Part 7 – The First: Part 1
Inside Shuckin' Chuck's Chowder House, Jane Rizzoli drowns a basket full of deep-fried clams with malt vinegar and then wolfs them down. Detective Frost arrives for a mid-day meal and a chat with his still-recuperating partner. He throws off his jacket and slides into the booth.
"Mmm, those look good."
As he reaches for one of the clams, she swats his hand away.
"All mine, order your own."
"So, you can have greasy food now?"
"We'll find out soon."
"Aw, man."
"Don't worry, that's why I picked the booth next to the bathroom."
"How appetizing."
"Don't give me that, you just came from a bloody crime scene."
"Yeah, I'm getting better with the bodily fluids before lunch bit."
Barry holds up his hand to a passing waitress and points to Jane's clams. She asks for a refill on her water.
"Where's Korsak?"
"He's still on site… the vic is a young woman this time."
"Details, please."
"Jane, you're not back yet."
"Barry, c'mon!"
"You know the chief will have my hide if I tell you about the case."
"Like I'm gonna say something – besides, he's too busy dicking around with diagrams to notice."
The waitress brings their request. Jane snakes one of Barry's clams.
"Hey!"
"I just wanted to see if yours were better."
"Thief."
"Go call my brother… he's a cop."
"He wears the uniform well."
Rizzoli raises an eyebrow and Frost chuckles.
"How much longer are you two going to be staying at your folks' house?"
"I'm going back to my apartment in a few days – I'm sure Frankie will milk it for at least another week to get his laundry done."
"You know your parents love you both dearly, be grateful to have that… a lot of people don't."
"Yeah, I know… that's why it's so hard to tell them."
"Tell them what, Jane?"
"Never mind – is the latest vic involved with the DJ?"
"We're not sure yet – could be the girlfriend or some unlucky patron."
"That's three clubs in two months now – it's not random anymore."
"Agreed."
"I need to go over my notes on this case and clear the cobwebs out of my head."
"How did IA go today?"
"How does IA ever go?"
"Did you see the counselor?"
"Dr. Cohen… yep, fun times with a little old lady."
"I like her, she's a sweetheart – she was there for me when my cherry got popped."
Jane pauses a gulp of water to squint at Barry.
"The first time I shot someone."
"Right."
"You should feel free to discuss everything with her, Jane, she's really good."
"Nah, she reminds me too much of my elementary school librarian – that chick scared the crap out of me."
"The librarian or the naked African women in the National Geographic magazines?"
"How am I supposed to answer that with you?"
"Be creative."
"I was already creative with my answers earlier… I will tell Dr. Cohen whatever she wants to hear in order to get my gun and belt bling back."
"That's not how it's supposed to work."
"Hey, I will look at a piece of paper with a bunch of spots on it and tell her it's a bridge to my hopes and dreams and then sell that bridge to nowhere like an Alaskan politician."
"Do you really think your hopes and dreams are a bridge to nowhere?"
"Ugh, not you, too!"
Suddenly, Jane's phone vibrates. She nearly drops her glass to retrieve it.
"Christ, another message from one of Korsak's animal rescue groups – sorry, I thought it was from Maura."
"When is she going to call you?"
"After her presentation today."
"Tell her I said hi and remind her that the West Coast is no East Coast."
"Will do."
"And why exactly do you have Vince's phone?"
"He let me borrow it since mine kinda fell out of my hand… hard."
"After the Bobby situation, we'll all be getting new ones through the department soon."
"Will they be monitoring us?"
"Oh yeah, Big Brother time, baby."
"How dumb is that – like a rotten cop can't find a non-company cell phone to do dirty deeds on."
"Yes, but the phone calls won't be on the taxpayers' dime."
"Ooh, lookie, lookie, Mr. Mayor in da house, yo!"
"Don't try to be black… ever."
Jane grins her dimples at him and counters with a bad fake Italian accent.
"Eh, I let a-you tell me how to make da meatball."
"Because I know how to make meatballs – your Mama and your Maura aren't the only ones."
"My Maura?"
"Your Maura."
"Mmm, my Maura… she's the only doctor with an opinion that matters to me."
