Title: Sell Yourself to Sell the Scene
Author: TexasWatermelon
Fandom: Women's Murder Club
Pairing: Cindy/OFC, Lindsay/Jill
Rating: PG for this chapter
Summary: Lindsay's little sister comes to live in San Francisco to help out the club. Insanity ensues.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I am however mourning their loss.
Archiving: P&P of course. Anyone else, just ask.
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 5,289
A/N: So, I decided to try something new. Don't get me wrong, I love me some Lindsay/Cindy, but I wanted to give Cindy something a little different. Plus, Lindsay is destined to have a little sister I think. Anyway, this is just to see what you guys think of something different for a change. Let me know, eh? Enjoy.
It was a bright morning, as far as mornings in San Francisco go, but the sun didn't belie the fact that there was a fairly chilly breeze whipping around. Cindy Thomas had to work hard to keep her brown corduroy jacket close to her body. Her auburn hair was flying madly in her face, and she'd given up all hope of trying to keep it out of her way and keep the jacket on at the same time. She opted for staying warm over being able to see.
The reporter was more grateful than she could say when she finally reached the small coffee stand at the bottom of the Hall steps. The vender nodded at her when she approached, handing her the usual black coffee that she ordered whenever she stopped by. He was good at remembering coffee preferences. As Cindy turned to walk up the steps, she saw Jill walking toward her, looking a little bit miserable at the wind.
"Hey," Cindy greeted her happily. "I got the message. I was just about to go in."
"Yeah, me too," Jill replied. "I'm grabbing coffee for the group. Wait for me?" Cindy nodded, standing off to the side as Jill placed her order. She frowned slightly when the vender handed over four coffee cups instead of three, but shrugged it off when she realized that one might be for Jacobi.
"So what's this about?" Cindy asked as they ascended the large marble steps. "Do we have a suspect?"
"I don't know," Jill shrugged, waiting for Cindy to heave one of the large bronze doors open because her own hands were too full. "It's Claire's page, so whatever she found might lead us to a suspect. Or at least give us some direction in this case. Lindsay's starting to get to that point where she barks orders at people because she's pissed off that she can't figure it out. I'm getting tired of her bossing me around for this and that search warrant that ends up leading absolutely nowhere."
Cindy grinned as Jill mumbled her complaints into the elevator. This was becoming a particularly tiresome case. What should have been a simple jealous wife kills husband ended up turning into so much more. The problem seemed to be that the wife knew nothing about her husband's affair with his physical therapist, and even if she was lying, the police couldn't find the gun that had killed him to save their lives. What was more was that the victim had just signed a contract with an advertising agency within his design firm that about ten other artists had been vying for, which left them with about ten more suspects. Things weren't going very well at all.
"Well maybe Claire will have found something useful. The sooner we get Lindsay onto a good lead, the better. No one likes a grumpy Boxer," Cindy pointed out, walking across the police station swiftly. Jill huffed in agreement.
As the two of them approached Lindsay's desk, Cindy saw Lindsay, Jacobi, and some woman that she'd never seen before talking together. The woman was short, with hair almost exactly like Lindsay's, and looked to be about Cindy's age.
"Who's that?" she asked curiously as they neared.
"Oh, that's Lindsay's little sister. She just moved up from Texas yesterday to join the force as a crime scene investigator," Jill explained simply, as though Cindy should have known this all along. Cindy balked.
"Sister? Since when does Lindsay have a sister?" she asked loudly. By this time however, the two were standing almost directly in front of the group and they all stopped talking at Cindy's question. Lindsay looked down at her bemusedly.
"Well, let's see," she rasped. "I think it's been about twenty-six years now. That right, Abs?" The woman, who was apparently Lindsay's sister indeed by the looks of her, grinned playfully.
"Sounds about," she replied, her voice thick with a strong southern accent. "Although you could've been a little bit more specific. You know, month, day, hour, second. It's like you don't have these things memorized. I know how important my entrance into your life was to you, Lindz." Lindsay rolled her eyes, taking the coffee that Jill offered to her. The other two went to Jacobi and Lindsay's sister.
"Cindy Thomas, this is Abigaile Boxer, my little sister. Abby, this is Cindy, our contact with the San Francisco Register," Lindsay said dully. Cindy shifted her coffee to her other hand so that she could shake Abby's.
