Page 49 of Maybe Some Other Time
Chapter twenty
Let Go
“ T hey want you to think there’s some trick to it.
” Gretchen held Thelma close as she pulled the lever on the slot machine.
“Like you’ve got to touch it juuuust right.
Which is bogus, of course.” The images whirled by at impossible speeds as everything lit up around them.
The sea-themed machine slowed the pictures of starfish, mermaids, and pirate captains.
Thelma didn’t totally understand, but they were informed that they won two bucks from that pull. “As you can see, it does not matter.”
Giggling, Thelma wanted a turn. She reached across Gretchen and pulled the lever. The cost was deducted from the two dollars they had just won.
“Yup,” Gretchen said. “You really can just do whatever, huh?”
Thelma cuddled up closer to the woman sharing the small leather bench with her.
Gretchen smelled like the cigarette cloud she had walked through to get there, but somewhere, beneath her jacket and shirt, was the scent of a woman Thelma wanted to get to know better.
I’ll find it. Good thing it had been established that they were allowed to be rather handsy with each other now, because Thelma was inclined to wrap her arm beneath Gretchen’s jacket and lean her head on her shoulder.
Gretchen stiffened in confidence as Thelma deferred to her on all things gambling.
She’s cute when she’s in charge. What could Thelma say?
No matter when, no matter what gender, she was attracted to potential partners who knew what was what—including what they were doing.
Thelma’s pull resulted in a loss. She didn’t care.
They had spent the better part of an hour on the casino floor shortly after meeting up.
No, not in the hotel where I’m staying. No, not in the hotel where Gretchen was staying.
They met in the middle, in the Flamingo, where hopefully nobody either woman traveled with would wander by and recognize them.
While Gretchen was out to everyone she worked with, they were almost all men, and she didn’t want their constant teasing or even potential harassment because she was with such a “pretty gal” like Thelma.
She thinks I’m pretty… And hot. That had been established a few times. I like being hot…
Her lips brushed against Gretchen’s cheek. She deployed a soft breath the moment Gretchen next pulled the lever.
The luck worked. They won five dollars in one pull.
“That was a lot of money when I was a kid,” Thelma said directly into her date’s ear, one hand now on Gretchen’s knee. “You could pay rent with that.”
“You could, huh? With five bucks?”
“At the clubhouse, you sure could.”
“I always wanted a secret clubhouse.” Gretchen pulled again. “No boys allowed. That way, I could flirt with all the girls without them getting in the way.”
“I like the way you think.” Thelma rubbed the knee beneath her palm. “That was always my favorite part. All the girls without the stinky boys.”
“For only five bucks.”
Thelma laughed to imagine it. Five bucks to a few little girls in the Depression? Unfathomable.
As nice as it was to cuddle—in public, no less, which Thelma would never get over—in front of flashing lights and loud, catchy music, they eventually had to find something else to do.
After all, they were in Las Vegas, a place full of possibilities.
Like running into your probably-maybe girlfriend when you both happen to be here for different reasons.
They linked arms and held hands as they walked over to the Paris, which Thelma insisted on seeing after beholding the fake Eiffel Tower for herself.
While yes, the Bellagio fountains were a testament to man’s engineering prowess and quite the show, she could live without the booms and the loud music playing over her thoughts.
But one thing nobody could understate was the infatuation for Paris she had brought with her from the 1950s.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Paris,” she said as they stood at the base of the tower inside the casino. “It always seemed so romantic in the movies. Like Funny Face. ”
“Another Audrey Hepburn movie.”
“Oh, so you know?”
“Let’s just say I went down a bit of a rabbit hole after the last time you were over. I didn’t realize that the Hepburn feud was so… intense.”
“You make it sound like they disliked each other!”
“Do you think they even knew each other?”
Thelma shrugged. “Katharine was good at captivating the heart and chewing a scene, but Audrey really did know how to augment the scenery. ”
“That I can agree with.”
Gretchen seemed lost in thought as they both gazed up at the underside of the tower. “So?” Thelma asked. “Did you watch it?”
“Watch what?”
“ Funny Face. ” Thelma would never forget going to see it with Sandy in 1957. She never shut up about how old Fred Astaire was. “What did you think?”
“That Fred Astaire was way too old for Audrey Hepburn.”
“You sound just like someone that I used to know.”
“Let me guess… Sandy?”
