Chapter 6

Caitlyn

Caitlyn's first mistake wasn't flying Izzy to New England to talk the details of potentially filling in for Mrs. Iowa, should that be the route Caitlyn decided to take regardless of what her partners thought. No, the mistake was having lunch with Izzy in a location not only frequented by Jane but her closest conspirators outside of her domestic sphere.

Crap. Caitlyn forgot who owned the soup and sandwich café located ten floors up in a high-rise. Then again, how could she forget? "Culver Holdings" was a subsidiary of The Monroe Group, who also owned – and lived – in this very tower. How stupid am I?

She hadn't told Jane yet. And Izzy was a loud, animated talker.

"We have to be realistic about your odds," the seasoned pageant coach said between soup and sandwich courses. "You're coming in late and you don't check all of the boxes that past winners have tended to cover. Like being a mother. Almost every Mrs. United Sates of America in the past ten years has had at least two kids."

"I've taken a look at them, too." First thing a professional pageanter like her did? Scope out the contest. Then the competition. So far, she had thoroughly researched the Mrs. USofA Pageant, a contest she was already familiar with after her years on the circuit. While Caitlyn had never participated in a married women's competition, she knew how they usually worked. The better your husband looks, the more kids you have, the more likely your odds. So, Caitlyn had to approach this as a boost to her confidence more than another trophy to add to her shelf. I've got enough trophies. She didn't always win, but consistently being a runner-up had been enough to sustain a career in her twenties.

"Then you know that we have a few angles we could work with you. For one thing," Izzy grinned in the middle of her sentence as if Caitlyn should be able to guess what, "you still look amazing, girl! Tell me, what are you using for your skin? Korean products, I bet."

Caitlyn shrugged. "A lot of my base appearance is genetics. Both of my grandmothers were stunning." Her sister didn't look too bad, either, and one of the nieces put out feelers toward entering the teen pageant circuit. "Naturally blond hair – although it's gotten darker with age, of course – and an hourglass figure. Not too tall, not too short…"

"Yes, but I like the other angle I've got cooking up for you. Because being gorgeous is half the battle, Cait, you know that."

Caitlyn folded her arms on the bistro table. "Sure. What are you thinking?"

"First of all, you're married to a woman." Izzy opened her arms as if she welcomed every one of Caitlyn's "differences," regardless of how icky it might feel to put that front and center. "We can't ignore that. The press sure as hell won't ignore that. It's a powerful thing right now! Oh, and let us not forget that your wife is an immigrant. Judges love that."

"Uh-huh. You know she's an heiress, right? A Hong Kong heiress with a British accent. It's not like she fought with her birth family to get into America and start life all over again, becoming the next great FaceSpace post to pass around to your friends. I feel like we would have to downplay that."

"Absolutely, but most won't look past her being Asian, quite frankly."

She would love to hear that. Jane was as "proud" for being Asian as she was "proud" for being a budding American. Which was to say, she didn't think about either. At all.

"Then there's the fact that you're in a polyamorous relationship. Quite the angle."

Caitlyn involuntarily winced. "I don't think of it that way."

"What? As an angle?"

What was that strange feeling in the back of her throat? The one making her want to cough? Vomit? "We're three people living and loving together." Her lips were dry. Cracking. Bitter. "I know that many people could accurately describe me as being polyamorous, but it also conjures up an image that isn't true. Like, at all."

Izzy cocked her head. "What image?"

"You know. Like we're all in a relationship with three other people at any given moment. It's not true, first of all. We're all quite closed up like a ball." Caitlyn enunciated with her hands, curling them together into a sphere of romantic influence. "Ideally, I don't want Becca to be mentioned at all. To protect her, you see."

"This is the social media age, Cait. People are going to find out. You're better off getting ahead of it and crafting your own narrative."

"I got uncomfortable chills down my spine from that."

"Look." Izzy's face softened. "Some things have changed since you were last in the game over a decade ago. It's not only a matter of embarrassing college pictures uploaded to your social media. It's who you are. Now, what I would recommend is simply acknowledging it without making a big deal out of it. Say you're married, you also live with another woman – together – and you'd prefer that be kept private."

