Honey in the marrow, p.23
Honey in the Marrow, page 23
Elizabeth kisses one of Stella’s bare cheeks, then drags a finger through Stella’s wet lips and slides it in gently, using it to keep spreading the lubrication around. Stella forces herself to be still, as much as she wants to move against Elizabeth’s hand. She hangs her head down and closes her eyes.
Now Elizabeth pushes two fingers in, and Stella whimpers with each thrust. With her other hand, she rubs Stella’s clit, but it’s not quite enough. Stella wants something more, something harder, more pressure because she is just out of reach of her goal.
Maybe that’s the point.
She lifts her head and looks over her shoulder. Elizabeth is still wearing her bustier and skirt. Her glasses are pushed up on her head, holding her hair back, and she’s concentrating, a small line between her eyes.
Stella clears her throat, and Elizabeth glances up with a stern expression.
“I said don’t move.” She pulls her fingers out but keeps her thumb moving.
Stella huffs and turns back around. Grabs a pillow and holds it against her. Later, when she thinks about how her bare ass was waving around in the air, she might feel embarrassed, but for now, she wants Elizabeth inside her again.
The next sensation is hot and wet, and she realizes that Elizabeth has her tongue inside her. “Oh God,” she moans. “Oh, my God. You don’t have to do that.”
Elizabeth pulls back, says, “Oh, I do. I really do,” and moves her mouth down until she is sucking Stella’s clit.
The pillow absorbs Stella yelp.
Elizabeth just continues to surprise her. Stella is the stubborn one, hell-bent on getting her way and bulldozing through any obstacle. She thinks of Elizabeth as being more diplomatic, reserved, traditional, demure. Apparently, however, when it comes to her sex life, she’s much bolder than Stella ever imagined.
To Stella’s immense benefit and pleasure.
When Elizabeth’s tongue penetrates her once more, she shoves her whole face into the pillow so that she doesn’t alert the entire building how well she’s getting fucked right now. Elizabeth uses both hands to brace herself on Stella’s hips, slides her tongue down and laps at Stella’s clit.
Elizabeth’s poor pillow is going to be covered with Stella’s spit from her trying to chew through it. She’s got that shaky feeling again, the trembling that happens when she’s about to come. She tries to stave it off, tries to think about how her knees are aching, her back hurting from being in this submissive position for so long. How her pants are still around her knees, how she must sound, whimpering like this. Why can’t she be quiet during sex ever? How do people do that?
Elizabeth cycles between tonguing her and sucking on Stella’s clit, adding so much pressure that the orgasm hits Stella like a freight train, and she mashes her face into the damp pillow. Elizabeth keeps her grasp on Stella’s hips, forcing her to stay. She’s burning from the inside out. She muffles her scream, lifts her head so she can breathe, then groans again.
Elizabeth keeps sucking and licking until Stella gets hit with another wave, a second orgasm on the heels of the last, and when that one finally subsides, she’s sweating, covered in her own spit, and crying a little.
Elizabeth gently eases Stella onto the mattress and rubs her hand along her spine. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” She pulls Stella’s sweats all the way off and drops them.
Stella sucks in air. She looks at Elizabeth, still standing in her bustier and skirt, hands on her hips, glasses atop her head. Only her lipstick is a little smeared, and her chin is wet.
“Well,” she says, “I’d say that was a success.”
* * *
It’s late, but they can’t stop touching each other. They doze a little, but the bare skin is hard to resist, and Stella finds more places to touch or lick or explore.
“We should stop,” she whispers as Elizabeth slides her body along her thigh.
“No. Don’t stop,” Elizabeth says through the haze of pleasure. “Never stop.”
Stella reaches out to touch her again when the doorbell rings.
They look at each other, startled, then Elizabeth rolls off the bed.
“What time is it?”
“After two,” Stella says, pushing her hair out of her face.
Elizabeth ducks into the bathroom and comes out with her bathrobe on. The doorbell rings again as she ties the sash. She runs her hand through her hair in a vain attempt to freshen it up.
Stella pulls on her sweatpants, then darts out to gather the clothes left in the hall. She puts on her hoodie and zips it up over her breasts but stays in the hallway just out of sight.
She hears Elizabeth open the door, hears a man’s voice, though she can’t distinguish the words. She inches a little closer.
