Falling for Jillian Ashley: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance Page 5

  Jillian laughed.

  “I have a day job too, so I get it.”

  “Really? And here I was thinking your legions of Jillian Ashley fans supported you entirely.”

  “They do a good job of it, but my day job has a 401(k),” Jillian retorted.

  “Ah, yes. So important to plan for the future,” Amy said.

  They agreed on a time for Friday and then, reluctantly, Amy said goodbye and terminated the connection. When Jillian’s face disappeared from her monitor, Amy let out a deep breath.

  “Oh my God!” she said aloud to no one. “Gorgeous!”

  Chapter 8

  “Coffee, Sally? Seriously?” Max was pacing in the den now. “You had to agree to meet for coffee?”

  “What was I supposed to say when she asked?” Sally wondered, still feeling a buzz from Amy’s obvious attraction to her and the subtle flirting with each other they had done during the interview.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Max began. “You’re super busy, perhaps. You have a girlfriend. You’re one of those bubble people who can’t step outside. Anything!”

  “Relax. It’s only coffee; it’s not going to turn into a TMZ exposé.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. Anyway, how could you expect me to not have coffee with her? She’s amazingly beautiful!”

  She got up from her seat and approached her friend, grabbing hold of both his arms and making him stand still to look at her.

  “I know this freaks you out,” she told him. “But be cool, alright? I won’t screw anything up, I promise! I rather like pretending to be Jillian Ashley, bestselling author. Besides, it’s only coffee. Who knows? Her and I might meet in person and not be able to stand each other’s company.”

  But Sally hoped not.

  “Anyway, you promised me dinner,” she reminded Max.

  They ordered Chinese food and when it arrived, they ate in the dining room. Max put on some jazz music. Sally loved jazz, it was one of the many things she and Max had in common which cemented their friendship.

  “So, how did you come up with Jillian Ashley as a pen name?” Sally asked.

  “You met my parents, right? Two incredibly loud old people who don’t want to acknowledge that they’re both deaf and who save used wrapping paper?”

  Sally laughed and nodded.

  “What’s my mother’s name?”

  “Jill,” Sally answered.

  “Right. Short for Jillian.”

  “Ah!” Sally speared a shrimp from off Max’s plate.

  “And you met my sister, right? Incredibly large woman with three annoying kids, one of whom had to repeat kindergarten? What’s her name?”

  Ash.

  “Short for Ashley,” Sally said before Max could. “Got it.”

  “So, I have a question for you, young lady,” Max said.

  Sally looked at him expectantly.

  “How come you don’t do much dating, Sally? I’m beginning to worry about you.”

  Sally laughed again.

  “Worry?”

  “Yeah. I mean, you’re talented, smart, funny, somewhat good-looking…”

  “Somewhat?” Sally asked with a smirk, knowing he was just kidding.

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t know what to tell you about that,” she said. She honestly didn’t. On paper, Sally knew she was a catch: pretty, intelligent, good job and a fun personality. But her luck with women lately was non-existent. It didn’t help that the pandemic kept most crowded venues like lesbian bars closed for over a year. In fact, her and Lisa’s favorite lesbian spot in Vista had shut down for good thanks to Covid, never to reopen.

  “The few dates I’ve been on lately just haven’t been with anyone I felt really connected to, you know? Despite my mother’s best efforts at fixing me up with every unattached lesbian she deems worthy,” she added. “I mean, look…I know I can get laid anytime I want, okay? And, fine, I’m not a prude and will definitely hook up with a woman for that. But I want more already. Maybe it’s because I’m almost thirty. Maybe it’s because I’m just tired of going from girlfriend to girlfriend. I don’t know.”

  She wondered what Amy would turn out to be. It was obvious that Friday evening was going to be a date. But what kind? A hook-up? A night of hopefully great sex followed by vague promises to keep in touch and see each other again soon? Or will it be a proper date—an evening to lay down the foundations for something bigger?

  “It’s sweet that you care so much, though,” she said to Max.

  He shrugged.

  “I do care. I mean, you talk too much but I like you.”