"Nice to meet you," Cindy said, taking a closer look at her now. She did look a great deal like Lindsay, except for the fact that her features looked twenty years younger rather than eight. They were bright and cheerful, and it seemed like the girl never stopped smiling, which left the corners of her eyes crinkled, whereas Lindsay, who never stopped scowling, had lines etched into her forehead instead. There was also a distinct difference in height. Lindsay was about 5'10'', whereas Abby seemed to be only about 5'3''. The seven inches of difference between them was startling, but it seemed to only add to Abby's personality and she held herself in such a way that after a while, one forgot that she was so small compared to Lindsay altogether. The most explicit difference between the two was not height or personality, however, but the fact that while Lindsay's eyes were a deep chocolate color, Abby's were a bright forest green, glinting with merriment. Cindy was slightly stupefied by them.
"Oh it's not so much of a pleasure as it is to meet you, I'm sure," Abby was saying, still holding on to Cindy's hand tightly. "I've heard so very much about you." Cindy snapped out of whatever little trance she was in at this statement, looking over at Lindsay suspiciously only to find the inspector rolling her eyes even more vehemently this time.
"We should really get down to the morgue now. Claire said that what she had was important, and you know she doesn't like to be kept waiting when she has new information for us," Lindsay pointed out, and Cindy thought that her accent seemed extremely unpronounced in the presence of her sister, whose own accent was startlingly strong, yet at the same time strangely charming.
"She's right, we should go," Jill confirmed. They started towards the elevator once more before Abby turned back.
"Aren't you coming, Warren?" she asked innocently, and once again Cindy found herself gaping slightly. No one called Jacobi by his first name, not even Lindsay or Tom. But if he minded, he didn't show it; he merely shook his head.
"I'm not allowed in the sanctuary, nor do I have the desire to go anywhere near it," he responded dryly. Abby grinned once more.
"Alright then, I suppose I'll see you later." Jacobi nodded again and they set off.
The trip to the morgue was filled with cheerful chatter, mostly on the part of Abby, who seemed to almost rival Cindy in her energetic capacity. Jill and Lindsay both seemed strangely lifted by her energy, Lindsay smiling more than usual, her voice scratchier if that was possible and her accent a little thicker than usual. Cindy, who was still slightly taken aback by this sudden change, was actually quiet for once.
"Hey, Mama Claire!" Abby exclaimed happily, running over to give Claire a huge hug.
"Abby," Claire said, giving her that motherly smile. "How are you, honey?" She held Abby back at arm's length, sizing her up. "Sorry I couldn't make it over yesterday to help you get settled in. I hope Lindsay wasn't too much of a pain."
Lindsay huffed, crossing her arms defensively. "You paged us about the case," she reminded, nodding towards the body on the slab. Claire gave Lindsay a knowing look and snapped on her gloves.
"You'll be pleased to know that the tox reports came back on this guy," Claire began, walking over to pull three pieces of paper off of the wall and hand them to Lindsay.
"Something unusual?" Lindsay asked, her detective face on now as she glanced at the reports. Jill was standing as far away from the body as she could get, while Abby was walking around the table, looking down at it carefully. She reached behind her head and tied her hair back in a ponytail, leaning down close. Cindy watched her curiously as she looked up at Claire.
"Do mind if I poke around?" she asked. Claire raised an eyebrow.
"Feel free, but I can promise you I didn't miss anything," she said. Abby smirked.
"I don't doubt it, Mama, but you know I can't resist taking a look anyway." Claire grinned and turned back to go over the tox report with Lindsay as Abby washed her hands and put some gloves on.
"There's no poison, if that's what you're hoping for," Claire continued, "but his alcohol levels were sky high, way above the legal level. And since we already know the body was moved…"
"Somebody got him drunk and killed him," Cindy interjected.
"Were there any receipts at the scene?" Abby asked, looking up from the body. "A receipt for whatever bar he might have been at could lead to witnesses." Cindy felt a warm appreciation for the fact that Abby had run with her theory without question. Lindsay wasn't so convinced however.
"There weren't any receipts that we found. Which means if he was out, he could have been at any one of the hundreds of bars in San Francisco," she said. Abby frowned.
"What about a bar tab? Did you get ahold of his credit card records?" Jill suggested.
"No, his wife's name is on all of them. She wouldn't let us have them," Lindsay replied, voice lowering in annoyance at the thought of it. Jill smiled.
"I'll have a search warrant in an hour. This one might actually pan out." Lindsay looked at her gratefully.
"Three shots to the chest," Abby mused quietly after she'd left, tracing her fingers over one of the wounds. "Somebody really wanted this guy dead."
