Blind Fate
Lanie pursed her lips and crooked her neck sharply to the left, not in the way an adorable puppy did when it found curious a sound its owner was making, but rather in the way a frustrated medical examiner did when she was sick and tired of hearing the same old excuses from her stubborn best friend.
Kate never had a whole laundry list of excuses at the ready. She was fine offering the usual I have to work late. or Remember how bad it was last time? because either usually achieved the desired outcome: Lanie would huff and puff and swear she'd never offer to set her up again. For Kate, that was a win.
"What the hell's your reason this time? And don't you dare use that working late crap on me again, Kate Beckett. You have those two monkeys over there that'll do whatever you tell 'em, including cover for your skinny behind on a Friday night." Lanie moved around her now-empty autopsy table, clearing small metal tools of her trade as she went. "I swear," she snipped, pointing a handful of sharp thingamabobs in Kate's direction, "you're some kind of cruel, selfish woman. You know that?"
Kate bit at her lip, held back the giggle bubbling just under the surface. She thanked heaven above daily for bringing Lanie into her life. She truly had no idea what she'd do without her.
"Cruel, huh? And selfish. How do you figure that? Just because I won't go on some stupid blind date with a guy I'll never end up with anyway?" She pulled a nearby stool toward her and sat as the ME continued to flutter about.
"First of all, you need to stop your whining. You don't have any idea what could happen or who you might end up with. And number two, when was the last time you took a good look in a mirror, girl?"
Kate's blank stare of confusion kicked Lanie into overdrive, sending her across the room to swipe something from another station. "Here, look, what do you see?" she snapped impatiently, as though nothing she'd just said should've been unclear. She held the tray's semi-reflective surface just inches from Kate's face.
"What do I see? I see me, Lanie, bored with this conversation." She grabbed for the tray, but Lanie wouldn't surrender it. "Maybe you should just tell me what I'm supposed to see so I can get the hell out of here and go home."
"Oh, you're such a royal pain in my- what I see is a cruel and selfish woman, depriving mankind of those tasty genes of yours. I mean, can you imagine the perfect babies you'd make?"
Kate's mouth fell open. That was a new one. "Oh, I see. So now it's, like, some medical thing? You want to set me up so I can populate the planet with baby Becketts? That's kind of gross, though I can't think of how to articulate exactly why at the moment- something about pimping me for DNA or, I don't even know."
Lanie turned and dropped the tray onto the desk beside them. "Fine. So sue me for trying to find you happiness. And make the world a more beautiful place."
"Lan-"
"And get you laid."
"This conversation just gets more and more charming as it goes." Kate shook her head, her face now wearing its own version of disapproval.
"Fine, look, this is it, Kate. I mean it. One last time and then I'm out, for good."
Kate eyed her with suspicion. How many times had they played this game before?
"Seriously, Detective Stuck-In-the-Mud, you say yes now, you never have to say no again because I'll never, ever ask." Lanie pushed her hand forward, waiting for her to acquiesce. She knew well Kate could never pass up a deal like that.
"Talk about a royal pain in my a-"
"Easy, girl," Lanie jumped in. "You may be taller than me and wear a gun, but I could snap that girly bod of yours like a twig." She extended her hand even farther. "Tell me we have a deal. Tell me like I don't already know it."
Kate rolled her eyes in classic Kate fashion. "Fine. Yes, Lanie, we have a deal, okay. One last time and that's it. I'll go on one date." The two shook on it and Lanie did a mini-victory dance. "Who is it this time?"
"Detective, you just keep your phone on and start thinkin' about the future. And when it comes time for the thank you gift, just remember how much I love a good day spa and expensive wine."
"Yeah, right, like that'll ever happen."
But the thing was, Kate was already thinking about the future. She was just hoping it would only involve a good book and a hot bath.
xxxx
Rick shuffled into the loft and tossed his keys onto the breakfast bar, his eyes never meeting those of his mother who was curled up on the sofa along the way. She watched as he passed, his head hung low, his hands buried in his pockets, his mood worn like a flashing neon sign without need of commentary. She knew where he'd been and with whom. It was always something with that one.
