Page 49 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

“So... how much did you see? Before I covered myself up?”

Iris’s mouth twitched as she tugged the towel tighter. “Let’s just say the curiosity that never got satisfied the night we met has been fully quenched.”

“Oh god,” Stevie said, covering her eyes.

“Hey, you’ve got no need to be embarrassed.”

Stevie peeked out from between her fingers. “No?”

“Not even a little tit. I mean bit.”

Stevie froze for a second—she couldn’t believe Iris said that—but then a laugh bubbled into her chest and flew from her mouth. Soon they were cracking up, literally hanging on to each other’s shoulders for support. Stevie couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard her stomach muscles hurt.

“Oh god, I needed that,” she said wiping her eyes.

“Everyone in the club needed that,” Iris said, and Stevie devolved into giggles again as Iris took her hand and led her toward the club.

“Now,” Iris said as she opened the glass door and the cool air rushed out to meet them, “for your next selection, I’m thinking something at least three sizes too small with nothing but a string to cover your ass.”

“Maybe I’ll just leave off the bottoms altogether,” Stevie said. “Just really lean into this public indecency vibe I’ve got going on.”

Iris laughed harder as they walked through the lobby, which was all glass and rich wood. Stevie felt a swell of pride—it felt like a huge accomplishment, making a woman like Iris laugh like that. They were nearly to the club’s shop when Iris jolted to a stop so quickly, Stevie bumped into her.

Iris hardly seemed to notice though. She was frozen, her already pale skin now a shade that could only be described as puce.

“Hey,” Stevie said gently. “You okay?”

Iris just blinked, her eyes wide on a woman about twenty feet in front of them at the front desk. She was tall, with ice-blond hair cut short on the sides and long on top, dressed in a white tank, navy board shorts, and white sneakers. She looked to be paying for tickets to the party and was soon joined by another woman with long dark hair in a tie-dyed cover-up, a bag filled with beach towels on hershoulder, along with a kid with light brown hair who looked like he was about nine or ten.

“Ready, baby?” the blonde said, then linked hands with the brunette and started toward Iris and Stevie.

As she got closer, the blond woman locked eyes with Iris, her mouth parting. Then she shook her head ever so slightly and sped up, but the brunette had also seen Iris.

“Oh my god,” she said, rearing back as though Iris had spit venom. “You.”

“Lucy, come on,” the blonde said. “Let’s just go.”

But Lucy wasn’t having it. She wrenched her hand free and whirled on her partner. “Did you know she was going to be here? Are you still fucking her? Goddammit, Jillian, I thought we’d moved through this!”

“Mama, what’s wrong?” the kid asked.

The blonde—Jillian—just shook her head, while Iris seemed locked into place. Stevie squeezed her hand, trying to jolt her back into herself, but all that did was cause Iris’s lower lip to tremble.

“Nothing, sweetie,” Jillian said to the kid, then glared at Iris. “Why are you still standing here? Can you please leave?”

Iris blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Oh no,” Lucy said, folding her arms. “No one is moving until I get some answers. I think we need to call our therapist. Right now.”

“Hey,” Stevie said as firmly as she could. She wasn’t sure who the hell these people were, but they were pissing her off. Suddenly, the bold and brash Stefania seemed to take over, and Stefania couldn’t stand to see Iris cowering beside her any longer.

“I don’t know who you two are,” she said, “but my girlfriend hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Girlfriend,” Lucy said, snorting. “Better be careful, she likes to sleep with married women.”

“Lucy,” Jillian said.

“Am I wrong?” Lucy asked, her voice shrill. Tears shined in her eyes, but Stevie had had enough.