The Lone Star Collection Read online

  The thought makes my lip curl. Could it be? I take a slow look around. I could go through this town room by room. I could put every single resident in such a tizzy that there’d be no one left to hide her. Would she sneer at that? Tell me that I am the monster she’s known me to be all along? Maybe she’d be afraid, cowering before me. The thought sets the acid in my stomach to churning. She’s never feared me before. I don’t want her to start now.

  I haven’t felt this close to weeping in years. Goddamn it.

  I suppose a big brush-off is what I get for courting love when lust has always been my reliable mistress. With a sigh, I tell myself that not having Miss Shepherd by my side is for the best. I wanted her to leave me alone. Now I’m free. And I want to be quit of Presidio, of Texas in general. Some of the cutest, most vibrant angels I’ve known have been Texans, and I’ll always welcome one to my bed, but as of this day, I vow never to return to the heartbreak state.

  I smile at my own melancholia as I mount my horse and guide it out of town. Sleeping alone in the wilderness tonight will be a fitting way to say goodbye to Miss Shepherd. Only the stars will be able to see how I feel, only they will be cold enough to understand.

  California, here I come.

  About the Author

  Barbara Ann Wright

  Barbara Ann Wright writes fantasy and science fiction novels and short stories when not ranting on her blog. The Pyramid Waltz was one of Tor.com's Reviewer's Choice books of 2012, was a Foreword Review BOTYA Finalist, a Goldie finalist, and made Book Riot’s 100 Must-Read Sci-Fi Fantasy Novels By Female Authors. It also won the 2013 Rainbow Award for Best Lesbian Fantasy. A Kingdom Lost and Thrall: Beyond Gold and Glory won the 2014 and 2016 Rainbow Awards for Best Lesbian Fantasy Romance, respectively. Coils was a finalist for the 2017 Lambda Literary Awards.

  The Couchie Couch

  Annette Mori

  Virginia, Ginny to her friends and family, sat on the stool and cajoled the bartender into serving just one more drink. When she shut one eye, the woman looked pretty damn cute, and there was only one of the attractive woman, so she figured one more drink wouldn't kill her. She'd already had two above her limit, but who was counting? Besides, wasn't that what a person was supposed to do when your lover of ten years decided to move out and take every last piece of furniture with her? It didn't matter that she'd paid for half. What Cynthia wanted, she got.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures, so Ginny begged her best friend, Hillary, to move in with her. At the time, she never expected it would be across the country. The timing couldn't be more perfect for either of them. Hillary had just been kicked to the curb by her lover. The reason seemed a bit shallow to Ginny, but she had her own shit to deal with, so she'd simply offered a solution to a problem. Who dumps their girlfriend because she has a terrible fashion sense and questionable home decorating skills? Hillary needed a place to live, and she had furniture to offer. It was a done deal. Ginny would somehow deal with her secret and find a way to make it work. She'd been hiding that love for fifteen years. Sure, living together would create the kind of acute pain she wasn't looking forward to, but at least her best friend would be close again.

  Maybe they'd been a tad bit rash when they decided to play a modified pin the tail on the donkey as a solution to finding their new home. Hillary had flown out to be the shoulder for Ginny to cry on and vice versa. She could do that as a freelance writer. As Ginny recalled that fateful evening, she grimaced at the memory. Hillary had brought with her the very dangerous bottle of Fireball whiskey and off they went. The only thing of any value Cynthia, her ex, had left behind, was the globe made out of semi-precious stones. Sitting in the middle of the floor the globe mocked her, so she and Hillary had decided to use the globe as a crystal ball. Although, even after several shots, they had rules. If they spun the globe, and their index finger landed on a foreign country, that wouldn't count. They each gave themselves three spins with their eyes closed. After four shots, they made a sacred vow that if by chance both of them happened to land on the same state, it was a sign for where they were destined to move. Neither figured they would end up pointing at the great state of Texas, but a sacred vow is not something to mess with. It's venerable. Besides they both decided a new start was in order.