"Yeah, and it's our job to figure out who," Lindsay said matter of factly. "Come on, let's go let Jacobi know what we've got. Thanks, Claire."
"Mhmm," Claire hummed. "See you later, Abby."
"Of course you will," Abby grinned, tossing her gloves into the trash can. "Tell Ed and the boys hi for me."
They got half way down the hallway before Lindsay cursed loudly, stating that she'd forgotten her coffee back in the morgue and instructing them to head up without her. Cindy half considered going with her for fear of having an awkward situation with this woman that she didn't know, but then realized as they entered the elevator that it was probably impossible for things to be awkward with Abby.
"That was a good theory you had there," Abby commented idly, looking over at her.
"I was just going with the obvious," Cindy said modestly. Abby smirked.
"Maybe so, but I hear from Lindsay that you've got a mind for crime solving. I know she's not very good at showing her appreciation stuff, but she told me you've been a huge help on some of these cases… whether she wanted you to or not," she added. Cindy blushed, but couldn't hide her obvious smile at hearing this. It was good to know that Lindsay at least appreciated her meddling sometimes.
"You guys are pretty close then?" Cindy asked, feeling suddenly intrigued. She'd known Lindsay for a good eight months now and never once heard mention of a sister. The reporter in her was starting to kick in.
"Well, we have our differences, but in the end we're only Texans. Family is pretty important. And we get along well enough," Abby explained. "But I guess I wouldn't have moved up here if we weren't."
"That's good. I had no idea Lindsay even had a sister until I shook your hand today," Cindy said, trying her best not to reveal the slight sting at that. Abby chuckled.
"Does that surprise you? Lindsay isn't the share type," she reminded. Cindy nodded in agreement.
"I guess that's true," she conceded. "You guys don't seem to be anything alike."
"Well I did say we have our difference. Gets us into trouble sometimes," Abby said with a wink. "Give it a week or so. You'll see." Cindy smiled at this as they exited the elevator.
"I have to get back to the Register. Tell Lindsay to call me if anything else turns up." Abby nodded.
"Count on it." Cindy left, shaking her head at the strangeness of it all.
xxxxx
Two hours later Lindsay had an address for Shakers, the bar that Jason Donovan had charged almost two hundred dollars worth of drinks and food at the night of his murder. She and Jacobi were currently on their way to the place, Abby having gone back to Lindsay's place to continue unpacking.
"Abby seems excited to be here," Jacobi commented idly. Lindsay shot him a suspicious glare.
"You know Abby. She's excited to be breathing. It's just how she is," she replied uninterestedly.
"Does that bother you?" Jacobi asked. Lindsay sighed.
"Is this your way of asking me if I'm glad she's here?" she questioned tiredly. Jacobi shot her a barely perceptible smirk. "Yes, I'm glad. It's going to take an adjustment. I'm used to Martha being the only other roommate in my house, and it's been such a long while since I've actually spent an extended amount of time with Abby, but I'm still glad. After a few weeks I'll be used to it and things will be normal."
They entered the bar, which was practically deserted in the middle of the day, and went over to the bartender to show him a picture of Donovan. The bartender confirmed that he'd been in the night before, and wasted beyond sanitary levels.
"He was in with some other guy, real Beverly Hills type," he told them. Lindsay glanced at Jacobi.
"You get a good look at this guy?" Jacobi asked. The bartender nodded.
"Yeah, sure."
"Okay, we're going to need you to stop by the station so that you can work with our sketch artist," Lindsay said. "Did you hear anything unusual last night, like say shortly after these two left?"
"Um…" The bartender wracked his brain for anything in particular. "I'm not really sure. It gets pretty noisy in here at night, and there was a game on." Lindsay sighed.
"All right, thank you. If you think of anything else you can call us," she handed him a card. "And the sooner you can get in to do the sketch the better."
"Doesn't sound like any of the competitors from the firm," Jacobi mused when they walked outside. "None of them were really 'Beverly Hills types'."
"I know," Lindsay frowned. "Let's take a look in this ally over here. It looks murder worthy."
They scanned the ally carefully, Jacobi taking a peek in the dumpsters while Lindsay scoured the ground and walls for any sign of blood. As far as she could tell, there was none.
"We should get a team out here," Jacobi mumbled, sifting through the top layers of trash carefully. "Where's Abby when we need her? Isn't this her job?" Lindsay smirked, but it soon faded as she opened a cardboard box and peered inside to find a 45 revolver staring back at her.
