Salt & Vinegar Ch. 10

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JUSTINE

I was guilty of clock-watching as the executive meeting dragged towards its conclusion.

The CEO, John, was keeping things moving but it had been a long session. The penultimate agenda item was 'market positioning and brand reimaging' and I gathered this was something to do with working towards a potential future IPO. The meeting was discussing ideas and I was tuning out in favour of thinking through solutions to some programming headaches when a name caught my attention.

"What about Lena Sanchez?" said the marketing VP.

"Who?"

"Up-and-coming photographer. Got TIME magazine's gong for Instagram Photographer of the Year a couple years back. Her work's on-point, trending in the socials ... and she's smoking hot."

Anne, the human resources VP, and I glanced at each other and rolled our eyes.

"By which you mean her photography is excellent", she said, drily.

He had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Ah, yeah, that's what I meant. I'm sure any marketing campaign we pursue would benefit from some classy, er, imagery. Don't know if she does corporate work though. Of course, there's plenty of other options. Or we can just put it all in the hands of an agency."

I spoke up. "Want me to see if she's interested?"

All eyes turned to me.

"Sure, if you want to track down a contact and take that on that'd be great thanks, Justine. Bit out of your usual scope though?"

"No problems, I'll give her a call now if you like."

"Wait, you know Lena Sanchez?"

"Yep, give me a second."

I stepped away from the table toward the back of the room for some audio privacy. I called Lena's cell and she picked up.

"Hey, it's me."

"Gonna be late tonight?"

"Actually calling about work. You got a moment?"

"For you, always."

I got a little gooey feeling inside.

"Company's considering a brand makeover. Would you be interested in doing the image work?"

"Oh, did you suggest me?"

"No, someone else did. They saw that piece on you in TIME."

"Ah, that shit."

"Yeah, 'that shit' which saw your profile take off like a rocket."

"I know, but it's still shit."

"Anyways, you want in it's probably yours."

"Want me to come down?"

"Yeah, if you're free. They'd probably be happy to progress something quickly. And I can make them stay a bit longer as punishment for this hell I've been enduring for the last three hours."

"Hah! Lemme find some pants. Give me ten minutes?"

Geez, Lena. And now that she mentioned it, I could hear her breathing was irregular.

"How about I tell them twenty?"

"Yeah, maybe ... (aah, fuck)."

Much as I wouldn't have mind a little more audio voyeurism, I ended the call and returned to the table.

I interjected into the discussion which seemed to have gone off-topic.

"Excuse me, John? If you all don't mind staying back a bit, Lena Sanchez says she can be here in 30 minutes." I thought I'd better err on the side of caution.

"What, seriously? That's great. I had no idea she was local to the Bay Area. Everyone OK to stay a bit longer? Let's cover the last item while we wait." There were no objections.

The final item had nothing to do with me at all so, when my phone buzzed, I was able to trade texts with Lena.

'On my way. Anything I should know?'

'Only what I told you.'

'You want me to do it?'

'Not as a favour to me. Your call when you find out more. Do it if you want. Or not.'

'K. They know about us?'

'Not yet, but I'll tell them.'

'Want me to flash the girls?' (see Chapter 2)

'Don't you fucking dare!'

'Kidding, bitch.'

'Check in at the desk in the lobby. They'll bring you up.'

I put my phone down. Anne was watching me with a speculative look. I gave her a smile. I'd had a bit to do with her for my team's HR stuff, but we didn't really talk much otherwise. That said, I didn't really talk with any of the executive outside my professional capacity. I was just happy to do my job and do it well. And to be honest, I was more comfortable hanging with my techie programming dweebs than with the corporate flyers.

John's PA put her head into the room ten minutes later. "Lena Sanchez to see you, John."

The door was behind me, but I didn't turn immediately. I was more interested in watching the reactions. With unholy glee I saw eyes widen and a few jaws drop. Pretty sure I also heard someone breathe a quiet, 'holy fuck!'. And then chairs scraped back and half the room stood and a few of the guys were dragged like marionettes by their subconscious towards the lodestone of Lena's libido. I had to work really, really hard to stifle a smirk.