“It’s in my purse. I didn’t hear it,” Elizabeth says.
“We called three times. I was worried. It’s not like you not to answer.”
Now Stella recognizes the voice.
“Honestly, I’m fine, Sam. I just didn’t hear it. Tell me the update.”
“Well, we picked up the guy’s brother,” Lieutenant Warren says. “We’re holding him overnight. We can take a crack at him in the morning.”
“Okay. Good work.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Your face is all red, and you have a big scratch on your neck.”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Elizabeth says.
“Let me take a look.”
“No, Sam, really—”
Stella steps around the corner and says in her sternest attorney voice, “She’s fine, Lieutenant.”
Elizabeth glances at Stella, then closes her eyes.
Warren looks at her. “Stella?”
“We didn’t hear the phone,” Stella reiterates. “But as you can see, she’s fine.”
Warren stares at her slack-jawed, then looks back at Elizabeth in her robe, flushed, scratched up, her hair a mess, and clearly awake at two in the morning. “Oh.”
“Good night, Lieutenant,” Stella says.
Warren looks back at her. “Okay. So…okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Elizabeth says, reaching around him to pull open the door.
“Yeah,” he says. “Night, Captain.”
“Good night,” Elizabeth says, and closes the door behind him.
Elizabeth turns to look at her. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she says.
“I know,” Stella agrees.
Elizabeth rubs her forehead. “Fuck.”
Stella flinches when she says it. Flinches again as Elizabeth walks by her and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
Chapter 19
Stella wonders if she should leave. Elizabeth is clearly upset. When Ron was angry, he always wanted her gone, could hardly stand the sight of her.
But she doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night, the whole next day, or any amount of time feeling like she doesn’t know where they stand. They were having such a good time.
She waits five minutes and then knocks softly on the bathroom door. “Elizabeth?” Her voice is thin, wobbly. “Please come out and talk to me.”
She doesn’t expect pleading to work. She had a lot of fights with Ron through closed doors while he hid in the guest room or the bathroom. When he did come out, it was often to leave for an AA meeting, so she sat alone in the house and waited for him to come home. When he did, he was usually still mad. She hated their fights where she slipped up and broke some unspoken rule she didn’t know that he had and then had to wait for forgiveness, always slow to come.
But Elizabeth opens the door. She’s been crying.
“I’m sorry,” Stella says. “I couldn’t stand the thought of him touching you.”
Elizabeth throws herself into Stella’s arms.
“I’m sorry too,” she says. “I’m not ashamed of you, Stella. And I’m not ashamed of what we are.”
Stella holds her, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to her to be ashamed.
“I know that. But I never should have—you’re in charge of how you tell your team.” She hesitates and then adds, “If you even want to tell them at all.”
Elizabeth pulls back to look at Stella. “I hurt Sam very badly because his feelings were much further along than mine. I mean, I liked spending time with him, and I wanted to be in love with him like he was in love with me, but I wasn’t.” Her voice breaks. “Every time Sam touched me, I didn’t feel a thing. I simply wasn’t interested, and that wasn’t fair. It meant that I had to step back, but I couldn’t tell him why.”
Stella reaches up and wipes Elizabeth’s tears with her thumbs. Leans in and kisses her softly. “Sam is a good man.” she says. “He’s not going to tell everyone what he saw.”
Elizabeth nods, still sniffling. “When he got shot, I was so worried. He thought that meant I wanted to try again. But I was already so deep into things with you, Stella, even though I thought nothing would ever happen. I couldn’t think of anyone but you.”
Now Stella wells up. “Only you,” she echoes. “I understand completely.”
Elizabeth hugs her again.
“Let’s get some sleep,” Stella says. “A few hours are better than nothing.”
They crawl back into bed. Elizabeth turns off the light and falls asleep immediately. Stella rolls up against her, lies awake a bit longer, thinking about the agony Elizabeth went through fighting against something her whole life, trying to be something she’s not. Why had she waited so long? And what is it about Stella that made her finally give in?
Whatever it is, Stella’s glad they found each other, glad they’re here now, skin to skin. She watches the light come in the window as the sun starts to rise.
