I hear a lot. Maybe that's because everyone, at some point in their week will make their way into Granny's. Maybe it's the wolf hearing.
Fact: I used to dress like sort of a slut. Truth be told, I was never out banging one of the three single guys in Storybrooke, who are all desperate losers, I just liked to feel like I belonged somewhere else. Maybe 28 years of watching me totter around in heels and short-shorts made people feel like I could handle any of their secrets and fantasies. Or maybe the fact that every once in a while I morph into a monster makes them think I won't judge them.
I won't. I really don't. But sometimes I just don't want to get involved. I don't want to know.
I didn't want to hear Emma out when she walked in that night into Granny's. I was the only one on staff (aka, Granny had gone to bed early to marathon CSI) and the way she sunk onto the counter stool told me she wasn't going to heave herself off anytime soon. I could smell the forest on her, wet clay in her boot treads. The feathers of night birds, recently fallen: someone had taken a long walk.
She lives with her parents, believe me, I get it. Late nights out are kind of the only way to get enough privacy to stay sane. And her face looked so tense, the crease between her eyebrows so extreme, I poured the first shot for free just to put a smile on her face.
"Thanks Ruby." Emma took the first shot like a champ, but the second one loosened her jaw.
"She's going to be the death of me. She won't forgive me for accusing her of killing Archie. How the hell was I supposed to know there were two evil Queens? She takes everything I do so personally, like I'm supposed to know her and trust her somehow-"
"How many nights are you going to come in here and complain about Regina to me?" I almost said it aloud. Instead I checked myself at the last minute and said, "You should just sit down and talk with her. Get it all out in the open. She approached Archie before about therapy. Maybe he could act as an intermediary."
"I can't talk in front of her, I get too-" she shook her head. "Whatever. I mean, you used to be friends, a little bit, before I broke the curse?"
Friends? Had we been friends? It was hard to say. I had caught her checking me out a couple times, no doubt about it, even if she insisted on having Graham cart her around town in his cop car. When I think about my thoughts before the curse was broken , I remember feeling sympathy for her because it seemed so obvious to me she was playing some kind of role, some kind of role she felt like she should enjoy. But every once in a while I'd catch her unguarded look and feel like she was holding all the sorrow in the world inside her. Sort of the way Emma looks now.
"I guess. We got along okay. She talked to me a couple times…"
The bell over the door clangs and Emma's mouth snaps shut. Speak of the devil, I think unbidden. Regina is standing in the doorway, shaking an umbrella closed, her lip already pulling into a sneer at he sight of Emma. She shoots me a look and walks to the back booth. Guess I shouldn't have cleaned the grill.
"Be right back." I say to Emma, Emma motions to her drink.
"Hey- do you think you could bring her a shot of this?"
"What?" I almost laugh.
"I don't know. Just- something to cut the tension."
Tension is right. The air feels electric when the two of them are in the same space. The hair is standing up on the back of my neck but then I am part wolf so maybe I feel things more strongly. I pour a shot and take it to Regina's table on a tray.
"What the hell is that?" she says when I set it down in front of her, trying to keep a smile on my face and failing.
"It's a drink compliments of the lady at the bar."
"So poisen?"
"Not in small doses. It's Jack Daniels."
She holds it up and peers at it like a lab tech looks at a beaker. Then, with surprising fluidity she downs the shot and looks up at me. "Why am I pleasantly surprised Granny hasn't been watering down the liquor bottles? You can tell Ms. Swan thanks."
She already has, in a sense. I can hear Emma chuckling at the counter before I make my way back.
"The same thing had occurred to me about Granny." She peered up at me through her thick lashes.
"Take it easy." I laugh. "That's not just my boss you're talking about."
"Don't worry, I won't make you reach for the crossbow under the counter. I technically should make her get a license for that."
"Someone's been leafing through her police manual workbooks." I hear Regina's voice ring out. "I imagine they have big, colorful illustrations."
Emma spins to face across the room on her stool. "As a matter of fact, I have been brushing up on my duties as Sheriff. Not that many of them apply to our current situation. For some reason I can't find 'magical purple fog' in the index."
Emma turns back to me: her face is flushed, her eyes sharp, a hint of a smile plays around her mouth. She's alive again. "Bring us two more?" she says, before strolling over to the booth where Regina sits.
Thankfully, neither of them order food. Regina gets glasses of wine to follow her shots, Emma sticks to the hard stuff. Their voices dance through a banter and then there's laughter. It's sweet, and girlish. Then Regina says something cold and I hear a long, deadly silence. Emma slams down her tumbler and throws money on the counter as she barrels the hell out of there. I'm used to her unceremonious departure, but from the awkward silence that suddenly fills the room I can tell Regina is not. I hear her clear her throat delicately and she makes her way over to the counter, pulling a purse from under her arm.
"I guess you can close up now." She says, her mask back in place. "Thanks for waiting on us."
And because I'm an idiot, I say this to her: "You should know that she feels really bad about how things are between you now. I hope that comes across. I can tell she really blames herself for accusing you of killing Archie and starting all this going again."
Regina's eyes look soft again. "Oh? It's funny how she never manages to say anything of the kind herself."
"Emma is…" Just like you: completely divorced from her real emotions. "…think of how she pushed Henry away. She was ready to leave him for good and that's someone she loves more than anyone. So a frenemy is like- waaay out of her depth."
"A frenemy?" Regina smiles and pauses as if about to say more. She might sit down on the stool, I worry. I want to go home, get in bed, check my email…all that good stuff. But I feel like I can't leave, I'm rooted in place waiting for some kind of revelation.
"Well. If you see her again, please tell her thanks for the her frenemy. I owe her one."
And that's how it started.