Author's note: Wow, I have genuinely been overwhelmed by the comments I've gotten on the last few chapters, especially since the comment seems to be a dying art form. Thanks to everyone who is reading. This chapter is short but sweet, and the next one is all ready to go as well.
Film Studies 170: Les liaisons dangereuses
The film: Dangerous Liaisons (Stephen Frears, 1988)
Brenda was smiling as she walked down the hall toward Major Crimes. She'd had a good day at work - unremarkable, but a pleasant Thursday. She had sailed through the lobby downstairs as if she owned the place; and either because he recognized her or because she was projecting authority, the sergeant on desk duty hadn't asked her to sign in. It felt good to be back, even if only for a few minutes to pick Sharon and Rusty up so they could head to dinner. Sharon's car was being serviced, and carpooling was the easiest thing in the world when you started and ended the day in the same place.
"Hey, everybody," she chirped as she swept into the Murder Room. She'd noticed a definite up-tick in her mood this week, despite the crick in her back from sleeping on a sofa. Furniture aside, being in Sharon's living space was more comfortable than she could have imagined. Neither Sharon nor Rusty had made a big deal out of it; it was as if she'd been there for weeks, or even months. She had kept her room at the hotel, of course, but she had brought her larger suitcase to Sharon's, and the captain told her at least once a day that Brenda was welcome to stay as long as she wanted. Brenda hadn't realized how lonely she'd been until she was no longer alone.
"Chief," Sanchez greeted her with a warm smile of welcome. After a second that smile melted into a look of trepidation. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I just came to see Capt'n Raydor. She in her office?"
The door of the inner room was closed but the light was on; Sharon was obviously there. Andy stood up quickly. "I'll go tell the captain you're here," he said - protectively, Brenda thought.
"Don't bother. She already knows." Provenza motioned toward the office. When Brenda looked, Sharon was looking back. The captain wiggled her fingers in a little wave.
"Hey there," the blonde greeted her temporary roommate as she closed the door behind her. Since she didn't plan to stay long, she didn't head for the visitor's chair. "Everybody out there seems kinda jumpy. Y'all workin' on somethin' big? Can you still leave?"
"What?" At Brenda's shoulder, Sharon looked out into the Murder Room. "Oh, no. Everything's fine." With a flick of her wrist, she closed the blinds. She crossed back to her desk and pressed a button on the console of the desk phone. "Buzz? Please tell Rusty we'll be ready to go in five minutes."
"No problem," the civilian tech replied. "Also, the film he needs to watch for school just finished downloading, and I'm burning it for you."
"Thank you, Buzz." Sharon pressed the button again to sever the connection.
Brenda grinned. "Burnin' DVDs - is that legal, capt'n? What're we watchin'?"
"Dangerous Liaisons. He can watch it and write a short essay for extra credit."
"And you're gonna make him watch it with us? Sharon, he'll be mortified," Brenda said, amused.
Sharon shrugged. "It's that or on his laptop."
The older woman seemed distracted and distinctly cool, although she had been in a fine mood that morning. Not one to tiptoe around these things, at least not with Sharon, Brenda asked, "Are you sure everythin's okay? You seem upset."
"I'm not upset." The forceful closure of a desk drawer belied the words. "If the squad seems edgy, it's because of a very different kind of liaison. Agent Howard was just here." She glanced at her watch. "You missed him by less than five minutes."
"Oh. Well, I didn't run into him, so everybody can breathe a sigh of relief."
Sharon hummed as she shut down her computer. Her posture was tense, certainly not relieved.
"I didn't know you were workin' with the FBI," Brenda said. It was natural enough that Sharon would have avoided mentioning Brenda's very-soon-to-be-ex-husband, but she couldn't quite find it in her heart to be grateful. She didn't like not being told things.
"Oh, we're not." Sharon moved papers across her desk, shuffling some into a file. Her gaze remained trained on what her hands were doing.
"Oh. Then why was Fritz here?" Her first thought was that he'd come to ask Sharon about her, but that couldn't be right. Fritz didn't even know that she and Sharon had become friends, let alone that Brenda was staying at Sharon's condo. Brenda would prefer to keep it that way.
