into the apartment and shuts the door behind herself.<\/p>\n
“You are something else,” she says.<\/p>\n
Isabelle doesn’t really know what to make of that.<\/p>\n
“Most people show off places like this,” Makayla says. “You’re – are you apologizing for it?”<\/p>\n
“It’s not mine,” Isabelle says. “I didn’t earn it. It’s just lucky.”<\/p>\n
Makayla nods.<\/p>\n
“Okay,” she says. “I guess that makes sense.” She pauses. \u00a0“Did you say Nick doesn’t appreciate the view?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle laughs.<\/p>\n
“Never does,” she agrees. “I yell at him about it all the time.”<\/p>\n
“Well,” Makayla says. “At least one of you has a little sense.”<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
They meet at the apartment more often from then on, because it’s cheaper than paying for things at Manhattan coffee shops, and they can talk louder than in the NYPL branches they were meeting at.<\/p>\n
But Isabelle can tell that Makayla is still a little uncomfortable in the common spaces of the apartment. She figured out fast that her practice room, where Isabelle usually hangs out with her Julliard classmates, just makes Makayla stare at the piano, distracted and a little pinched-looking.<\/p>\n
So they hang out in Isabelle’s bedroom. It’s not a big deal to Isabelle: it’s her space, and she doesn’t like everyone in there, but she likes Makayla and it’s not like it’s a tiny room. She has a chair and they can sit on the double bed and watch Netflix on her laptop between them on the mattress, bitch about the latest episode of Scandal.<\/p>\n
Makayla settles when they’re watching Scandal, like she feels more at home with things, like she can forget that Isabelle’s brother’s apartment cost more than either of them will ever be able to afford in their whole lives.<\/p>\n
So they hang out in Isabelle’s room a lot. It has the added advantage of giving Nick and Kolya space in the rest of the apartment. The boys haven’t said anything about that, but Isabelle knows that Kolya’s apartment isn’t really a safe space for the two of them: too many of the Rangers’ rookies have his key, because Kolya is a trusting bastard and hands out keys to his place like they’re candy. Isabelle has one, Nick has one, and she doesn’t want to think about how many of his teammates have one as well.<\/p>\n
Makayla coming over so often isn’t a thing, until it is.<\/p>\n
“You just, what, Netflix and chill with this girl?” Erica asks, when Isabelle runs into her at one of the campus-adjacent coffee shops and they settle down to work on some reading for a shared class.<\/p>\n
“Uh, not really?” Isabelle says. “Mostly we Netflix and bitch, but you know, it’s low-key. Good way to relax.”<\/p>\n
“Huh.” Erica says. “Figured you’d be moving faster.”<\/p>\n
“Oh my god,” Isabelle says, because she’s heard about Erica’s conquests from some of the other techies since the production of Figaro<\/i> wrapped up. “Just because you jump fucking everyone who looks at you doesn’t mean I have to do the same thing.”<\/p>\n
“No, no,” Erica says. “I mean, like, you two seem like you’re basically joined at the hip these days, it’s very modern butch of you.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle glares.<\/p>\n
“Stereotype, I know,” Erica says. She doesn’t look sorry. Isabelle wonders if she can get someone to transpose her practice music up a third as payback for her being a jerk, or maybe steal her favorite wrenches before her next lighting call. “But, Izzy, have you thought about making a move?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle shakes her head. “You’re insane,” she says. “She’s, like, about to go on the job market. Why would she like me?”<\/p>\n
Erica laughs.<\/p>\n
“Dude,” she says, “You’re like the worst lesbian ever. What happened to getting married on the second date?”<\/p>\n
“I’m bisexual<\/i>,” Isabelle hisses. “And go fuck yourself, you wouldn’t know commitment if it tied you up and spanked you.”<\/p>\n
“Nah,” Erica shoots back, completely unabashed. “But I’d sure enjoy it while it lasted!”<\/p>\n
“That’s such TMI,” Isabelle says, and pulls out her libretto. “Shut up.” Changing the subject seems like a good idea. “Are you still taking French? I have some questions about pronunciation for Professor Anzoni’s class. Does she want us to roll the “R”s anywhere, or just sort of go Italianate on them?”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
They focus on work for the rest of the afternoon.<\/p>\n
But Isabelle thinks about it.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
