Amanda makes it home after muay thai and showers. With Beth out of town for the weekend for her brother's wedding, her Friday night is her own. As much as she hates backing off Gorman, she knows the advice to do so is correct. Now that she's really on his radar, he'll pay far more attention to her now, like he has all week at work.
Feeding Tanith takes just a few minutes before she settles in with the chicken and sweet potato hash she put in the oven while she showered. While overtime isn't as much of a constant now, years of her eight hour shifts running to ten or twelve hours taught her the value of premade meals that just need to be reheated over store bought. Well, that and cooking lessons with Carol.
Besides, watching Food Network as she eats just doesn't mesh with some store bought microwave meal. Half the things the chefs make are things she would never eat, especially on the competition shows, but the ideas still always make her appreciate a good meal. She was lucky as a kid, to be too young to actively remember going hungry before Mama McGinley's. Daryl and Merle weren't so lucky.
Since she has to work tomorrow, she's considering just an early night after hand washing her dishes from breakfast and supper. The jaw cracking yawn definitely makes it a worthwhile idea. But then her phone buzzes, and ignoring it just isn't in her skill set anymore.
Swearing soundly after reading Rick's text, Amanda considers changing, but it's just more effort than she wants to bother with. It's August, hot and humid, and showing up in running shorts and a t-shirt is just going to have to suffice. Throwing together an overnight bag to support the girlfriend scenario, she texts back that she's on her way.
She isn't sure what to make of the next text at first, but ten minutes later, she's at the security office of the building being scanned into their system and handed a shiny access keycard like she's seen the two Grimes men and Beth use.
"Just swipe it through the card reader in the elevator or at the apartment door," the security guard advises. He's a retired cop himself, proud enough of his thirty-five years on the force to brag as they waited on the system to update. "If you have any issues, just come see me, Sergeant Shepherd."
Thanking him, she heads for the main elevator bank and sighs before ducking next door into the specialty grocery store that connects in the lobby. A few extras to set their interrupted date night scenario will help. Things are getting a little too involved when she's got her own key, more or less, to the home of her supposed friend with benefits. But as she makes it to the elevator, she supposes she understands. It doesn't make sense for her to have to be escorted up every time.
"Rick?" She calls out, pretending to fuss with the two canvas shopping bags and her overnight bag as she walks through the foyer.
"In the kitchen," he answers.
Rounding the corner, he sees the shopping bags and leaves his spot at the counter to take both of them, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Thank God. I don't think she really believed I already had plans," he whispers.
Amanda smiles at their visitor, making sure to keep it cool and polite, not friendly. No matter what the relationship agreement, no woman wants her evening with a man interrupted. "Well, hello. I'm Amanda"
The girl's eyes widen, and Amanda thinks girl is the right term. She's Beth's age, maybe, and dressed to accentuate the coed idea in a Georgia State University t-shirt that hugs her curves over barely decent denim shorts. Her long, curly dark hair is tamed into a neat ponytail. She looks relieved, not upset, to see Amanda.
"Rick said he already had plans, but Gorman was pretty insistent that I stay." Biting her lip, she glances between them, fumbling a bottle of Sprite between her fingers nervously. "I'm Joan. Normally, it's extra for a couple, but Gorman said the boss said anything is free tonight."
Amanda controls the sense of horror from that statement with all the willpower she has. It also makes her wonder about the relieved look Joan had at Amanda's arrival. She looks at Rick, who pauses in putting away the food. "I told her neither of us were into that sort of thing," he says.
Sighing, Amanda reaches past Rick into the fridge and helps herself to one of the craft beers he seems to prefer. This is not going to be a quick dismissal, and they obviously have an insight into the escort business dropped right into their lap.
"Did you have supper?" Rick asks, folding the now empty shopping bags.
"On the way here. Some of that's for breakfast." Taking a seat on a barstool next to Joan, she smiles with a little more warmth. "I'm not sure why Gorman was so insistent on you staying."
"It's how new security is brought in by the boss with a… gift." Joan takes a drink of her soda and shudders. "And it's always free after, for security. Please don't send me back tonight."
Jesus. It's a test, to make sure Rick's really on board. Gorman is making sure he crosses the line by being a cop screwing a prostitute. No matter what fancy name Joan has, it's all the same thing. The girl doesn't lurk on the streets, avoiding cops, earning trickles of money at a time.
