3. Deborah

3

DEBORAH

D eborah stood at her kitchen sink, staring out into her backyard absentmindedly as she washed the dishes from dinner. Although she usually left the office around midnight and would often grab a take-out, she felt like cooking from scratch tonight. Granted, she’d had all the ingredients ordered online, not actually being capable of remembering when she’d last set foot in a grocery store, but she had a few recipes up her sleeve. She had had a craving earlier on in the day for homemade lasagne. She’d asked her PA to set up the delivery. And just like magic, everything was ready and waiting for her in the fridge when she’d gotten home .

“Jesus. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live like a normal person,” she whispered to herself. “Sandy does everything for me, makes every appointment, tells me where to stand, sit, move, talk. And I can’t run this goddam house without a team of staff, either! I’m a joke. A fucking robot.”

The warm water cascaded over her dry hands. It felt soothing, yet she knew it wouldn’t do much to wash away the turmoil within her. Thoughts of Holly consumed her mind, guilt mingling with a thrilling sense of longing that she couldn’t shake off.

Deborah had participated in four meetings that day, chaired by some of her key executives, on current projects, performance metrics, and strategic initiatives. But had she heard a word that had been said? No. Instead, she’d played visuals in her head about rubbing suntan oil into a certain brunette’s back as they lay on Bondi Beach. She didn’t even know where Bondi Beach was, but it sounded like heaven.

It had been weeks since her encounter on the terrace with Holly, yet Deborah replayed every instant of it in her mind almost every moment of every day. The girl’s laughter, her animated gestures, and how she looked at Deborah with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her fa?ade stirred up a complex cocktail of emotions.

“I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I’m old enough to be her mother,” Deborah mumbled to herself as she carefully stacked the single plate, fork, and baking tray on the drying rack. She knew she’d crossed a line; one she had decided to draw firmly in the sand a long time ago. Married for over a decade, Deborah had prided herself on her commitment to her ex-wife and their life together. And yet everything they had shared had come crumbling down.

Holly’s return to L.A. rattled these convictions, leaving her vulnerable to desires she didn’t want to feel again.

The next day was Saturday. Deborah’s heart thudded in her chest as she navigated the familiar streets of downtown Los Angeles. The city bustled with life, the honking of cars mingling with the raucous chatter of pedestrians. For unknown reasons, she couldn’t shake off the unease that had settled in her chest since agreeing to meet Mia and Harper at the recording studio .

Mia had texted earlier, saying it had been a while since they all caught up and that she was desperate for Deborah to hear the latest could-be hit. Deborah had always loved Mia’s enthusiasm, but she also knew that Mia’s underlying hope was that Deborah would commission her to write the music for a WebFlix show. She hoped that tonight’s gathering wasn’t just about trying to sell her music (which was a decision out of Deborah’s hands in any case) but about spending some quality time together. Deborah so needed a break from her turbulent thoughts.

As she entered the mid-century modern box-shaped building with its flat roof and minimalist fa?ade so typical of L.A., Deborah was greeted by the familiar hum of creativity from Mia’s studio.

But wasn’t she having trouble with the neighbors? She didn’t soundproof the place yet? For Christ’s sake, Mia! Way to piss everyone off!

She forced a smile as she exchanged pleasantries with the security guard at the front desk.

“Mia is expecting me.”

“So she said. Go ahead.”

Upstairs, Mia’s studio was a cozy space filled with guitars, its walls adorned with posters of k.d. Lang, Tracey Chapman, and Ani DiFranco. It was clear as soon as you walked into the room that Mia was as sapphic as they come, with pride flags draped across every surface and shelves filled with books on queer history. Mia stood near the mixing desk, her broad and genuine smile lighting up her face and causing her eyes to sparkle with warmth and enthusiasm.

“Debs, Debs, Debs!” Mia exclaimed, jumping around excitedly. “It’s so good to see you! You look fab-u-lous!”

“Thanks, Mia. It’s been a couple of weeks, right? I’ve not felt like hanging out at Indigo recently. How’s it going? Do we kiss? Hug?” Deborah moved in for an awkward hug, setting Mia off into a fit of giggles.

Mia pulled back. “Is everything alright? You seem… kinda tense.”

Deborah just about managed a weak smile. “I have a heap of stuff going on these days. That’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Before Mia could probe further, Harper bounded over, her energy filling the small space. “Deb! You made it! Yay! How’s life?”

Deborah rolled her eyes, grateful for Harper’s infectious enthusiasm. “It’s… going. Life’s moving on from one day to the next, you know? Work, sleep, eat. Start again. Shower occasionally. I guess I’m just hanging in there, Harp.”

Harper studied her closely, her expression turning serious. “The shower thing doesn’t sound so good. I wanna tell you straight. Showering is something we do every day, Deb. But seriously, if you ever want to meet up and chat, Mia and I are all ears. Seriously.”

“Thanks, Harper,” Deborah said, touched by her friend’s sincerity.

Mia clapped her hands together in an attempt to steer the conversation back to something a little lighter. Her music! “Alright, enough with all that. You two are putting me on a downer. Get comfy. Take a seat. I can’t wait for you to hear what I’ve been working on.”