She was wearing a pants suit that was not quite corporate and not quite casual. I guess it was artist chic. Light make-up and just the right balance of untidy nonchalance to emphasize all of her assets. She walked into the room like she owned it. Hips swinging to a Blue Blood Blues rhythm. Fuck, she was sex on wheels. For once, I couldn't really fault the earlier misogyny. The marketing guy was right; 'smoking hot' wasn't the half of it.

I stood and shook hands with Lena, who leaned in to give me an air-kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice", I said. "Please, have a seat."

I gave her my chair and remained standing to do introductions.

"Everyone, this is Lena Sanchez, professional freelance photographer. I'm sure she will tell you about her work. I've no doubt having her on board will ensure the success of the campaign, but I'll leave you to decide for yourselves. John, if you'll please excuse me on the grounds of conflict of interest?"

"Justine, just having a contact isn't grounds for conflict of interest. And I'm seriously impressed. I had no idea you had connections like this."

Out of my peripheral, I saw Lena stiffen slightly. I just smiled in response and shrugged it off. "Happy to help. And it really is conflict of interest, I'm afraid."

I was guilty of a small pause for effect.

"We're married."

The reaction was everything I'd hoped. In the ensuing chaos I leaned down and whispered into Lena's ear, "Behave yourself."

And I sauntered out of the room.

Anne found me in my office after the meeting. She leaned against the door frame with a huge grin on her face.

"I haven't enjoyed a meeting so much in years! You, Justine McIntyre, are a dark horse. You played that superbly."

"Yeah, well. Wasn't my idea though, so I don't know that it was a 'play'."

"Sure you didn't just happen to show Greg a TIME magazine article or subtly forward links to Insta feeds?"

"What? No. I don't go in for that sort of stuff. I don't like corporate politics. And I didn't even really know what the agenda item was going to be about."

She sighed. "You're such an innocent. No, I take that back. You can't be an innocent if you're married to that! No offence."

"Hah!"

"How long've you been together, if you don't mind me asking?"

"We met in San Diego about six years ago. Been married for four. Not long after we moved here."

"Well, good for you. You or she got family here?"

"No, only the two of us. Although we've just started thinking about maybe adopting."

"Oh, that's great. The San Francisco system's not too bad. My husband works for a firm which collaborates with the county agency on adoption and fostering programs. He's a bit of a saint - like you - so I'll send you his contact details and he can give you some information and help you through the process if you want to move forward with something."

"Thanks, Anne, I'd really appreciate that. We've only just started talking about it and weren't quite sure what to do next. So, did Lena take the job?"

"Yep. She's pricey, though not as high as I would have expected for someone of her profile. Did you ask her to do it? You were texting pretty furiously there."

"No, I said it was her call. Told her not to do it as a favour to me."

"You told her that?"

"Yes."

She looked at me consideringly then gave me a wink as she turned to leave.

"There's hope for you yet, Justine."

I had no idea what she meant.

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LENA

We walked back home thinking to get food at Chinatown on the way. Justine had her thinking face on.

"Took the job", I said, not sure if that what was she was wondering.

"Oh. Yeah, Anne told me."

"Anne?"

"The HR executive. The one on your left."

"Ah, the one with a chip on her shoulder and a stick up her ass."

She laughed.

"Yeah, that one. She's not that bad. Surprised me with a thing though. Seems her husband works for an adoption agency. I mentioned we were thinking about it, and she offered me his contact details if we wanted more information about how it all works."

"You want to take her up on it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"OK, let me know when you get the deets and we'll go talk with the fucker."

"We won't get anywhere if you talk to him like that!"

"Silly bitch, I'm not that stupid. I only talk to you like that." I grinned at her. She punched me in the arm and grinned back.

"Hey ... about the job. You didn't take it because I asked, did you?"

"No, why?"

"Oh, something Anne said."

"Well, I took it into consideration, but I heard what they wanted and it sounded alright. I'm not busy right now so I made them an offer I thought was reasonable and your head honcho - John? - accepted it on the spot."

"Good."

"Besides, someone's finally paying me to take pictures of you", I smirked.

"What!? You're not featuring me in the brand campaign! And certainly not with the sort of pictures I know you're thinking of, you filthy-minded bitch."

"Of course I am. OK, well not the dirty pics, but you saw the rest of that meeting. Yours was the only pretty face in the room. And I'm not saying that because I'm biased either. Your company want something that sells they'll put you in it."