"Why are you worried about leaving?" Rick asks, looking alert and tense. He's picked up on something, but then again, he's been in the girl's presence longer.
Joan pales and shakes her head.
"Joan?" Amanda coaxes softly. "Why don't you want to leave?"
The girl looks between them both, and maybe it's that damned earnest boy next door expression Rick can still pull off at almost forty, but it works. "I'm supposed to check back in when I'm done, and if I do, Gorman will probably want me tonight."
Oh, hell. Amanda can't imagine being considered a perk of the job to a man like Gorman. It makes her stomach churn, and from Rick's expression, his, too. But they've got to play this carefully, because they have no idea how much of a hold over this girl the dirty cop has. Amanda's seen it time and time again, where a sex worker is loyal to their pimp even when the man is more dangerous to them than the actual work.
"You can stay, Joan, but it won't be for any special services," Rick tells the girl, his voice taking on a soothing tone Amanda suspects he probably has used hundreds of times as a patrolman. "Gorman doesn't understand about me and Amanda."
Joan's breathing calms, exactly as Rick intended, and she focuses on Rick. "What doesn't he understand?" Amanda kind of wonders that herself. What's Rick's interpretation to Joan of what they are to hide that they're partnered cops, not lovers.
"Male cops can do pretty much whatever they like in their private lives, and it doesn't affect their promotions," he says, coming to lean against the counter opposite where Joan is sitting. "But female cops? If someone like Gorman knew Amanda and I were serious about each other, it would be twisted to her sleeping her way to the promotions she's earned by her own hard work."
"Oh." Joan turns to Amanda, who shrugs at the question in the girl's eyes. "That's not fair."
"Nothing is ever fair if you're a woman doing a job most men think is for men only," Amanda tells her. It's actually clever of Rick to play that angle, because while a man might not immediately consider it a viable reason to keep their 'relationship' under wraps, a woman would, especially a young one being victimized by Gorman. She can practically see the words 'Romeo and Juliet' playing out in Joan's mind.
"That sucks." Joan sighs. "You don't want me to tell him that she was here tonight."
"We would prefer that you didn't. He thinks I'm dating someone else entirely, and we'd like it to keep it that way. Especially since she's about your age, and Gorman knows her."
Amanda sucks in a breath at the admission, but Rick's judged correctly. Joan practically fucking melts over the protective note in Rick's voice. "I wouldn't put another girl on his radar. Never," Joan says vehemently. "I'm guessing you didn't know what he wanted you to start working security for."
Rick shakes his head slowly. Technically, it's even true. Gorman never mentioned anything this involved, Amanda knows. "It was just for some extra money for my son's college fund."
Joan looks around the penthouse with wide eyes, a furrow appearing between her brows. "Why would you need extra money?"
"Because MIT costs fifty thousand dollars a year in tuition."
"Geez. And I thought the University of Georgia was expensive." Joan sighs, the confusion clearing easily at that massive sum. "That's how I ended up doing this, you know. I'm a senior this year, and I lost part of my funding for school last year. Another girl introduced me to Gorman."
Amanda had already sort of connected the dots with Gorman's extreme interest in Beth to his involvement with whoever owns the escort service, but this confirms it. "Do you know any of the other girls you work with?" she asks, wondering just how far to press the girl.
"A few. Sometimes we do a job together. Those are usually the ones that we get a security escort on, when there are multiple clients. They're all students like me." Joan actually tears up. "My major is useless now. I was going to be a teacher. How can I do that after I've done this? It was just supposed to be parties, not sex."
When Amanda moves closer, sliding an arm around the girl, it isn't just her training that prompts her. Joan buries her face in her hands, sobbing softly. When Amanda looks up at Rick, she can see a flicker of anger behind those clear blue eyes, and she knows her own expression reflects it as well. Once Joan finally calms and focuses on Rick again, Amanda stays close, keeping a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder.
Watching Rick question Joan gently, she wonders why someone with Rick's level of people skills is working property crimes. Maybe he's not as ambitious as Shane, wanting to climb the ranks into the political heights of a department, but she's not even sure Joan understands the gentle interrogation is exactly that. After watching some of the burned out detectives working crimes against persons in Atlanta, Amanda thinks she would kill for someone this gentle questioning the victim the next time she's dealing with a rape survivor.
