The Young and the Lesbian

By Q. Kelly

Dash Bannon, a forty-seven-year-old soap opera actress with high aspirations, has been relegated to “dried-up relative in the corner” status, and that simply will not do. A career shakeup is in order, and Dash decides to hop onto the train of celebrities coming out as gay. One teeny problem—she isn’t really gay. On the other hand, she IS an actress.

One of Dash’s co-stars, reigning soap queen Jane Knight, is in similar straits, although few people realize the new lows Jane’s career has sunk to. Jane sees through Dash’s ploy, but she has an idea that could jump start both of their careers. It means they'll have to get closer to each other. Much closer.

This story chronicles the women’s roller-coaster ride during the week that Dash comes out. As Jane and Dash spend time together and face obstacle after obstacle, they realize they have a true connection. Could love be in the air? Find out now in "The Young and the Lesbian."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Q. Kelly
• Release date: Aug 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370691708

Q. Kelly

I live in Washington state, where I am a writer and an editor. I also have a master's degree in deaf education. In my free time, I hike and savor frappuccinos.Fact One: I like corny jokes. If you have any good ones, send them my way!Fact Two: My favorite color is purple, but my writing is gray. Life is not black and white. I often write about issues and characters where there is no "right" answer.Fact Three: I'm weird. I like being weird.Email me at [e-mail]. I'd love to hear from you.Check out my blogs at qkelly.wordpress.com and qkelly.blogspot.com.

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THE YOUNG AND THE LESBIAN

Q. Kelly

© 2016, Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Epilogue

Credits

Check Out I, Alexandrina

Monday

What choice did Dash Bannon have? She was a forty-seven-year-old soap opera actress relegated to dried-up relative in the corner status on Windsor Beach. So Dash did what she had to.

She scrutinized the past few print issues of Pulse magazine and settled on a reporter named Eric Shackleton. She nosed around online to ensure that he was the real deal and not a freelancer living on ramen noodles. She also confirmed that he was based in New York City. Next, she called the Pulse office, introduced herself, and asked for Eric.

Hey, he said when he came on the line a few minutes later. Are you really Dash Bannon?

The one and only.

Awesome! he enthused. Bianca’s always been one of my favorite characters.

Dash smiled, liking Eric right away because his voice held no trace of embarrassment for watching soaps. Guess what? she said. "I’m gay, and I’d like to come out in Pulse."

Eric whistled. Wow. Bianca Turner is gay? I mean, um, geez, Dash Bannon. Sorry about that.

Can we meet? I’d love to share my story.

Absolutely! There’s a Starbucks across the street. Eric recited the address. Can you be there in an hour?

Of course.

So far, Dash’s plan was working. Her evil, nefarious, brilliantly terrible plan. It had popped into her head a couple of nights ago after a strong, strapping macho wrestler revealed he was gay. Many celebrities had come out of the closet the past few years, and what happened? Buzz, lots of buzz. The media clustered into rumbling beehives, and at their center was the queen, the newly exposed gay celebrity. Scores of interview requests and talk-show offers poured in. The celebrity got featured in nationwide magazines and on the front pages of news sites such as CNN.

Bottom line: the celebrity got attention. And gosh darn it, Dash Bannon’s limp noodle of a career needed attention. It DESERVED attention. It did everything right. It followed the rules. It didn’t sleep with directors, like Dash’s co-star Jane Knight had. So what if Dash was not really gay? No one had to know.

**

A lie took preparation. Before Dash called Eric to tell him she was gay, she memorized a script of possible questions and answers. She glanced over it before grabbing her oversized tote bag, which held her press kit: bio, resume, headshots and the like, as well as a little coming-out announcement for Eric to keep.

A cab deposited Dash in front of the Starbucks thirty minutes after she and Eric hung up. The Pulse building stood across the street. Looming above it a few buildings away was the grande dame of media, the New York Times. Strong and solid even in the age of the Internet. Dash inhaled a lungful of air. Nothing like the mix of pollution, hope and desperation. She grabbed a corner table in the Starbucks, which was squeezed between a Yoshinoya and a Regal Cinemas. Ah, the movies. One day, Dash would win the Oscar she deserved, and it started with Eric Shackleton and this bold move.

