Sapphic Voices Romance

Outside The Box

"Here goes," Rennie muttered to herself as she stepped inside the ‘The Rosewood.' On Friday night the upscale restaurant was the hottest spot in town for singles to meet, or for the faint of heart, the perfect venue for cruising the night away. But Rennie wasn't on the prowl, and cruising had long ago lost its appeal. Having sworn off romance, she sought the relative safety of platonic friendship. At least, that's what she told herself when, for the first time in her life, she answered a personal ad.

"Good evening," the hostess said. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Smith...R. Smith," Rennie replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Let's see. Oh, yes. For two. You're a bit early, Ms. Smith, but I'll seat you as soon as a table is free."

Rennie nodded and plopped down on the end of a bench in the waiting area. When an amorous lesbian couple squeezed in next to her, she made a point of rolling her eyes at their display of affection, several times clearing her throat and checking her watch. Much to her irritation, the couple kept at it. With a conspicuous sigh, Rennie abruptly stood and strode over to the hostess. "I'll be in the lounge. Would you page me when my table's ready?"

"Surely. It won't be too long."

`Ms. Smith' wove her way through the dining area, stopped at the bar, and ordered a beer. She scurried to a small table in the darkest corner of the billiards room. No sooner had she sat down, when a voice rang out from across the nearest table, "Hey, Ren! Long time no see!"

"Hi Liz," Rennie managed with a smile. "Practicing for the tournament?"

"Naah. Me and my honey are heading for the South Cove right after this game."

"To watch the whale migration, huh?" Rennie absently said and took a swig of beer.

Liz raised her eyebrows. "Not if we can help it. We haven't had a weekend to ourselves in a year." Liz took her pool shot and missed. She approached Rennie. "Sorry about you and Carly".
Rennie shrugged it off. “It was only a matter of time.’

"Just a sec." Liz took her final shot and lost the game. She sat down across from Rennie and leaned in. "You knew she was foolin' around?"

"It's what I get for ignoring my instincts."

"Whadya mean?"

"She's bi, need I say more?"

Liz poked Ren in the shoulder. "Watch it, bud. I was married once upon a time. You don't see me re-upping with the home team."

Liz's hearty laugh, usually contagious, left Rennie stone-faced. In no mood to tiptoe around a loaded subject, she took a long drink of beer and said, "You're an inspiration to us all." To her relief, an announcement rang out through the overhead speaker: "Smith party of two. Your table is ready--Smith party of two."

"Gotta go." Rennie stood.

"Smith, huh?" Liz teased with a wink. "Lemme guess. A blind date with danger."

"Not that it’s any of your business, but I answered an ad in the `friends only column'."

"Right" Liz snorted and again poked her longtime pool rival in the shoulder.

Rennie couldn't get away from Liz fast enough. In the dining area, she considered ducking out for home, but the hostess wasted no time ushering her nervous customer to a nice out of the way spot, perfect for brooding and for keeping an eye out for danger. "Can I get you anything from the bar?" the hostess asked.

"House wine would be fine," Rennie replied, picking up the menu. The waiter, quick on his feet, glided over and asked at her sore shoulder, "Can I get you an appetizer, hon?" Rennie declined. By the time the wine arrived, her platonic date was more than twenty minutes late.

"You know what? I'm too hungry,” she told the waiter. “I'd like the scallops now, please."

"Atta girl. Excellent choice. Soup or salad?"

"Salad with ranch. And bring me some of that chewy sour dough bread."

"You bet--back in a flash," the waiter said with a flourish and flitted off. Rennie nursed her wine, the whole time focusing like a laser on the waiting area, which by then was overflowing with patrons. By the time she finished off the salad, she declared a no-show. To celebrate the sweet relief, she ordered another glass of wine.

"To your charming absence," she toasted her invisible tablemate. A couple gulps of wine after that, Rennie was feeling no pain and had given up watching the clock. When the entree arrived she was in a friendly mood, the first in months. "To singlehood," she toasted the waiter with an empty glass.

"I'll second that," he said with a pat on her wrist. "Can I get you more bread, hon?"

"If you would, Warren, ol’boy," she addressed his sterling I.D. pin in a terrible British accent and handed over the empty breadbasket. She speared a steaming scallop and held it to her nose. Perfection," she sighed and had just taken her first bite, when a stunning red head dressed to the nines in a low-cut black number appeared like an apparition at the edge of the table.

"Rennie?" the apparition asked.

Rennie dropped her fork in her lap. The half-eaten scallop fell to the floor and rolled under the table. "That's me," she mumbled though a mouthful, fumbling for the utensil.

"Hi. I'm Karen." The red head offered her hand. Rennie retrieved the fork and nearly stabbed Karen with it before finding the good sense to switch hands. Karen's smile wiped away any remnants of first-date savoir faire.

"Are you sure?" Rennie asked and blushed at the stupidity of the question.

"Last time I looked," Karen laughed. "May I sit down?"

