"I talked to the producers and show runner today," Ava's voice was enough to fill up the car even if she wasn't actually in it.
"And they assumed you had lost your mind?" Deborah had Ava on speaker through the Rolls as she drove. While she couldn't believe she had agreed to MC an event in Reno, she did enjoy driving. She found the solitude of the road pleasant even if she did miss the early days of being on tour with Ava when it was only the two of them, the car and the road.
"No, actually. Ever since the pandemic began, they have done quite a bit of WFM-work from home."
"You know, if you had wanted to save a breath or two you could have just used the acronym," Deb rolled her eyes. "I've lived through the pandemic, too."
"Yeah. Right, totally. Anywho…" Ava's nerves had snuck in and she lost whatever courage it had taken her to bring up the meeting in the first place.
"Work from my home," Deborah brought her back to the matter at hand.
"Yeah, well, Vegas. Just want to clarify which mansion I mean."
The buzz Deborah felt at the thought of having Ava around all the time was undeniable.
"And your screenplay?" She hadn't brought it up since the notorious rooftop, but she did want to see Ava complete it.
"I'm starting to like it. I'm on draft four…five? No, definitely four," Ava answered.
"Have you talked to Jimmy about selling it?" Deborah didn't let on how proud she was of Ava. It would derail the conversation and the last thing she needed was to be sitting on the side of the road in the middle of the desert crying.
"No. I wasn't going to until you had read it."
Deborah swerved back into her lane. She would never be totally unaffected by Ava's sweetness and respect.
"I would love to read it, honey," she meant every word.
"So?" Ava's voice was hesitant and then she employed an old-timey voice. "Want to shack up with me, Ms. Vance?"
"Insufferable," Deb uttered with a smile on her face.
"The Vegas digs are definitely better than your L.A. side mansion."
"Why do you think I've had it listed all this time?" Deborah asked.
"Because you hate L.A."
"I don't hate L.A.," she countered. "In fact, it's been growing on me lately."
She could almost hear Ava's smile.
"I can't imagine why."
"Did you forget that I called you for help with some jokes for this convention in Reno?" Deborah wasn't going to reveal any more personal discoveries. Vulnerability was too difficult to navigate over the phone.
"I could be more helpful if they weren't run of the mill, generic small businessmen," Ava's voice was lighter than Deborah had remembered hearing it since that damned rooftop. "Hey, isn't the Mustang Ranch in Reno?"
"Sparks," Deborah corrected.
"You know what the sign at a brothel that has gone out of business says?" Ava left a beat of silence. "Beat it. We're closed."
"Come on, you can do better," Deborah was smirking even if she was pushing Ava to be better, funnier.
"Well, 'flick it' doesn't quite work, does it? I wouldn't dare say only those with penises frequent brothels."
"Businessmen, Ava," Deborah tried to get the girl back on track, an impossible task in the best circumstances.
"I don't suppose any of them are vacuum salesmen…"
"Oh my god. I can't believe I ever told you that you were too good to quit," Deborah groaned.
"You sure did."
Ava's confidence was admirable. Deborah was feeling anything but. She wouldn't generally let anyone in on the fact, but Ava wasn't just anyone. Not now. Not ever.
"I have no idea what a roomful of small businessmen in Reno want with me."
Deb rarely exhibited this level of insecurity. Ava rose to the challenge.
"You're a total smoke show, for one."
"Ava…" Deborah sighed heavily.
"Seriously, Deb. You're 10/10 funny, fucking hot and easily the least boring part of any convention."
Letting her fingers loosen on the steering wheel, Deborah slowly exhaled. She knew Ava was right on the last point. And she secretly appreciated the sentiment of the girl's other observations.
"Thank you, sweetie," Deborah shared the appreciation she was feeling for a change.
"I have to go back to the set soon. Promise you will call on the drive home? That's a long drive at night. I still don't understand why you didn't fly." Ava's protective nature was not a revelation to Deborah, but it never ceased to be endearing.
"Driving is cathartic," Deborah explained herself in the vaguest way.
"You'll kill, Deb. I have no doubt," Ava assured her.