  Ginny wanted to be out of the way when the moving van arrived from Chicago, so she decided to kill a few hours at the bar not far from the house. She'd arrived in Texas several days before her best friend and had taken the time to scope out the area. Hillary had decided to stay back and supervise. She hated admitting that she was still raw from her break-up, and alcohol would take the edge off and tenderize her in preparation for the inevitable cryfest with her friend. Hillary continued to obsess over the cruel things her ex spewed at Hillary's expense. They would start their own wet t-shirt contest with the tears they both still needed to shed.

  “Thanks,” she slurred when the cute bartender set the drink in front of her.

  “Hey, you're not planning on driving anywhere, are you?”

  Ginny started to shake her head until she realized that was a bad idea. “Walking,” she managed to answer.

  “Okay, but no more batting those beautiful green eyes of yours for another drink. This one's the last you're getting. Can I call someone to walk you home? I'd do it myself, but my shift doesn't end for another two hours.”

  “Oh, that's nice of you.” When she reached for her drink, she sloshed liquid all over the bar. “Shit, I think I'm a wee bit tipsy. Better head home. At least I'll have a bed now.”

  After throwing a twenty on the bar, Ginny wobbled to her feet and zig-zagged her way to the door. Stumbling the two blocks home, she barely registered the moving truck backing out of her driveway. Carefully navigating the two steps leading to her front door, Ginny poked her key at the lock and on the fourth try, managed to force it in. Before she had a chance to turn the key, the door opened, and Hillary raised her eyebrow. At least that's what Ginny thought she saw happen.

  “Well, thank goodness the movers set everything up. I can see you're about ready to pass out,” Hillary said. “I guess drowning our sorrows in a tub of ice cream is out. That's my drug of choice. Clearly, yours is alcohol.”

  Tucked against the corner of the two longest walls, was an overstuffed maroon and mauve L-shaped leather sofa. The sections were separated with a pattern that closely resembled a plump pink vagina. It was the most gauche piece of furniture she'd ever seen in her life and wondered how it was possible for the salesperson, or the manufacturer, not to have noticed what was clear as day. Were they laughing their asses off when they sold this to Hillary? And how the hell hadn't she clued in the minute she took one look at this gigantic collection of vay jay jays?

  Ginny stepped into the living room and blurted out, “Holy shit, why are there seven vaginas looking at me? Damn, I am drunk. I understand double vision, but there's a whole lot more than two. Is that like, a practice couch? I don't know whether to lick them or fuck them.”

  Hillary cocked her head to the side. “Wow, I never really noticed that before. No wonder she said it was butt ugly. Although, as a lesbian, don't you think it has a certain feng shui? You know, like those red doors that are supposed to bring good luck. Do you think it'll help us get laid?”

  Ginny sort of shuffled over and touched one of the vagina patterns, poking her finger in the center. She was rapidly sobering up. “Damn, I was hoping there was like a built-in crack or maybe a hole or something in the cushion. Do you think the designers knew what this would look like?”

  “God, Ginny, no wonder your girlfriend left. Quit poking at it. You're using your finger like a guy uses his dick, no finesse at all.”

  “Are you fucking serious? You brought this pussy couch cross country, and you want me to stroke it? I can't believe you never noticed the design.”

  “I didn't have my glasses on. The couch was the last straw for Darcy. When they delivered it, she gave me my walking papers.”

  “So, this
is new?”

  Hillary nodded. “Uh huh. Hey, let's call it the Couchie Couch.”

  Ginny took a step back and squinted as she revised her initial assessment and thought the two patterns on each end of the couch looked more like a half a vagina or maybe someone's crooked ass cheek. “One, two, three, four, five. Yup, definitely orgy territory with the five vaginas in the middle. Oh, and the ends kinda look like a pair of nice asses.” Ginny tilted her head again. “Well, sorta, if I close one eye and imagine them in a Picasso painting. But you know, I like the idea that each end resembles someone's butt. It makes sense in a weird way.”

  “So, we can keep Couchie Couch?”

  “Sure, why not. It's probably the only pussy I'll get for a while. Can we get matching recliners to look like a pair of boobs?”

  “I'm on it.” Hillary grabbed her iPad off a table shaped like a tongue.

  Ginny looked down at the wood coffee table. “Oh my god, that looks like a big tongue. Surely you noticed that!”

  “Oh yeah, I actually had that custom made. I must have some subliminal thing happening, and that's why I picked the couch. Sex on the brain or something.”

