Chapter Text
I.
Bette grimaced as she took a sip of coffee. She was not accustomed to coffee that hadn’t been ethically sourced by her assistant, James, from the far flung reaches of India or Ethiopia, much less was she inclined to drink out of a Styrofoam cup.
Then again, nothing about this morning was usual. Bette couldn’t ever recall a workday in which she’d found herself standing on a busy subway platform in the many years since she’d moved to LA, but there was a first time for everything. Especially when your beloved blue Saab had been T-boned by an idiotic ‘driver’ - if he could be described as such - on Sunset and Western. Grateful though Bette was to have walked away unharmed, the same could not be said for her car. Three weeks minimum to fix. Bette had tried to throw money at the problem, but the mechanic simply shrugged. Something about parts and supply chains and blah blah blah.
And so she found herself forgoing an Uber - “we should all be doing more to reduce our carbon footprint, James” - and regretting that decision as soon as she took her first sips of the brown sludge that dared to be labelled ‘coffee’. Discarding the cup, Bette watched as the approaching train slowed to a stop on the platform, belching the unfamiliar smell of ozone. Using her height and physical prowess to great effect, the brunette forged a path straight to the doors as they dinged open and she made it to an empty seat with much relief. She was about to place her leather briefcase on the floor, but thought better of it when she saw the grime and gum. Lap would have to do. Bette opened her copy of the Los Angeles Times with a flourish, thankful for the vacant seat to her right, and settled in for the 15 minute ride downtown.
That was until she noticed the train had not moved. The hem of her coat flapped as the subway draught caught it.
“What the fuck is going on?” Bette muttered to herself as she peered above the page. Everyone else around her seemed oblivious, delays being a regular part of commuting life or so it seemed.
“I’m sorry!” came a voice from somewhere near the double doors, soft and charming in its tone, but not a local accent. It was warm and friendly - and completely irritating to Bette in this particular moment. “Can I just– yes, thanks. Thank you. Sorry. Sorry again. Oops.”
Bette narrowed her eyes at the woman, whose blonde head she could only see the back of, who fought momentarily with the closing doors. Evidently she had been late for the train, sprinted to board, and was now delaying everyone else as she yanked her briefcase from where it had become lodged.
“Sorry,” the woman repeated as she weaved through standing commuters. “I’ll just, um, move down here. Thank you, just trying to find a seat.”
Bette hid behind the newspaper, as if doing so would magically make the vacant seat next to her disappear too. “Don’t sit here, don’t sit here…” she said to herself, but it was no use. The blonde lowered herself into the adjacent seat, knocking Bette’s elbow off the flimsy armrest. She offered her eighth or ninth apology since barging onto the train, which had now resumed its journey.
“It’s fine,” was Bette’s clipped reply. “It’s not like you made us even later or anything.”
The woman dumped her briefcase at her feet before glancing towards her seatmate.
“Excuse me?”
“I said–” were all the words Bette managed to get out as she turned to meet her would-be foe, train delayer extraordinaire, but found her words halted in their tracks. Sitting next to her was, she realised in an instant, the most beautiful woman she’d ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. Bette met beautiful women all the time, both in her job and in her social life, but the woman beside her was something else. Blonde hair was coiffed perfectly on her head, its honeyed strands twisted into an elegant up-do. She wore simple teardrop earrings and a gold chain around a creamy neck. Her lips were painted rose.
Bette’s hypnosis was broken by the woman, whose eyebrow lifted curiously.
“ I said , excuse me?” the blonde clarified in what Bette now recognised was an accent that had been Los Angelised but definitely originated in the south. Snapped back to reality, the gallerist puckered her lips and returned to her reading. “All bark and no bite, huh?” added the younger woman with a grin.
Never one for backing down, Bette turned to re-engage the feisty blonde but was interrupted by the loud ringtone of the woman’s cell phone.
“Sorry,” the blonde winked as she searched around in her purse for earbuds. “I’m sure whatever witty retort you were about to offer would be well worth hearing, but some of us have more important things to do.”
Stunning looks notwithstanding, Bette took the bait.
“You’re incredibly ru–”
The blonde held up a finger to interrupt what was sure to be quite the tirade. “I have to take this.”
Bette’s mouth fell open at the audacity. Great, she thought, I have three more weeks of this. I’ll ask James to lean on the mechanics.
Try as she might, Bette couldn’t avoid eavesdropping on the next few minutes of one-sided conversation ongoing next to her. It appeared that the blonde was some sort of movie bigwig. Typical. All Hollywood execs thought the world should cater to their every whim. Fuck everyone else, right? The train just had to wait for blondie.
And then the call was suddenly over and Bette felt hazel eyes boring into her.
“You were saying?” asked the blonde as she leaned her head towards Bette.
“What was I saying?” Bette replied impatiently.
“Something about me making y’all late, right? I apologise, truly. I’m sure that extra 30 seconds would have made all the difference to your day.”
The blonde turned back to her cell phone and rapidly typed out a message.
“Spending 30 seconds less listening to your phone call, which I’m sure nobody wanted to hear, would have been absolutely worth it.”
A chuckle escaped the blonde’s lips. It was an endearing sound, Bette observed with some dismay.
“Well, I am very sorry about that, but don’t worry. My stop is next.”
“Praise be,” Bette quipped.
For the remainder of the journey, Bette pretended to be engrossed by the pages before her, but couldn’t help stealing furtive glances at the pretty blonde, who seemed to find it impossible to sit still. Her manicured nails clicked against the phone screen as she fired off messages. She sipped the coffee in her thermos, which smelled a thousand times more appealing than the excuse for coffee Bette had mistakenly purchased at the subway station. Try as she might, the brunette couldn’t help but notice how one rogue lock of golden hair would repeatedly slip out of the clip. Like clockwork, the blonde would grasp it between thumb and forefinger to put it back in place, only for it to fall down again.
Unbeknownst to Bette, the blonde had noticed the doe eyes of her fellow passenger flickering towards her every few moments. A tiny hint of a smile played at her rosy lips whenever it happened. The brunette was gorgeous, no doubt, but it was her brusque attitude that piqued the blonde’s interest, though both women were hiding their mutual curiosity well, or so they thought.
Inevitably the train pulled into the blonde’s stop, which Bette noted was the station preceding her own. She fixed her eyes on the paper, not wanting to concede that her attention had been captured by the enigma that was the woman seated next to her.
“Well, this was wonderful,” the blonde joked as she stood to leave. “Nothing like sparring with a stranger to set you up for the day.”
Bette gave her a flat smile. “Glad to be of service.”
“Likewise,” the blonde nodded. “Goodbye.”
As she watched the blonde move to the doors, the curves of her hips swaying sinfully beneath the black pencil skirt, Bette unexpectedly deflated. She realised that she might never see the blonde again - and, to her surprise, that maybe she wouldn’t mind doing so. But as she opened her mouth to ask for a name, a number, something, the blonde’s phone rang once more. The doors opened, she exited, and Bette strained to hear her fading words as she left.
“Tina Kennard speaking.”