"You know what that sounds like, right, Izzy? I'm sure you're very aware of some of the weirder accusations toward queer people right now. We also have a minor living with us and maybe… you know what, maybe this isn't a good idea. I shouldn't be going on a national stage with such a big spotlight on me."

"I get what you're saying, but Mrs. USofA does not exactly pull in the kind of numbers you're worried about. Assuming you even make it to the top ten, hardly anyone will know you."

Maybe that's what I'm afraid of. The more Caitlyn thought about this, the more she realized that the only thing in it for her was the thrill of competition. And maybe feeling better about herself as she aged and changed. Ego. Bragging rights. Being called hot left and right. It was different coming from strangers.

"So, what does your wife think about it?" Izzy asked.

"I haven't told her yet."

"Oh?"

"No. I'm waiting until I've decided for sure. I want her blessing, but I also don't want to make her needlessly think about this when she's dealing with her family stuff. Becca knows, though. She thinks I should do it."

"Becca, hm?"

"Suppose she might like to come along with me if I decide to do this…"

Izzy was still lost in thought. Caitlyn wasn't sure she liked that look on the coach's face.

She decided to bring it up with Jane three days later, cajoling her wife to join her for dinner while Rebecca and Cecelia stayed home. Caitlyn used the guise of wanting to talk private business, but in reality, this was the only way she could test the waters without being interrupted.

Naturally, Jane knew her well enough to also know that something was afoot. Something that had nothing to do with their current investments.

"Is this a date?" she slyly asked while they waited for their drinks. "Ooh, did you get us a room at the hotel, too? Been a while since you and I had a few hours to ourselves to enjoy our marital bliss."

If she kept waggling her brows and moving her lips like that, Caitlyn would cancel her dinner order. "It's Thursday night, Lin."

"So?"

"So, we have a meeting at eight tomorrow."

"So?"

Caitlyn shook her head. "I need to talk to you about something. That's why it's you and me tonight."

"Not sure I'm loving this set-up. Sounds like you're keen on divorce already."

"For the love… would you let me talk?"

Jane leaned back and motioned for Caitlyn to continue.

She had rehearsed how she wanted to say this quite a few times, but it wasn't coming so easily now. Crap. This was a woman who hadn't been around for Caitlyn's peak beauty pageant days. Oh, she had seen the photos. The trophies. The ribbons. She had heard the stories from Caitlyn herself, as well as her mother Christine and others in the Adams family. There were no secrets about Caitlyn's past. She had conquered the pageant world one contest at a time until she was either gaining sponsorships from consistent runners-up placings or traveling through Iowa, the Midwest, and even America as a representative of her home turf. There wasn't a lot of glory in pageantry, but whatever there was, Caitlyn had mined it in a short amount of time. Enough that when Jane came along, she was happy to move on and embark on a new life as a jet-setting venture capitalist in Hong Kong. While married to one of the hottest sapphic bachelorettes in the Cantonese world. How else would Caitlyn earn an excuse to learn that language?

Yet she found a way to tell her wife, the woman she loved so much she married her twice.

"You're kidding." Jane showed neither disgust nor excitement over Caitlyn's recent news. "A national pageant? For married women? I didn't know there was such a thing."

"There are a few. Mrs. America, Mrs. United States, Mrs. USA…"

"Right, right, and they have them for the kiddies, too."

"Well, yes. I made it to the finals of Young Teen America, you know."

"Brilliant for you, Cait. I'm sure I have seen the pictures."

Caitlyn scrunched her nose at her wife's flippant tone. "Izzy – you remember her, I'm sure, she was at our first wedding – thinks I have a decent shot of representing Iowa in the wake of their scandal."

Jane didn't ask how Caitlyn could qualify for representing a state she didn't technically live in, but she probably didn't know why she should ask. "You want to do this, love? Be in a pageant again?"

