Page 34 of Her Patron
“What?”
“Shit,” June hissed. “Do not tell Monique, okay? Happy wedding!” She tore away from the table and headed for the rear exit.
She had no idea who she would run into out there. No idea what she would see. Think. Feel. All June knew was that the moment the fresh evening air hit her, she was blinded by the setting sunlight.
A few people milled around, taking smoke breaks or otherwise getting fresh air. June searched their faces for her women, but found no sign of Sette, and no trace of Miquela.
Until she reached the edge of the woods, the uneven terrain threatening to knock her off her stilettos if she didn’t yank them off and run barefoot through the grass.
“…So we have an agreement, right?” That sounded like Miquela. June spun around. Sure enough, the tall European stood in front of a large evergreen tree, her hand tenuously on Sette’s shoulder. The other woman stood straight with her arms crossed defensively.I know that look by now. Miquela probably thought Sette was following along, but June knew that was nothing but great amusement, as if Miquela were trying to explain best medical practices to her. “You’ve lost. No hard feelings, right? I’ll buy you a drink sometime.”
At least they weren’t fighting…
“Miquela! Sette!” They both turned. Miquela yanked her hand off Sette’s shoulder. “What are you two doing? Look, Miquela… I am sorry. That was grossly inappropriate of me.”
“No hard feelings.” She pulled out one hand to extend. “We were having a womanly heart-to-heart.” Sette frowned, staring at the imaginary line between Miquela’s hand and June’s. She did not take the bait. Instead, she looked to Sette, who gained some life in her eyes.
“She was telling me the most interesting thing,” Sette began. “Apparently, her final bid has been accepted above mine. Did you know this?”
June turned her gaze to a ladybug by her bare foot. “I did. I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I was waiting.”
“How about that?” Sette held out her hand to Miquela for a shake. “The richest woman won, I suppose. Congratulations. We both know she’ll make you happy.”
“Yes, I suppose we do.” Miquela gave Sette a firm handshake.Something is making me uneasy about this…“Don’t worry. I’ll try not to crowd you out on your regular schedule with her. I hear you have Sundays, though. You might want to reschedulethat because I intend on flying her all over the world on weekends.”
June saw it happen before Sette even raised her other hand, but she was too slow to stop it. All she could do was shout in horror as her tender artist slammed her fist into Miquela’s face.
The people wanted a fistfight? They damn well got one, complete with the commentary of a frantic June dancing around them, screaming at them to come to their senses and stop acting like lesbian Neanderthals.
Neither of them was listening.
What the fuck made them so damn territorial? Sofuckingpossessive? Was it some bullshit evolutionary theory that they had to have total control over someone?Because we all know how important that is!Or were they living, walking dipshits sent to drive June insane?
In a perfect world, June Kingsley, professional courtesan, would have walked away from these lunatics and let the police straighten them out. What was it to her? It was in her best interest to keep Miquela happy since she was going to be her patron. Yet watching Sette land that blow made June feel more than strange or anxious… it made her realize that nothing was scaring her more than watching the two women she cared about most fighting –fighting!– over her.
She didn’t feel honored. She wasn’t flattered. She was sick to her heart and stomach.
“Stop it!” June shrieked, tears of panic streaming down her face as one woman went at the other with all the rage fueling her body. “What are you doing? Stop acting like idiots!”
In truth, perhaps only a few seconds had gone by, but it felt like an awful eternity full of watching two opposing sides wage war over a precious commodity. Before, June had no issue calling herself a commodity for sale to the highest bidder – although she retained the right to reject that bidder. Now it felt…well, this was what could happen if she wasn’t careful. This was what Monique warned her about!
June shoved herself between them, one hand smacking Sette on the face and the other shoving Miquela back as hard as she could. All three of them tumbled to the ground in a flurry of fine cloth and flashing jewels. One of the rubies in June’s keyhole disappeared into the grass.
“You stupid assholes,” she grunted, heaving herself up on her grass-stained arms. “Are you fucking five or from the Stone Age or both?”
Neither of them said anything. Miquela, propped up on one arm, rubbed her jaw. Sette panted as if that was the most amount of energy she had ever expended.
“For fuck’s sake!” June was up, wobbling on a rolled ankle but refusing to go back down. “What are you doing talking to one of my clients like that?” That was sent to Miquela. “What are you doing, punching out one of my clients?” That went to Sette. Still, neither woman responded.
Sette eventually shoved herself up with a heavy grunt. “Kindly tell your smug patron that she doesn’t have to rub it in.”
“Tell your artist friend here that she doesn’t have to be such a sore loser.”
“That’s it.” June picked up both of her shoes and tossed them at the women. “You’re both insufferable, masochistic shitheads who are a bigger pain in my ass than a lamp-sized butt plug! The only shitty thing about my job is having to deal with immature snots like you girls! Yeah, that’s right.” She glared at them both, head whipping around so quickly that her hair had no idea where to go. “Girls. Don’t care if you’re both older than me. You’re a pair of little girls, and it’s a wonder y’all’s brains are developed!”
“June, I…”
“It was…”