Whether Deborah needed the solitude of driving to get into the headspace to MC some awful, male-dominated convention or she needed the time to make decisions was left unsaid. Either way, Ava's faith in her ability to make anything funny would always stand.
…
"Hey, Jimmy!" Ava waved him over to the barstool beside her.
"Ava, how's it going?" he asked as he took a seat.
"Good, good. Let's get you a drink."
The bartender returned at her signaling and they looked at him in anticipation of his order.
"I'll have an appletini," he said with the confidence only Jimmy Lusaque, Jr. could.
"A what? Are you for real?" Ava looked disgusted but when the bartender chuckled, Ava handed over a ten. "I clearly should have bet on a color."
Jimmy looked at Ava and then the bartender who had tucked away the cash in his apron and was now focused on shaking the neon martini.
"You bet on my drink order?" Jimmy's voice rose with embarrassment.
"I thought you'd go with something with a ridiculous name—sex on the beach, fuzzy navel, Martian hard on. I wasn't expecting something so fruity," she remarked as his drink was placed in front of him.
"Martian—" he stopped himself, squeezing his eyes closed. This would be a whole thing if he allowed it to go on. "So why am I here?"
"I wanted to talk to you about a couple of things," Ava started. "I'm finishing a screenplay and I wonder if you can sell it."
"Seriously? Wow. I was expecting you to tell me you got fired from your brilliantly hilarious television show," he sipped his drink. "Of course, I will do my best with it."
"Yeah?" she was genuinely surprised.
"I am your agent after all."
"Sure, yeah," Ava felt her nerves returning full force. The silence went on for a beat too long and Jimmy picked up on it.
"What's the other thing?" he asked her, a bit of anxiety setting in for him, too. The last thing he wanted to hear was the next story the equivalent of her being fingered at her uncle's wake. Ava was a wildcard, always had been. However, she had been unusually consistent and reliable recently. He should have known another shoe was coming.
"Deborah and I…" she started.
"I hear you are back on speaking terms. That's fantastic, Ava. I know it isn't what you wanted, but you do make each other funnier. Even if you're only speaking—"
"We're sleeping together, Jimmy."
"You're what?!" his voice rose an octave, green liquid dripping down his chin.
"And I am moving back to Vegas," she put her hands up in defense at the look she received. "Keeping the job, dude. I swear."
"Ava, I don't know if this is a bit, but if it is, cut the shit," he was exasperated.
"Yeah, I didn't expect you to take it well. That's on me. I could have eased you into it or something. My bad," Ava sighed.
"You're serious," he realized.
"One hundred percent."
He threw back the rest of his appletini and was grateful for the quick response of the bartender. His fresh drink went down easily.
"You know, when I sent you to Vegas, I never expected she would actually let you in the door. Then she took you on the road with her. I thought the email would finally be the end of it," he admitted truthfully. "The blessed end of the drama."
She shrugged, "you and me both."
"But I saw her walls come down for the first time in the decade I've known her. And I didn't understand why, I still don't. I know the special wouldn't have happened without you, Ava. I also know if things hadn't improved with Deborah recently, Marcus wouldn't have stuck around. She fired you and nearly lost everyone around her because she was a total bitch afterward. I should have known something was up when that changed. Jesus…you and Deborah Vance?" he was incredulous.
"Yep, me and Deb. And it's good Jimmy, I mean she's really fucking good," she forgot to censor herself and he cringed before throwing back yet another sickly-sweet drink. He wouldn't be feeling well come morning.
"I don't need to know!" he made his boundary clear to her knowing full well that she would stomp all over it in her black boots.
"Right, sorry."
Ava got lost in the memory of how absolutely true her words were. She thought about the sex they had before Deborah left for Vegas and it made her warm in places she shouldn't be while sitting next to her agent.
"So, you're going back to Vegas," he stared straight ahead. "Professional or personal?"
She thought about it for a moment before answering. "Both, I hope. We haven't talked about the work yet. I'll still be writing for my show. I cleared it with the powers that be. I don't know about Deborah, though. She doesn't want another residency. And she's going to work until she is 109. She'll have to do something."
"She actually said she doesn't want another residency?" he looked at her out the corner of his eye without moving his head.