The girl even has a mug of tea by the end of it, Rick moving through the same motions of heating water and setting up the porcelain teapot as Beth, despite his prior grumbling it's too finicky. The floral and apple scent of chamomile tea wafts from the pot and then the mug as Rick passes it to Joan after dumping enough honey in to sweeten four mugs. Joan sips at it, shivering as if she's cold, and Amanda supposes she probably is, so she goes and fetches a soft fleece throw off the couch to wrap around her shoulders.
"You won't tell Gorman what I told you?" Joan asks plaintively.
Rick shakes his head. "I'm not going to get you into any trouble with him. Tonight, you'll stay here, and then in the morning, you can check in like you always would. Just a boring night on the job, okay?"
Joan nods, cupping the mug close to her chest. Those big, dark eyes focus on Rick. "If you say you want to see me again, he'll probably start ignoring me. He doesn't like to share with other security."
That's maybe the weirdest fucking statement Amanda's ever seen. A man who takes advantage of sex workers, but he won't fuck a woman who's also fucking someone he knows directly. The bastard is probably afraid of gossip or comparison of his likely pitiful techniques in bed.
"I can do that." Rick doesn't even hesitate on that. Having a favorite is probably adding to their cover story with Gorman, although at this rate, Rick's going to have to claim a sex addiction. She doubts Gorman would think it unlikely. A pervert like him would just assume most other men are the same way, given the opportunity.
As soon as Joan passes the mug back to him, Rick offers a refill. She accepts, and then he gives her that soft, reassuring smile that the girl responds to like it's sunshine after a year in the dark. "C'mon, Joan. You look like you could use some decent sleep."
Amanda's eyes narrow a bit as Rick steers the girl down the hallway toward the master bedroom, one hand gently at the center of her back. She still has the fleece blanket around her shoulders. But he stops opposite of the direction his bedroom should be in, making her curious. Following the pair, she realizes that while the penthouse may officially only have two bedrooms, there's a third room.
The interior position means the room has no windows, but the lack of a closet and built in shelving makes her think it's intended to be a study or den of some sort. Rick certainly has it set up as such. A massive wooden desk is set up on one side of the room, in front of all the built in shelves, facing toward the door like any business office would. Instead of visitor's chairs, there's a comfortable looking couch, covered in a deep red fabric.
Rick tugs the cushions off the couch and stacks them against the wall, unfolding the full sized bed. While Joan and Amanda watch in curiosity, he retrieves sheets and a quilt out of the bottom drawer of a dresser, which doesn't quite fit the decor of the room. It makes sense a few minutes later, when Rick opens a drawer and offers a long Georgia Tech nightshirt to Joan.
"There's a bathroom back in the foyer," he tells the girl. "Just leave your tea on that side table until you get back."
As soon as Joan's gone, Rick actually starts making up the bed, so Amanda steps in to help make the process faster. "This is Beth's room, isn't it?"
Rick blinks, frowning as he looks up. "Yeah. Where did you think she slept when she stayed the night?"
It's one of those moments where Amanda wishes her faith in people was a quieter, nicer one, like Carol somehow manages even after years of hell with Ed. The hurt expression lasts only a moment before Rick locks it away, and there's little warmth in his eyes when he reaches for the quilt and unfolds it onto the bed. He doesn't say anything, though, just reaching for a set of pillows that had been hidden by the couch itself and tossing one to Amanda along with a pillow case.
The signs of Beth's occupancy are more obvious now that Amanda actually looks. On the desk, there's a stack of textbooks and a scattering of other books that definitely scream college student more than middle aged cop. The top of the dresser has baskets barely organizing the clutter, which includes several makeup items and a nice backlit mirror. Next to the dresser, she can see a shower kit like most college students use to carry toiletries to a group shared bathroom.
"Rick?" She speaks softly, unsure when Joan will return, and he looks up from where he's just settled his half of the pillows on the bed to join hers. He's gritting his teeth, because she can see his jaw firm up like it did that night in the garage when she made her snide comments about the flirty neighbor. "I'm sorry."
Whether or not he would reply in acceptance, she doesn't know yet, because Joan reappears, and the tense expression fades as he smiles at the girl. "If you need anything, we'll be right across the hall," he tells Joan. "I don't have to work tomorrow, but Amanda has to be up early for her shift."