Caitlyn sipped her ice water. "I don't know. That's why I'm talking to you about it. Izzy has made it clear I probably don't have a real shot at winning, but it's not about that. I just… I kind of miss it, you know. Maybe there's a part of me that wonders if I've still got ‘it.' Back when I was a pageant princess, it was a big deal to be my size. You didn't have women like Denise Bidot, and Ashley Graham hadn't hit the national consciousness yet. I had to fight for every place I took on a stage. And no one ever let me forget that if I won, let alone hit runner-up on a national stage, it was despite me being ‘fat.' But I'll admit the blond hair and great skin have always helped."

Jane blinked as if her brain was buzzing a mile a minute, and it probably was. God knew Caitlyn had announced things that Jane could barely keep up with. "Bloody bonkers to me that anyone would call you fat, Cait. You are a bigger woman, and God knows I love it, but you take such good care of yourself. Ugh! I am the one who needs to eat more. How many years now have you been telling me to eat more than a grapefruit for breakfast?"

"That's Becca telling you that. And your dentist. He shits on your grapefruit breakfasts."

"My point is that as far as I am concerned, you are the epitome of classic American beauty. You turned on the telly in Hong Kong in 1990 and were bombarded with curvy Hollywood vixens like Pamela Anderson or whoever."

"Pamela Anderson? Suppose she is considered quite curvy in Hong Kong."

"You know what I mean. Hong Kong had its beauty standards for natives, as every woman in my family can attest, but remember how people used to openly stare at you when we lived there? They had not seen such a beautiful woman before!"

"Let alone one as pale and starkly white as me." Caitlyn shuddered. She had a memory book full of the times when local Hong Kongers – and Beijingers, Seoulites, and Tokyoites – all touched her skin and hair without permission, but it wasn't the same as always being reminded that she was huge compared to the slim, lithe bodies that local fashion catered to. Worse than hip-huggers in the early 2000s. Those had been dark times for Caitlyn. She'd take the current trend of crop tops any day, as long as she could wear high-waisted leggings and jeans.

"How long will this pageant thing take?" Jane asked, changing the subject.

"It's in November. Assuming I don't win, that's when it ends."

"That is soon. Only a couple of months."

"Yes, most women have been training for it since earlier this year."

"It's not like you cannot remember how to wear a bikini or interview like a champ. Or whatever they make you do at those things." Jane pulled a tin of mints out of her jacket pocket and chewed on one while waiting for her food. "Just use your personal funds to pay for whatever and it should be fine."

"So… you think I should do it?"

"Don't you want to, love? Sounds like you do."

Caitlyn hadn't expected this conversation to go this way. While she knew Jane would not be outright mortified by the thought, surely, there would be scheduling conflicts and Caitlyn being gone for weeks at a time. Now we have Cecelia to look after, and… Assuming Becca came along for some of Caitlyn's fun, Jane would be on her own with a teenager. Nobody in the family knew how that might go.

"Cait." Jane took her hand on the table. "I love you. You are brilliant. You are gorgeous. You go with me like jam on toast and I am the burnt toast."

"Come on, Jane…"

"I'm serious! In terms of beauty, what do I bring to the table besides a flat arse and a lack of arm hair?"

"It is pretty wild how you don't have any arm hair…"

"I am not trying to put myself down by saying this, but I am in a relationship with not only one but two bloody beautiful women who make me thank God every day that they put up with my stupid, sarcastic arse because God knows I do not deserve either of you. But especially you, Cait. You are the epitome of a woman anyone would kill to have as theirs. I don't know what has been going on lately that you have been so down on your appearance, but I want you to know that I am going to keep thinking you are the most gorgeous creature since Aphrodite herself and I do not even care if Becca heard me say that because she would agree with me!"

Caitlyn allowed a small smile to show itself. "Thank you, Lin. I love you, too."

"God knows why!"

Their hands squeezed together. "Because you say sweet things like that."

"And I was filthy loaded when we met. Come on. Admit it. You loved your new life too."

"Ah, well, I was attracted to the sex we had first and foremost. My addiction to your money came a few weeks later. I had priorities as a youth."

Jane grinned. "What about your priorities now?"

The server appeared with their entrees. "Food," Caitlyn said.

"Just my luck," Jane muttered as their hands unclasped and they sat away from each other to make room for their plates. "That's how a man loses his tip," she said in Cantonese.

Caitlyn knew how to make up for that.