"I hate leaving you," Grace said. "Especially when I won't see you again until next summer." She let her suitcase drop on the floor.
"Won't see me again?" Carey looked at the framed photo of herself next to the bed, taped to the window, and the one tacked to the corkboard. "You have a whole roll of film in there," she said, tapping the suitcase with her foot. "We talk on the phone every week and you know you can always call any other time if you need to." She opened her arms "Come here." Grace moved quickly. "I care about you, Grace. I really do."
"You didn't have to do this," Grace said as Tom stepped back and waved her inside. "It's not really something to celebrate."
"Are you kidding?" he said as they made their way into the kitchen where Stuart was busily slaving over the stove. "Stuart, Miss Thing here doesn't think getting off probation is worth having a party."
Stuart wiped his hands on the apron and reached for his drink. "Any excuse will do," he said. "I'm surprised he didn't throw one for Butterfly Recognition Day."
"When's that?" Tom asked, feigning excitement. "We could hang butterflies from the ceiling and have a guess the species contest."
"I don't know why I put up with him," Stuart said.
"Because I'm so good in bed," Tom said, patting his older lover on the rear as he headed for the refrigerator. "Beer, Grace?"
"I'm under twenty-one," she reminded him.
"So am I," Tom answered, pulling out two bottles of beer. "You driving?"
"You know I don't have a license or a car," she said, taking the offered bottle. "I just don't want to do anything to get Stuart in trouble."
"It's my house," Stuart said. "What I allow to go on here is my business. Speaking of which, no more probation means no more drug tests, right?"
"Right," she said, taking a sip of beer. Just one...maybe two. I won't get drunk. "No more peeing into a cup while someone watches." She shuddered. "God, I hated that."
"I made sure to have something special here for you," Tom said. "Let me go get it." He ran up the stairs, returning a few seconds later with a tall red acrylic waterpipe. "I've been waiting how many months now to share a hit with you?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," she said, though she was sorely tempted to take him up on the offer. "I'd better not."
"Come on," Tom said. "You told me you used to get stoned. I thought that'd be the first thing you'd want once you were free."
"Yeah, well, I don't think Carey would like it."
"We didn't invite her," Stuart said. "We won't say anything but it's up to you. Tom, don't push her."
"Maybe later," she said, surprised the bottle in her hand was half empty already. "So who else did you invite?"
"Oh, just a few friends," Tom said. "Michelle, Susan, Mary, Jimmy..."
"You didn't invite him, did you?" Stuart asked. "You know I don't care for him."
"He's bringing a date, so he won't bother you," Tom said, setting the bong on the counter. "Grace, it's here if you want some."
"Okay."
"Ready for another?" he asked, pointing at her beer.
"No, I'm good for now," she said.
"I almost ordered a keg," Stuart said. "But I decided bottles would be easier. There's plenty of beer, though; help yourself."
"I'm not planning on having too many," she said. "I promised Carey I wouldn't get drunk at a party."
"You need to get a girlfriend who's not such a prude," Tom said.
“She's not a prude," Grace said. "Well, maybe a little, but do you know how many women are raped at college parties each year?"
"The only guys here are gay," Stuart said. "You're safe."
"Uh-huh." She tipped the bottle again, taking several swallows. "You said you invited Susan. You know she's always coming on to me."
"Does she?" Tom said, turning to Stuart and giving him a sly wink.
"Don't give me that 'does she' bullshit. You know she does."
"Lighten up, Miss Thing. It's not like I set you up on a blind date or anything. There'll be plenty of people around to protect you from her." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Besides, she's nice. Why not have a little fun until Miss Iceberg thaws out enough to give you a chance." He looked over his shoulder at Stuart and added. "If she ever does."
"She will."
"For your sake, I hope she does, sweet cake. But there's no law against having a little fun, is there? I mean it's just a party. No one expects you to go to bed with her, so relax. It'll be a blast." A song came on that Tom liked and he grabbed her hands and started dancing around the kitchen with her. Grace couldn't help but laugh and join in the fun.
"Hey, Grace, wait up."
"Hi, Tom."
"You have any more finals?"
"No, that was my last one. I can't believe it's finally summer. My
brain could use a break."
"You taking any summer classes?"
"No," Grace said. "I've got a chance to work at the Waterhouse full time."
"Oh, nice tips."
"I hope so," she said. "They're raising tuition next year, you know."
"Too bad for my parents," he said.
"You're so lucky you don't have to worry about money for school."
"Don't I know it."
"Well, I do get a week with Carey before my new shift starts. She’s going to her cottage for a fishing trip, and I convinced her to take me with her," Grace said. "Just us and a lake full of fish. I can't wait."
"Playing with smelly fish is not my idea of fun, sweet thing," he said, wrinkling his nose.
"I've never been fishing, but Carey loves it. I really don't care what she wants to do, as long as she lets me tag along."
"Hey, come out with us tonight. It's eighties night at the Straw. It'll be a blast."
"I shouldn't," she said. "You know I have to watch every penny."
"Let us treat."
"I can't do that," she said. "How much do you think it's going to cost?"
"No more than twenty bucks, and if it does, Stuart and I will cover it. Come on, Grace. It’ll be fun. A real blast." He batted his eyes at her. "Please?"
"Oh, all right," Grace said, laughing at his puppy-dog antics. "Where is it?"
"We'll pick you up. Do you have a tie?"
"Now why would I have a tie?"
"Because it's eighties night, silly," he said. "You have to wear a thin leather tie and a button-down shirt, preferably white. That was the style back then."
"I don't have anything like that."
"We do," he said proudly. "We'll swing by around seven thirty."
"I feel silly," Grace said as she stepped out of the car. "Are you sure I need the hat?"
"Oh you are one sexy dyke tonight," Tom said. "The girls are going to just fall all over you."
"I don't want the girls to fall all over me," she said. "You promised to show me how to play pool."
"I did," he said. "But don't be surprised when they start asking you to dance. Very déclassé to refuse." He nudged her shoulder. "See?"
Grace turned to see and colored instantly when the two women smiled at her. "Oh God. Tom, I can't do this."
"Oh yes you can," Stuart said, hooking his arm through hers. "You're going to die. It's absolutely fabulous in here."
Fabulous was not the word Grace would have used to describe the Last Straw. Dim, smoky, seedy, and loud were the terms that came to her mind. Once through the door, they had to navigate past the bar and what Tom explained was the "meat rack," a rail that ran along the wall opposite the bar where people looking for a companion would stand. Beyond the bar was the largest area, half decorated with neon lights and mirrors where everyone danced and the other half done in a combination of license plates and hubcaps where the pool table sat. The back section was the pinball machines and small tables that were used more for a place to put drinks down than to sit at. "I've got the first game," Tom said, walking over to the chalkboard and adding their names to the list.