"He just came by to ask me a question."
Sharon's vagueness increased Brenda's suspicions. And hadn't Sharon just moved those papers for the third time?
"What kind of question?" Brenda pursued, her eyes narrowing.
"A - a question of a personal nature," the captain stammered, still looking at her busy hands.
Hurt and hostility flared at the pit of Brenda's stomach. Surely Sharon hadn't actually told him anything, had she? "What did you say?" she demanded.
Wide-eyed, Sharon finally met her gaze. "About what?"
"About me."
"We weren't talking about you."
"You weren't?"
"Your name didn't come up." Sharon turned, smoothing her charcoal slacks over her hips and reaching for the leather satchel she used for work. "Are you ready? Let me just- -"
"If you weren't talkin' about me, what on earth were you talkin' about?"
"Well. Agent Howard is the FBI liaison."
"You said it was personal."
Brenda had never seen Sharon look so uncomfortable. Her eyes kept darting away, and she couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. Any second now they would find their way into her pockets.
"Oh, my Lord," Brenda breathed as realization dawned. "He asked you out on a date."
Sharon's silence was confirmation.
"Oh, my Lord," Brenda repeated. "He's already thinkin' about datin'? Not just thinkin' about it - doin' it. And you, of all people!"
"Me, of all people?" Sharon echoed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean he prefers blondes," she snarked facetiously. "I mean I'd think he'd want to avoid the LAPD, wouldn't you? Especially Major Crimes. Oh, for heaven's sake!" She stopped pacing to fix Sharon with a sharp look. "What did you say?"
"What did I say?" The captain sounded rather affronted. "I said no, obviously."
"Obviously," Brenda echoed, still sounding grumpy but beginning to feel ashamed of herself. She hadn't meant to seem so accusatory. She knew Sharon wouldn't have done anything wrong.
Sharon gazed back at her. Those wide green orbs looked unusually vulnerable. "Did - ah, did you mean anything else by what you said? Me, 'of all people'?"
What, had she wounded the captain's vanity? Brenda raised her eyebrows. "What else would I have meant?"
Sharon took a deep breath, her shoulders rising dramatically, as if steeling herself for something unpleasant. "I thought perhaps you meant that I seldom go out. And when I do, I don't go out with men."
"Oh."
"So I am a particularly unsuitable candidate," the older woman joked, half-hearted. Brenda didn't know how to respond.
"Most people know," Sharon continued after a moment. "I assumed you did. But since Agent Howard was none the wiser, I thought you might not be either. So I decided I should tell you."
"Oh, okay," agreed Brenda. She sounded painfully stupid. She hated how uneasy Sharon was, and instead of soothing her, all she was doing was making it worse.
"In case it… bothers you."
Sharon's hands had finally found her pockets, and were now jammed in there as if they planned to burrow in for the winter.
"Why would it bother me?" the blonde asked, surprised. "Sharon, I don't care who you sleep with - or, in your case, don't sleep with, since you don't date."
"I have found in the past that some of my friends - my women friends - began to behave differently once they knew, because they assumed - that is -"
"Oh, good grief." Brenda folded her arms and huffed. "I'm not an idiot, Sharon. I don't think you're tryin' to seduce me, okay? Honestly."
The brunette auditioned a tiny, cautious smile. "I didn't mean to insult your intelligence."
"Well, good. That's enough of that, then."
"Not quite." Sharon stopped Brenda's progress toward the door with a hand on her arm. Their eyes met. The taller woman looked so earnest that it hurt Brenda's heart. "If you are seen to be dropping by, spending time with me outside of work, you realize that other people will make assumptions."
"You mean people might think I'm in a relationship with a gorgeous, intelligent, aloof captain, instead of an FBI agent or a pudgy, balding chief of police? You're right, Sharon. That could really hurt my reputation."
Sharon chuckled. "Okay, Brenda. Point taken."
"Good, 'cause I'm starvin'. Do you wanna go have a steak? Does Rusty eat steak?"