"Well, no, not in so many words, but I can tell, Jimmy. That's behind her. She wants a challenge," she said and he snorted into his empty glass. "What?"
"You are a challenge, Ava," he mumbled.
Ava said nothing. Is that what Deborah was saying to her when they first started talking and she said a residency wouldn't be challenging? The work only again became a challenge once they were on tour and Ava was pushing her harder and harder? What did you mean, Deb? Ava wondered to herself.
"I suppose I owe you one, huh?" she kept an entirely straight face.
"One or a million."
Jimmy wasn't wrong.
…
"You told my agent who I'm fucking?" Deborah was understandably livid. Ava had not cleared it with Deb prior to her meeting with Jimmy.
"Since I'm the one you're fucking, I assumed I had the right to say so," Ava was pacing around the kitchen of Deborah's L.A. house with her phone to her ear.
"That's the problem. You made an assumption," Deborah's tone was menacing. Instead of making Ava back down, it had her readying for battle.
"He needed to know why I was going back to Vegas, Deb. And if he's going to represent us, he needs to know what might eventually hit the press. He's on our side!" Ava snapped.
The long silence from Deborah buckled Ava. She flopped down on a chair and squeezed her eyes closed.
"We do not tell people about this before discussing it with each other first. Do you understand?" The question was said with such ferocity that Ava wondered what was behind Deborah's outsized reaction.
"Yep." The syllable popped over the phone. For all her certainty that Jimmy needed to know, she would eagerly take the revelation back to avoid the drawn out pauses she was receiving from Deborah.
"How did he take it?" Deb's voice held a hint of worry, something shy that Ava couldn't work out.
"I think it would be safe to say he's going to have a horrendous hangover in the morning," she grimaced at the thought of all those appletinis.
"Oh, Christ. Am I going to need a new manager?" Deb sank into her office chair.
"Babe, nobody can manage you."
This actually made Deborah laugh. Her eyes crinkled and she threw her head back in laughter. It made Ava's lower abdomen warm.
"What else did you and Mr. Lusaque, Jr. discuss?" she asked.
"He's going to pitch my screenplay to some folks. He also thinks my reputation has been repaired enough that my first screenplay might be of interest to an indie studio."
"That's great, honey," she truly meant it even if she was still worrying about Jimmy's knowledge.
"He asked a question I didn't know how to answer…" Ava lifted herself to sit on the countertop.
"I swear to god, Ava, if you told him about any proclivities—"
"Hey now, that's not at all where I was going. The thing with your sleep blindfold is safe with me," she smirked. "He asked if my returning to Vegas was personal or professional."
"Ah," Deb began rolling a pen along the desk. "And what did you tell him?"
"That I would like for it to be both," Ava answered truthfully, but not without some concern.
The silent pause returned.
"Deb?" Ava was preparing for the worst.
"What time does your flight get in on Friday?"
"Umm…what? I mean," she was thrown by the pivot. "4 o'clock."
"I'll send Ronnie," Deborah said before hanging up.
Ava stared at the phone.
"What the fuck, Deb?" she sighed. Defeated, she didn't bother calling Deborah back. It wouldn't have answered the biggest question she kept asking herself: What does Deborah want?
What, indeed.
…
Ava had exited the airport and was standing near the loading zone when she saw spotted Ronnie waiting patiently by the familiar black Mercedes. He helped her with her bags and held the back door open for her. She felt odd being the only one chauffeured by Deborah's driver, but climbed in anyway.
She wasn't alone in the backseat.
"Hi," Deborah Vance was seated, legs crossed, looking sexier than she had any right to be while in the back of a car at an airport in over one-hundred degree heat, but who was Ava to argue?
"D—" She was beyond happy to see the woman. Pulling the door closed and noting that the privacy screen was already up, Ava leaned in and kissed Deborah with the passion they usually reserved for arguments about monosexism and the importance of punchlines.
"It's nice to see you, honey" Deb whispered against her lips.
