Seven Up (Stephanie Plum 7)

“Is Melvin Baylor still there?”

“Nope. He went home.”

I said good-bye to Grandma, and there was a knock on my door. I opened the door a crack and looked out. It was Valerie. She was dressed in a tailored black suit jacket and slacks with a white starched shirt and a man's black-and-red striped tie. The Meg Ryan shag was plastered back behind her ears.

“New look,” I said. “What's the occasion?”

“It's my first day as a lesbian.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I'm serious. I said to myself, why wait? I'm making a fresh start here. I decided I should just jump right in. I'm going to get a job. And I'm going to get a girlfriend. No reason to sit home sulking over a failed relationship.”

“I didn't think you were serious the other night. Have you had any . . . um, experience as a lesbian?”

“No, but how hard can it be?”

“I don't know if I like this,” I said. “I'm used to being the black sheep of the family. This could change my standing.”

“Don't be silly,” Valerie said. “No one will care that I'm a lesbian.”

Valerie was in California way too long.

“Anyhoo,” she said, “I've got a job interview. Do I look okay? I want to be honest about my new sexual orientation, but I don't want to be overly butch.”

“You don't want the dykes-on-bikes look.”

“Exactly. I want the lesbian-chic look.”

Having had limited lesbian experience I wasn't sure what lesbian chic looked like. Mostly I knew television lesbians.

“I'm not certain about the shoes,” she said. “Shoes are always so difficult.”

She was wearing delicate black patent sandals with a little heel. Her toes were painted bright red.

“I guess it depends if you want men's shoes or women's shoes,” I said. “Are you a girl lesbian or a boy lesbian?”

“There are two kinds of lesbians?”

“I don't know. Didn't you research this?”

“No. I just assumed lesbians were unisex.”

If she was having trouble being a lesbian with her clothes on, I couldn't imagine what was going to happen when she took the clothes off.

“I'm applying for a job at the mall,” Valerie said. “And then I have a second job interview downtown. I was wondering if I could swap cars with you. I want to make a good appearance.”

“What car are you driving now?”

“Uncle Sandor's '53 Buick.”

“Muscle car,” I said. “Very lesbian. Much better than my CR-V.”

“I never thought of that.”

I felt a little guilty because the truth is I didn't know if a '53 Buick would be favored by lesbians. It was just that I really didn't want to swap. I hate the '53 Buick.

I waved good-bye and wished her luck as she sashayed down the hall. Rex was out of his can and looking at me. Either he was thinking I was very clever, or else he was thinking I was a rotten sister. Hard to tell with hamsters. That's why they make such good pets.