Erica’s comments aside, things are going so well that Isabelle should really have expected something to go sideways. It\u2019s simple when it happens: Isabelle forgets to holler before they leave her bedroom one evening and she and Makayla catch Nick and Kolya kissing.<\/p>\n
“Shit.” Isabelle says. The three others are frozen in place. Makayla’s blank PR face is in full effect, Nick looks guilty, Kolya looks defensive and a little shocked.<\/p>\n
“Okay,” Isabelle says. “Shit.”<\/p>\n
“Huh,” Makayla says. “Should have taken that bet after all, I guess.”<\/p>\n
Kolya blinks, and his posture goes even more tense. Nick, paradoxically, goes a little more loose around the shoulders.<\/p>\n
“Wait,” Isabelle says. “What?”<\/p>\n
“One of the other interns was convinced there was some kind of forbidden romance thing going on,” Makayla says. “I was like, no way, they’re all too professional, but he set up a betting pool.”<\/p>\n
She looks at Nick and Kolya and shrugs.<\/p>\n
“For what it’s worth, he was the only one who bet on you two being a thing,” she says. “Everyone else was convinced he was seeing things, or that it was Carts and Marc, or like, I don’t even know who. Dude was pretty desperate for queer representation in pro sports, and you guys were doing the Junior Rangers thing, you know?”<\/p>\n
Kolya seems to relax a little bit.<\/p>\n
“Huh,” says Nick. “That’s something we should probably tell Dena so she can manage it if she has to.”<\/p>\n
“Oh, she knows,” Makayla says. “That’s part of why she fired the guy. Said it wasn’t professional or respectful, and sent him packing.”<\/p>\n
Kolya’s eyebrows go up.<\/p>\n
“Anyway,” Makayla says. “I guess this explains why Izzy and I hole up in her room so often.” She shrugs. “You do you. Need me to sign an NDA?”<\/p>\n
Nick blinks, and looks like he’s about to shake his head, but Kolya nods.<\/p>\n
“Probably, yes,” he says. “For your protection, too, if it gets out. We don’t look at you, then, you’re safer. You’re too smart to break an NDA.”<\/p>\n
“Sure thing,” Makayla says. “Have someone at legal draw it up, backdate it to whenever, I’ll come in and sign it, or you can bring it here if you don’t want me down at the rink.”<\/p>\n
“You’re taking this well,” Kolya says. He sounds curious, and a little suspicious.<\/p>\n
“It’s not my business,” Makayla says. “Plus, dude, you are going to get so much shit, I’m not going to dump on you. It’s bad enough being a black lesbian in PR, I don’t want to think about being a gay dude in hockey. Homophobes are worse to dudes, you know? Y’all are scarier or some shit.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle can’t resist giving her a hug.<\/p>\n
“You’re awesome,” she says. Makayla hugs back for a moment.<\/p>\n
“Okay,” she says. “I still need that snack. You guys free now?”<\/p>\n
Nick nods.<\/p>\n
“Good,” Makayla says. “Because you’re going to need someone in PR who has your best interest at heart, not just the team. And I’m gonna tell you to find someone who’s already out of college and specializes in damage control, and you’re not gonna listen, are you?”<\/p>\n
Kolya laughs.<\/p>\n
“Not telling anyone else,” he says. “Too many people know now.”<\/p>\n
“Fair enough,” Makayla says. “But that means you’re stuck with me. Because Dena is badass, but she’s paid to do what’s best for the team, and that might mean fucking you guys over if management doesn’t have your back the whole way.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle catches Kolya’s eyes. He nods, slightly, and pulls Nick into the living room, a hand on the small of Nick’s back.<\/p>\n
Isabelle smiles at Makayla.<\/p>\n
“You’re the best,” she say. Nick and Kolya can still probably hear her, but that’s fine. “Kolya’s pretty freaked because of Russia, you know, so maybe talk pre-Sochi plans and post-Sochi plans, eh?”<\/p>\n
Makayla nods.<\/p>\n
“And I’ll grab us some food,” Isabelle says. She opens the fridge and hands Makayla a couple of bottles of beer. “Beer or kvass, or … ugh, green gatorade, that shit is awful.”<\/p>\n
“Beer,” Makayla says. “Dark one?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle hands her two light beers for the boys, and an IPA and a stout.<\/p>\n
“I’ll get the food plated up,” she says. “Be right there.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle rifles through the refrigerator cataloging their leftovers. There’s green salad and a quinoa-nut-raisin salad thing, baked chicken breasts that have been pre-sliced, and some pre-cut fruit. She puts together a tray and grabs a few forks: no one will mind eating from the containers.<\/p>\n
“…kicked out of my church,” Makayla is saying, when Isabelle turns the corner, her voice low. “So I get that the stakes are high.”<\/p>\n