  “Whatever,” Sally said. “Anyway, maybe I’ll really hit off with Amy.”

  Max groaned.

  “I’m still not happy about that, by the way,” he growled, glaring at her and putting down his fork. “I rather like the extra money coming in from my books, Sally. Not only that but I have fun writing them. So, what is your game plan with Amy?”

  Sally did have to concede that Max had a point and that his concerns were justified. In retrospect, she should have turned Amy down, or at least thought through meeting up with her more. But Amy was…Sally took a deep breath now. Amy was yummy! And when the coffee invite happened, Sally’s brain—and certain other parts of her—had reacted on autopilot.

  But she loved Max and didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize something which was obviously very important to him.

  “She thinks I’m a writer,” she said. “I can pretend to do that. I mean, it’s not like she’s going to test me by having me write a short story while we’re having coffee.”

  Max scoffed.

  “Yeah, well, my experiences on Twitter as Jillian have taught me never to put anything past lesbians.”

  “Shut up. Anyway, it’s just coffee.”

  ***

  Sally’s phone started trilling almost as soon as she walked into her condo later that night.

  “Hi Mom,” she answered, knowing from the ringtone who it was. She put her bag down and toed off the Skechers she had worn to Max’s.

  “You’re going to thank me,” Leslie Lassiter greeted.

  “I doubt it,” Sally mumbled.

  “What was that, honey?”

  “Nothing, Mom. I was saying hello to Lena.” And on cue, Sally’s super fluffy Maine coon sashayed into the room, spared Sally a look and then leapt up on the sofa to claim her favorite spot.

  “Oh,” Leslie said. “Well, anyway. You are going to thank me! Turns out, Dr. Janowicz’s daughter is a lesbian and single and…wait for it…also a doctor!”

  Sally rolled her eyes.

  This again!

  The woman never stopped! Her mother, a surgeon at Scripps Memorial in Encinitas was forever trying to fix Sally up with the daughters, granddaughters, nieces, cousins or best friends of her work colleagues. Moreover, Leslie also would scan each year’s crop of new interns and residents to see if any of the attractive, young and newly minted lady doctors were gay, single and looking; all in her never-ending quest to see her daughter married off to a Doctor Somebody or at least to a close relation of a Doctor Somebody.

  “Mom, seriously?”

  So far, Leslie’s efforts had yielded little. It wasn’t that Sally had anything against doctors; it was more that Sally knew from being the daughter of one the demands on a doctor’s time, especially a young doctor. And Sally really did not want to envision a future of lonely evenings at home or date nights interrupted by somebody’s exploding gallbladder or whatever.

  Sally wanted a woman to build a life with, not build a life for.

  Then there was the fact that most doctors—even lesbian doctors—had permanent chips on their shoulders and behaved like they had deigned to visit Earth from Mount Olympus.

  “Look, I’ve met Ainsley…” Leslie continued.

  Ainsley? Good lord!

  “…and she’s absolutely charming!” Leslie gushed. “And gorgeous! She’s a surgical resident in San Diego and I just think
you two would get along so well!”

  Sally doubted she could do anything well with someone named Ainsley.

  She had to nip this latest attempt of her mother’s in the bud.

  “Mom, first of all, I’ve told you I can find my own dates…”

  Dates, yes. Actual girlfriends, no.

  “Secondly, I’ll have you know that I just met someone and we are going to meet up for a date on Friday.”

  “Huh!” Leslie chuffed. “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Amy.”

  “Amy,” Leslie repeated, as if trying out the name. “And what does she do?”

  Shit!

  Sally realized now that she actually knew next to nothing about Amy. For all she knew, Amy was a doctor. But she doubted it. Amy didn’t give off that Mount Olympus vibe.

  “Um…she a blogger,” Sally answered.

  “A blogger.”

  “Yeah, well, I mean…that’s one thing she does; I’m sure she does something else! Like, a real job.”

  “Huh!” Leslie chuffed again. “You mean, you’ve met this woman and you have no idea what she does? It hardly sounds serious, then; certainly no reason for you not to meet Ainsley.”

