DISCLAIMER: All the characters and locations belong to Showtime and Ilene Chaiken. I am merely taking them out for a quick polish.
SERIES/SEQUEL: This is the seventh part of the WeHo Days series.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
WeHo Days
Beer and Wine
By halfofone
Helena strolled down the street feeling a sense of elation - it was one of those days when she loved being gay - every woman she saw looked amazing and wonderful from the young to the very old: the way they walked, the way they stood, talked, laughed, everything and they all seemed to notice her too. She smiled freely at a woman coming out of a store who first looked shocked then pleased. The woman stood still and followed Helena's progress along the sidewalk as she zeroed in on her target - a very smart Italian restaurant in the heart of West Hollywood.
Bette Porter stood outside the restaurant checking her watch, still in her work suit and seemingly utterly oblivious to the admiring glances coming her way from the numerous lesbians out to see and be seen in the balmy evening. Bette observed Helena coming towards her and an amused and not unappreciative smile touched her lips. The tall Briton was obviously enjoying herself; she had a sway in her hips and a bounce in her stride and was clearly very cognizant of the attention she was getting. As their gazes locked Helena's face lit up and Bette couldn't really do anything but look pleased herself. To the many interested observers their apparent mutual pleasure was very disappointing. Bette overheard one obviously disconsolate body comment 'I thought they hated each other.' So it was with a touch of showmanship she leant in to kiss Helena on the lips.
"How is my favourite blood-sucking vampire?" she whispered.
"Hungry after a hard day in my coffin. A pint of their best O-neg would be great." Helena sat down at the table Bette had commandeered.
"Don't tell me you're going to drink beer..." Bette shook her head disapprovingly at Helena who winked.
"My father was a great beer drinker - we have our own brewery back home - not that I'm expecting anything special here. Some imported blonde beer probably."
"I shall not be joining you."
"Wine snob."
"Pleb," Bette shot back. "And why are you so happy."
"It happens sometimes," Helena protested. "Usually when I have managed to annoy you..."
"...wreck my life, lose my job, that sort of thing."
"Yes that sort of thing. Actually you should know that my current emotional state has nothing to do with you."
"You've met someone?" Bette asked neutrally.
Helena shook her head. "Not one but several people." Bette raised her brow inquisitively. "Financiers, high rolling money men who want to bet on our next picture. We have a budget, we have the actors signing contracts (including someone fabulously famous whom I am contractually unable to name but you and everyone else hated his last film so he is looking for something to redeem himself), we have a director who believes in the project and best of all we have a script which doesn't contain the direction 'They fight!' on every other page."
"So I'm having dinner with a movie mogul."
"Yes you are!"
The waiter arrived at that moment and both women ordered their food and drinks and Bette avoided rolling her eyes when Helena ordered an imported beer that cost only slightly less than the house champagne.
"Plus even better news - Mummy has prevailed on Winnie to let the children come this weekend. They are staying for two weeks."
"In your apartment?" said Bette dubiously. It was a very small apartment.
"Not at all! We are all staying in the Mondrian courtesy of Mummy's credit card." Helena grinned happily.
"That's great," Bette said and toasted Helena with her chianti. Helena clinked the glass with her beer.
"And how is the most beautiful woman in WeHo?" Helena asked playfully.
"What?"
"Angelica Porter, your heartbreaker daughter."
Bette glared at her. "It chills my blood to think that in 15 years I may actually have to fend off blood-suckers like you. I wonder how many families lock up their daughters when you are in town."
Helena shrugged and pretended to calculate.
"Don't bother Helena. I wouldn't like to stress your over-tired faculties. Anyway Angelica is great. She is a total chatterbox."
"I hear her art appreciation is coming along." Helena bit her lip.
Bette winced. "You've spoken to Tina."
Helena nodded and then started laughing at Bette's obvious frustration. The Dean of Arts clearly wanted to be angry but since Angelica could do no wrong there was no outlet for her ire.
"It can be restored," Bette said tightly, "at a cost. I never liked it that much anyway; I only kept it because it was a gift."