“There are other churches,” Nick says. “There’s not another Russia.”<\/p>\n
“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Makayla says easily. She seems unsurprised, and comparatively un-offended. “I’m not saying it’s the same, and Kolya knows that. I’m saying the emotional stakes are high, and I can help with some of the backlash if and when that comes up, because I know what it’s like to have people you’ve trusted your whole life write you off just because their programming says you’re going to hell.”<\/p>\n
Nick looks surprised. Kolya, to Isabelle’s surprise, actually laughs, and holds up a beer for a toast.<\/p>\n
“Knew I liked you,” he says, and Makayla taps bottles with him.<\/p>\n
Isabelle drops the tray in the middle of Nick’s very sturdy coffee table and hands out forks.<\/p>\n
“So,” she says. “Planning for a half hour, then we’re watching a movie. Too much serious all at once makes my head hurt, and Makayla’s getting paid a retainer or something, or hourly for her consult and her research hours.”<\/p>\n
Kolya nods.<\/p>\n
“I have a non-team lawyer for the NDA,” he says. “He draws up a contract, sets up tax forms for me. Then the team doesn’t know we have you on retainer. If they don’t know, they can’t plan against you.”<\/p>\n
“Good,” Makayla says, just as Nick frowns.<\/p>\n
“They’re not \u2013” he starts.<\/p>\n
“Gave my passport away once,” Kolya reminds him. “Didn’t get to the NHL for two years after that happened. You can trust them for me.”<\/p>\n
Nick sighs, and Isabelle is pretty sure he’s not going to let it go, but Kolya’s got a lot of baggage about his Russian hockey team, and Isabelle’s not going there right now.<\/p>\n
“Okay,” she says, taking a big spoonful of the quinoa salad. She chews, and then talks through the food. Nick makes a face at her that reminds Isabelle of their mom.<\/p>\n
“So eat, talk ideas, tell Makayla how much research she’s in for, and she’ll research salary and retainer stuff and get back to you later.”<\/p>\n
Makayla looks at her, paused mid-reach for the green salad.<\/p>\n
“I’m your agent,” Isabelle says. “Or something. You’ll lowball yourself if I let you, and these assholes,” she gestures across the coffee table at Nick and Kolya, who look appalled at her vocabulary and amused, respectively. \u00a0“They can afford to pay you right, or to find someone else. Not your fault they won’t find someone else, and you’re good at what you do.”<\/p>\n
Nick makes a face, and Kolya pops a piece of pineapple in his mouth.<\/p>\n
“Not bitch at Izzy,” he says. “Chew, swallow, listen.”<\/p>\n
Makayla asks a few questions, then sends Isabelle to get her a pad of paper, so she can take paper notes. Isabelle sits back and picks the mango out of the fruit salad, watching Makayla’s dreds fall into her face while she scribbles frantically, even her fast handwriting better than Isabelle’s.<\/p>\n
Eventually they’ve got a plan, and most of the food is picked over.<\/p>\n
“Not enough protein,” Kolya says, and shoves the chicken at Nick.<\/p>\n
“Oh my god, they’re going to be all squooshy now,” Isabelle groans. “‘Kayla, save me.”<\/p>\n
“I’m not sure you ate your vegetables,” Makayla shoots back, and Isabelle laughs out loud.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
Isabelle gets a little stir crazy when Nick is gone for an extended period of time, and the Olympics are no different. She wasn’t able to take school off for the whole thing, and she wanted to see him play for sure, so she got tickets to the qualifying games.<\/p>\n
Of course, this means that she’s stuck watching the final game, US versus Canada, from New York, when she’s been home alone for a week and is going a little crazy with wanting to see people in a context that isn’t class or studying.<\/p>\n
So she invites friends over. Most of her opera friends aren’t really big into hockey, but one or two are, so she makes a party of it, and the offer of free beer on a weekend night is a pretty good draw, especially when she offers light beer for the folks who are watching their figures in hopes of being the next Kelli O’Hara or Emily Fons.<\/p>\n
Isabelle spends the whole day beforehand cooking, pulling out all the stops and making the healthy versions of Kolya’s mother’s pelmeni, of her mom’s meatballs, and then a few salads and vegetable trays. There’s not much cheese, because singers are careful about lactose \u2013 well, some of them are, though Isabelle’s an exception. The she’s done, she sets everything out on the kitchen island and looks over it. She’s pleased with the balance of plate-food and finger-food, and the variety of color.<\/p>\n