Ava nuzzled Deborah's neck and basked in the scent of atrociously priced perfume and skin care. She hummed in contentment when fingers slipped through her hair and nails dragged along her scalp. Her own hand was teasing the skirt Deborah was wearing. She rarely saw her in skirts. The texture was rough against her fingers, a fabric Ava would never have been able to identify. It was a bright gold—very much a Deborah Vance power color. Deb's toned legs were spotlighted wonderfully.
"It is very tempting to test the integrity of that privacy screen," Ava's words tickled along Deborah's collarbone.
"Please don't do anything to make things awkward with Ronnie. You know how much I hate having to hire new people."
In spite of what she was asking of Ava, Deb leaned her head back further to expose the column of her neck to a needy mouth.
"About as much as you hate when new people are sent to you without your knowledge…" Ava spoke slowly as she enjoyed every bit of Deborah's neck.
"Once in a lifetime that works out."
Ava leaned back and looked at Deborah with such sincerity and sentimentality that it made Deb squirm.
"I love you, D," Ava had a goofy look on her face.
"Mmm…so you tell me," Deborah was trying for unaffected, but her damn eyes got misty and gave away the tsunami of emotion she was experiencing.
The car slowed and remained in place for a moment, Ava looked out to see the gates opening to the familiar lane where Deborah once ran her down in her Rolls-Royce.
"I didn't even get to climb on your lap," she pouted.
"Perhaps if you refrain from fighting with Marcus, there will be a chance later," Deborah's electric blue eyes said there would definitely be a chance later. That coiling feeling in Ava's lower abdomen had returned. "You're drooling, darling."
Once Ronnie had opened the door for Deborah, she stepped out of the car and went straight through the front door.
"Ava?" Ronnie's voice brought her out of the place in her mind she had disappeared to as she watched Deborah's ass in that skirt.
"Yep. Sorry. Outta here," she got out and almost made it to the front door before remembering she had a bag. He could faintly hear her mumble, "Keep it in your pants, Daniels," after retrieving her bag and again made for the door.
…
Deborah sat with Ava between her legs. With the woman's wet back pressed against her breasts, she felt her nipples harden. It was a first and one she found she liked instantly. She was enjoying the tracing of imaginary lines down each arm of her arms as they sat along the lip of the bath. The way Ava had sunk against her was quite relaxing.
"I want to write a show with you," Ava hummed what she must have been contemplating as she drew lines with her fingertips.
"We already wrote a show," she refrained from shooting the idea down on its face.
"I'd like to write a television show with you."
Deborah had no idea what to say. The stage show she once had with Frank had become a sitcom at a time when she never would have set out to write one. It was her only experience writing for television aside from her late-night show pilot. Oddly, she didn't fear a television show ruining their working relationship the way it did with Frank.
"Creating or writing for a show?" she found herself saying and it was with that question that she knew she was actually entertaining the idea.
"Both."
"Where did this come from?" Deborah wiped sweaty tendrils of hair from Ava's cheek.
"Just something I've been thinking about lately," Ava shrugged.
Slipping a hand under the water, Deborah tapped Ava's thigh. "Let's get out so we can have this conversation face to face."
"Your hand resting there isn't going to move me along," Ava's breathless voice revealed how easily affected she was by Deborah's touch. Fingernails grazed from mid-thigh to the protruding point at the front of the hip. "Deborah."
"Yes, baby?" Deb nudged her behind the ear with the tip of her nose.
"Touch me."
Ava's low, gravelly demand caused Deb's hips to tilt. A simultaneous moan filled the bathroom. Having Deborah's legs spread, hips pressing her forward, was almost as stimulating as when a finger finally moved to her slit and glided between lips.
"Oh, fuck," Ava cried out.
Deborah was nothing if not thorough. When it came to her own pleasure, she could be impatient, but when it was Ava's satisfaction on the line, she took her sweet time. She rarely left Ava wanting.
The sensation of an exacting fingertip tracing and teasing her, building up the tension that would eventually unwind in an explosive manner, was almost matched by the feeling of Deborah's hard nipples pressing against Ava's back and her breathy pronouncements of how good they felt together.
It wasn't long before a fingernail carefully joining the fray left Ava crying out and her legs snapping closed around Deb's hand. It had certainly hadn't hurt that the woman had bitten Ava's shoulder as she climaxed.
