Free Another Kind of Love by Paula Christian Page B

wanted to know about Ginny’s problems, yet she didn’t like hearing about her being a . . . abnormal. Yet at the same time Laura was fascinated.
    â€œI’m not sure even that I understand it myself,” Ginny continued. “I guess it was sort of the easiest way.”
    â€œEasiest!”
    â€œIn a way, I had no decisions to make, I didn’t have to be alone and wonder what to do with myself. But most of all, my career was—important to me. And Saundra is helping me.”
    â€œYou would have made friends on your own.”
    â€œHow many friends do you have, Laura?”
    The question took Laura by surprise. She remembered her own thoughts recently about finding friends—and she had lived in Los Angeles a long time.
    â€œI see what you mean,” she acknowledged grudgingly.
    â€œSure. Make friends, everybody tells you that. But call them up to go to a movie, and they’re busy or too tired or some other reason. This is the most unfriendly town I’ve ever been in!” Ginny’s voice rose.
    Laura had never actually thought about that aspect before. She had her work, her business associates, and Walter. She had always believed that Los Angeles was a nice Western homespun, friendly little town simply because the publicity-happy chamber of commerce said so.
    â€œHow about dates? Don’t you ever go out with men?”
    â€œOh, I dated several guys back home. But I was just drying my ears out here when I ran into Saundra. Those first few weeks were pretty busy, finding a place to live, getting used to the change.”
    â€œUh-huh.” Odd how fictional life sounded, but Laura believed Ginny. Her own life, as a matter of fact, wouldn’t sound very plausible.
    â€œI’d never been with anyone like Saundra before, and, well, I felt kind of tainted—oh, that’s the wrong word. I just didn’t want to see anybody who wasn’t . . .”
    The unhappiness on Ginny’s face, the misery in her choked tone, touched Laura deeply. Still, she could not dispel the momentary feeling that Ginny was “playing to the gallery.” After Saundra’s scene it would be more than difficult to play it straight.
    It seemed as if they would never get off the Santa Ana Freeway. It was a maze of steel and concrete—once on it you were trapped. Following meekly in your little lane as other cars whizzed by, not daring to honk at the older cars in front of you . . . Goddamn it, Laura cursed mentally, I’ve a right in this world! I pay my taxes!
    She switched on the lights and pulled out into the left lane with a burst of speed. “Why didn’t you tell me to turn on the lights?”
    Ginny looked up with a trace of a smile. “I did, but you weren’t listening.”
    Laura slowed up and reentered the middle lane.
    â€œYou started out to comfort me and listen to my sad story,” Ginny said with almost her old spirit. “What happened?”
    Laura laughed self-consciously. “Guess the whole subject is a little out of my depth.” She reached for Ginny’s hand. “Have you any plans now? I mean, after this afternoon you aren’t going to keep living with Saundra, are you?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Ginny answered. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I just feel so disjointed.” Ginny hesitated as if there was something more she wanted to say. But she didn’t say it.
    Laura automatically took the Harbor Freeway turnoff and was headed toward her own apartment.
    Ginny frowned slightly. “You don’t have to put me up, you know. I could drive the car myself after you pick up yours. . . .”
    â€œDon’t be silly, Ginny,” Laura interrupted. “Unless you’d rather be alone . . .”
    â€œNo. No, I’d rather not,” said Ginny hastily.
    â€œThen it’s settled. We’ll go get my car on my way to work in the morning, and then you’ll be more in the