"Rusty eats everything," Sharon replied, closing her office door behind them. "Not a chain restaurant, though. If we're going at all, let's go somewhere really good."
"No objections here."
The two women were crossing the Murder Room, heads bowed together. The captain looked up with a pleasant smile. "Good night, everyone," she said.
"Night, y'all," Brenda echoed with a bright smile. "See you soon."
"Good night, captain," Provenza replied, looking up from his crossword with a pencil tucked behind his ear. "Brenda. Don't be a stranger."
"Good night, ladies," added Tao, passing them on his way back to his desk. He carried a metal box containing who knew what.
"Good to see you, chief," Sanchez contributed. Sykes smiled. Flynn stared.
No one spoke until a minute had passed, ample time for the captain and Brenda to have retrieved Rusty and made it onto the elevator.
"That was weird," Sanchez stated. He looked around at his colleagues. "That was weird, right?"
"Yes, Julio." Provenza had kicked back now, propping his crossed ankles on his desk. "That was weird."
"I disagree," Tao argued. "I don't see what's unusual about the captain and Chief Johnson developing a cordial relationship now that the chief is no longer the chief."
"But just how cordial is that relationship?" Provenza couldn't resist cracking.
"You mean, is Chief Johnson one now too?" Sanchez asked.
Sykes frowned. "One what?"
"He means a dyke," Flynn said.
Amy's frown deepened into a scowl. "I think you'll find that he means a lesbian." She looked to Provenza as the most trustworthy in the bunch. "Is Captain Raydor -?"
"No," snapped Flynn as Sanchez said, "Yeah."
Provenza's shoulders lifted in an exaggerated shrug. "Maybe. Feel free to ask her."
Sykes scoffed. "Oh, right."
"Everybody says she is."
"Yeah, Sanchez - and everybody says that about every woman on the police force. It doesn't mean anything," Flynn objected. Sanchez rolled his eyes, as if to say, Poor, deluded Flynn.
"Okay, that's enough. Don't you people have any work to do?" Provenza grumbled. "And if you don't, at least shut up. Silence is golden."
After a moment, however, it was the eldest lieutenant who broke his own rule.
"I guess we can all agree on one thing," he mused aloud. "Former Chief Johnson got luckier than Agent Howard."
In the hallway, Brenda clapped a hand over her mouth, and Sharon smothered a laugh. Of one accord, they headed toward the elevator. (Poor Rusty had been excited about the chance to get the car from the parking deck and pull it around to the front of the building.)
As she pressed the elevator call button, Sharon cocked her head and said, "Tell me this. Did you know?"
"Well, I'd heard rumors for years, but what Andy said is true. People, especially men, say women in authority must be lesbians. I don't even wanna get into that juvenile reasonin'. It doesn't necessarily mean anythin'. I didn't give what I heard any credence, but I guess I wondered, especially as I got to know you better."
"Oh, yeah? I give off a dyke-y vibe?" Sharon only allowed herself the joke because the elevator was empty as they stepped onto it.
"No, whatever that is," Brenda drawled. She leaned back against the wall and cast a speculative eye over the other woman. "But, drunk as I was, I noticed you didn't need directions to the Corner Pocket."
"I do not frequent the Corner Pocket."
"No doubt. I can't imagine you frequentin' any bar."
"You might be surprised," the captain laughed. "But we'll save that discussion for another time. Right now I want to know what possessed you to go on your bender at a lesbian dive bar."
"I didn't want anybody hittin' on me."
"Let me guess: that didn't work out for you."
"No. But the attention was kinda nice, not sleazy."
With a ping, the elevator reached its destination, and they stepped off.
"Is that why you like me, Brenda Leigh? Because I pay attention to you?"
Brenda turned sharply, arrested by the serious undercurrent of Sharon's playful words. "No," she said, making sure to meet those murky green eyes. "I like you because you're my friend - and because you make such delicious pot roast. Now let's go have dinner. I'm buyin'. And if we don't have to wait, we'll still have time to torture Rusty with that movie before bed."