Page 13 of Make Her Mine

And maybe do more than talk…

“I’ve got to go get payroll done,” Esme blurted, and scurried off to her office, trying to ignore the feeling of her friends’ stares on her back.

The takeout kitchen had indeed known what an “Esme special” was. And when they’d described the main dish of spicy garlic and green bean noodles to Nora, it had sounded so good, she ordered one for herself. Now she had a steamy plastic bag of Chinese food spreading delicious aromas all through her little Audi A3.

Nora didn’t often drive herself anywhere, but she didn’t want to involve any more people in her evening escapade than necessary. And it was good for her to keep her driving skills sharp, and to get the Audi out of her climate-controlled garage a couple of times a month. So, now here she was, driving up into the alleyway behind the Fairchild to park behind the Indigo Lounge and sneak in through the back door.

The back entrance was well lit, to her relief, and the back door had an intercom buzzer. Esme hadn’t given her instructions on whether to come right in or buzz. Nora jiggled the door handle experimentally—locked. Buzz it was. She pressed the red button.

“Hello?” Esme’s voice asked tinnily through the speaker box.

“It’s me.”

The door clicked and cracked open slightly. Nora let herself in, pulling the door firmly behind her. The back hallway of the Indigo Lounge was silent, dimly lit, and a bit creepier than the rest of the place had been. She began to tiptoe quietly towards the warm pink light of the main area of Lounge she could see ahead.

This back hallway was crowded with stacks of extra chairs and electrical equipment for the stage. It also seemed longer than it ought to be, but Nora figured that was just her nerves and the much-too-silent silence in the air. She desperately wanted to be in the main part of the Lounge but had to be careful in the darkness.

Suddenly, Esme appeared in the open doorway just as Nora reached it. Nora nearly jumped out of her skin in fright, and she heard Esme shriek at the sight of her. Stumbling backwards, Nora tripped and, thankfully, fell into the seat of a chair. The bag of Chinese food slipped from her hand and thumped onto the floor.

“You scared me,” both women exclaimed at the same time. Esme had her hand over her heart, and Nora was clutching her suddenly churning stomach.

In the next instant, they both dissolved into faintly hysterical giggles. The adrenaline that had flooded Nora faded to a more normal level. She reached down and picked up the intact bag of food before she got to her feet. “You’re lucky they knot these things up so tight,” she said, holding up the hot bag of food for Esme to see. “Otherwise, neither of us were getting fed tonight, and I bet you get real mean when you’re hungry.”

“I neither confirm nor deny the accusation.” Esme tilted her chin into the air. “But I am glad it’s safe. Follow me.”

They walked onto the little dance floor and then Esme took a right towards another hallway. A hallway Nora recognized. She realized that they were going to Esme’s office. The scene of the crime, she thought.

The office really was hardly more than a very tall closet, Nora observed. It was easier to look around it now that she wasn’t distracted by Esme dolled up like a naughty silver Tinkerbell. Esme’s paper-strewn desk was built into one wall, with three sturdy shelves full of binders and knickknacks secured into the wall above it. The chair Nora had sat in last Friday evening was a plain IKEA rolling one, plain black, with a colorful Indian sari silk pillow in the seat for extra cushioning. As working spaces went, it was functional but still with a bit of personality.

What was impressive about it was something she’d been too preoccupied to notice on Friday—the way every wall was almost tiled in neatly arranged framed, autographed photos of women, presumably ones who had performed at the Lounge. Since the room was far taller than it was wide, there were a lot of photos, stretching up the walls beyond Nora’s ability to see who might be in the ones on the top rows.

Esme followed her gaze up. “Twenty years of Lounge history,” she whispered, smiling with pride. “Cam and Sasha helped me put these up a few years ago. They left plenty of room for new photos, but it’s almost filled up now.” She pointed to a photo of a young woman with pink and black hair singing behind a keyboard. “I just added this one yesterday. Chloe was here last week, and I’ve had a couple of music industry people ask me for her contact info. I hope that leads to something good for her.”

Nora looked at the array of photos again in awe. She knew this couldn’t even be all of the people who had performed here over the years. These were the ones Esme wanted to remember above all, the memories that kept her going. And for Nora, it was another reminder of the impact the Indigo Lounge had. She was admittedly disconnected from the lesbian community, but even she knew who Melissa Etheridge and k.d. lang were. That even icons like these two had played the Lounge spoke loudly to its place in the sapphic zeitgeist. Nora swallowed hard.

Esme squeezed past her to stack some papers out of the way, then sat on the desk, pushing herself back and then reaching a hand out to Nora, wiggling her fingers. “Give me. Give me, give me, give me.”

Nora handed the bag over and sat down in the desk chair. “They’re both the same thing. Take whichever one you want.”

Pulling at the stubborn knot made from the handles of the plastic bag, Esme looked at Nora and quirked up one dark eyebrow. “You got an Esme special?”

“It sounded good.” Nora accepted the chopsticks and cardboard container that Esme passed to her. “How long have you been going there that they named a dish after you?”

Esme looked up towards the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on her face as she tapped her chopsticks against her lips. “Let’s see… they opened about two years after I did. So that long.” She smiled and took a bite of her noodles. Swallowing, she went on. “I was broke back then. They were, too. But they always made sure to include extra rice for me when I could order from them, and I made sure to send everyone over to them when they got hungry after a long night of dancing here. We helped each other.”

“Ah.” Nora heard the explanation but didn’t really register it. On the desk, Esme was sitting with her legs crossed, and that made her long skirt ride up. It didn’t reveal nearly as much as the silver minidress had, but the glimpse of her bare calf distracted Nora all the same. Clearing her throat, she looked around the office. Next to Esme on the desk was another framed photo, but this one was smaller, and not autographed. It was Esme with a young blonde woman who had her curly hair and big brown eyes. Nora pointed with her chopsticks. “Is that your sister?”

Esme looked down at the photo. “No. My daughter. Holly.”

That revelation rocked Nora like a thunderbolt. “You have a daughter?”

Again, Esme raised an eyebrow. “Lesbians have children, you know.”

“I’m not that out of touch, thank you. I do know that.” She looked at the photo more closely. “She looks like you.”

“The resemblance ends there, I’m afraid.” Esme chuckled and bit off some more noodles. “She’s far braver and more adventurous than I am. That, she gets from her father.”

“You know who her father is?”

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