Rick wasted little time in pulling open the refrigerator for a bit of liquid relief. Scotch would've taken too long, involved too many steps, and he was long beyond ready. The beer's metal cap twisted off with ease, no match for his already capable hands now infused with the added might of frustration, and he snapped it into the sink across the way in form that would've surely impressed any fraternity boy circa 1992. He swallowed down half the bottle in a breath, the bubbles delivering just the right burn for the occasion, the resulting belch both impressive and repulsive.
"That's my boy!" Martha called out in a roar of sarcastic motherly pride.
"Jesus, Mother, I didn't even see you there!" If he'd already taken his next sip, he surely would've painted the kitchen with it. "Sorry, I'm-"
"Let me guess," she said, rising from the sofa and making her way toward the kitchen, "things didn't go well with Gina, hmm? I swear that woman is nothing but a menace in a McCartney suit."
Rick set the bottle down on the counter and leaned his outstretched arms against the edge of the cold concrete. His mother was absolutely right. Working with his ex-wife was like trying to stand still in the middle of a hurricane- nearly impossible and laughably stupid.
"Oh, she was in fine form today, Mother. You should've seen her. You'll be tickled to know that I now have a date on Friday night." He downed another generous sip from the bottle. "I know how anxious you always are for me to find a woman to be the next ex-Mrs. Richard Castle."
Martha smacked him on the arm and snatched the beer from his hand, helping herself to a sip before setting it back down out of his reach. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Richard. The only ex I'm anxious for is an explanation into this pouting of yours. Come. Sit." She tugged on his arm and forced him onto a stool at the bar. "Spill it, kiddo. What did Gina do this time? And what's all this about a date?"
"She just- she always thinks I owe her because I'm late with my deadlines." Martha's that-actually-makes-some-sense-darling expression gave him no pause whatsoever. "I go over there, I tell her she'll have the pages in a few days, she yells at me, and then she gets me to agree to some blind date on Friday night as some kind of payback. I mean, can you believe her?" He lifted off the stool and reached over the counter for his beer, chugging what was left as though he'd just crossed the Sahara without water.
"Her, darling? Can I believe her?" Martha threw up her arms, the sleeves of her satin robe dancing wildly with the motion. "Honestly, have you ever said no to that woman? And how in the world did things go from a deadline meeting to a dating service?"
Rick pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and checked it for messages, expecting the number of his Friday companion from Gina at some point before day's end. There was nothing from her yet, and he slid the phone aside with hopes it might never come- wishful thinking, he knew.
It wasn't that he didn't want to date, to have fun, to enjoy the parade of beautiful women that came along with his success as a famous novelist. He did want that. He had that. He was good at that. But they all felt the same to him now, all the women in the Richard Castle parade. They all dressed the same, talked the same, looked the same. And he already spent his days with his novels' leading man, Derrick Storm- all day, every day, in his head, on the page. He was so damn tired of same.
"Your tone, Mother, suggests you think this is my fault somehow? The woman practically blackmailed me to go on this date. I mean, she doesn't even know this woman- some niece of her boss or boss of her niece in the city for the weekend from God knows where. I don't even remember. It's just- it's not right," he huffed adolescently.
Martha reached out and set her hand on top of his. "Well, I'm sorry, darling, if it seemed as though I was suggesting this was your fault."
Rick nodded a silent thank you for the apology.
"No, no, I meant to state it quite clearly."
"What? Mother, that's-"
"Oh, stop it, Richard," she chided, sliding off her stool. "You missed your deadline- or deadlines, as it were- and Gina found a way to exploit that for her benefit." She turned and moved toward the refrigerator. "I haven't said it often, but brava to her. Business is business, kid. Tit for tat." She pulled out another beer and twisted off the cap. "Next time, maybe you'll do what it is you're supposed to do when you're supposed to do it, hmm? Take a page from that diligent daughter of yours. Or maybe just grow a pair and learn to say no."
Rick's mouth hung open in exaggerated disbelief. "Yeah, thanks a lot, Mother. Your suggestions are most helpful, as always."
She put the beer bottle down and pushed it along the counter toward him. "Drink up, kiddo. Sounds like you might need it."