* * *
Addie comes home from the post office midmorning on Saturday with two big bags of packages. It’s all products that companies sent her. Stella sits on the couch with her coffee, watching her sort everything into labeled acrylic bins, stopping once in a while to swatch things on her arms, or on Stella’s paler skin when her own arms get full, and post the video or image from her phone.
A few minutes later, her phone starts buzzing. Addie grins. “They want to know who you are.”
“They who?”
“My subscribers.” She recently hit a milestone with half a million. “They know that’s not my arm. Can I take a picture of you?”
“Oh no. God, no.” It’s been a long week. She spent some of Tuesday recovering from the near all-nighter with Elizabeth, then doing prep work for the sheriff’s project. She spent Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday in meetings. She woke up late this morning, and she’s still in her pajamas.
“We’ll put a filter on. Come on.”
They stand in front of the window and scroll through filter options, choosing one that puts cat ears and whiskers on them. It makes their faces round and smooth, their eyes huge.
After Addie posts it, her phone buzzes until it nearly vibrates off the table. “They like it,” she says. “They say we look alike.”
“Do they not know you live with me?”
“I mean, they do, but it’s turned into this big thing, like, how no one ever has seen you,” Addie explains. “I was trying to keep your life private.”
“Thanks,” Stella says. “Guess that’s over now.”
“Well, you aren’t so sad anymore. You’re so much better.”
“I guess I am,” Stella agrees.
“How are things with Elizabeth?”
Stella confessed what happened and how she made Elizabeth cry. How she knew what the right thing to do was, and how something else took over. How Elizabeth forgave her.
An incident like this in her marriage would have turned dark and rotten, would have festered, and it still feels like the other shoe might drop. But Elizabeth called her every day this week and is coming to pick her up for dinner later today. Right now, she’s home, doing the chores that got neglected last weekend, like buying food and doing laundry and paying bills.
“Okay, I think. She said she talked to Sam and that he said he understood.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” Addie cuts through some packaging on a new blush compact. “A classic.”
“Sometimes it’s just the truth.” Stella offered to call Lieutenant Warren herself and try to smooth things over, but Elizabeth had declined, saying it would not be helpful.
Addie snaps another picture with her phone. “Would you ever consider being on my channel?”
“What?” Stella grabs the pile of cardboard that has started sliding down. “Why?”
“Because you’re important to me.”
“I mean, what would I have to do?”
“I would do your makeup. I’m hoping Elizabeth will let me too.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Not yet.” Addie moves on to a stack of eyeshadow singles. “I mean, we watch a lot of makeup videos together, right?”
Stella nods.
“Most of my subscribers are in their twenties like me or in their thirties. I think they would value seeing women of other ages, seeing makeup techniques on different generations.”
Stella laughs. “That was very diplomatically put. You can just say old skin.”
“Mature skin is the industry term.”
“You know we’d do anything for you,” Stella says. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Addie looks down at her phone. “What are you doing right now?”
* * *
Stella showers and fixes her hair, frets about what to wear. Addie suggested something solid, something in a deep, rich color, but everything Stella owns is either black, white, or pink floral.
She calls Elizabeth.
“Hi,” Stella says. “Listen, I agreed to let Addie film me for one of her videos.”
Elizabeth snorts. “You did? Why?”
“Because I love her! You can make fun of me later, but I don’t know what I should wear! She said no patterns, something in a solid color. I think she’s describing your closet, not mine.”
“Ah, okay. Wear that blue dress with the little gold buttons. The one that looks sort of nautical.”
“Really?” Stella pulls out the dress. “You don’t think it’s too dark?”
“I think you look lovely in that.”
“Okay, I trust you. And by the way, you’re next,” Stella says. “Can’t run from Addie.”
“Ha! She can try!” Elizabeth says. “See you soon, Stella Anne.”
She puts on the dress. She’s been avoiding it because it doesn’t have a lot of stretch, and she was eating a lot of junk food, but it fits fine. Even zips easily.
Addie is waiting when Stella goes into her bedroom. One half of her room is staged for filming, and the other half looks like the wrong end of a Calabasas estate sale with piles of clothes and makeup and shoes.
“Oh, that’s pretty,” Addie says when she sees what Stella is wearing, and Stella feels like she passed a test using Elizabeth’s class notes.