Rizzoli's stomach starts to rumble and she makes a sick face.
"Uh-oh, spoke too soon."
Barry jumps up in a hurry to leave. He grabs his jacket and takes his leftovers to go.
"I'll give you a call later when I find out more details…"
"Can I give you a high-five or do you want me to shake your hand?"
"How about a quick hug if you promise not to puke?"
"Sure, why not – consider it prep work for your future in politics."
"Do I have your vote?"
"Only if you bump up the public safety budget."
"Deal."
The two share a warm embrace.
"Hang in there, partner."
"Thanks, Frost."
As he scoots out the door, Jane asks the waitress for a ginger ale. She thinks back to exactly one month ago – the last time she had fried clams and the first time she kissed her Maura.
They were finishing up a long day of work by bringing the case home to Jane's apartment. Rizzoli is straddling her kitchen chair, polishing off her second helping of Shuckin' Chuck's take-out while Isles chatters away on the couch about the club scene and the history of House music.
"…whereas UK hard house is a more powerful version of Chicago house but French house has a lower bpm – that's beats per minute."
"Uh-huh."
"In fact, a lot of today's pop music is predicated on the sounds of the 90's rave scene."
Jane darts up and makes her way to her liquor cabinet.
"Sorry, you lost me at 'today's pop music'…"
"Maybe it would be more engaging to you if we watched some old videos?"
Jane tries not to snore by fetching a double shot of bourbon.
"While this is all very interesting, Dr. Dancefloor, tell me more about the drugs."
"By chemical name, brand name, generic name, or street name?"
Jane slams both shots with one long swallow.
"This is gonna be a long night."
"I'm not entirely convinced that the two murders are related, nor are they necessarily tied to illegal narcotics."
"One murder at a nightclub is random, two DJs getting gunned down in a month is more than a coincidence and three homicides become a pattern… I want to solve this before number three happens."
Maura watches as Jane pours herself another shot.
"You won't be solving much of anything if you keep hitting that bottle with both hands."
"I'm thirsty."
"Try water."
"Try shutting it."
"I don't think I've ever seen you drink this much hard liquor before."
"Eat your clams, please… sorry it's not your fancy frou frou food."
Jane plops on the couch next to Maura who dangles a deep-fried delectable in front of her best friend and then pops the golden goodie in her mouth instead.
"Yum, I love hot Ipswich clams, especially when they burst in your mouth."
"Heh, I'm sure you do."
"Do you have any kalamata aioli to dip them in?"
"Yeah, I just picked some up the other day – it's on the shelf next to the beurre de blah blah blah… no, I don't."
"Do you have any malt vinegar or do I resort to ketchup?"
"I do have vinegar, yes."
Jane gets up and goes to find it. Maura calls after her.
"The kind that comes from a grape, not your sarcasm!"
Jane makes a facial equivalent to drinking a shot of vinegar and opens the door to her refrigerator.
"Do you wanna long neck beer to go with your long-necks?"
"I'd prefer some wine."
"All out."
"What happened to the bottle of Gewurztraminer I brought over last week?"
"Ma found it."
"Then, I'll have some bourbon, thank you."
Rizzoli generously pours a shot in the glass and brings over Isles' requested items, along with the shot for herself. Maura is listening to an original track from one of the slain DJs and dissects it with each head bob.
"Most excellent… reminds me slightly of John Digweed with a little bit of The Chemical Brothers thrown in."
"Care to tell me how this is not drug related again?"
"I won't deny that it is a significant part of the culture but we cannot assume a connection until the tox screens come back."
"Maybe you can call up some of your rich friend party pals and see if there could be another non-narcotic connection like they were all sleeping with the same Hollow-Wood starlet or maybe belonged to the same charity foundation – 'underground grooves for underprivileged youths'…
"Stop mocking."
"Pick a finger, Maura."
"Promises, promises, Jane."
"Long night for sure."
Jane drains the remains of her drink as Maura gives her a withering glance.
"You've been in a foul mood all week, Jane Rizzoli, and it's not even our cycle time."
"Maybe I should just dance around like a chicken with my head cut off, huh?"
"Why don't you? – I know you know how."