She’s just sat down at the kitchen island to make up a plate for herself to carb load before the guests arrive when the doorbell rings.<\/p>\n
It’s Makayla, loaded down with a half dozen six-packs of beer from the place near her apartment that probably gets some of its stuff off the back of a truck, but which is definitely cheaper as long as you don’t care about things being close to their expiration dates.<\/p>\n
“Hi!” Isabelle says, and steps aside to let her in. “Holy crap, that’s a lot, you rock. Let’s get it in the fridge, and I’ll settle up with what I owe you.”<\/p>\n
Because this is Isabelle’s party: she’s gonna be eating leftovers for a while to pay for it, but she’s not going to make Makayla eat the cost, not now that she knows more about Makayla’s family situation, how precarious she doesn’t admit to it being sometimes.<\/p>\n
Makayla makes space in the fridge, and grabs an IPA for Isabelle and a stout for herself.<\/p>\n
“Talking heads before the games starts?” she asks, nodding at the television.<\/p>\n
“Ugh, no, they’re so bad,” Isabelle says. “I recorded the women’s game a few days ago and haven’t gotten to it, we can watch that until the men’s game comes on.”<\/p>\n
It’s a good game, and Isabelle wonders sometimes whether men’s hockey will become this elegant as the rules on checking get stricter, but it’s not something she dwells on, not the way most of her family does. Uncle Jordan has strong feelings about it, and getting him started is always an experience. Makayla is fun to watch alongside, with a good eye for skilled plays and uncalled fouls, and a willingness to get into it and yell when something absurd happens.<\/p>\n
Isabelle’s classmates trickle in as the evening progresses, and Sven camps on the couch yelling at hockey in a way Isabelle associates with players and family, not with Juliard students.<\/p>\n
“I played in peewee,” Sven admits. “Was terrible at it, much better at music. Stopped before I broke my fingers too much for clarinet, you know?”<\/p>\n
Isabelle nods, and Makayla high-fives him.<\/p>\n
Things are going well enough until Amy and Evan swan in around ten. Evan’s jacket is still covered in hipster hand-sewn patches. By now most folks have settled into two groups, either around the kitchen island and near the food, or in the TV nook watching hockey. Isabelle is trying to be a good hostess (she’s got the game recording, so she can watch it again later) but she’s a bit distracted by Nick getting a sweet assist.<\/p>\n
“Oh my god,” Evan says. “Are you serious, I thought this was, like, a joke. Can’t we at least watch ice skating? They’re so much more attractive than those bruisers.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle mostly ignores him, gets them settled with beers and their coats piled on one of the couches, and goes back to watching hockey. She’s not paying too much attention until the kitchen goes conspicuously silent. Isabelle doesn’t think the word she just heard was anything as innocuous as “trigger<\/i>.”<\/p>\n
“Say that again,” Isabelle hears Makayla say. Her tone is dangerous, calm, level.<\/p>\n
“What,” Evan asks, all calm posh superiority. “You don’t like it, maybe you shouldn’t be such a goddamn dyke of a stereotype.”<\/p>\n
Isabelle is in the other room before she’s aware she was moving.<\/p>\n
Makayla looks fragile, now, like she’s holding onto her anger with fingernails and determination, like she’s about to fold.<\/p>\n
“What did you just say?” Isabelle demands, because she knows she missed the worst of it, knows they won’t repeat this now that Makayla has backup.<\/p>\n
“Just that she’s kind of hitting all the buttons for a bull dyke except a buzz cut, you know?” Amy says, as if there’s nothing wrong with this, with the tone of their voices on top of the words they’re using. “Like, seriously, hockey on top of the way she’s been watching you? Seriously, Izzy, I thought you had better taste in friends than charity cases from the fucking projects.”<\/p>\n
That’s rich coming from the girl who drugged her. Isabelle sees red.<\/p>\n
“Get out,” she says. “No one talks to my friends like that in front of me, and especially not under my roof.”<\/p>\n
Amy looks honestly confused.<\/p>\n
“Out,” Isabelle says. She raises her voice, channels the vocal power and breath control she’s been honing, lets herself yell the way she never does except at the hockey rink.<\/p>\n
“Party’s over,” she hollers, and her voice bounces off the sleek white walls of the apartment. “Thank you for coming, thank Amy and Evan for ending it early by being inconsiderate dicks.”<\/p>\n