A TV tray is piled high with makeup, and the lights are blazing. She spends a few minutes instructing Stella about how to look into the lens and not the viewfinder or monitor. Suggests some safe topics in case there’s a lull in conversation. Addie shows her a list of questions she wants to ask Stella.
“I promise not to ask about all of the incredibly gay sex you’ve been having.”
Stella rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”
“I’ll let you look at the final video before I upload it, and if there’s something you don’t like, we can edit it out, okay?”
Stella nods. She’s been filmed before in a courtroom, and the trick is to never acknowledge the cameras. She suspects the sensation of being watched, of giving a performance, is the same.
Addie puts Stella at ease immediately, chattering away while talking about the products. She puts a primer on Stella’s skin, then mixes two foundations together to create a color that suits her better than anything she’s bought herself at the drugstore.
It’s relaxing, having Addie dab at her face with a damp sponge. It makes it easier to talk about herself. She answers softball questions about where she grew up, where she went to school, her favorite makeup product, the three most important things in her handbag.
“Gum,” she says, “my phone, and an emergency candy bar.”
But it’s a lot of makeup: primer, foundation, concealer, powder, contour, and blush. It takes an hour just to apply the base.
They take a break so Stella can pee and get something to drink. She washes her hands and inspects herself in the mirror. It feels like she’s wearing a mask, but her skin looks smooth and beautiful, especially since the makeup hasn’t started settling into the wrinkles around her eyes yet.
Back in front of the camera, Addie asks, “What’s the best thing about living with me?”
“I love living with you, actually. The best thing is when we get to spend time together, sitting on the couch watching YouTube, or playing a game, or drinking in the backyard. I just love you. And you’ve made this house so much more like a home. You’re good at the little things, like lighting a candle or arranging things to look pretty or buying fresh flowers now and then.”
Addie smiles. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sugar.”
“Okay, what’s the worst thing about living with me?”
“Well, since I didn’t know about this channel for the first several months of you living here, I would say your secrets,” Stella says pointedly.
“Oh, you wanna talk about secrets?” Addie asks.
“We’re talking about you now!” Stella laughs.
“She’s got some secrets, people,” Addie says to the camera. “But we’ll save that for another video.”
Addie applies three different colored eyeshadows but skips eyeliner because Stella’s eyes are so deep set that no one will be able to see it once the false eyelashes are on.
Now Elizabeth pushes two fingers in, and Stella whimpers with each thrust. With her other hand, she rubs Stella’s clit, but it’s not quite enough. Stella wants something more, something harder, more pressure because she is just out of reach of her goal.
Maybe that’s the point.
She lifts her head and looks over her shoulder. Elizabeth is still wearing her bustier and skirt. Her glasses are pushed up on her head, holding her hair back, and she’s concentrating, a small line between her eyes.
Stella clears her throat, and Elizabeth glances up with a stern expression.
“I said don’t move.” She pulls her fingers out but keeps her thumb moving.
Stella huffs and turns back around. Grabs a pillow and holds it against her. Later, when she thinks about how her bare ass was waving around in the air, she might feel embarrassed, but for now, she wants Elizabeth inside her again.
The next sensation is hot and wet, and she realizes that Elizabeth has her tongue inside her. “Oh God,” she moans. “Oh, my God. You don’t have to do that.”
Elizabeth pulls back, says, “Oh, I do. I really do,” and moves her mouth down until she is sucking Stella’s clit.
The pillow absorbs Stella yelp.
Elizabeth just continues to surprise her. Stella is the stubborn one, hell-bent on getting her way and bulldozing through any obstacle. She thinks of Elizabeth as being more diplomatic, reserved, traditional, demure. Apparently, however, when it comes to her sex life, she’s much bolder than Stella ever imagined.
To Stella’s immense benefit and pleasure.
When Elizabeth’s tongue penetrates her once more, she shoves her whole face into the pillow so that she doesn’t alert the entire building how well she’s getting fucked right now. Elizabeth uses both hands to brace herself on Stella’s hips, slides her tongue down and laps at Stella’s clit.
Elizabeth’s poor pillow is going to be covered with Stella’s spit from her trying to chew through it. She’s got that shaky feeling again, the trembling that happens when she’s about to come. She tries to stave it off, tries to think about how her knees are aching, her back hurting from being in this submissive position for so long. How her pants are still around her knees, how she must sound, whimpering like this. Why can’t she be quiet during sex ever? How do people do that?
