Page 8 of Hers for the Weekend

Now Holly’s back was up. No matter how nonchalantly she mentioned not having gone to college, or how totally unfazed she appeared to be about waitressing, eventually people tried to save her from herself.

She smiled, a little brittlely. This, at least, had thrown ice water over her lust. “I don’t have any interest in college. I’ve discovered, as I get older, that I’m pretty content to be a career waitress. I love that I can get a job in any city, that I can pack up and move on to the next thing. You can’t take that for granted, growing up poor. Ironically, our mobile home wasn’t mobile. I love that I get to give people food all day, that the worst work disaster I ever have is an angry patron, and I only ever work at places where the owners have my back. When I’m off the clock, I’m done. I never take any bullshit home with me to stress over. And I get free meals, which means I never go hungry and I never have to eat government cheese again, unless I want to because it makes great nachos.”

She watched Tara shift her weight on the couch, obviously trying to process the words career waitress, mobile home, and government cheese. This was a well-rehearsed speech, one Holly could give in her sleep, but this time it meant more for some reason. She wanted Tara to believe her, to understand that she wasn’t miserable—she was fulfilled and living the life she’d chosen.

Chapter 5

Tara

This was the best possible news, Tara told herself firmly, because there was no way she would be tempted to get involved with Holly now.

Not that there was a problem with not going to college or being a career waitress—or being poor, obviously. All of those things were unrelated to a person’s value, worth, and character. They just made Holly off-limits because now she knew, for sure, that she could never marry her, and Tara only dated women she could marry. She needed a society wife who could fit into her social circle. They’d tolerated Miriam because of her fame but what Tara really needed was a socialite. Someone raised to the role, who would make Tara “respectable” even if she insisted on being a lesbian. Holly was amazing, free-spirited and snarky and fun, which by default meant she wasn’t society wife material in the way Tara needed. Tara wasn’t in the market for a fling, so they simply wouldn’t get involved.

And if there was no danger of them getting involved, there was no reason not to go through with this scheme. Other than the fact that it was a terrible idea, obviously.

“Okay. I guess… Yeah, maybe we should do this?” she said, and Holly pumped a fist holding a fried oyster. “We’ll have two long days of driving with a night somewhere in the middle,” Tara said. “Maybe Baltimore?”

“I love Baltimore!” Holly smiled mischievously, wrapping her thick waves of red hair around her hand. “I know an incredibly posh little B and B you’ll be obsessed with. No one knows about it—you have to get referred by a friend. It’s the opposite of Carrigan’s.”

“I already love it,” Tara mumbled.

She didn’t hate Carrigan’s Christmasland, exactly. Hating Carrigan’s would make her a Scrooge who hated joy and fun. She simply didn’t get Carrigan’s. It didn’t feel magical to her, just old and decrepit, and full of allergens. She didn’t have an innate appreciation for kitsch. Antiques, yes, tasteful ones, but anything that was over-the-top on purpose gave her anxiety.

She’d been over-the-top, arguably, most of her life until she was seventeen. A rebellious, angry whirlwind doing everything she could to piss off her parents—drinking, stealing, paying her way out of trouble. If it was a cliché for a spoiled rich Southern kid, she’d done it, and dragged Cole along with her. Unlike most spoiled Southern kids, though, she hadn’t been rebelling because she could, but because she hated everything her family stood for.

Then she’d nearly burned her whole life to the ground, literally, and she hadn’t gone over the top since. She was very, very good at… well, not blending into the background, she definitely never did that, but standing out for being precisely what she was supposed to be. Carrigan’s Christmasland was too loud, and it put her hackles up. Carrigan’s rebelled against every social norm, and Tara never did, not anymore.

“Are you… okay?” Holly asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Your eyelid started twitching.”

Tara shook herself. “You call the friend of a friend, or whoever it is you know, and see if they have a couple of rooms the night we need to be there, and I’ll get an oil change. I guess we’re taking a road trip.”

“We should start posting about each other on social media. It will look weird if we’re serious enough for you to be taking me to a wedding, but not serious enough to have ever mentioned each other on Instagram,” Holly pointed out.

Tara took a sip of her wine, trying to figure out what about that statement freaked her out the most. “I’ve been taking a rather long hiatus from Instagram, personally, since that whole… business.” She waved, assuming Holly knew that she meant “the business of being very publicly dumped for someone else by an influencer and having it play out all over the gay internet.”

Miriam had garnered her huge online following, complete with its own fandom that was rabidly interested in her love life, by making weird upcycled antique art. Their breakup had been covered in Autostraddle.

“Also, I would rather not have to explain any of this to my parents, if I can avoid it, since that would defeat the purpose of making my life easier,” Tara continued. “A lot of my life’s work would be undone if certain people found out I was involved with a diner waitress. No offense.”

“Oh,” Holly said, “anyone who would think that is definitely the party who should be offended, by their total ethical bankruptcy. I’m thrilled to be the kind of person of whom they’d disapprove.”

“As you should be. But how are we going to get Carrigan’s to believe we’re dating, without anyone else believing it?”

Holly tapped her chin. “Maybe I post about it, sort of coyly, like I’m seeing someone but I won’t tag her because she values her privacy? I can take some pictures of our shoes together and cute shit like that.”

Tara nodded. This was smart. She could do this. “Two iced coffees leaning against each other on a table.”

“Ah, yes, the classic lesbian relationship soft launch.” Holly nodded, mock seriously. “I’ll get started on that project. It’s already the fifth, and you need to be at Carrigan’s, what, the twenty-second? For pre-wedding stuff?”

Tara rolled her eyes. “You underestimate the number of pre-wedding activities my beloved Hannah has planned. I plan out of anxiety, but Hannah plans out of passion.” She paused. “Well, and anxiety. I shouldn’t be there later than the night of the twentieth, if I want to escape her wrath.”

Hannah and Tara had bonded after her breakup with Miriam because they were very similar people—intense, type A, a little bitchy—and Hannah had, at the time, been healing from a breakup of her own. Their friendship had, unexpectedly, become an important part of Tara’s life. Which was why she was showing up to all of Hannah’s (ridiculous) planned activities.

“Okay, so we’re leaving the nineteenth. Two weeks from today. You let me know when and where you’re picking me up, and I’ll be there, with bells on. Maybe not literal bells, although they would probably be appreciated at Carrigan’s.” Holly suddenly looked panicked. “Wait, what should I wear to this wedding? Something glittery?”

“Oh God, I need to buy a dress.” Tara rubbed her collarbone, trying to calm her suddenly accelerating heartbeat.

“I’m pretty sure you already own something you can wear,” Holly said skeptically. “Do you want me to help you go through your closet? We can do a fashion show.”