  The name Ainsley is reason not to meet Ainsley!

  “Mom…”

  “One drink!” Leslie pressed. “See what happens! Besides…”

  Sally’s Mom Warning System started flashing red.

  “What?” she asked brusquely.

  “IalreadygaveAinsleyyournumberandshesaidshe’dcallyoutomorrow,” Leslie blurted out.

  “Mom!”

  Sally knew she was stuck now. She respected her mother and her mother’s career too much to risk doing anything that would create any kind of awkwardness between her mother and this Dr. Janowicz, like, say, not taking Ainsley’s phone call or not meeting Ainsley for at least one drink.

  “Fine,” she told Leslie, an edge to her voice. “I will meet Ainsley for one drink. One! Understand? Don’t expect any miracles, though! And do not start sending out wedding invites!”

  A few moments later, the call ended and Sally plopped down on the sofa next to Lena. She picked up the cat and held its face close to her own.

  “Mothers!” Sally muttered.

  Chapter 9

  Amy had her interview with Jillian Ashley edited and ready for posting just an hour after disconnecting the video call with the author. Once she was sure that it was ready for the world to see, she stopped, made herself a Cosmo and then clicked the Upload button on her website as she took the first sip of her cocktail.

  She had then spent the better part of an hour posting links to this latest edition of Lesbeing: the Podcast on her various social media accounts, starting with Twitter.

  Hey, everybody! Just posted my awesome and exclusive interview with the amazing Jillian Ashley @ashleylesfic on Lesbeing—the Podcast! Click here to check it out!

  When she checked all her accounts the next morning, particularly Twitter, her jaw dropped. Her tweet already had over 500 likes and had been retweeted more than eighty times. Over two-hundred people—all women, by the looks of it—had commented on it, as well.

  OMG, she’s my favorite writer! And you got to speak to her???

  Just watched the podcast! Amazing job!

  Such an insightful discussion with one of the best! I’m going to reread her books now after hearing her explain things like that!

  She is GORGEOUS! I don’t think I’ll ever read a Jillian Ashley book quite the same way again!!!

  Her inboxes on Twitter and Facebook, not to mention the email inbox for the Lesbeing website were stuffed with messages, so many in fact that she knew she didn’t have time to read more than a handful of them before she had to leave for work. She really had scored the lesfic scoop of the century!

  But one email did catch her eye. The one from Jillian.

  Hey, Amy! Thanks for sending me the link to our interview last night! I so enjoyed watching it that I actually watched it twice, LOL! Seriously, though, it was such a fun experience and you were an amazing interviewer! Talk to you soon!

  And she signed off with a heart-eyes emoji.

  Amy reread the email.

  Huh! No mention of their date on Friday.

  She knew it was only just past eight a.m. but she also remembered Jillian telling her that she always got up early in the mornings. She decided to fire off a quick text.

  Hey, Jillian! I just read your email! So glad you liked the interview! I’m really looking forward to buying you that coffee on Friday!

  There! Nothing weird about that. It sounded casual, breezy even. Not at all like a text from a woman who was currently panicking that maybe an incredibly gorgeous and talented woman like Jillian Ashley had changed her mind about meeting her in a few days.

  She tapped Send. And then tried to not obsess about when—or if—Jillian would answer.

  Fortunately, Jillian’s reply came almost instantly.

  I am soooooo looking forward to Friday! I hope you have a great day today!

  Amy slowly let out a relieved breath. Their date was still on!

  Finally tearing her eyes away from her smartphone, she was just about to toast a bagel for breakfast when the device rang. She smirked when she saw the name of the person calling her.

  “Bitch! How did you get Jillian Ashley?” Rhonda Kessing screamed in lieu of a normal greeting. Like Hello, for instance.

  Amy couldn’t help the self-satisfied laughter which now bubbled up out of her.

  Rhonda Kessing was another lesbian blogger and podcaster, based in Chicago, who mainly covered lesbians in pop culture: movies, TV, even comic books. She also had a very popular lesfic review site which many readers of the genre relied on.