Maura instantly taps her phone and calls up Callisto by Dash Berlin & Shogun. She leaps up and starts to caper and sway in perfect unison with the beat.
"I just knew you were looking for any excuse to play that overblown disco tribal trip hop hip hop bippity boppity boo crap that you love so much."
Maura tugs at Jane's hand.
"Come, do it with me!"
"No."
Maura only jacks up the volume and continues her rhythmic prancing.
"Jane…"
"I said no and I mean it."
"Coward."
"Hey!"
"Forgive me, I meant to say chicken… sans caput."
"I don't care for dares."
"How about the truth is that you know I can out undulate you, so you are afraid to play?"
"Is that how you want to play this, Freckles?"
"I will play it any way you want, Stretch."
Jane vaults up and matches Maura, move for move, as they bounce around the apartment. During a slower piano section, both are somewhat surprised by the lack of personal space between them but do not separate. For the first time, Jane does not flinch when Maura brushes against her. They lock eyes and grow even closer. The soft turns and holds linger.
The beat builds again sending them back to their earlier bounce for the remainder of the song. Finally, both Jane and Maura collapse back on the couch, more than slightly sweaty and out of breath.
"See, wasn't that fun?"
"I need to shower with some wailing electric guitars…"
Maura sighs and smiles her signature smile.
"I'm so sorry our victims were not pool hall bartenders with arena rock blaring from speakers next to the neon beer signs."
"Because beer is for peasants… come right out and say it, Maura, you know you want to."
"And dance music is for queers, isn't that right, Jane?"
Rizzoli swallows her breath and her saliva at the same time causing a combo choking/coughing fit. Isles pats and rubs her back.
"Take small breaths through your nose and release it slowly through your mouth."
"Went down the wrong pipe, that's all."
"Larynx… it's call the larynx."
"I'll be sure to make a note of that."
"You probably wouldn't know how to spell it."
"Wow, apparently I'm not the only one in a mood."
"Hard liquor makes me feisty."
"Hard liquor makes me horny."
Both realize that Jane said those words out loud but neither has the courage to follow up on it. Maura politely gets up from the couch and takes her empty glass and plate to the kitchen. She refocuses her attention back to the main topic.
"Because something is foreign to you, please don't criticize it until you know more about it."
"Seems to me all DJs are spoiled brats with too much time on their hands."
"Some DJs are indeed connected to the upper echelons of society but many of them are true avant-garde artists."
"I guess that makes my dog an artist when she howls at sirens."
Maura shakes her head as she takes a seat across from Jane. Her impish grin returns and is accompanied by an eyebrow wag as she directly stares between her tipsy colleague's thighs.
"I know you possess a broad brush but try not to paint everyone with it."
Rizzoli instantly crosses her legs and rejects the double entendre entreaty with a dose of reality.
"You know, when I was growing up, Pop's work was never steady and I had to juggle three shitty jobs in high school just to keep my family off of food stamps, so forgive me for not shedding a tear over a couple of dead playboys who thought their thumping noise was the next Mozart masterpiece – in fact, my still-intact eardrums are doing a little happy dance."
"Please don't revel in someone else's misery."
"I'm not reveling – well, maybe a slight fist pump and a hip bump."
Maura now gets up and slowly walks in back of Jane who is slouching on the couch. She bends over and gently wraps her arms around the neck and shoulders of her friend.
"I am truly sorry that burden was placed on you by your family when you were young… but your Schadenfreude is showing and it's not at all attractive."
Rizzoli returns the embrace by reaching for Isles' arms and squeezing them. She softens her tone.
"I thought his name was Sigmund?"
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar… or a clam."
They both groan as Jane rises from the couch and turns to face Maura.
"I'm sorry, I have been a bit of a bitch lately… an unhappy ghost from the past is haunting my thoughts."
"You know you can talk about it with me."
"I know, but I'm not ready to share yet."
"Okay…"
Maura takes her purse and coat and heads for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"It's late and I'm tired, we'll go over the case more in the morning."
"You can stay here if you want, your pajamas are still in my closet from the last time."
Isles considers the offer. In fact, she was hoping it would be made since she was ready to fall asleep on her feet.