"Oh, sure. Sorry," Rennie said and stood. "I pretty much gave up on you and...," she lost her train of thought when trying her best not to stare at Karen's cleavage.

Her platonic blind date sat down. "Don't let your dinner get cold," she said. "I'm so sorry I'm late. Traffic was more than I bargained for."

Rennie plopped back down. "Friday nights are the pits...traffic-wise," Rennie said as casually as her racing heart would allow. "I was starving, so I went ahead."
"Oh, please, don't explain. I would have done the same." Karen draped her elegant shawl over the back of her chair. "Scallops?"

"Yup, best in town."

"I'll have what she's having," Karen said to Warren, who had sidled up with a menu.

While he scribbled the details, Rennie recalled the personal ad she'd obsessed over for a week before deciding to answer it: `Rugged, outdoorsy jock seeking friendship with same.'
With a snort, she blurted out, "And I'm the Queen of England." Karen and Warren both gave her puzzled looks. Mortified, Rennie made things worse by adding, "Warren here treats me like a queen. I guess it takes one to know one." Rennie laughed nervously and knocked over the empty wine glass.

The seasoned waiter, who wouldn't dream of taking offense, didn’t flinch. He smiled at Karen. "Would you like a cocktail, hon?"

"I think I’d better," Karen replied with a glance at Rennie, who now absently poked at an innocent scallop. "Bring me a wine glass and a carafe of Merlot," Karen said. After Rennie ordered a carafe of the house white, Warren quickly withdrew from what he savored as a brewing storm. "I take it you know him," Karen tentatively said, just to make conversation.

"Oh, sure. We go way back," Rennie lied for the second time that evening and speared the scallop.

"This is your regular hangout, then?"

"Just on Fridays--for happy hour, and weekend pool tournaments," Rennie tried for the casual, but her tone bordered on surly.

"You must be good at it."

“At what?” Rennie’s mind went blank.

“Pool.”

"Oh, sure. I mean, I've won my share. It's all in the wrist," Rennie said through a mouthful of tepid scallop.

"It's the same for the violin," Karen offered with a faint smile. Warren served the wine and graciously bowed out.

"Are you a player?" Rennie asked.

"In what sense?" Karen seductively parried. She poured herself a glass of Merlot and mercilessly set her gorgeous green eyes loose on Rennie's bloodshot browns.

"Music." Rennie awkwardly mimed playing a violin.

"I'm second chair in the symphony," Karen said without blinking.

Rennie's mouth dropped open. "You must be talented," she could only say the obvious and tore off a piece of chewy bread.

"I hold my own," the lovely musician said. Warren served a steaming bowl of soup under her nose. "Although I have to admit, I have designs on the concert master's seat."

"I don't listen to much longhair."

"What kind of music do you like?"

"Jazz," Rennie coolly replied, even though the blood ran hot to her cheeks, plenty red from too much chardonnay.

"I love jazz. A friend of mine plays piano at the Evergreen Grotto. Have you been there?" Karen said.

"Sure have. What's your friend's name?"

"Jerry Lyons."

"Wow! He's a fu..I mean, he’s a magician on the keyboard!"

"He's not too bad as a chamber player, either," Karen said after a sip of wine.

"How do you know him?" Rennie asked, spearing her last scallop, which was ice cold.

"We were engaged to be married last year." Karen topped off her wine glass.

"Oh," Rennie muttered with that all too familiar sinking feeling. She glanced at her watch and retreated into what she hoped Karen would find an intolerable silence.

All bets were off when Warren returned. "There you go, miss," he said to Karen and served a steaming plate of the best in town.

"Oh, this looks heavenly," she said. Her green eyes flashed at Rennie, who was staring down at a lap of breadcrumbs.

"Enjoy your dinner," Warren said and turned his attention to Rennie. "Can I get you any dessert, your highness?"

"I don't do sugar," she snapped.

After that, the violinist picked at her dinner; her date remained mute, brazenly glancing at her watch every few seconds. "Do you have to be somewhere?" Karen asked.

"Why?"

"You keep looking at your watch."

"Just habit." Rennie, whose head was spinning, sat up straight to keep from swaying in her chair. Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead.

"So...tell me a little about yourself, Rennie," Karen ventured.

"Like what?"

"Like what do you do for a living?"

"I manage the gift shop at the train station," Rennie grudgingly answered.

"Now I know why you look familiar. My chamber music group played at the station last June."

"Yeah, I remember...the music, that is." Rennie wiped sweaty palms on her impeccably pressed jeans. In spite of the wine, she never felt more up tight and was set to run for her life. She folded her arms tight across her chest and looked up at the ceiling.

Karen stopped eating. "Was it something I said?"

"Whadya mean?"

“You’re not having a very good time—that’s obvious. Was it something I said?”

Rennie lied for the third time that night, “ Not at all.” She accidentally glanced at dangerous eyes.

"Relax, I won't bite," Karen assured with a wink. She watched her date squirm in her chair. "I'm not what you expected, am I?"
"You got that right," Rennie shot back with a tighter grip on herself.