  Before Covid altered the world, Amy and Rhonda had been guest panelists at a symposium in Miami on lesbianism in the internet age and for some reason, Rhonda had begun considering Amy something of a rival in the relatively tiny sphere of lesbians-blogging-about-lesbians. Amy knew that her scoring an interview with Jillian Ashley would keep Rhonda up for a few nights.

  Imagine telling her I scored a date with her!

  But Amy wasn’t going to do that. Superstitious by nature, she had never encountered a ladder she refused to walk under. Somehow, telling Rhonda Kessing about her date with Jillian felt like it might jinx it. Rachel, however, was another story; jinxes didn’t work when it came to best friends and Amy planned on telling her later today.

  “What can I say, Rhonda?” Amy said. “I guess I just knew how to appeal to Jillian’s good nature.”

  Rhonda scoffed.

  “What do you have? You got something on her? Was it a blackmail thing? Or did you send naked pictures of yourself?”

  Amy gave a faux gasp of horror.

  “Rhonda! I’m shocked! I will have you know I run a clean operation here!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Lucky bitch! It was a good interview, though. Congratulations.”

  “Why, thank you, Rhonda!”

  “I mean, there were one or two things I would have done differently, but…”

  “Like offering Jillian your firstborn if she revealed the plot of her next book?” Amy asked.

  “Bite me.”

  ***

  After work that evening, Rachel came over to Amy’s apartment. They ordered Chinese food to be delivered and while waiting for it to arrive sat together on the sofa, each with a glass of white wine.

  “Do you think I have time to get my boobs done before I meet her?” she asked her best friend while they waited, peeking down her own shirt at her small breasts which were currently without a bra.

  Rachel looked at Amy.

  “By Friday night? Probably, but I’m not sure you’ll like how they turn out.”

  “Aargh!”

  “Sweetie, calm down,” Rachel said.

  “Calm down? You haven’t seen this woman!” Amy exclaimed.

  “I have too!” Rachel retorted. “I watched your interview with her! In fact, I’ve s
een her in the exact same way you’ve seen her: on a laptop screen, from the shoulders up!”

  Amy had to concede that was true.

  “Isn’t she pretty?” she asked, smiling secretly to herself.

  “She’s gorgeous!” Rachel affirmed. “Like, I’d be gay for her.”

  “Well, too bad because I’m going to be gay for her.”

  “She seems nice, too.”

  “Doesn’t she?” Amy then had an alarming thought. “I hope she isn’t, like, an ogre in real life, though. Like, I hope her niceness wasn’t an act just because she was being interviewed.”

  What if that were true? Amy wondered now. What if the sweet, polite, somewhat shy woman she talked to yesterday and who had made her insides feel liquid, turned out to be a Grade-A ice queen? It would ruin reading Jillian Ashley books for Amy forever!

  What was it that somebody once said?

  Never meet your heroes.

  Tapping Amy’s knee comfortingly, Rachel assured her that she was certain Jillian would be just as nice in person.

  “I’m also sure she’ll like your boobs,” she added.

  All day long, Amy had been on a high. Not only did she have an upcoming date with Jillian Ashley, who had to be the most beautiful lesfic author on the planet, but thanks to her interview with Jillian, Lesbeing—the Podcast was even more popular than ever. Subscriber numbers had been climbing all day and the hits on her website had been astronomical. What’s more, other lesbian podcast hosts—with the exception of Rhonda Sour Grapes Kessing—had written to Amy, asking her to appear on their podcasts to relate the story of how she managed to get Jillian to come out of her shell.

  Work had even gone well today. One of the San Diego County supervisors had agreed to a meeting with Amy and Makeda, the director of the North County Women’s Rights Group, to discuss upcoming debates on proposed legislation that would write equal rights for women into the County’s constitution. All in all, it had been a great day.

  Their Chinese food arrived and while they ate, Rachel lamented about her own dating woes with men. The last guy she had gone on a date with had not been seated for five minutes in the outdoor bar Rachel had met him at before he started talking about how the 2020 election had been rigged and stolen from the Republicans. Before a server had even approached their table to take their drinks order, Rachel had got up and left.