"Are you sure? – I don't want to impose."
"Please, the bed is yours – I wanna catch some scores and then I'm right behind you."
"Great, thanks."
As Maura disappears into the bedroom, Jane takes another shot of bourbon directly from the bottle.
"Ginger ale, detective?"
"What?"
Rizzoli is snapped from her month-a-go memory by a smiling waitress.
"Do you want another ginger ale?"
"Just the bill, please."
"No charge for hero cops, the owners insist."
Jane looks over to see an overly enthusiastic couple smiling and waving at her.
"In that case, I'll have a big piece of blueberry pie, thanks."
"Coming right up."
As Jane waits for the dessert, her phone goes off again. She answers it without looking at the screen.
"Lady, for the last time, I can't take your kitten."
"How about doing something else with my pussy?"
"Maura!"
Jane crouches down in the booth and nervously fidgets with her hair."
"Hey, how are you?"
"Better now that you are my audience."
"How did your presentation go?"
"My slideshow of emphysema aquosum left them breathless, ha!"
Rizzoli is not quite sure how to respond. Isles switches to another topic.
"How are you feeling, Jane?"
"Borderline… we'll see what happens with the pie."
"Do I dare ask where you are?"
"Shuckin' Chuck's."
"Ooh, clams!"
"I know."
"I remember the last time we had clams…"
"One month today, why do you think I'm here?"
"I wish I could be there with you."
"Get on a plane… right now."
"Jane."
"Look, I know we have issues to work through, Maura, but let's make this real easy – you, me, and a mattress, okay?"
"I wish it were that simple…"
"It can be… it can be anything we want it to be."
"It needs to stop being hidden, first."
The silence is deafening. The waitress brings over the piece of pie and asks Jane if she wants ice cream to go with it. Before Rizzoli can answer, Isles answers for her in her ear.
"Absolutely not, Jane, I forbid it – you keep pushing your GI system, it will push back in a very ugly way!"
Jane nods her head yes to the waitress and gives her the thumbs up. It's a risk she is willing to take.
"I have an idea, why don't you do your presentation for me?"
"The entire thing?"
"Sure, why not?"
"It's an hour and forty-five minutes…"
"And that's an hour and forty-five minutes I have you all to myself."
The break in Rizzoli's voice triggers an audible gasp from Isles. Jane takes a deep breath and continues.
"I miss you, Maura – I honestly don't know what to do about this whole thing but I do know how to do it to you and I want to do it better, so please let me."
There is a too-long pause.
"The effects of saltwater on human decomposition by Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner to the Boston Police Department and the Commonwealth of Massachusetts…"
Maura makes it through the first ten minutes of her presentation before Jane interrupts her.
"Um, the combo of deep-fried seafood, ultra-rich pie, and the discussion of briny brains is a little too much, sweetie, sorry… BLECH, gotta go, URRP, I'll call you later!"
"Make sure you stay hydrated!"
Rizzoli hangs up and bolts to the bathroom with her mouth covered.
On the other side of the continent, Isles slides her phone back in her purse and excuses herself from the main conference room. She steps outside and finds an isolated bench. She wants some alone time before the next panel discussion begins.
She takes a seat and thinks back to one month ago and replays the aftermath of their atypical friendly work dinner. Maura slips her silk pajamas on and comfortably settles in Jane's bed. Happy as a clam with a belly full of steamers and booze, Maura slowly drifts toward dreamland pondering the epidemiology of vancomycin-resistant enterococci.
The detective joins the doctor between the sheets after the evening sports recap. Maura is vaguely aware of Jane's presence but thinks nothing of it at first. They sleep together quite frequently as platonic best friends so often do.
It isn't until the spontaneous movements of slumber are replaced with careful, deliberate advances on Jane's part. She cautiously coils her limbs around Maura's and inches her way closer to her face. Rizzoli's serpentine motion unnerves Isles because she is rapidly becoming aware of what is about to happen.
And it finally does.
P.S. I apologize for the delay. My real profession pays for the real bills and it takes precedence on occasion. I will continue to update this story throughout the new season, whether or not I continue to watch the series. Thanks!