"Is there a law that says musicians can't be at home in the outdoors?"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Rennie snorted.

"What kind of comment is that?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but this isn't working," Rennie said and fished around in her jacket pocket for some cash. "I was looking for a friend to hang out with--nothing more."

"So am I. Whatever else does or doesn't happen is not the point..as long it's outdoors," Karen rebutted with a grin.

A staring contest ensued. Rennie lost. "In case you can’t tell, I'm a natural born hundred-percent lesbian," she announced with false bravado.

"Congratulations."

"It's who I am."

"Sexually speaking."

"Every which way of speaking," Rennie snarled through clenched teeth. She motioned for Warren to bring the check.

"Does this mean we can't go hiking?" Karen innocently asked.

Rennie couldn’t completely ignore those alluring eyes in which she saw some genuine hurt. She automatically softened. "I'm sorry, but no, we can't." Warren presented Rennie with the check on a little tray, complete with mint, and slipped away without a trace of his usual flair. Karen put down her fork and leaned back in her chair.

"You can't be serious."

Rennie wiped her sweaty forehead with her napkin and threw it down. "The second I saw you I knew it wouldn't work."

"How psychic of you."

"Jeezuz. You're going to make me say it, aren't you."

"What? That you have a violinist phobia?" Karen tried valiantly to salvage the evening with a little humor and was met with a scowl.

"I don't date straight women--period," Rennie recoiled, pushed her chair from the table.

"Is it just for my benefit, or do you always jump to conclusions about people?"

"I know bad news when I see it," Rennie retorted and stood. People at nearby tables began to stare and whisper.

"I seriously doubt that," Karen snapped with an angry stab at a cold scallop.

Rennie sat back down and leaned in close. "OK, you asked for it. Women like you think they can wrap someone like me around their little finger and then drop me the second the right man comes along. It took me a helluva long time to figure out the game your type plays, but no daddy's girl is ever going to take me for a ride again," Rennie half-whispered in dead earnest. Karen glared at her accuser, who, painfully aware of the scene she was causing, laid some cash across the tray and withdrew without so much as a good-bye.


Rennie found refuge at the same table in the darkest corner of the billiards room and for a good ten minutes held her pounding head in her hands. Painful memories of the break-up with Carly traipsed like drag queens across her mind. Close to tears, she stared blankly at a nearby doubles contest. She stood to leave, when something hit her foot. She glanced down in time to see a flash of white shoot under her chair. When she picked up the cue ball, Karen, who stood just inches away, reached for it. Without a word, Rennie handed it over, and, although she tried not to, she stayed to watch the beautiful violinist struggle with the cue stick at the far table.

A group of serious players came in and waited patiently, but Karen refused to give it up. Nor would she accept any instruction or numerous invitations to join in doubles play.

"Enjoying the show?" one of them said as she sat down near Rennie.

"Not really," Rennie muttered. Karen's cue ball hit the far wall with a loud crack.

"Downright painful to watch, ain't it?" the stranger snickered. "She sure is easy on the eyes, though."

"A friggin' dream girl," Rennie mumbled and fought another wave of grief.

"You know her?"

"Hell, no."

At that moment, the cue ball bounced off the nearby table and whizzed past Rennie's ear. "Shit!" the stranger shouted. "Someone stop her before she kills somebody!" she cackled. When Rennie fished the dangerous missile from the corner, Karen walked over and reached for it.

"I believe that belongs to me."

Rennie juggled it a couple of times and calmly said, "It's mine, now."

Amidst a chorus of wolf whistles and snickers, the violinist followed the pool shark to the far table, where she was treated to a most impressive shooting demonstration. Afterwards, Karen shoved another quarter in the slot, racked the balls like a pro, took the cue stick from Rennie, chalked up, and proceeded to break and clear the table without a hitch.

The gasping audience burst into applause. Rennie stood frozen as Karen blew on the end of the cue stick before twirling it like a baton through her elegant fingers. "So...you up for a real game?" she challenged with a smirk.

"You hustled me," Rennie protested.

Karen stepped up too close. "And you loved every second of it."
Dead serious and even more determined, Rennie racked up and took aim. At just the wrong moment Karen coughed. Rennie's hand slipped and the cue ball shot off onto the neighboring table, where it rolled straight into the corner pocket. The crowd exploded with laughter and applause.

"Whadya know. A hole in one," Karen said, chalking up.

"Yeah, a real keeper," Rennie said, barely able to maintain her game face.

"A day hike on Oak's Ridge says you can't do that again," Karen said. She dropped another cue ball in her opponent's hand. With satisfaction, she watched that scowl melt into a faint grin.

"You're on."

Everybody gathered around and watched the pool champ of `The Rosewood’ make a clean break. Karen, who never had a chance to shoot, couldn't have been a happier loser.


The End

If you have enjoyed Keeper's "Outside The Box", then please be certain to e-mail her at  ghwriter[at]msn.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of  Keeper's  Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.

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