Sven, god bless him, gets the hockey crowd up and out; Erica, who was there for the whole exchange in the kitchen, gets everyone there bundled up, and drags Amy out with a firm hand on her wrist.<\/p>\n
“Get. Out.” Isabelle says, when Amy tries to linger. “Now. You’ve seen Nick fight. Don’t tempt me to punch you in the face, because you’d deserve a matched set of black eyes and plastic surgery to fix your smashed septum.”<\/p>\n
Finally it’s just Isabelle and Makayla, who looks like she’s about ready to run away.<\/p>\n
“Well, shit,” Isabelle says. “That – god, I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not used to having people stand up for me,\u201d Makayla says, after a long moment of silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, well,\u201d Isabelle replies, unsure what to say. That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting.<\/p>\n
Those people are idiots<\/i> isn\u2019t right, and neither is I hate that my friends hurt you<\/i>, or Tell me whose eyes to rip out for teaching you no one would have your back<\/i>.<\/p>\n
Isabelle didn\u2019t get the temper in their family compared to Nick, but protectiveness runs deep in the Larsson kids: \u00a0her middle sister, Emma, got picked on a lot as a kid, and Isabelle learned the signs of bullying young.<\/p>\n
\u201cI should \u2014\u201c Makayla starts, and Isabelle turns. She has the sudden fear that if Makayla leaves now, she won\u2019t be back.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, wait,\u201d Isabelle says, hands full of dishes. \u201cJust \u2014 keep me company a little bit? You don\u2019t need to go?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sure you want some panting dyke up in your space?\u201d Makayla asks. She\u2019s \u2013 Isabelle is sure she’s parroting Evan, and Isabelle wants to punch him in the dick. Makayla still looks like she\u2019s about an inch and a gesture away from leaving. Isabelle can\u2019t stand the thought of never seeing her again. She grits her teeth and forces the words out.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if I do?\u201d She asks. \u201cYou sure you want someone who splits the difference?” Isabelle knows what some queer people think of bisexuals. She should make up her mind, should pick a team. It’s never made sense to her, but Makayla’s never said that, either.<\/p>\n
Makayla stares at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to be nice,\u201d she says, and she sounds softer, more vulnerable than Isabelle has ever heard before.<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck being nice,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cI like you, okay. I\u2019ve been trying not to creep on you for ages, because you seemed like you just wanted to be friends and I didn\u2019t want to make things weird.\u201d She puts down the plates she\u2019s been holding. \u201cFuck, \u2018Kayla, it seemed like sometimes you didn\u2019t even know why you were hanging out with me, and then Kolya hired you, and I just \u2014 I didn\u2019t want to fuck shit up.\u201d<\/p>\n
Makayla actually smiles.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re idiots,\u201d she says. \u201cI mean, me too, all of that. This whole thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
But she doesn\u2019t look as hair-trigger-fight-or-flight anymore.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Isabelle says. \u201cWell, luckily we\u2019ve got practice with idiots, what with all the hockey players hanging around. Try to work it out?\u201d<\/p>\n
Makayla comes over and stacks glasses. She brings them over to the kitchen, but doesn\u2019t put them in the dishwasher. Instead she puts them down on the island counter, and boxes Isabelle in against it with her arms.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she says. \u201cWe might have to work really hard.\u201d<\/p>\n
She licks her lips, and Isabelle tracks the motion helplessly.<\/p>\n
“I can work hard,” Isabelle says, and bites her tongue before she can say anything else.<\/p>\n
Makayla grins, and leans up for a kiss.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
Isabelle isn\u2019t sure how they manage to get the apartment clean after that, because all she remembers is trading heated kisses every time they cross paths, and crossing paths a lot more often than is strictly necessary in a kitchen as large as this one.<\/p>\n