“What? Who now? Who’s been working on it?”

“ We . What we’ve been working on.”

“That’s right, my love.”

As Deborah settled onto the small sofa, she couldn’t help but notice the complicit smile that passed between Mia and Harper. She loved how they always teased each other like they’d been together forever, their laughter echoing off the not-soundproofed walls .

“So, Mia,” Harper began, “what masterpiece are you about to regale us with?”

Mia gave her partner a mischievous look. “Oh, just a little something I’ve—sorry— we’ve been tinkering with. I always do that, don’t I?”

“It’s your uncontrollable ego.”

Deborah leaned forward, genuinely curious despite her inner turmoil. “I’m looking forward to this, Mia. You’ve always had that incredible creative spark!”

“Here’s hoping you like it. I’ve broken away from my usual stuff with this one.”

Mia pressed play on the deck, filling the studio with the rich melody of her latest number. Deborah felt her eyes closing as the hauntingly beautiful music swept her away.

The final chord faded into silence, and Deborah opened her eyes, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. Mia and Harper exchanged excited glances, awaiting her reaction.

“That was… out of this world, Mia,” Deborah uttered. “You’ve broken the mold with that one.”

Mia beamed with pride, her eyes tearing up. “Thank you so much, Deborah. You’ve no idea what that means to me.”

Harper couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. “It was stunning, darling. I know this is going to break the charts. I can feel it in my bones.”

Mia replied with a tinge of modesty in her tone. “Oh, don’t say that. You’ll jinx it! I’m just glad Debs likes it.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of indie-pop music, meaningful conversation, and several bottles of wine, the three women thriving in each other’s company.

As the wall clock struck eleven, Mia looked down at her watch with a start. “I can’t believe the time already! I hate to break up the party, girls! I really do! But I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“But it’s Sunday!” cried Harper.

“Sunday? Makes no difference in my world. This is the first day off I’ve had in six months. Apart from the wedding weekend. And I’m sure glad I spent it with you two.”

Harper groaned playfully. “Such a spoilsport, but we’ll let you off the hook this time. Isn’t that right, Mia?”

Deborah stood up from the sofa and felt an ache in her knee. “Ouch! I’ve been sitting too long. Don’t ever get old, girls. Thank you both for everything tonight.”

Mia enveloped her in a hug, her warmth soothing Deborah’s troubled soul. “Anytime, Deborah. You know where to find me.”

Harper joined in, wrapping them both in a tight embrace. “Take care of yourself, Deb. Promise? You seem tired.”

“I will… and I am!” Deborah whimpered.

As Mia and Harper went to clear the wine glasses from the coffee table, Deborah continued to linger in the studio, her feet unable to find the way to the exit. Her mind was racing with thoughts of Holly. She knew she’d been foolish not to mention her situation to her friends. Why did she think she could avoid confronting her feelings forever? She had to face facts. She hadn’t seen it coming, but Holly had stirred something within her—a longing she couldn’t shake off.

The studio walls seemed to close in around her. She felt suffocated. Should she pursue this burgeoning attraction, risking everything she held dear? This was her best friend’s child! Or should she bury these feelings and pretend they’d never existed?

In her indecision, Deborah didn’t notice the studio door creak open. A low, gruff voice startled her out of her reverie .

“Yo, peeps. What’s happening? Partying without me?”

Deborah whirled around to see Cameron standing in the doorway.

“Cameron,” she cried, her voice betraying her surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Cameron smiled. “This is one of my surprise visits. I don’t like it when Mia and Harper have all the fun, okay? I’m sorry to drop in unannounced.”

“It’s fine with me,” Deborah replied, forcing a smile. “It’s not my place! I was just on my way out. It’s good to see you, though, Cam. I’ll grab a phone call with you this week?”

Cameron’s playful demeanor gave way to concern. “Deb? You’re talking to me like I was one of your executive producers. Are you alright? You seem… off.”

Deborah’s facade faltered, her resolve crumbling under Cameron’s discerning gaze. “I… I met someone,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Cameron’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ha! Ha! Really? That’s great, Deborah. Who’s the lucky person? Funnily enough, I met someone too!”

Deborah hesitated, her mind racing for a suitable response. “It’s… it’s complicated. I’m not sure wh ere it’s heading. And Cam? You meet someone every five minutes, so it doesn’t count.”

Harper jumped in. “She’s right, Cam. None of us can keep up with your hook-ups. But Deb… this is major! You’ve been chatting with us for hours, and you say nothing. Cam walks in and coaxes it out of you in under thirty seconds. Is it… someone we know?”

Deborah gulped, torn between honesty and the fear of revealing too much. “Not exactly,” she said, her gaze flickering towards Cameron.

Cameron studied her with a puzzled look. “No, it won’t be anyone we know. Who’s new at the Indigo? These things have a way of working themselves out. I can’t think of anyone new… Wait! What about that Molly kid? Esme’s daughter. I heard she’s gay. But no—she’s out of your league, and maybe too young, even for you.”

“Err… thanks!” laughed Deborah.

