View of Roberta "Birdie" Marks in Columbia car no. 49 with three women passengers during the 1911 Glidden Tour. Policemen on horseback in background. Marks was the only woman driver in the Tour. Stamped on back: "Spooner & Wells, Inc., photographers, telephones 3472-3473 Columbus, 1931 Broadway, New York." Handwritten on back: "Columbia, Glidden, 1911."
Lazarnick Collection
National Automotive History Collection, Detroit Public Library
wait wait ignore my previous prompt i had a lapse of judgment
please keep it down.
for grace and bobby 😁
From "please" prompts
Why do we always send Grace to deal with Bobby, though? Hasn't she been through enough?
I imagine this happening at the start of Book 2
1,3k words of Bobby not being jealous in the slightest
Bobby loved mixing business with pleasure. It was her favourite thing to do, especially when two went so perfectly together. That’s why it felt almost fated when Grace became a detective, so Bobby had one more reason to seek her company. Not that the two of them could ever keep away from each other.
Yes, their romance, one Grace wanted to look at through the pink-colored glasses, was long dead and buried, but that didn’t mean that ‘them’ ended too. As much as they wanted it (more so Grace, if Bobby ever chose to be honest with herself), they couldn’t stay far from each other, always finding some twisted, unsatisfying form of comfort when they were together. To Bobby, it felt delicious, and she was always up to see just how much she could take from Grace before she would push back.
Bobby wasn’t happy when whatever non-relationship thing that was between them just stopped. Yes, Grace might’ve been dealing with a psycho killer, she might’ve been hurt, but it was no reason for her to forget about Bobby’s existence, right? She meant too much to Grace to be forgotten about. Or so Bobby thought until she realized it had been over two months since she saw Grace naked. But it, of course, had nothing to do with the reason why Bobby walked into the police station on that day.
“I need to speak to Detective Warren,” Bobby got the attention of the mayor’s son, who, as always, had his attention on his phone and not the visitors.
“Ugh,” he looked up, completely lost, probably too busy with whatever game he was playing. “Sure, I’ll call her.”
Bobby smiled. So far, it’s been easier than she thought it would be. She turned her head to look at the detective’s office. Inside, she could see Grace sitting at the table, but she wasn’t alone. Those agents were right there. Bobby felt both intrigued by their presence but also unhappy with it. She couldn’t tell why that other emotion was present. Any newcomers to the town were a cause for a story, especially these ones. But Bobby felt uneasy about them, almost as if she didn’t want them to be anywhere near Grace.
“That’s you,” Grace’s expression instantly soured as she made her way to Bobby. It wasn’t unusual. “What do you want, Bobby? I’m busy.”
Grace crossed her arms over her chest, and Bobby couldn’t stop herself from throwing a long, appreciative look over the woman in front of her.
“You were never so busy you wouldn’t give me any time, angel,” Bobby employed her charming tone, one that used to work so well on Grace, one that made her roll her eyes in response. “I simply wanted to check on you. I was worried, you know. Especially since it’s been so long since our last personal talk.”
Bobby lifted her hand, her fingertips brushing over Grace’s forearm. Detective shrugged her hand off, making Bobby frown. She didn’t know what was happening, but she didn’t like it. Usually, it was enough for her to promise Grace even the tiniest bit of affection to make the woman melt, but something must’ve changed. And Bobby couldn’t help but feel bitter about it.
“Didn’t you get the memo? All of our personal talks are cancelled,” Grace said with familiar sarcasm. “So if that’s what you came looking for, I suggest you find someone else to meet your conversational needs.”
Bobby pressed her lips together. She didn’t like this one bit. Why couldn’t she get to Grace? Why weren’t her old tricks working? Then she looked at the detective’s office again, at those agents inside.
“I guess you’re having close conversations with someone else these days?” Bobby tried to hide the bitterness under a charming tone, and she hoped she succeeded. Suddenly, all of Grace’s attention was on her, and that only fired Bobby up. “Which one? Is it the tall one? She’s gorgeous, I’d give you that. Or is it the one that’s smiling at everyone? I bet you’d love that. Oh, no, I was wrong. I can see it now. You’ve always had a weakness for blonds, didn’t you?”
“Please, keep it down,” Grace said through her teeth, anger written on her face. And if Bobby couldn’t get anything else from her, anger would have to do.
“Why? It’s not like they can hear us,” Bobby let out a light laugh. “Afraid someone else would know that you f–.”
Bobby couldn’t finish a sentence. Grace grabbed her by the wrist and pulled both of them into the closest room. It was a file room, dark and dusty, but Bobby didn’t care. What she did care about was a delicious mix of emotions she could read on Grace’s face. What she did want was to get even closer to the detective, even closer than they were in the cramped space.
Grace opened her mouth to say something, but Bobby was faster. She put her hands on Grace’s face, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin, and pressed their lips together. Grace was the most selfless lover Bobby ever had. No matter how little she would get in return, she would always give all of herself to Bobby. Maybe that was the reason why Bobby always welcomed Grace into her apartment, into her life. Why she still reach for more, even when it seemed that Grace had nothing more to give her.
Bobby kissed Grace with heat and need, but got nothing in return. Grace didn’t take the lead the way she usually would, she didn’t caress or even touch Bobby. And Bobby desperately needed Grace to do it. Maybe she just needed a push.
Bobby blindly found Grace’s hands and pulled them closer, about to put them on her chest, when the detective moved sharply, pushing Bobby away from her instead.
“I already told you,” Grace said with even more anger in her voice, wiping her mouth. For some reason, that small gesture stung more than Bobby thought was possible. “This isn’t going to happen. Never again.”
It took Bobby a moment to regain her composure, but she put on a smile again.
“Maybe you should go first,” she nodded at the door.
“And leave you with police files? How stupid do you think I am?” Grace’s lips were still bright pink after their kiss, and Bobby tried not to look at them too closely.
“Talk to you later, angel,” she said in the carefree tone, before she left the room.
Bobby walked to the exit slowly, trying to figure out what exactly was happening with her and why she felt so annoyed and disappointed. It was nothing. Grace meant nothing. Even if she didn’t want to sleep with Bobby ever again, there were a lot of women happy to take her place.
Before she could reach the door, Bobby heard voices behind her.
“Detective, is everything alright?”
Bobby couldn’t see the woman’s face, only her pulled-back dark blond hair and her broad back. But what Bobby could see perfectly was Grace and her reaction to the agent’s closeness to her.
“Everything is fine,” there was a genuine smile on her lips, and Bobby could clearly see the way Grace’s whole body was leaning towards the agent, as if trying to be as close as possible to her. “Just an annoying distraction.”
Bobby felt her teeth grind against each other. It was nothing, nothing for her to worry about. And even if it wasn’t nothing, it wouldn’t last long, and soon she’d have Grace all to herself again. She would never need anyone as much as she needed Bobby, there was no doubt about it.
And no one would ever need Grace as much as Bobby needed her.
Lesbian loser reporter Roberta Marks is so important to me actually. She's terrible at her job, terrible in bed and she's still as confident as ever. Such an inspiration. Wish I didn't have to go through chapters upon chapters of vampire romance just to meet her.