Finally Isabelle closes the dishwasher, and Makayla hangs up a kitchen towel.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think\u2014\u201c Isabelle starts, just as Makayla opens her mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou first,\u201d Makayla says.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, you,\u201d Isabelle insists. \u201cI mean\u2014\u201c she looks at her hands. \u201cI was just \u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
Makayla takes her hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cWay I see it, we\u2019ve kind of been dating for a while now,\u201d she says. \u201cSo maybe we can worry a little less?\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle takes a deep breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cGod,\u201d she says. \u201cLet\u2019s \u2014 bedroom?\u201d<\/p>\n
Makayla\u2019s grin is wicked, and they all but run to Isabelle\u2019s room.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
Makayla naked is a revelation. She\u2019s all soft skin and ample curves, curvy where Isabelle is lean, and so, so responsive. When Isabelle leans down to press a kiss to the swell of her breast, Makayla sighs, and when Isabelle feathers her fingers down Makayla\u2019s side, she stretches into the touch with a little hitching gasp.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust like that,\u201d she says. \u201cGod, please, Izzy. Wanted this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want me to \u2014\u201c Isabelle asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnything,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cGod, just touch me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle strips her shirt and bra off, and shimmies out of her jeans and socks before stretching out next to Makayla and kissing her deep and slow.<\/p>\n
Makayla\u2019s breasts are heavy against her side, and Isabelle can\u2019t help but cup one in a curious hand, feel the weight of it, the change as the nipple hardens against her palm.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo serious,\u201d Makayla says.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve never really done this before,\u201d Isabelle admits. \u201cI mean, not, like, \u2014\u201c not sober, she means, not except at the cast party.<\/p>\n
\u201cGod,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cYou\u2019re going to kill me.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pushes Isabelle on her back, and leans down, presses lightly biting kisses down the column of Isabelle\u2019s neck before cupping her breasts in warm hands. When she bites lightly on one nipple, Isabelle squeaks, and Makayla looks up.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo?\u201d She asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d Isabelle says, because that shot a line of heat straight to her cunt, and she wants more yesterday.<\/p>\n
Makayla pinches the other nipple as she nips this time, just a little rougher than Isabelle\u2019s boyfriends have ever been, and Isabelle bites back a keening wail, back arching for more.<\/p>\n
\u201cMmmm,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n
She presses soft kisses to the undersides of Isabelle\u2019s breasts, and the sensation is ticklish and sort of fizzy, enough to distract Isabelle from wondering whether they\u2019re big enough, whether they\u2019re not a disappointment somehow.<\/p>\n
\u201cGod, Isabelle,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cTell me I can eat you out.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle leans up on her elbows. \u201cYou want to?\u201d She asks. It\u2019s a surprise, even if maybe it shouldn\u2019t be. \u201cI mean, yes?\u201d<\/p>\n
Makayla nods, and presses Isabelle to lie back down with a hand on her shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re clean, right?\u201d She asks. \u201cI am, and you haven\u2019t dated anyone in a while, so?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d Isabelle says. \u00a0She knows she should be more careful than this, but she \u2014 she wants, and she trusts, and dental dams taste gross.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank god,\u201d Makayla says, and strips off Isabelle\u2019s underwear with deft hands. \u201cGod, Isabelle, look at you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle doesn\u2019t have time to react, because Makayla just leans in and licks up the line of her, tongue shockingly hot and wet. Isabelle bites down on a palm and wonders if she\u2019s going to need to invest in a white noise machine of her own. Her brother is out of town, but \u2014 Makayla licks again, and isabelle\u2019s brain disappears in a shower of sparks.<\/p>\n
