English Version: Dandelions in the Wind

30

It was ten o'clock at night, and the security guard quietly patrolled the large subdivision on his motorcycle. A sleek black Lamborghini sped past him and screeched to a halt in front of a red gate, behind which a large bungalow was visible. The gate opened automatically, and the Lamborghini rolled in, tires grinding against the asphalt as it stopped in front of Dionne's house.

Dionne quickly stepped out of the car, followed by Charlotte.

"So, you want to talk now? You've been giving me the silent treatment in the car," Charlotte said irritably as they entered the house. Dionne turned to face her while standing in the living room. "Okay, fine! Let's talk! I don't want us arguing while you're driving; we might end up in an accident or getting killed like in those movie scenes." Dionne stood with her hands on her hips, clearly having been restraining herself.

Charlotte rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Right, because our life is just a movie waiting to happen," she said sarcastically.

Dionne just shook her head at the comment. "See, this is why I don't want to fight with you while you drive. Every discussion could be our last if I distract you with something as trivial as a life-threatening argument." She went to the bar and took out two glasses. "What do you want to drink?" she asked.

Charlotte cleared her throat. "Scotch," she answered curtly. "You know it bothers me why you let them buy you drinks. So, should I start taking bets on how many phone numbers you collected today? And then, how many drinks did you get from your fan club tonight?" Charlotte's voice carried a hint of reproach.

Dionne rolled her eyes while pouring the alcohol. "You know this was your idea to go out and hang out at a bar as friends, remember?" Dionne walked over to Charlotte and handed her the drink. "I can't even show affection to you in public because you don't want to raise suspicion about us."

"Why do you let them buy you drinks like that? You know it bothers me," Charlotte said, her tone accusatory.

Dionne sighed deeply, sat on the sofa, and took a sip of scotch. "Charlie, they're just being friendly. I don't see why it should matter. I don't ask for it; they do it," she explained calmly.

"It matters because they don't know you're with me. They think they have a chance, Dee."

Dionne leaned back in her seat. "And what do you want me to do? Shout from the rooftops that I'm taken? You know I can't even tell them who I'm with. It's not exactly safe or simple, given our situation."

Charlotte angrily slammed her glass down on the table. "You think I enjoy hiding who I am? This isn't just about me!" She placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Dionne. "Oh, please. You act like you're the only one suffering. Maybe you enjoy the attention a little too much?" she retorted with a hint of bitterness.

Dionne's eyes narrowed. "Right, because having admirers buy me drinks is my idea of a fun night out. Obviously, I do it for the free booze," she replied sarcastically.

"Well, it's not like you ever turn them down," Charlotte countered.

Dionne crossed her legs and sat back. "And what do you suggest I do? Start a blog? Today, yet again, I denied a free Cosmo because my girlfriend can't stand the thought of someone buying me a free drink," Dionne said sharply, gesturing with her hand.

"Maybe I should just close down all the bars and restaurants in town. That would solve the problem, wouldn't it?" Though Charlotte spoke sarcastically, her tone conveyed a hint of seriousness, as if she might consider such a drastic measure.​

Dionne clasped her temples, her headache intensifying from the weight of the conversation. "Yes, that would work. You want our relationship to be a secret, right? I can't imagine you will be in a gossip magazine: 'Rich socialite rents the entire restaurant for a private dinner with her best friend she's been seeing secretly for seven months,'" she said sarcastically, shaking her head in disbelief while reaching for her glass of aged red wine. "While you're at it, why not impose a curfew? No one out after dark unless their jealous girlfriends accompany them," Dionne added with a bitter laugh.