Elizabeth cycles between tonguing her and sucking on Stella’s clit, adding so much pressure that the orgasm hits Stella like a freight train, and she mashes her face into the damp pillow. Elizabeth keeps her grasp on Stella’s hips, forcing her to stay. She’s burning from the inside out. She muffles her scream, lifts her head so she can breathe, then groans again.
Elizabeth keeps sucking and licking until Stella gets hit with another wave, a second orgasm on the heels of the last, and when that one finally subsides, she’s sweating, covered in her own spit, and crying a little.
Elizabeth gently eases Stella onto the mattress and rubs her hand along her spine. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” She pulls Stella’s sweats all the way off and drops them.
Stella sucks in air. She looks at Elizabeth, still standing in her bustier and skirt, hands on her hips, glasses atop her head. Only her lipstick is a little smeared, and her chin is wet.
“Well,” she says, “I’d say that was a success.”
* * *
It’s late, but they can’t stop touching each other. They doze a little, but the bare skin is hard to resist, and Stella finds more places to touch or lick or explore.
“We should stop,” she whispers as Elizabeth slides her body along her thigh.
“No. Don’t stop,” Elizabeth says through the haze of pleasure. “Never stop.”
Stella reaches out to touch her again when the doorbell rings.
They look at each other, startled, then Elizabeth rolls off the bed.
“What time is it?”
“After two,” Stella says, pushing her hair out of her face.
Elizabeth ducks into the bathroom and comes out with her bathrobe on. The doorbell rings again as she ties the sash. She runs her hand through her hair in a vain attempt to freshen it up.
Stella pulls on her sweatpants, then darts out to gather the clothes left in the hall. She puts on her hoodie and zips it up over her breasts but stays in the hallway just out of sight.
She hears Elizabeth open the door, hears a man’s voice, though she can’t distinguish the words. She inches a little closer.
“It’s in my purse. I didn’t hear it,” Elizabeth says.
“We called three times. I was worried. It’s not like you not to answer.”
Now Stella recognizes the voice.
“Honestly, I’m fine, Sam. I just didn’t hear it. Tell me the update.”
“Well, we picked up the guy’s brother,” Lieutenant Warren says. “We’re holding him overnight. We can take a crack at him in the morning.”
“Okay. Good work.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Your face is all red, and you have a big scratch on your neck.”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Elizabeth says.
“Let me take a look.”
“No, Sam, really—”
Stella steps around the corner and says in her sternest attorney voice, “She’s fine, Lieutenant.”
Elizabeth glances at Stella, then closes her eyes.
Warren looks at her. “Stella?”
“We didn’t hear the phone,” Stella reiterates. “But as you can see, she’s fine.”
Warren stares at her slack-jawed, then looks back at Elizabeth in her robe, flushed, scratched up, her hair a mess, and clearly awake at two in the morning. “Oh.”
“Good night, Lieutenant,” Stella says.
Warren looks back at her. “Okay. So…okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Elizabeth says, reaching around him to pull open the door.
“Yeah,” he says. “Night, Captain.”
“Good night,” Elizabeth says, and closes the door behind him.
Elizabeth turns to look at her. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she says.
“I know,” Stella agrees.
Elizabeth rubs her forehead. “Fuck.”
Stella flinches when she says it. Flinches again as Elizabeth walks by her and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
Chapter 19
Stella wonders if she should leave. Elizabeth is clearly upset. When Ron was angry, he always wanted her gone, could hardly stand the sight of her.
But she doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night, the whole next day, or any amount of time feeling like she doesn’t know where they stand. They were having such a good time.
She waits five minutes and then knocks softly on the bathroom door. “Elizabeth?” Her voice is thin, wobbly. “Please come out and talk to me.”
She doesn’t expect pleading to work. She had a lot of fights with Ron through closed doors while he hid in the guest room or the bathroom. When he did come out, it was often to leave for an AA meeting, so she sat alone in the house and waited for him to come home. When he did, he was usually still mad. She hated their fights where she slipped up and broke some unspoken rule she didn’t know that he had and then had to wait for forgiveness, always slow to come.