![](\"https:\/\/shousetsubangbang.com\/2018-03\/to-join-this-song_01.jpg\")
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It seems like forever and like no time at all before Makayla changes things up, and Isabelle has started rocking her hips impatiently, tacitly asking for more, before Makayla presses a sucking kiss to her clit. It\u2019s like fireworks; it\u2019s like a live wire. Isabelle gasps, and feels herself clench around nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cGod, babe, look at you. So hot.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck,\u201d Isabelle manages, because she doesn\u2019t know how to say \u2018keep touching me or i\u2019m going to die\u2019 or \u2018get your fingers in me yesterday\u2019<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want more?\u201d Makayla asks. Her fingers skate between Isabelle\u2019s lips, slipping in the slick and Isabelle keens and cants her hips. \u201cI think so,\u201d Makayla says. She bends down and presses another soft kiss to Isabelle\u2019s clit, and then she moves away.<\/p>\n
Isabelle makes a grabbing gesture, and Makayla laughs. She crawls back up the bed and kisses Isabelle, who kisses back greedily, licking into Makayla\u2019s mouth and moaning when she realizes why Makayla\u2019s chin is slick, what that means. She finds her hands, and after kissing for a few moments, even manages to remember how they work.<\/p>\n
Makayla hisses against Isabelle\u2019s lips when Isabelle slips a hand between her legs. She\u2019s wet, thighs sticky with it, and Isabelle moans at the idea that Makayla liked eating her out so much.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet me try,\u201d she says, and Makayla lets herself be pushed over onto her back. \u201cYou can ride my face next time,\u201d Isabelle says, because she likes the look of that in porn. \u201cNot this time, though.\u201d<\/p>\n
Makayla groans, and then gasps when Isabelle rolls the pad of her thumb across Makayla\u2019s clit. The hood has slipped back, and Isabelle tries to be careful, because she knows she gets oversensitive fast.<\/p>\n
\u201cMore,\u201d Makayla demands. \u201cBack and forth, faster.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle follows instructions, looking back and forth between Makayla\u2019s face and her cunt, and it seems like no time at all until Makayla is sobbing through an orgasm that reminds Isabelle that Makayla used to sing in her church choir, and has a singer\u2019s lungs. THey\u2019re going to need that white noise machine, and maybe also music.<\/p>\n
Makayla pushes Isabelle\u2019s hand away after a moment. \u201cToo much,\u201d she says. \u201cGimme a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sounds promising. Isabelle didn\u2019t even get to go down on her yet, but if she can go again, well. Isabelle licks her lips.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going to kill me,\u201d Makayla says. \u201cMy god, get up here and kiss me, I can\u2019t move.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle complies gladly.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
The next production Isabelle is cast in is Help, Help, the Globolinks!<\/i> \u00a0It\u2019s a weird Menotti opera about space aliens. Isabelle is cast as the mathematics teacher who helps the music teacher, who teaches the children, who save the world by singing, but at least she\u2019s not one of the aliens, who have the stupidest costumes Isabelle has ever seen.<\/p>\n
It looks like there\u2019s some karmic justice, too, because Amy is a Globolink, and she appears to have had a falling out with Evan, the costume guy Isabelle didn\u2019t much like. Her costume barely fits over her hips, and keeps falling down on top for the whole run of four performances.<\/p>\n
Makayla comes to the first and last performances, and the cast party, and Isabelle kisses her in front of a room full of cat-calling singers, musicians and techies. They spend the evening with Erica and the lights and sets crews, and if Isabelle feels a little bit too much glee at watching Amy flit from group to group and be brushed off, well, she figures schadenfreude is a recognized concept. She wraps her hand in Makayla\u2019s and goes back to learning about gel thicknesses and how 2×4 lumber isn\u2019t actually 2 inches wide.<\/p>\n
![](\"https:\/\/shousetsubangbang.com\/2018-03\/to-join-this-song_02.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
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Read this piece’s entry in the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki.<\/a><\/p>\n