"I really don't think we're going to need her," she said faintly. Jacobi abandoned his spot at the dumpster and came to peer over her shoulder. "We'd better get an evidence bag. I think we just found our murder weapon."
"Not the most intelligent hiding place in the world," Jacobi commented.
"Well when you have to drag a body to your car to move it, I imagine you're not too worried about making sure you have the gun. Let's get this back to Evidence."
xxxxx
"So what's the word on the gun?" Jill asked later that night, sipping her raspberry cocktail. They'd gone to Papa Joe's as a half update on the case, half welcome to San Francisco for Abby. Lindsay took a bite of her burger before responding.
"Tests turned up no fingerprints other than the owner of the gun's, which ticked me off until they told me that there was a serial number on the gun. It's almost as good," she responded pleasantly, obviously feeling more at ease now that they had some sort of lead. "Now all we need is for that bartender to give us a sketch so we can find out who Donovan was buying all of those drinks for. Then we can connect the dots and arrest this guy."
"See, and you were worried we wouldn't figure it out," Jill said, as though the matter were completely unimportant.
"Well we haven't figured it out yet. We've still got a ways to go," Lindsay pointed out. Jill glared at her. "Yeah, okay, maybe I was a little uptight. But it is my job, you know."
"Well you haven't always been a cop, so what was your excuse when we were growing up?" Abby quipped suddenly. The others tried to hold their laughter as Lindsay glared daggers at her.
"Is it too soon to send you back to Mom?" she asked in annoyance. Abby stuck her tongue out.
"If you tried to send me back Mama, she'd come up here and give you a talking to so big you'd be trembling in your big bad combat boots," she threatened. "And don't pretend you wouldn't. Mama in a fury scares you more than anything."
"You're going to see me in a fury if you don't shut up soon," Lindsay growled, taking a nearly vicious bite of her hamburger. Abby smirked.
"Oh honey, don't get so upset. You know I'm only joking," she soothed. Lindsay scowled, causing Abby to sigh. "Will it help if I promise to do the dishes all next week?"
"You act like I wasn't going to make you do them anyway," Lindsay mumbled, but she couldn't hide her smile. Abby rolled her eyes and threw a French fry at her, which landed a little closer to Claire.
"Hey, watch it now," Claire warned with a grin. Abby smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry, Mama Claire."
Just then the door to the diner opened and Cindy came rushing in, bag slung haphazardly over her shoulder. She halted just in front of their table, looking slightly flushed and hurried as Lindsay was so very used to seeing her.
"Sorry I'm late, you guys. My editor was angrier than a hungry lion today. He's starting to get antsy about this case, Lindsay. Is there any way that I can mention the gun?" she questioned almost breathlessly.
Abby stood up quickly. "Here, sit down," she offered. Cindy stared at her in surprise.
"Uh, thanks," she said, sliding in next to Jill while Abby stole a chair from an empty table.
"I don't want you to talk about the murder weapon until we know more. The last thing we need is the press jumping down our throats before we've got a solid suspect," Lindsay was saying, and Cindy had to snap back out of her slightly startled state.
"I have to have something, otherwise my editor's going to start tearing into me with his claws," she complained.
"I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to wait a little while longer," Lindsay replied, though truthfully she didn't sound very sorry. Cindy sighed.
"Well in that case, I need a drink." Lindsay smiled.
"Now that I can do."
xxxxx
Armed with the sketch that the bartender had given them, Lindsay and Jacobi had no need to search the system for a match. They knew who it was just by looking at it. They'd questioned Melvin Parks shortly after Donovan's body had been found; he was the head of the advertising agency that Donovan had just signed his deal with. The fact that he was now officially the last person to have seen Donovan alive put him on the top of Lindsay's list of suspects.
The problem seemed to be motive. And not only motive, but the ability to tie the murder weapon to Melvin Parks, which so far they were unable to do. The gun had originally been purchased by a washed up drug dealer, who they were as yet unsuccessful in tracking down. And as there were no prints…
To top it all off, Parks' lawyer was being a royal prick. No matter what Lindsay asked, he simply wouldn't allow Parks to answer. Not that the bastard seemed all that eager to.
"Look," Lindsay growled for the tenth time, glaring at them dangerously, "you've already been IDed as the last person to see Donovan alive. You two left the bar together right before he was murdered. We found the murder weapon in a box in the ally beside the bar. Things aren't adding up for you."