Thelma shrugged against Gretchen’s arm. “I recently watched Charade. With Cary Grant. I loved his little comments about their age difference. Mr. Grant was a real class act. I’ve always had a crush on him, and not just because he got with Katharine in so many movies.”
“I haven’t seen that one yet.”
“Maybe next time, then, huh?”
“Sure.” They turned around, Gretchen’s grip still on Thelma’s waist. “By the way, do you have dinner plans?”
“I’m all yours this evening.”
“Really? But I thought it was Megan’s birthday weekend.”
Thelma tsked. “She’s here with Emma. I just felt like I was in the way of their two-year-long love. Do you know they’re not even talking about marriage yet?”
“Uh… well, they are in college. And they’re pretty young.”
I’m outclassed again. “I can’t imagine dating someone for two years and not discussing the prospect of marriage. It’s legal now, isn’t it?”
“What? Two homos together?”
Thelma was so caught off guard by Gretchen’s gentle teasing of how she talked that she jabbed her in the side. “Don’t be so silly! Two people together having the potential to get married and not talking about it at least… how else do you know if it’s going somewhere?”
“I’d say I feel like this is a hint toward me, but we’ve only been actively dating for a couple of weeks.”
“And what a couple of weeks it has been.”
“And only two dates.”
“But I remember the last one quite well, Ms. Stewart.”
They were two inches away from kissing right there in the middle of the walkway, with a woman in a wheelchair swerving around them and a family with two young children hopping through. Nobody cared that Thelma and Gretchen gazed at each other through a light haze of cigarette smoke.
“Only you can call me that without it sounding like you’re my high school teacher.”
“What? Ms. Stewart? ”
“I still prefer Gretchen.”
“Speaking of Paris…” Thelma allowed her arm to travel up Gretchen’s torso as they continued their walk, hand snug beneath the band of her date’s bra. “I could call you Gigi.”
“Oh, my God. You’re kidding, right?”
“What? I like it. Adds some feminine sophistication to your lovely aura.”
“Again, I think I would die if anyone else called me that…”
“But I’m okay?”
“Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”
She promised Thelma that there was a surprise waiting for her as soon as they found a place to sit to chat that wasn’t blocking anyone else’s way and out of the cigarette smoke.
They found a French-style bench in the walkway between Paris and Bally’s next door.
Once there, Gretchen revealed that all representatives of construction companies at her conference had been presented with a pair of Ferris wheel tickets.
Nobody else in her company had wanted them, but once she heard that Thelma was in town, Gretchen had jumped on them. Why not?
“The Ferris wheel! You mean the one just outside?”
“The very same. You wanna go? Since you’re apparently graciously letting your cousin have some ‘private’ time, premaritally, I might add…”
I can think of many fun things to do premaritally. In a way, Thelma was a pro. When it came to women, anyway. “Normally, I’d say I’m much too scared of heights for that, but I just flew in a plane yesterday. And will again tomorrow.”
“So you should go on the Ferris wheel tonight to make sure you’re set for tomorrow.”
“Are you also going back to LA tomorrow?”
“No. Monday.”
“Then let’s make the most of it.” Thelma’s stomach growled. “Maybe after an early dinner? We could beat the rush.”
“All right, but on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
Gretchen leaned her head in toward Thelma. “I get a kiss before we get up.”
“You cad!” Yet Thelma was so impressed with her date’s forwardness that she kissed her right there and then. In front of God and everyone. What was the modern era doing to her?
What wasn’t it doing to her?
What if… She would follow that trail. What-ifs and all.
They scrounged a small table outside the Paris that overlooked Las Vegas Boulevard and the Bellagio fountains across the street.
Thelma no longer heard the booms or the modern pop music that drove her up the wall now that she was with Gretchen, being treated to French-American food fit for Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire.
There was no particular topic of conversation.
When they weren’t pondering “classic” movies and music, they were talking about Mt.
Shasta, skiing, going to the beach, and their dream destinations around the world—Gretchen had always wanted to explore more of Latin America and maybe parts of East Asia, while Thelma had a very Euro-centric view of travel.
They shared an appetizer, going as far as Thelma cutting it into pieces for them both, and Gretchen insisting on feeding her some bites for her trouble.
They discussed the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and how much Thelma planned to cook with Megan’s insistence that she’d help. Gretchen would come, right?