"No ... oh, no!"

"Oh, yes! And I won't even bill them for the other pictures I take. The naughtier ones. Well, I won't bill them too obviously."

"You're not turning my office into some porn shoot!"

"Nope. You'll be in John's office. I bet his is bigger."

"No fucking way!"

She looked seriously concerned and I thought I'd better stop.

"Kidding, Jus! Really, I am. Although not about using your face for some of the campaign branding; but the rest, yes. We can just do the porn shoot thing at home."

She punched me in the arm again. No grin this time though. Damn.

I didn't tell her I'd already pitched using Justine for some of the company profile shoots and that John had heartily agreed.

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JUSTINE

I was nervous as all hell, and I reckoned Lena was too.

We were sitting in a small meeting room in the adoption agency's office in Oakland awaiting a meeting with a young girl. It felt like my first job interview. I guess, in a way, it was.

Anne's husband, Jose, had been genuinely helpful. He'd told us about the process and recommended that we consider fostering first before adopting. A sort of trial to make sure we knew what we were signing on for and that it was going to work both for us and the child. He'd been surprisingly open about the pitfalls and challenges. I'd come away from our first discussion with him with a sense that he was a guy who sincerely cared for kids and wanted to see them placed happily and successfully, not just get them off the books.

We'd told him all about ourselves. Our relationship status, careers, earnings, family history, interests. Lena nervously broached her father being a convicted criminal and asked whether that was an issue. He'd laughed and said that if they rejected everyone who may have had an association with someone who had committed a misdemeanour there would be practically no fostering or adoptions. That sounded both depressing and disturbing.

On paper, we seemed like the ideal carers. Stable relationship, permanent employment - me at least - and Lena with an established freelance career and earning good money. Suitable accommodation in a good location. We'd taken up Tom's offer when we'd decided to start getting serious and had since accepted a lease and moved across into the larger apartment which had two bedrooms.

Less certain was whether a young person would feel comfortable with us. I figured a lesbian couple wasn't everyone's idea of good parents. Jose had been painstaking in reviewing and suggesting potential candidates - boys and girls - who he thought might be a good fit for us and vice-versa. We'd spent nights poring over dossiers of recommendations before deciding that we might like to progress to an interview for one 11-year-old girl. Turned out she'd been happy to meet us to.

So here we were on a cool February morning awaiting a job interview as prospective foster parents.

The door opened and Jose ushered in a young African-American girl.

"Ericka, I'd like you to meet Lena and Justine", he gestured to each of us in turn. "And this is Ericka."

We all sat; Lena and I on one side of the table and Jose and Ericka on the other. If this interview was nerve wracking for us, how must it be for the girl?

No sign of nerves though. Deep brown eyes looked calmly and seriously at Lena, then me. We waited without saying anything while she studied us. Jose had told us she was smart and loved art - which is why he thought this might work for all of us - but he'd also said that she was a little, well, 'unusual'. I was getting a sense of what he meant. Her consideration of us and the intelligence in her eyes indicated maturity beyond her years. I hoped that was a good thing and not a result of negative childhood experiences.

Her face, held still, seemed to relax a little. The hint of a tentative smile at the corners of her mouth as she completed her assessment of me.

"You have nice eyes", she said. "I like that."

"Thank you", I said, smiling back.

"I think Justine has nice eyes too", said Lena with a wink.

Ericka's smile showed a little more as she turned to Lena.

"Your eyes are nice too, but there's a ... sadness? ... in them."

Wow. Very perceptive, this girl. Not many people could read Lena that well in a moment. Especially not with her flippant façade in place. Lena looked stunned. Jose looked awkward. I guess this is what he meant by 'unusual'. I didn't think it was a bad thing. She was obviously very sensitive with a good deal of empathy.

She looked at all of us gauging our reaction. Ah, so this was a test. She had deliberately said something unconventional to see what we'd make of it. Unconventional, but not insulting or hurtful. No hint of malice or manipulation, just a genuine curiosity to inform her first opinion of us. This girl was very interesting indeed.

I studied her in return, and she held my gaze as I did so. Ebony skin with a warm glow. Clear, deep brown eyes. Hair in microbraids, but which needed redoing. A face I thought would grow into one which, while perhaps not conventionally beautiful, would most definitely have a certain je ne sais quoi.

