Page 44 of Lilacs and Leather
“It was him thinking that Lydia’s anything less than an absolute fucking knockout,” I reply.
The line is silent for a long moment. “That so?” he asks at last, tone full of forced neutrality.
“Seriously, Rhett? I thought you were just being cagey because she’s skittish. Now I know it’s ’cause you’re holding out on us. She’s fucking gorgeous, man,” I reply, exasperated but teasing.
“That’s the thing, though, Mat. I don’t know the whole story, but reading between the lines of what she’s told me, her upbringing put a lot of weird shit in her head. She’s got at least one ex who was an absolute motherfucker of an alpha and whatever she went through did a number on her. She holds back, gets lost in her head, and every now and then she spouts out these absolute horseshit lines about how alphas and omegas are ‘supposed to be,’” he goes on, and I can hear the frustration in his words.
“Is that why you couldn’t pull the trigger when she was going through her heat?” I ask, unable to hold the question back.
Rhett lets out a long, heavy sigh. “She deserves the right to decide for herself when she’s ready to make that step. She’s had enough people, especially alphas, telling her when to jump and just expecting her to only ask ‘how high?’”
“And if she doesn’t take that step?”
“Then that’s her choice. Mum would have my balls on a fucking platter she ever found out I disrespected a woman’s right to choose what she does with her own body.” Rhett laughs.
“Maybe Lydia should meet Sarah,” I suggest with a chuckle.
“Absolutely the fuck not, Mateo. Lydia needs time and patience, not an Irish attitude adjustment,” Rhett says firmly.
I laugh loudly at the edge of fear that creeps into his tone. I don’t tell Rhett, but something tells me that Lydia could handle Sarah Cooper-Nolan and her brood of harpy daughters. He hadn’t been there to see the fire in her emerald eyes as she went toe-to-toe with an alpha on the verge of rage. I’d seen the hesitance in her when she and I spoke this afternoon, but I could see the confidence there, too. Time would show what her true nature was, but I have a feeling there’s a fighter hiding inside of Lydia Anderson. Maybe she just needs the right push, someone to show her she’s free to take the chance to be herself. Rhett wouldn’t do it; he would stand behind her, ready to catch her if she fell. But he would never take her hand and make the plunge into the unknown at her side.
“Well, maybe she’ll learn a thing or two at Freddy’s tonight. I’m taking her to see the drag show,” I say lightly, moving to the bathroom to get ready.
“Mateo, that’s not funny,” Rhett says, his voice strained.
“Good thing I wasn’t telling a joke,” I shoot back flippantly.
“If anything fucking happens to her, I swear to Christ—”
“The only thing that’s going to happen tonight is she’s going to see talented men with their faces beat to the gods, putting on a damn good show,” I cut across with an exasperated sigh. “Freddy’s is a safe space, Rhett. There’s a zero-tolerance policy for knotheads and alpha-holes.”
Rhett sighs again, but he knows I’m right. I know the owners, and most of the staff of the club, and they are good people. It is one of the few places in Everton that a person didn’t have to worry about their sexuality or designation; they could just have fun.
“I just got off the line with her a few minutes ago. Why wouldn’t she tell me that you’re taking her out?” he asks suddenly.
“Because she knows you’d react like this,” I reply blandly.
“Point made and taken. Have fun. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon,” Rhett replies with a resigned chuckle.
“Safe flight. Tell Sarah that her other son loves her.”
We hang up and I turn on the shower. Yes, I would absolutely have fun. And, with any luck, Lydia would too.
∞∞∞
“Those are the most realistic fake tits I’ve ever seen,” Lydia shouts in my ear over the music.
Watching a drag show through the eyes of someone who’s never been to one has been a rare treat, especially with someone as curious and enthusiastic as Lydia. She cheers on the drag queen, Miss Dee Zastris, as she goes into a dead drop at the end of her song. I give Lydia another single, and she throws it on the stage with a wide smile.
When I picked her up, she’d been pacing on the sidewalk in front of her building. I was late, having gotten distracted on my way out by some leftovers Luc left on the counter, but I was rather proud that I’d only managed to be five minutes late. She was wearing a dark purple one shoulder top with skinny jeans and flats. Her dark honey hair was pulled up in a loosely curled ponytail that hit her back between her shoulder blades. Despite the simplicity of her outfit, she looks incredible. She’d worried about being underdressed for a club, but quickly found that she was, in fact,overdressedfor a gay club.
She was more than a little nervous when we first got to Freddy’s, clinging to my hand in the crowd. But once the performance started, she had been swept up in the glitter and wigs and camp of it all, forgetting the crowd and just having fun. Lydia even let a queen use her teeth to take a bill from between her lips. I’d run into a few friends, but always kept one eye on Lydia. I might have waved off Rhett’s concerns earlier, but I knew Rhett would not hesitate to end me if I let anything happen to her. The couple of gin and tonics she’d had came straight from a bartender I could trust, and I watched everyone around us, letting her just enjoy the experience.
“That was amazing!” Lydia exclaims breathlessly.
The audience disperses now that the show is over, the club music starting up again. I lace my fingers through Lydia’s and pull her off toward an empty couch near the bar. She flops down next to me, her eyes wide, and an almost dazed smile splits her face. In a carefully casual maneuver, I stretch before draping my arm across the back of the couch behind her, leaning in until our sides touch. My heart skips a beat when she doesn’t move away, but instead shifts to be more comfortable.
“I’m glad you liked it. Do you want something to drink?” I ask.