"So Angie and her spontaneous finger painting did you a favour then?"
"An expensive favour," Bette smiled resignedly, "but I guess her art appreciation is coming along nicely."
"Speaking of art, Jodie's okay?"
"Fit and tireless," Bette confessed and smirked. A little of the gilt rubbed off Helena's mood. She was saved from having to say anything more by the arrival of the food. For several minutes the conversation was more muted. Bette was watching Helena carefully trying to assess if Alice had been correct or was just talking out of her hat as usual. Eventually Helena noticed.
"Why do I get the feelng that you have asked me here for a reason other than simply sharing a plate of grub."
"I want a part in your next picture and was hoping for an invite to your casting couch," Bette deadpanned.
Helena's head shot up and she met Bette's determined gaze.
"Don't Bette," she warned.
"Alice thinks you have a crush on me."
"I told you that myself weeks ago."
"I thought that was the alchohol talking or you were playing some game."
"I leave those to Jenny. Really it doesn't matter Bette. I'm a big girl and I can handle it."
"I don't want to hurt you Helena."
"Then let's not have this conversation. Let's discuss politics with a big P or politics with a small p, or sport or the weather - looks like it'll be sunny tomorrow but of course you can never be sure in SoCal - we can talk about our children or our damnable ex-spouses; you can tell me about some new artist you really like - not her of course - but somebody who has provoked you or made you catch your breath; or you can tell me how clever you have been conning donations out of the rich right; I'll tell you funny stories from the film set and tales of my forays into poverty. We can talk about anything except this..." Helena pointed at her heart.
A shadow loomed over them. A tall good looking man was offering to buy them both a drink.
"No," Bette said without looking at him.
"Perhaps your lady friend here feels differently," he persisted.
"Agent provocateur," Helena muttered. Bette nodded and took Helena's hand and they both leaned back in their chairs and looked the intruder up and down. He shifted uncomfortably.
Helena smiled charmingly at the man. "Thank you but no. I'm afraid I don't want a drink from you now or at any other time." She stared pointedly at his ring finger. "Your wife would be a different matter of course - I expect she could do with a change of scenery. So if she'd like a drink with us..."
"Fucking lesbos," he said angrily and walked away.
Bette exhaled irritably. "Jesus. Where were we?"
"I was trying to prevent you from giving me the big speech," Helena recapped helpfully. She was still holding Bette's hand from their encounter with the would be rescuer of 'women too good looking to be lesbians' and she tightened her grip. Bette sighed and gently pulled her hand away. Her expression combined concern, embarrassment and exasperation in equal measure. Bette Porter was not one for dyke drama even if she did always seem to be in the middle of it; there was too much talking and time-wasting in the lezzie community.
"Okay, no big speeches, just this: I am fond of you Helena and believe me, I never thought I would ever say that, but friendship is what this is, nothing else. I am sorry if I've taken advantage of your feelings..."
"Well I'm not," Helena broke in to what looked like the warm-up to a very long well-rehearsed speech. Helena wondered how often Bette had used it.
"What?"
"Bette you seem to think this is a done deal. From my point of view it is anything but over. Okay so you're having a fling with Jodie Lerner and getting over your break-up with Tina and maybe there will be others but I am not going to admit defeat until you're walking down the aisle with someone else."
"Helena that's not really realistic..."
"God Americans are so unromantic: just get your feelings off your chest, get kicked to the curb and then move on. What the hell happened to building a willow cabin outside your gate and abiding faithfully until the worms are feeding on my damasked cheek."
Bette started to laugh. "I think city planning laws and injunctions against stalking might interfere."
"Unromantic and hard-assed. But consider this my hard-assed American friend: three months ago you hardly spoke to me, could hardly bear to be in the same room. Now we're having dinner. Who knows where three years will take us?"
"Helena!"
"I will wait Bette."
"Helena!"
"I have nothing further to say."
"You're a fucking lunatic."
"A fucking romantic lunatic," Helena corrected. "Now how about those Lakers?"
The End