Ava sagged against Deborah.
"Come on," Ava was now tapping Deb's knee. "I want you in the bed."
Without giving herself another second to recover, Ava stood and stepped out of the tub on wobbly legs, reaching for a towel that she wrapped around herself. When she returned with a towel for Deborah, there was nothing but lust looking back at her. She offered Deb a hand and helped her to her feet. As she held the towel open and wrapped it around Deborah, Ava caught the woman's bottom lip, sucking it in before kissing her lover with unbridled determination.
…
"You're stuck with me, unfortch," Ava shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her coffee.
The standoff in the foyer was ongoing when Deborah walked down the stairs.
"Oh, Christ. Not this again!" Deb looked back and forth between her live-in girlfriend and Barry the corgi.
"We are having a discussion. He will see it my way soon," Ava winked at Deborah.
"Barry, go!" Deb commanded. Little corgi legs moved out of the room, nails clicking on the marble. "If you don't start picking them up, this will only continue."
"Maybe he has abandonment syndrome or something," Ava was defending the little guy.
"And sitting on top of your boots so you can't put them on in the morning is the answer?" Deb huffed. "Give me that!"
Handing over her recently refilled cup of coffee, Ava watched with interest as Deborah drank from it.
"Shouldn't he be more concerned with my staying?" Deb posed.
"He's never had to worry about you not coming back," she stepped toward Deborah and wrapped a hand around the woman's hand on the mug. "No comments about oat milk this morning?"
Lips pressed tightly made Deb's face unreadable.
"Not even that it tastes like it was strained with wet newspaper?" Ava teased and Deborah refused to give in. "You must have been really desperate for more coffee."
"Desperate for you to stop tormenting my dog maybe."
"Mmm…I recall you being quite desperate for something else last night," Ava leaned in closer and slowly tasted the coffee on Deborah's lips.
"Deborah, I—" Marcus stood completely still when he realized what he had walked in on. His eyes closed in the hope of it all being over when he opened them again. He spat, "I will not wear a bell, Ava."
"What did you need, Marcus?" Deborah turned from Ava and straightened her shoulders, handing the mug back. Deborah had been trying mightily to transition seamlessly from tender moments with Ava to professional, business-minded moments with her staff while in the house.
"I wanted to discuss the delivery tomorrow," he said, ignoring Ava who had focused her attention on her boots which were going to need wiped down after Barry's affections. "In your office?"
Deborah followed him without looking back.
"Positively disgusting, dude," Ava shook her head and muttered to her shoes.
…
"I don't understand," Ava was staring into a room she had never before seen at a rather large mahogany desk. "You and Marcus arranged this?"
The two women were side by side. Deborah took Ava's hand and gave it a squeeze.
"You need a space to write, take your video calls, hide out. No vaping or naked selfies," Deb's face was serious.
"What if I'm sending them to you?" Ava nudged Deb's shoulder with her own, earning her an eyeroll.
"I wasn't sure if you would have preferred the guest room. The window is larger in here. And you have a view of the pool if you need inspiration," Deborah wasn't sure Ava liked the surprise and her nerves were surfacing.
"Inspiration to become an Olympic breaststroke specialist?" Ava couldn't resist. She glanced at Deb and saw the anxiety there. "I love it, D. Honestly, I figured the basement would be fine for working. The wi-fi is a little spotty and that antique chair is hell on my hips, but it would have kept me out of your hair."
This got Deb's immediate attention, her head turning to Ava before her mouth had even caught up. "This isn't because you are in my way. Not at all. You know how glad I am you are here. But if I'm going to require you keep doing that job, the least I can do is provide you an adequate space to do it from. Don't ever think I'm trying to keep you away. Ever."
"God, you are something else, Deborah Vance," Ava turned into the woman's body and rested her chin on her shoulder, whispering in her ear. "I must mean a lot to you. I mean, not only a couch but now a desk? What do I have to do to get a China hutch?"
Deborah's arm wrapped around Ava's low back and she mimicked the mouth to ear move.
Deb whispered, "Maybe one day you'll find out. Now, get me a Diet Coke and meet me in my office. We've got work to do."
-finis-