"Y'see, Rach, we're special women." Special Agent Lu McKinley started, her unoccupied hand waving in the air for emphasis, "Men are like bras to us. Sure, if we need sex appeal we can swing by any Wal-Mart or Victoria's Secret. For solid support, we can go to Macy's, Penny's or Spanx, if we really feel like we've earned it. And for comfort, we-ell, usually, we're-"
"Fucked?" Rachel asked, as she opened a fresh bottle of merlot to supplement their dinner and pouring herself a healthy glass.
"Yup. And for comfort, sex and support? The sacred, holy trinity of women in law enforcement?"
"Women in general, I'd imagine."
"Whatever. Who's 'grand scheme' theory is this?"
Rachel held her free hand, palm out in concession.
Lu continued, "Well, that's where we try the internet, and it fails us. Catalogues, tend to be miss more than hit. Then we try to get on obscure mailing lists looking for our holy trinity, we buy and return and try on and go home wanting the incessant poking to quit..."
She snorted, "If you have a point..?" Rachel started slugging.
"You chase fugitives. By choice. As your livelihood. What the hell made you think a nice guy would satisfy you?"
Rachel pulled a face at her college buddy, "I need a little 'nice' sometimes, alright?"
"Then date it! Screw it! Just don't marry it! You need more than 'nice,' you need passion. Understanding. Head-banging sex. Did 'nice' ever give you head-banging sex?"
Rachel could remember the last time her head had been banged during sex. She refilled her glass.
"You don't remember it, do you?" her friend pointed out smugly from hundreds of miles away. "Do you even know a man capable of it at this point?"
Mental images of cowboy hats and quick-drawing hands with a horseshoe ring filled her head. Rachel flushed as her body heated at the thought.
"Rach-chel? Do you?"
"I don't date men I work with..."
"Is this mere wisdom or a learned lesson, speaking?"
Rachel told no one of her drunken one-night-stand with Tim shortly after he'd started in the office. She'd regretted it the next morning, but it had taken a bit longer to convince him of its status as a 'mistake'. She'd gotten a wonderful friendship out of it, but it had been painfully awkward trying to work with and reject Tim at the same time... Now he was like her baby brother and she loved him... But she still cringed at the idea that she'd taken advantage of the returning vet to rebound from her ATF ex...
The new bottle wasn't going to survive the night either, she figured. "Both."
"Is it the same guy you're thinking of?"
"Nope... Would probably be easier if it was."
"Sex and the office are never 'easy', darlin'," she said softly, "So, who is he? The one you're thinking of?"
"Too complicated..." she refilled her glass one more time. Lu tugged the bottle from her for her own refill, scowling her little cat-face at Rachel until Rachel finally sighed, "Raylan. Ok, I'm thinking of Raylan Givens. I slept with Tim Gutterson once. Only once, right after he started, but Raylan..."
"Raylan's the cowboy from Miami, right?" Lu verified. "The rooftop shooter?"
Rachel rolled her eyes, "Y'know calling him that..."
"I know, it's like saying he's not creative enough for a clock-tower. Seems really offensive, now I think about it."
Rachel snorted into her wine, splattering it everywhere.
Lu merely sipped hers, watching. "Wasn't that funny, sweetie."
"Is if you know Tim's our sniper."
"You slept with a sniper? You slept with a sniper. You lust after an armed man who wears a cowboy hat. Every day. Not just Halloween and parties. But you marry an insurance salesman? What the hell, Rach?"
Rachel put down her glass to bury her head in her hands, "I know. I know, but Joe's really sweet. I feel so awful about everything, Lu. It wasn't fair, what I did to him."
Lu leant over and waved Rachel's glass at her, "Up for air, darlin'. He'll survive, too pretty not to."
Rachel picked her head up enough to glare at the "pretty" comment, "I married a man and left him for the same reason."
"It's called marriage, honey. You marry him because he's charming; you leave him because he's slime. You marry him for sex; you leave him because you're not the only one he's having it with. You marry him because he's nice; you leave him because he's a doormat for you." Lu took another swig, ignoring the death glare, "I can go on..."
"I'll shoot you."
"Fair enough. It goes both ways, y'know. It's the little things that they love about us that turn... A strong woman who knows her mind becomes a bitch real quick, if she's ever anything else." Lu topped up her glass and Rachel's, "Nick used to call me his 'Lara Croft with a badge' before he decided I was a corrosive bitch from hell."
Rachel winced in sympathy; Lu had the misfortune of inheriting her mother's taste in men... At least they always had money. "But Nick is hardly a representative example of the male species."
"Neither is Joe— don't you think I've lost the plot here, girly— and neither are your colleagues. The issue here is you. You need more than nice. And you shouldn't be settling. You want the cowboy? Go for him."
Rachel shook her head before letting that thought plant itself in her head with spectacular, sweaty, glistening-Raylan imagery. "Raylan doesn't see me like that."
Lu snorted, "Make him."
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