When a thirtyish man with piercing blue eyes and dimples the size of Australia approached fifteen minutes later, Dash nearly swooned. She wanted to scoop Eric Shackleton into a Dixie cup and savor him. He was easily one of the most beautiful creatures alive.

I’m Eric, he said shyly.

She could not seem attracted to him. Dash Bannon. Nice to meet you.

Eric shrugged out of his coat. April in New York City was a mixed bag, and this particular Monday was in the forties and cloudy. Thanks for meeting me, Eric said.

"My pleasure. Thank you for meeting me." Unfortunately, it was unlikely that Eric and Dash would be interrupted. Fans rarely came up to her these days.

Coffee’s on me, Eric said. What’ll you have?

**

A couple of minutes later, Eric returned with two cups of coffee. He grinned and sat, his gaze taking in Dash’s face. But no lingering. Even ten years ago, with Dash at the relatively elderly age of thirty-seven, he would have lingered. Her looks used to be effortless. The L’Oreal-worthy chestnut-hued hair, the flawless skin, the toned muscles. Now to approach anything resembling that look, Dash had to slave for an hour every morning in front of her mirror, and then there was the hour-plus of daily exercise and weight training.

There’s something about soap operas, Eric mused. The characters are like your family. You watch them every day. You see them crying and screaming. Making love. You see them at their worst, and— He caught himself rambling. Do you watch soaps, Dash?

"I grew up with Sands of Time, and of course, I watch Windsor Beach. I know what you mean about soap characters being like your family."

I remember when Bianca found out that Kiefer had been lost at sea and was presumed dead. Eric’s lips tugged up in approval. You deserved every bit of that Emmy.

Dash’s heart trembled. Except I didn’t get it. Jane Knight did.

Eric’s eyes rounded, and his cheeks colored. I thought you…I could’ve sworn…

No, Dash said flatly. Not that it mattered. Who needed a daytime Emmy? Not Dash, since she would win an Oscar later. Many Oscars!

Eric shrugged. You should’ve won.

You sweet, sweet man. Is it PC to say I’d turn straight for you? Thank you, Eric.

He fished a reporter’s pad out of his jacket pocket, and a stubby pencil emerged from another jacket pocket. From what Dash could see of his handwriting upside down, he belonged in the squiggly circles camp.

Dash, Eric said. Your name is interesting.

My dad used to run—dash—every day, but now he power walks. My parents thought the name was cute.

You don’t?

It’s memorable.

That it is. Eric fixed Dash with a square, serious look. So, you’re gay.

Heart fluttering. Stomach quivering. That’s correct. Dash cleared her throat, readying herself for the act of her life. "I’ve been impressed with the dignified treatment Pulse gave other celebrities who came out, so I thought of your magazine right away." Nothing to do with the fact that you are the number-one rag in the country.

We appreciate it. Why don’t you, uh… Eric gestured vaguely. Talk, and if I have questions, I’ll ask them.

Dash had questions, lots of them. For example: Could I get a half-page to myself in the Pulse print edition? Or, God willing, a full page? Dash smiled at the thought. Perfect. She opened her mouth and started talking. And talking.

**

Guilt had yet to sink in when Dash returned to her penthouse. If anything, she felt breathless and thrilled. Eric had promised a quick write up for the Pulse website. As of that night, Dash would be officially out of the closet. It would not be long before she potentially showed up on CNN and other prominent websites. Time to call the parents.

Hey, Mom, Dash said to her mother, Martha Bannon. She and Dash’s father, Jim, lived in Richmond, Virginia, where Dash grew up.

Dash! How are you?

I’m good. Can you put Dad on the other line?

Sure, sure.

After Jim joined the conversation, Dash said, "There’s going to be an article on me in Pulse magazine. An online version could appear any time now."

"Pulse? Martha said. Heavens. That’s wonderful, dear. Why?"

Best to get straight to the point. Or rather, gayly to the point. I talked with a reporter today and told him I’m gay.

Dash was not sure what she expected from her parents. From her mother, maybe a trembling sob or a wail