But Elizabeth opens the door. She’s been crying.
“I’m sorry,” Stella says. “I couldn’t stand the thought of him touching you.”
Elizabeth throws herself into Stella’s arms.
“I’m sorry too,” she says. “I’m not ashamed of you, Stella. And I’m not ashamed of what we are.”
Stella holds her, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to her to be ashamed.
“I know that. But I never should have—you’re in charge of how you tell your team.” She hesitates and then adds, “If you even want to tell them at all.”
Elizabeth pulls back to look at Stella. “I hurt Sam very badly because his feelings were much further along than mine. I mean, I liked spending time with him, and I wanted to be in love with him like he was in love with me, but I wasn’t.” Her voice breaks. “Every time Sam touched me, I didn’t feel a thing. I simply wasn’t interested, and that wasn’t fair. It meant that I had to step back, but I couldn’t tell him why.”
Stella reaches up and wipes Elizabeth’s tears with her thumbs. Leans in and kisses her softly. “Sam is a good man.” she says. “He’s not going to tell everyone what he saw.”
Elizabeth nods, still sniffling. “When he got shot, I was so worried. He thought that meant I wanted to try again. But I was already so deep into things with you, Stella, even though I thought nothing would ever happen. I couldn’t think of anyone but you.”
Now Stella wells up. “Only you,” she echoes. “I understand completely.”
Elizabeth hugs her again.
“Let’s get some sleep,” Stella says. “A few hours are better than nothing.”
They crawl back into bed. Elizabeth turns off the light and falls asleep immediately. Stella rolls up against her, lies awake a bit longer, thinking about the agony Elizabeth went through fighting against something her whole life, trying to be something she’s not. Why had she waited so long? And what is it about Stella that made her finally give in?
Whatever it is, Stella’s glad they found each other, glad they’re here now, skin to skin. She watches the light come in the window as the sun starts to rise.
* * *
Addie comes home from the post office midmorning on Saturday with two big bags of packages. It’s all products that companies sent her. Stella sits on the couch with her coffee, watching her sort everything into labeled acrylic bins, stopping once in a while to swatch things on her arms, or on Stella’s paler skin when her own arms get full, and post the video or image from her phone.
A few minutes later, her phone starts buzzing. Addie grins. “They want to know who you are.”
“They who?”
“My subscribers.” She recently hit a milestone with half a million. “They know that’s not my arm. Can I take a picture of you?”
“Oh no. God, no.” It’s been a long week. She spent some of Tuesday recovering from the near all-nighter with Elizabeth, then doing prep work for the sheriff’s project. She spent Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday in meetings. She woke up late this morning, and she’s still in her pajamas.
“We’ll put a filter on. Come on.”
They stand in front of the window and scroll through filter options, choosing one that puts cat ears and whiskers on them. It makes their faces round and smooth, their eyes huge.
After Addie posts it, her phone buzzes until it nearly vibrates off the table. “They like it,” she says. “They say we look alike.”
“Do they not know you live with me?”
“I mean, they do, but it’s turned into this big thing, like, how no one ever has seen you,” Addie explains. “I was trying to keep your life private.”
“Thanks,” Stella says. “Guess that’s over now.”
“Well, you aren’t so sad anymore. You’re so much better.”
“I guess I am,” Stella agrees.
“How are things with Elizabeth?”
Stella confessed what happened and how she made Elizabeth cry. How she knew what the right thing to do was, and how something else took over. How Elizabeth forgave her.
An incident like this in her marriage would have turned dark and rotten, would have festered, and it still feels like the other shoe might drop. But Elizabeth called her every day this week and is coming to pick her up for dinner later today. Right now, she’s home, doing the chores that got neglected last weekend, like buying food and doing laundry and paying bills.
“Okay, I think. She said she talked to Sam and that he said he understood.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” Addie cuts through some packaging on a new blush compact. “A classic.”
“Sometimes it’s just the truth.” Stella offered to call Lieutenant Warren herself and try to smooth things over, but Elizabeth had declined, saying it would not be helpful.
Addie snaps another picture with her phone. “Would you ever consider being on my channel?”
“What?” Stella grabs the pile of cardboard that has started sliding down. “Why?”
“Because you’re important to me.”
“I mean, what would I have to do?”
