Chapter ten: Barbara

Her name was Barbara. She had curly blond hair and hazel eyes. I don't know why I went for her and not any other one. Attraction to one person can be tough to explain or understand.

Sometimes, it just happens and you accept it or not. I did.

She was dancing alone in the middle of the crowd. I approached her – smiled – and soon enough our bodies were brushing each other in subtle foreplay under the nightclub spotlight.

There is nothing easier than to seduce someone like that; nothing more direct and somehow coward. It won't be about sentiments and desires of a future together. Just the quickest way to feel someone's heat on you and the hypnotizing release of hormones once you are done. It is bare – a tad frustrating – but it does the job. If only for the primary aspect of it. As for the rest, you learn how to ignore it.

She lived in a small apartment and had a cat named Mister Brown. As we entered the living-room, he came to brush himself against my ankles. Was he used to it? These night strangers who stopped by and never came back after? I pushed everything aside and played along.

For a few seconds, I thought about Anastasia, Margaret, Leah, Emily. Constance. As my memory tried to fix itself on her, I swept it away with a glass of wine and followed Barbara to her bedroom.

Some people are lucky in love. Others aren't. It's a fact. The only thing we can do is to adapt ourselves according to the category we belong to. I'm from the second one. I don't try to escape from anything, I mean I don't think so. It just works better that way around.

Nobody is hurt. Everyone is satisfied and life goes on. We go on.

Barbara was pretty and gentle. Her kisses melted in caresses and it didn't take me long to relax, to fully abandon myself to her arms. I'm good at choosing them; choosing one-night stands. It's only when all these feelings are involved that I make mistakes. I'm terrible when I have to deal with them.

She asked me if I had a girlfriend. What kind of difference would have it made? We were already on her bed, wearing nothing but our underwear. Wasn't it a bit late?

I just needed her flesh against mine if only for a couple of hours. I didn't want anything else. I knew it would make me feel alive; comfortingly. She brought all that to me. Did it make me happy? Maybe, I'm not sure. But I felt relieved.

I was thirty-one years old. She was around the same age. I already knew Jane.

...

The door of the pub opened and Maura entered; her stilettos resounding loud against the floor, with that self-confidence that never passed unnoticed. Waiting for her beer at the counter, Jane looked at this woman she considered as her best friend and swallowed hard.

"Doctor Isles... I wonder if she's seeing anyone. I heard she wasn't bad. Anyway, she can call me anytime."

The young officer's laugh stopped immediately as Jane turned around and looked at him angrily. In a complete silence – keeping a low profile – the young man left for a table with the colleague his remark had been directed to.

There was no doubt men assumed that Maura was straight. She had even dated a few of them at the office rather openly even if it hadn't lasted for very long. Could she...

Jane frowned. As if her confusion were not enough, she now felt ashamed as well. After having found the mysterious card on her friend's desk, she had made some research on the web. First about the woman. With her phone number, it hadn't been too complicated to find her address and her workplace. She worked for a publishing house in Boston. Not really a thrilling discovery if Jane had to be honest. Then – and even though it didn't take much to get what kind of bar The 3W Cafe could be – she had typed the name and went through the official site.

It could mean so many things in the end. Not necessarily...

Maura had this gift to meet people and talk to them rather easily; no mattered she didn't believe it herself. Her eloquence was such that she could get pretty much anything from anyone. And I don't even mention her freaking interests. Perhaps she had met that woman – Jane – at the supermarket or in some art gallery. They had started talking and all of a sudden Maura had been interested in something related to books. Unless she was simply looking for a special one; a special edition. After all, the medical examiner loved reading and the collection she had in her bedroom was quite impressive.

Yes. It had to be that. An acquisition. A very rare purchase that only a publisher could get her. The woman had wanted to leave her a phone number and for not having any paper around, she had grabbed the first thing from her bag and it had turned out to be the card.

Easy. Simple. Logical.

Or not.

She would have told me if she were... We're friends, dammit. Of course, she would have told me about it. And right from the beginning.

"Hi, Maur'. Here's your Cabinet."

As she reached the counter and looked down at the glass of wine Jane had made slide towards her, the honey blonde frowned then smiled apologetically.

"A Cabernet. It's a Cabernet Sauvignon, Jane."

The detective rolled her eyes, nodded and beer in hand, she headed towards the table where Frost and Korsak were waiting.

"Whatever."

Both women invaded the unoccupied booth to finally face their colleagues who immediately stopped talking as if they had been caught in the middle of something. Jane laughed at their reaction, took a sip of her beer before rising a mischievous eyebrow.

"What were you talking about that we pushed you to stop like that?"

Frost swept away the question with a gesture of the hand but Korsak gave in with his typical carefree attitude that made his colleague grow uncomfortable immediately.

"Striptease. This young man was telling me that he had never been to a strip club, before."

Perplexed before the way both men had come to talk about striptease considering a minute earlier they were still talking about the case, Jane made a face. Maura on the other end – and pretty much as usual – didn't lose herself in the same kind of analysis at all.

"How come you've never been to one?"

The blonde took a sip of her wine while looking innocently at Frost on the other side of the table. She seemed to be perfectly calm; at ease. It didn't surprise Jane the least.

"Why everyone doesn't go to a strip club, Maura..."

Has she herself ever been to one? Jane shook her head to sweep away the thought. She should have never investigated on her friend's personal life. It was a high betrayal and now she was paying it for having learned absolutely nothing; except everything was mixed. What a mess had she put herself in.

"No but it is well-known that men appreciate visual stimulation when women tend to be more in touches; and caresses. Or kisses... Besides, some of these girls are excellent dancers as well."

Truth to be told, Jane loved when her friend gave into such reaction. Openly, out loud. Maura owned this capacity to put conventionalism aside to say what she thought yet sticking to a Cartesian way of advancing her arguments. As if science had melted in her manner of speaking to create an odd, singular behavior.

"... Okay... Could we now talk about something else than half-naked ballet dancers, please? I haven't had dinner yet."

Maura smirked but implicitly agreed and very soon the conversation focused on some random subjects. After her second pint of beer, Jane quietly observed her friend. The honey blonde was in full talk with both men about some action movie they had all watched during the week.

She's my friend. She would have told me. She couldn't hide a part of her from me. Growing out of frustration, Jane bit the inside of her lip and sighed rather loudly. Let it go, Rizzoli.

She did. Pushing all these questions aside, the detective gave back into life. That life; this routine she loved more than anything. A dinner between friends around a few beers. Laughing, arguing. That was what she had to go for and certainly not a series of hypothesis. Ridiculous ones, besides.

So she enjoyed the rest of the evening as she always did when Maura was around.

Easy. Simple. Logical.