"Yeah, my mom said the same thing," Mark agreed. "You open a door for her and she'd slam it in your face."
Everyone chuckled. "Well, I come from a very traditional family," Kerry said. "Though I think my father would have paid someone to be chivalrous for him if he could have gotten away with it. We were always treated like ladies, and let me tell you...it gave me a hive."
Everyone peeked at Dar next. "My mother's a pagan," She supplied agreeably.
Silence. Everyone looked at Dar in surprise, except Kerry. "Well, she is." Dar shrugged. "She's about as nontraditional as you can get, but she loves it when my dad does stuff like that for her."
"Really?" Mark asked.
"Yeah." Dar drained her wine glass and set it on the table. "But then, my dad doesn't do it for show. It's just how he is."
"And just how you are." Kerry gave her partner a fond look. "Daddy's girl."
Dar blushed slightly, almost invisibly in the reddish lamplight. Her eyebrows twitched, and she glanced at the rest of the table before looking back at Kerry.
"Well, my old man didn't give me anything but a hairy back." Mark broke the silence, drawing attention back to himself. "And probably a bum ticker," he added. "So it's a crap shoot, but like, you really can't win because if you do nice stuff like that, you got a fifty-fifty shot at best that the girl likes it, you know?"
Two of the guy techs nodded. "Yeah," one said. "My girlfriend is like this independent chick, yeah? She's pre-law, works in a woman lawyer's office, pro abortion, all that stuff, and I find out last week she really wants to get married, stop working, and have kids."
"Oh, god." The taller, blond female tech covered her eyes. "My husband hinted to me last night he'd like to have kids."
"So let him, Barb," Dar drawled. "He can stay home and take care of 'em."
Everyone laughed. Barb leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. "That's really something women in our industry have to deal with that you guys don't," she said. "I've been turned down for jobs because I might start breeding. You know, that sucks. If you're a guy, that doesn't happen."
"Hey, we breed." Mark protested. "I've had to give plenty of guys' time off to go take care of their kids."
"Three months?" Barb asked him.
"Well..."
"It's hard enough to keep even in this business as it is, being female," Barb said. "Nobody thinks women belong in technical fields, even today." Her eyes tracked briefly to Dar and Kerry. "I have to tell you, you guys were the reason I even applied here."
"We take flack," Kerry responded quietly. "There are a lot of people out there that don't think Dar and I should be doing what we're doing, and it takes a lot more effort than you think to get past that."
Mark looked between them. "You guys are making me feel like a jerk, just because I got a Y in the big ol' chromo-dice throw." He protested. "Hey, it's not our fault! I hire most of the women who apply. They are just really, really few and far between!"
Barb leaned back, and nodded. "Mark, I know that. You should see the looks I get from other women when I tell them what I do. You'd think I was telling them I was a car mechanic."
Dar chuckled wryly. "Well, given what my other choice of profession was, my family is very glad I picked this one," she said. "But I'd have made a lousy sailor anyway."
Mark leaned back. "No offense, DR, but that would have been a big waste of brain cells."
"Yeah," Barb agreed. "That's for sure."
Dar shrugged modestly.
Someone approached, and cleared their throat gently. Dar looked up to see their reporter friend Elecia standing there, hands behind her back and a diffident expression on her face. "Ah. Evening."
"Hi," the woman said. "I know you probably think I'm stalking you all, but I happened to be having dinner over there." She pointed to a corner of the restaurant. "Mind if I ask your group here a few questions?"
Dar studied her briefly, then shrugged and turned back to the table. "You guys mind talking to a reporter?"
Various reactions, ranging from wariness to outright alarm faced her.
"Hey, relax." The reporter chuckled. "I'm from the Herald, not Panic Seven," she said. "I'm doing a story on the work you all are doing at the pier, and I just had a few questions about some of the things you were talking about."
Kerry still had her doubts. She knew Dar respected the woman, but after their experiences of the past few weeks, no reporter seemed trustworthy to her, if any ever had. "You know, Ms Rodriguez, these folks have worked really hard the past few days, and they're going to have to work even harder in the next few. Is it really fair to disturb them during a moment of peace, here?"
Rodriguez studied her. "You know what being a reporter is like, Ms. Stuart," she responded conversationally. "It's like being addicted to everything. You never have enough. You always want more, more, more...every question brings up another question."
Kerry merely waited, giving the woman her best incomprehensible stare.
The reporter looked at Dar, who folded her hands over her stomach and refrained from comment. Then Rodriguez shrugged. "No, it's not fair, and my husband's going to kick my ass since it's the first time I've seen him all week." She turned to the table. "Some other time, ladies and gents. Good luck, by the way."
With that, she turned and left, walking down the small flight of steps and sliding into a half hidden banquette table near the window.
Everyone was silent for a few moments, then Carlos, who'd been in the closet with her that day, cleared his throat a little. "Thanks, Kerry," he murmured. "This whole news and filming stuff is kinda getting old."
"Tell me about it." Kerry sympathized. "We've had these people in our faces for weeks." She glanced after the reporter, then looked at Dar. "You want to go talk to her?"
"Nope." Dar seemed content to stay right where she was. "I hear a hot brownie sundae calling my name." She tapped her thumbs against each other, and looked around the table. "Anyone else interested?"
The atmosphere relaxed, and everyone leaned back, sharing dessert menus as the serving staff cleared the table of their dinner plates. Kerry waited for the buzz of conversation to rise, and then she leaned closer to Dar. "Was that a mistake?"
Pale blue eyes turned her way, warmed from within as they met hers. "For them? No," Dar answered.
"For us?" Kerry persisted.
Dar shrugged. "Nah."
Kerry frowned. Dar reached over and smoothed the furrow in her brow with her thumb, then she ruffled Kerry's hair.
Oh well. Kerry silently exhaled. Just another pass of the dice.
To be continued...
About the Author
Melissa Good is a full time network engineer and part time writer who lives in Pembroke Pines, Florida with a handful of lizards and a dog. When not traveling for work, or participating in the usual chores she ejects several sets of clamoring voices onto a variety of keyboards and tries to entertain others with them to the best of her ability. You can find other info at www.merwolf.com.
Other Melissa Good Titles
Tropical Storm
From bestselling author Melissa Good comes a tale of heartache, longing, family strife, lust for love, and redemption. Tropical Storm took the lesbian reading world by storm when it was first writ-ten...now read this exciting revised "author's cut" edition.
Dar Roberts, corporate raider for a multi-national tech company is cold, practical, and merciless. She does her job with a razor-sharp accuracy. Friends are a luxury she cannot allow herself, and love is something she knows she'll never attain.