“I would do your makeup. I’m hoping Elizabeth will let me too.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Not yet.” Addie moves on to a stack of eyeshadow singles. “I mean, we watch a lot of makeup videos together, right?”
Stella nods.
“Most of my subscribers are in their twenties like me or in their thirties. I think they would value seeing women of other ages, seeing makeup techniques on different generations.”
Stella laughs. “That was very diplomatically put. You can just say old skin.”
“Mature skin is the industry term.”
“You know we’d do anything for you,” Stella says. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Addie looks down at her phone. “What are you doing right now?”
* * *
Stella showers and fixes her hair, frets about what to wear. Addie suggested something solid, something in a deep, rich color, but everything Stella owns is either black, white, or pink floral.
She calls Elizabeth.
“Hi,” Stella says. “Listen, I agreed to let Addie film me for one of her videos.”
Elizabeth snorts. “You did? Why?”
“Because I love her! You can make fun of me later, but I don’t know what I should wear! She said no patterns, something in a solid color. I think she’s describing your closet, not mine.”
“Ah, okay. Wear that blue dress with the little gold buttons. The one that looks sort of nautical.”
“Really?” Stella pulls out the dress. “You don’t think it’s too dark?”
“I think you look lovely in that.”
“Okay, I trust you. And by the way, you’re next,” Stella says. “Can’t run from Addie.”
“Ha! She can try!” Elizabeth says. “See you soon, Stella Anne.”
She puts on the dress. She’s been avoiding it because it doesn’t have a lot of stretch, and she was eating a lot of junk food, but it fits fine. Even zips easily.
Addie is waiting when Stella goes into her bedroom. One half of her room is staged for filming, and the other half looks like the wrong end of a Calabasas estate sale with piles of clothes and makeup and shoes.
“Oh, that’s pretty,” Addie says when she sees what Stella is wearing, and Stella feels like she passed a test using Elizabeth’s class notes.
A TV tray is piled high with makeup, and the lights are blazing. She spends a few minutes instructing Stella about how to look into the lens and not the viewfinder or monitor. Suggests some safe topics in case there’s a lull in conversation. Addie shows her a list of questions she wants to ask Stella.
“I promise not to ask about all of the incredibly gay sex you’ve been having.”
Stella rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”
“I’ll let you look at the final video before I upload it, and if there’s something you don’t like, we can edit it out, okay?”
Stella nods. She’s been filmed before in a courtroom, and the trick is to never acknowledge the cameras. She suspects the sensation of being watched, of giving a performance, is the same.
Addie puts Stella at ease immediately, chattering away while talking about the products. She puts a primer on Stella’s skin, then mixes two foundations together to create a color that suits her better than anything she’s bought herself at the drugstore.
It’s relaxing, having Addie dab at her face with a damp sponge. It makes it easier to talk about herself. She answers softball questions about where she grew up, where she went to school, her favorite makeup product, the three most important things in her handbag.
“Gum,” she says, “my phone, and an emergency candy bar.”
But it’s a lot of makeup: primer, foundation, concealer, powder, contour, and blush. It takes an hour just to apply the base.
They take a break so Stella can pee and get something to drink. She washes her hands and inspects herself in the mirror. It feels like she’s wearing a mask, but her skin looks smooth and beautiful, especially since the makeup hasn’t started settling into the wrinkles around her eyes yet.
Back in front of the camera, Addie asks, “What’s the best thing about living with me?”
“I love living with you, actually. The best thing is when we get to spend time together, sitting on the couch watching YouTube, or playing a game, or drinking in the backyard. I just love you. And you’ve made this house so much more like a home. You’re good at the little things, like lighting a candle or arranging things to look pretty or buying fresh flowers now and then.”
Addie smiles. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sugar.”
“Okay, what’s the worst thing about living with me?”
“Well, since I didn’t know about this channel for the first several months of you living here, I would say your secrets,” Stella says pointedly.
“Oh, you wanna talk about secrets?” Addie asks.
“We’re talking about you now!” Stella laughs.
“She’s got some secrets, people,” Addie says to the camera. “But we’ll save that for another video.”
Addie applies three different colored eyeshadows but skips eyeliner because Stella’s eyes are so deep set that no one will be able to see it once the false eyelashes are on.