"I'm sorry if I offended", she said, to me rather than Lena.

"I don't think so", I replied. "I think it's the truth. You don't need to apologize for speaking the truth. Of course, you can say truthful things in a hurtful way, but you didn't do that so I'm sure Lena wasn't offended."

"Not at all", she said. "Just fucking caught me off guard, that's all."

Jose's eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

"Oh, shit. Language. My bad, sorry Ericka."

Ericka gave her a huge grin. Her face lit up and I could see she had a wicked sense of humour which would probably be a good match for Lena. So long as she didn't pick up Lena's appallingly loose language. It was something I had to work hard at not doing myself.

"I really like you, Lena, you're fun", she said.

"And I like you too, Justine. You're a genuinely nice person."

This kid was scary.

"Jose gave me some information on you, and I wanted to meet you. I felt I was going to like you, but I wanted to make sure, you know? Jose told me that this is your first time as foster parents. Do you want to ask me some questions?"

Definitely an interview. By a fucking 11-year-old. Damn, thanks Lena.

We spent the next half hour trading questions and answers to find out more about each other. Ericka had lost her parents and younger brother in a traffic accident several years ago. She'd been in the car too but had escaped with only minor injuries. She'd stayed with a couple of families since then. The family currently fostering her was OK, but they were moving interstate and she really wanted to stay in San Francisco with her friends. She obviously had a connection to place as well as people. She wanted to go to Gateway High - conveniently not far from where we lived - and go on to study art at college. She seemed just as Jose had described: intelligent, well-balanced and with a surprisingly clear vision for her future. I liked her.

I thought this might work - or at least it was worth giving it a try. I saw the wisdom in Jose's suggestion of fostering before formal adoption. While 'try before you buy' felt like a crude analogy in the context of human relationships, it made sense to make sure it was going to work for everyone before making such a serious commitment.

I felt a bit excited. I looked over at Lena who had just asked Ericka about her art interests. They were now animatedly discussing aspects of post-modernism. I glanced at Jose who gave me a subtle nod and a smile.

"Want to continue this discussion over dinner?" I said. "What do you like to eat, Ericka?"

A short pause while she parsed the inference behind my question.

"Does this mean you'd like to have me?"

I looked to Lena for confirmation, even though I already knew from the way the conversation had gone that she would. A smile in response which included both of us.

"Sure would. Provided, of course, you'd like to have us."

Ericka looked provocatively at Lena before replying, "Hell, yeah!"

"Hah! But we're going to work on that, young lady. Just because filth comes out of my mouth doesn't mean it gets to come out of yours!"

She grinned back and nodded. Another test, it seemed, to establish where a boundary might be. And she appeared happy with the response. I resolved to deal with this girl more as a young adult than a child.

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LENA

I lay in bed holding Jus in my arms. After we'd got home from dinner, she'd crawled into bed next to me and promptly fallen asleep. Her soft breath against my neck was soothing, but I was very much awake and having trouble drifting off. Not because of a lack of attention - I could have done myself if I'd really needed it - my fucking brain was just still trying to process what was about to happen.

Down the short passage was an empty room which would soon be Ericka's. Our two was going to become a family of three. Shit, next week I would be a parent! I could see Jus as a mom, no trouble at all. Caring, well-balanced, mature. Me? Fuck, perhaps this was going to be a parent and two kids rather than us and Ericka. Actually, based on what I'd seen today, Ericka had her shit together way more than me! And I was supposed to be a fucking adult role model!?

I eased away from Jus. She stirred and then resumed her slow even breathing. I slipped out of bed and wandered into the second bedroom and turned on the light.

We'd left the room empty. We thought whoever was moving in with us might like to have a say in how it was decorated. Help them with the transition. Now it just looked bare and a bit fucking depressing. It felt like a metaphor. This room was the relationship we were going to have. Empty now, but it would become filled with ... what? Hopefully memories of joy and happiness.

I thought back to my own childhood. That room of memories had lots of closed doors. Doors I'd locked and chained. I determined to do a whole lot better with Ericka than what my parents had done for me. Had no fucking clue how I was going to do that, but I'd use Jus as my reference point.