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Kalinda sat at the bar, her smooth tan fingers clasped around her glass. The ice had melted, that was how long she'd been sitting there, staring at the Sambuka bottle squashed between a Malibu and a Baileys. She shifted her fingers from their position, feeling how the skin clung sticky to the surface. If she were to remove her fingers, she would see her fingerprints marring the transparency of the glass.
She was like those fingerprints, she though.
She took another sip slowly, savouring the burn of the brandy down her gullet and the warmth that spread in her chest. The glass scrapped mutely when she put it back down.
Her thoughts had been preoccupied by a woman called Alicia Florrick. A lawyer. A colleague. A friend. The wife of a man she had slept with a long time ago. They had not known each other then.
There was never any maliciousness in Kalinda's choice to become friends with Alicia. She didn't think of it in terms of keeping friends close and enemy's closer. She didn't think of it at all and if she had she would have felt nothing. Because it had meant nothing.
Now it meant everything.
The force that had wound itself around the two women, pulling them towards one another had been silent and unseen. They had drawn together as if there existed a point of gravity in the space between them, inching them closer. In a world that was full of sharp edges to bruise, this had been soft and warm, when they'd bumped shoulders, it hadn't hurt. This had surprised Kalinda.
It wasn't until the foundations began to liquefy beneath her feet that she'd finally looked over to find Alicia had moulded to her side. Or perhaps it was the other way around, it was hard to tell. She shivered now, in the absence of that warmth and clutched at the spot where once Alicia had stood. Whispers of shame and regret burrowed under her skin. She discovered if she kept moving, she could ignore it. Like a shark, she had to keep moving.
She took another sip and then hesitated a moment before downing the rest with a gulp. She waved to the bartender to bring her another one. The shapely ass of the woman swayed as she walked to the brandy bottle before sliding the drink down the bar. Kalinda though about flirting with her, maybe taking her home. She could do that. She could fall into someone for a moment, flood her senses with the feel of a soft thighs, curvaceous hips, plump lips.
She wouldn't though.
The thought depressed her. There had been a time when it wouldn't have been a question, she would have perched on her stool and gazed at the woman with desire smouldering in her eyes. She would've smiled and leaned forward, her cleavage pressing against the neckline of her top and when the woman came closer, she would've beckoned her closer still so she could whisper in her ear. Her lips would've brushed the earlobe, a seeming accident and then she would've pulled back and made eye contact. Then she would've then taken her home and screwed her. She had done it before.
These days she tended to spend her time alone. Or at work. She saw Alicia there. And every time she did the whispers were there, seeping deeper into her brain. So she tried to avoid her. Walk the other way. But just as they had been pulled in by the gravity before, they were being sucked together again. They orbited this point like satellites and eventually, Kalinda could feel it, they would find themselves shoulder to shoulder once more.
It scared her because she wanted it.
She swiftly downed her drink. She slapped a twenty down. She stepped through the bar door, the cool air flooding her lungs, and hailed a taxi.
She went home to an empty apartment, the whisper of her regret as her companion.