"Inspector, my client cannot be connected to that murder weapon in any way. It doesn't belong to him, has never been in his possession, and doesn't contain his prints. He returned home by cab immediately after leaving the bar," the lawyer replied calmly.
"And yet no one can vouch for that," Lindsay pointed out.
"My wife wasn't home from her shopping trip yet," Parks said easily.
"Don't answer her, Melvin," his lawyer chastised. Parks cleared his throat and straightened out his suit jacket. Lindsay felt like throwing her coffee on it just to waste a couple hundred of his dollars. The lawyer turned back to Lindsay. "You and I both know, Inspector, that you haven't got enough to pin this one on my client. Now unless you want to make an arrest, we're done wasting our time here. My client had no motive or means to kill Jason Donovan. Time to start looking elsewhere."
Lindsay chucked her half full coffee cup at the door just as it closed behind them, growling angrily and burying her head in her hands. The discovery of the murder weapon was supposed to make things simpler, not more complicated.
"Another brick wall," Jacobi commented blandly, stepping over the puddle of warm liquid as he entered the interrogation room.
"We need to find that dealer," Lindsay muttered into the table. She lifted her head, running her fingers through her hair as she did so. "If he sold that gun to Parks, we'll be able to get him to flip on him."
Jacobi sighed. "I hate to suggest this for fear that you'll shoot me, but I think it might be time to call in Cindy Thomas." Before Lindsay could protest, he held his hand up and continued. "I know you don't like her meddling, and neither do I, but let's face it: she's good. And we can keep an eye on her a lot easier than we can find the dealer by ourselves."
Lindsay stared at him for a few minutes before sighing. "I'll call her."
xxxxx
"And if his hand so much as twitches, I want you to get on the ground and hide under whatever you can."
Cindy rolled her eyes. "Lindsay, you act like this is the first time I've gone to get information out of a drug dealer. I can handle it."
"Fine," Lindsay said irritably. "But if you get shot, I don't want to hear it."
"Thanks, I love you too," Cindy said sarcastically. She stepped out of the unmarked car, which was parked on the other side of the street, and looked around carefully before crossing. When she reached the old house, she knocked tentatively. Despite the fact that she'd used this contact before, and he was fairly comfortable with her, she wasn't stupid enough to ever let her guard down around a bunch of dealers with guns. If he had any friends around and they caught wind that she was working for a cop…
"Qué?" someone asked through a tiny crack in the door. Cindy moved so that she could try to see them.
"Jésus?" she whispered cautiously.
"Si," he replied, opening the door further. "Cindy Thomas. Como estas?"
"Bien." She launched into rapid fire Spanish, explaining what she needed from him. When she was finished, he frowned.
"I cannot tell you," he said quietly. "If anyone finds out it was me, I'll wind up in a river with twenty bullet holes in my chest. They're crazy, you know." He made a gun with his two fingers and thumbs and pressed it to his head, eyes widely insane. Cindy smiled.
Lindsay's chest tightened as she saw Cindy's contact make a gun gesture to his head. Her hand strayed to her gun, squeezing around the handle while her other hand reached for the door handle. If he moved again, she'd interfere. She wasn't going to let Cindy get hurt because she couldn't solve this case.
"Jésus, you know I wouldn't leak you to anyone," Cindy assured him. "You know every time you help me you help yourself. My inspector friend will be more likely to forgive someone who's already helped her out."
"Sé, sé," he said quickly. He rubbed his forehead, and Lindsay pulled on the handle to unlatch the door, but waited a few moments more. She wanted to be sure that she wasn't going to screw Cindy up. "You owe me for this."
"Totally. I've got your back," Cindy said happily, nearly sighing with relief. He nodded.
"You'll find him in the Chinatown ghetto. It's the last place he thought the cops would look," Jésus told her, once again speaking Spanish for added comfort. Cindy grinned.
"Gracias. Thank you so much," she said. She stepped away from his door. "Be careful." He smirked and shut the door.
Lindsay raised an eyebrow at Cindy's grin as the redhead re-entered the car, looking very smug. "He spilled, I see."
"Yep. Told you I could handle it," Cindy shot. Her eyes drifted down to Lindsay's hand, still clenched to whiteness on her gun. "You apparently weren't so confident."
"Just making sure," Lindsay muttered. She started the car and headed back towards the Hall to get Jacobi so they could bring their missing dealer in. "Thanks for your help. If this pans out, I'll owe you big time," she said after nearly ten minutes. Cindy smiled.