  Ginny leaned down and stuck her nose in one of the vagina's. “I don't know if it's a good or bad thing that it doesn't smell like pussy. If either of us gets lucky, maybe we can change that.” She grinned.

  “Damn, bad news. There aren't any boob chairs; will titty throw pillows work?” Hillary asked.

  Ginny laughed. “Absolutely; they will be the perfect accessory for the couch. I like your style, Hillary, don't let anyone change a single thing about your fashion sense or your ability to pick perfectly good living room furniture.”

  “That's about the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.” Hillary fell back on the couch, and the waterworks began leaving two long black streaks down her cheeks.

  Ginny rushed to her side and kicked herself for not being a better friend and recognizing the early signs of a woman beat down by the onslaught of criticism from the very person who should have cherished her. “You deserve so much better than that bitch. I'm going out to buy a voodoo doll tomorrow and stick a thousand pins in it. I'll write Darcy on its forehead in big black letters.”

  Hillary half hiccupped and half laughed. “Just because Austin has a Voodoo Doughnut place doesn't mean you can buy dolls there.”

  “Why couldn't you have fallen in love with me, your besty, instead of moving thousands of miles away with that evil cretin Darcy?” Ginny couldn't believe she had blurted that out. Well, the barn door was open now, but apparently, once again she didn't think Hillary noticed.

  Hillary looked up at Ginny, and the strangest look passed over her face before she wiped her cheeks and stared at the black marks on her thumbs. “Sometimes, Ginny, oh never mind. Bugger, so much for waterproof mascara. I must look frightful.”

  Yup, the clue police streaked past Hillary, and Ginny was safe again with her secret.

  Ginny kissed her best friend's forehead. “Nothing could make you look frightful. Your beauty glows bright even with mascara tracks running down your face.”

  “Stop being so nice; you'll just make me sob harder. I thought tonight you were going to be the designated cryer, especially after your trip to the local bar, which I'm quite glad is so close.”

  “That couch sobered me up. Go for it. Get it all out of your system because tomorrow night is my turn.”

  Hillary laid her head on Ginny's shoulder and said, “Deal. I'll take all the generosity and kindness I can get tonight. I do love you.”

  If only Hillary meant she loved Ginny in an entirely different way, more like a lover and not as her best friend. But Ginny knew all too well that people didn't always get what they wanted in life. She certainly hadn't. Hillary was the first person who ever stood up for her. If she hadn't methodically led the campaign for a new nickname, Ginny thought everyone would still be calling her Virgin.

  She sighed. “Right back atcha, Hillary. You are definitely one of a kind, just like this couch.”

  †

  Hillary thought the big boat that made up the frame of her large king-sized bed was novel. Darcy hadn't agreed. She'd gotten the idea from a child's bedroom set and thought it was unique. Her friend back in Chicago was a master carpenter and could do just about anything with wood. Maybe she should have had Salem create a big vulva instead of a sailboat now that she saw the patterns in the couch. Ginny would appreciate that instead of the boring old early American that Darcy insisted they buy after she had refused to sleep with her in the master bed. Now that would be something, her and Ginny luxuriously lounging inside a ginormous vulva after a night of passion.

  Hillary had been so excited when she'd revealed what she considered a masterful use of exotic materials. The beauty of those finely sanded and polished woods was lost on Darcy when she saw the design, especially the sail that she claimed was a disaster waiting to happen. Darcy was sure she would either bang her head in the middle of the night, or the damn thing would somehow disconnect and crash into her leg.

  She lay wide awake staring at the large sail that hung strategically over the bed in a modified canopy to fit the theme. She'd often dreamt about sailing into the sunset with her best friend. She couldn't push out of her head what Ginny had said earlier in the evening. Was Ginny serious when she'd offhandedly made that comment about wishing Hillary had fallen in love with her? She laughed bitterly at the irony. She'd been in love with her best friend ever since she strutted across the basketball court and leaned down to tie her shoes. Not only was her ass the finest she'd ever seen, but when she looked up and smiled at Hillary, who was sitting against the wall writing in her journal, Hillary was a goner.