“I didn’t mean it personally. She’s out of everyone’s league. I gave her the eye big time the day after the wedding, and she totally snubbed me. I think she’s a bit stuck up.”

“Who? Holly?” asked Mia in surprise. “Get outta here. She’s lovely.”

“Molly, Holly, whatever,” sniffed Cameron in mock disgust. “More fool her if she didn’t want a bit of Cameron action! ”

Deborah nodded silently and smiled, grateful that everyone’s attention had been taken from her. But what Cameron’s intervention had managed to do was force her to realize that she couldn’t keep avoiding the inevitable conversation with Holly—or herself.

Harper squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’re here for you, Deb. You’ll tell us when you’re ready. No pressure.”

“Thanks. I’ve got to head home now,” Deborah murmured, touched by their unwavering support.

“I’m staying to party some,” declared Cameron, falling onto the sofa before picking up an empty wine bottle and shaking it hopefully.

Deborah made her way out of the building and hailed a cab. As she sank into the back seat, her thoughts flew around her head in a tumultuous whirlwind. She couldn’t deny the pull she felt towards Holly. It was a magnetic force that defied reason and logic.

Closing her eyes, Deborah allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She had to face up to the truth. Holly had awakened something within—a desire she hadn’t felt in years. And as much as she tried to resist, she knew deep down that she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

But with that attraction came guilt. She had spent countless nights wrestling with her conscience, questioning her desires and their implications for her carefully constructed life.

The streets and buildings outside her faded into the blur as Deborah’s mind replayed their conversations, the stolen glances filled with unspoken longing. Holly’s free-spirited nature was such a stark contrast to Deborah’s concise and structured world, and yet, that contrast seemed to fuel her desire.

But the anxiety was starting to be too much for her. She couldn’t deny the repercussions of pursuing something more with Holly. What would her friends think? How would Esme feel about it? What about her career? The tabloids would love to learn that the CEO of WebFlix was a cradle-snatcher!

Deborah sighed, a heavy weight settling in her chest. She knew she couldn’t keep hiding forever, avoiding the truth that beckoned from the depths of her heart. The time had come to confront her feelings—to face Holly and, more importantly, herself .

As she walked into her apartment, she shivered. She paced around the living room, the weight of her decision causing her to pant. With trembling fingers, she dialed Holly’s number, her heart thudding.

“Hello?”

The sound of Holly’s voice sent a shiver down Deborah’s spine. “It’s me.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “Deborah? How did you get my number?”

“Your mom was talking to me about getting you an internship, so I took your number. I hope you don’t mind,” Deborah explained, taking a deep breath, her voice surprisingly steady.

“Oh, so you’re calling me in the middle of the night about an internship that I have no intention of taking.”

“No! I’ve been… thinking about you. Would you like to meet up sometime? I want to see you”

Holly’s response was immediate, her enthusiasm evident in her voice. “Oh, thank God! Absolutely! I’d love to see you, Deborah. How about tomorrow? There’s this little cafe I’ve been wanting to try.”

Relief flooded through Deborah’s veins. “Tomorrow sounds perfect,” she responded, consciously ignoring the fact she had back-to-back meetings all day. “What time?”

They agreed on a time and place, and as Deborah hung up the phone, a wave of uncertainty washed over her. Would meeting Holly only complicate matters further? Or would it provide the clarity she desperately sought?

Deborah sat in the café the following morning with a sense of anticipation that bordered on nervousness. She chose a secluded corner table where she could observe her fellow coffee enthusiasts without feeling too exposed.

Minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity as she sipped her latté, her eyes flickering toward the entrance every two seconds. And just as she was beginning to doubt whether Holly would even show, she spotted her, brimming with warmth and vitality, dressed in a casual blouse and jeans. Holly’s eyes lit up as she approached the table, the curve of her mouth stretched out into a smile. “Deborah! I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”

Deborah returned the smile, feeling a sense of relief flooding through her. “Me too,” she replied, standing up and pulling out a chair for Holly to sit.

As they perused the breakfast menu, their conversation was easy and light-hearted. Deborah was drawn back into Holly’s world, captivated by her passion and zest for life.

“So, what about you? What have you been up to? My mom never shuts up about your job, you know? She thinks you’re the coolest. I’d worry about the competition if she weren’t married.” Holly laughed.

“Oh, no. It’s never been like that between your mother and me—thank god—or this could’ve been even more awkward,” Deborah replied hesitatingly, her thoughts racing. “Work has been pretty busy. I guess it always is,” she offered, and then, choosing her words very carefully, she continued, “But I’ve also been… thinking about other things.”

Deborah saw a flicker of understanding in Holly’s eyes. “Things?”

Deborah nodded, “About us; about everything that happened.”

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Deborah sensed a shared vulnerability—a recognition of their unspoken emotions. She took a deep breath, doing her best to push aside her fears.

“Holly, I… I feel something for you,” she declared in an uncertain voice. “Something I can’t quite explain. Something super unexpected began bubbling from the moment we started to speak.”

Holly’s response was measured, her expression somewhere between empathy and caution. “Deborah…”