"The only thing you owe me is a promise that you'll let Jésus off easy if he gets himself into trouble. He's the one that really helped you," she pointed out.
"Yeah. That's something I'll never quite get used to."
xxxxx
"I'm tellin' you, lady, I din't sell no gun!" Zenny exclaimed in frustration. He was practically sweating, his pale lanky frame quaking with fear. Lindsay loved how paranoid drug dealers could be.
"Zenny, the serial number of the gun you bought two years ago exactly matches the one on the murder weapon used to kill Jason Donovan. Now I honestly don't think you did this one, Zenny, but the two pounds of dope we found on you is enough to put you away for five years, not to mention the fact that I'm sure a search of the place you were staying at would turn up enough smack to add another ten to that sentence." Lindsay stared at him seriously, boring into his eyes with her own. She continued, slowly. "If you sold your gun to someone, I'll I need is for you to tell me, and I can make this all go away."
Zenny looked at her nervously, eyes wide. He swallowed shakily, fingers tapping nervously on the table. "I… I mighta sold it," he stuttered.
"Might have?" Lindsay asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah yeah, I did," he clarified quickly.
"Who did you sell it to, Zenny?" Lindsay asked softly, trying to soothe him. It was like talking to a child.
"I uh, I sold it to a guy. Yeah, a white guy, kinda rich like." Now that he was on a roll, he couldn't seem to stop himself from talking. "He had real dark hair, balding like. Yeah, that's who I sold it to."
With a deep breath, Lindsay pursed her lips. "Okay, thank you Zennie. I'm going to need you to sit tight for a little while longer."
"So you got what you need right?" Jill asked as soon as Lindsay exited the interrogation room. She nodded dully.
"Yeah, I did. I need to go speak with Melvin Parker and his lawyer."
xxxxx
Three hours later, Zennie the drug dealer was under arrest for murder. Jill, Abby, Claire and Cindy were thoroughly confused at the turn of events in the case, but Lindsay was willing to explain it to them the best that she could.
"I wanted to believe that Parks had killed Donovan at first because it was the easiest person to pin it on. He was the last person to be seen with Donovan and he was definitely at the scene of the crime. But he had no motive, and there was absolutely no way to tie him to the gun," she started.
"Yeah, but when you got the drug dealer I thought he would flip on Parks," Claire interjected. Lindsay smiled.
"He tried. Problem was, he never sold that gun to anyone, just like he said at first. It was only when I told him that I didn't think he killed Donovan that he was willing to spill on his supposed buyer. However, Parks is obviously not a dark-haired, balding man. He's young and blonde. I knew then that Zenny and Parks had never met before. But there were still some pieces missing."
"So you talked to Parks again, and this time he was more willing to talk to you now that he knew the truth was out," Abby suggested, listening with rapt attention to her sister.
"Yeah, he was. He explained that he and Donovan had been leaving the bar when Zenny came out of nowhere and pulled a gun on them, pushing them into the ally. He tried to get them to give up their money so that he could get money for more drugs, but Zenny messed up and shot Donovan. After that he freaked, and made Parks transport the body at gunpoint," Lindsay finished.
"And Parks didn't come to the police out of fear," Cindy asked. Lindsay nodded. "We settled on two years for accomplice to murder."
"Wow. Such an exciting time for my first few days here," Abby commented idly.
"Yeah, welcome to the club," Jill grinned.
"Hey!" Cindy exclaimed indignantly. "How come she gets to be in the club so quickly? It took me weeks to get into the club."
"She's family," Lindsay replied matter of factly. "She gets a free pass." Cindy huffed.
"That's not fair," she pouted, crossing her arms. Abby grinned.
"You know, if it makes you feel any better, I promise to earn my membership in full," she offered.
Cindy continued to pout. "I guess that's okay," she acquiesced grudgingly.
"You know Abs, we should get going. As I recall, you've got dishes to do," Lindsay reminded her smugly. Abby's grin turned to a frown. She slid out of the booth slowly, grumbling under her breath. "See you tomorrow, guys," Lindsay said cheerfully.
There was a chorus of goodnights as the two of them exited the diner. "So what do you think so far?" Abby shrugged.
"Well, despite your abuse of me already," she said, sticking her tongue out, "I like it. I think I can get used to things here." Lindsay smiled.
"Good. I think we're going to need you."
They got in Lindsay's car and headed home for the night.