  Hillary cruised through English class, and Ginny barely had to spend any time at all on her math and science homework. It was an easy partnership when they agreed to help one another in the areas they both struggled with. Ginny wasn't some dumb jock. She had a brain and that was very compelling to Hillary, but Ginny always had another basketball player hanging around waiting in the wings, so Hillary slid into the best friend slot easily, and that had been enough for her. Although she couldn't understand why Ginny even hung out with the mean team. They were the ones who'd nicknamed Ginny Virgin until Hillary had managed to systematically get everyone else to call her Ginny until the dumb jocks followed suit.

  All these thoughts about her best friend kept Hillary wide awake, and eventually she succumbed to her desire to peek into the other bedroom where she assumed Ginny was fast asleep in the boring bed. She'd set up the contemporary bedroom set in the larger room, which gave it an almost lonely appearance. The empty space seemed to take over the ambiance of the room, making it cold and sterile in Hillary's humble opinion, but she wanted Ginny to have the bigger space with the better view.

  Tiptoeing down the hallway, she turned the corner and began to push open the door. She hadn't accounted for the loud squeak that underscored the stillness of the house.”Shit,” she exclaimed, not wishing to wake her new roommate.

  “Hillary?”

  Hillary jumped in the air when she felt the warm air and knew without turning around that Ginny was behind her.

  “Crap, you scared me.”

  “What are you doing up?” Ginny asked.

  Hillary thought it was better to answer a question with her own question. “How come you're not in bed?”

  “Do you think we made a big mistake moving to Texas? I don't think they like lesbians here. If I ever get a partner, I might not be able to cover her on my insurance now. Not that I plan on jumping into a relationship any time soon, much less marry someone. Ice cream?”

  “Huh?” Hillary was often amazed at her best friend’s ability to make a rapid shift mid topic. Although confusion often ensued when Ginny made that sharp turn.

  “I'm going to take a huge leap and surmise that you're having as much trouble getting to sleep as I am. It's a good thing I don't have to start working at the hospital for another we
ek. Ice cream is a milk derivative, and your drug of choice, so I thought it might help.”

  Hillary chuckled. “You're the science geek. I'm pretty sure that warm milk is not the same as ice cream. The heat activates the tryptophan. Ice cream will just keep us awake with all the sugar.”

  Ginny smiled. “Oooh, look at you spouting all those impressive science-based facts.” She shrugged. “It's been a long time since we stayed up all night and talked. I'm down with it if you are.”

  “Hey, I paid attention when you were tutoring me and learned to appreciate science. Two pints of vanilla with those little toffee chips coming right up. You go ahead and settle on the couch, and I'll bring them out.”

  As Hillary walked to the freezer to grab the ice cream, she tried to control the flutters as she envisioned an all-night gab session. When they'd first played spin the globe, Hillary wasn't sure that Ginny was serious. It was a dream come true for her, but it was far more complicated for Ginny. She had to upend her life by getting a new job in Texas. Fortunately for Ginny, Advanced Registered Nurse Practitioners were needed everywhere and in high demand. She'd only had to make a few calls, and the offers came flying in her direction.

  Ginny was the kind of friend who would prompt Hillary to jump on a plane at a moment's notice. That is exactly what she'd done, and now they were living together. Hillary had felt the acute loss of her best friend when she moved to Chicago with her ex despite their frequent Skype calls.

  Yeah, she loved Ginny, she'd always loved Ginny, but it was pure self-preservation when she followed Darcy to Chicago after Ginny started dating Cynthia and confessed she was in love. She wondered if she should cross the Rubicon and confess her high school crush and see where it landed.

  The sight of Ginny with her head resting on the top of one of the vaginas, and her legs stretched out in front of her with her ankles crossed brought a smile to Hillary's face. She set one of the pints on the big wooden tongue, along with a spoon. She was happy that Ginny appreciated the coffee table for its immense novelty. Along with the new couch, it would definitely be a discussion prompt if either of them decided to bring someone home. Her smile turned upside down when she considered that Ginny might start dating again and bring that person into what she considered her hallowed space. She hadn't thought of that before moving in with her. At least she hadn't occupied a front row seat to her relationship with Cynthia. Skype was bad enough when Cynthia flitted into the small box and sat beside Ginny.