Joan nods, looking exhausted from her earlier crying. Rick motions for Amanda to leave the room, closing the door behind both of them. He sighs deeply, leading her across the hall. His room is as spacious as she expected, given the rest of the place, easily twice the size of her bedroom at home. The neatly made king sized bed is covered with a forest green comforter that is probably completely unneeded in August, but it matches the pillow shams and the rest of the decor in the room, like the small two-seater sofa in the alcove.
"Is that a sleeper sofa, too?" she asks. It's on the small side if it is one, but it wouldn't surprise her if it is.
Rick stiffens again, and he shakes his head. "It's not. I didn't see the need for one actually in my bedroom." He runs a hand through his curls, sighing. "I'll sleep in Carl's room tonight. He's at his mother's anyway, or I would have told Gorman to piss off, case or no case."
Guilt flickers in Amanda's chest, and she reaches out to snag his elbow. It gets his attention on her instead of the Atlanta cityscape glittering beyond the wall of windows beyond the bed. "It's a king sized bed, Rick. I think we can manage to share it without kicking you out of your own room." It would mess with their cover with Joan, if the girl spotted Rick sleeping on the other side of the massive apartment, but that's not her primary motive here. She has the feeling if Rick does sleep elsewhere to preserve whatever modesty he thinks she needs preserving, it's going to sour their partnership in a way they can't come back from.
This is about trusting him, and she's already put a chip in that tonight.
Searching her eyes closely, Rick finally nods. "I need to shower."
It's as close to acceptance as she thinks she's going to get tonight, so Amanda smiles. "I'll go get my bag while you do that."
Rick disappears through a door, leaving her alone in the room. Even though her curiosity is definitely engaged after her previous jaunt through the room to the balcony, she goes to get her bag instead. The teapot is still on the counter, and noting how tidy the place always is, she rinses it out and leaves it in the gleaming little dish rack to dry. Her own empty beer bottle and Joan's soda bottle both go into the recycling bin before she grabs her bag.
Laying tomorrow's uniform over the small sofa, she can hear the water running in the bathroom, so Rick's still in the shower. She's a little surprised when a quick check of where the alarm clock is shows her that Rick sleeps on the side of the bed closer to the bathroom than the windows. If she had that view, she would definitely sleep closest to it. Turning down the bed, she folds the comforter down to the foot like she's seen in magazines. The high quality cotton sheets that are a lighter shade of green are really all they need for the night.
Switching on one of the bedside lamps after she plugs in her phone and its charger, Amanda turns off the overhead light and perches on the bed, studying the books in the headboard at last. Unlike the ones in the living room, which are hardcovers and almost nearly uniform in size, these are older books, as many paperbacks as hardbacks. Reaching for one, she expects something hardcore mystery, like Michael Connelly, or even the noir novels she's had male coworkers recommend, but while it is a mystery, the novel seems to feature an insurance investigator with a psychic gift, not a cop of any sort.
Sliding that one back in the shelf, she selects another, also a mystery. It makes her smile, because Amanda's actually been reading this series since high school. The librarian protagonist always intrigued Amanda, because she doesn't seem like the sort to solve crimes. All ten novels are nestled into the bookshelf on Rick's side of the bed, and one is a duplicate of the paperbacks, so she tugs it out to see that it's an autographed copy.
She missed the shower turning off in her distraction with the books, so it startles her a little when Rick speaks. "There's a bunch of movies made from that series."
He's smiling when she looks his way, seeming a little amused that she jumped when he spoke. His dark hair looks damp still, and he's dressed in plaid pajama pants and a worn t-shirt that is probably an old father's day gift, based on the 'Nice to meet you, Hungry, I'm Dad' printed across the chest.
"I've seen them, actually." Admitting to the Hallmark movie watching is more natural when she's holding an autographed copy of one of the novels. She eases the book back into its place and scoots back to her side of the bed.
"What time do you need to get up?" he asks as he sets his phone into a charging cradle on his side of the bed.
"I've got an alarm set on my phone, but five thirty." It's his day off, so she hates that he's going to have to hear the alarm. But as the junior most shift sergeant, she has to be there thirty minutes before shift starts to oversee the staggered clock ins of the officers. Half will clock in at 6:30 for their seven a.m. shift, and the other half will clock in at 7:15. They can't allow for all the cops to be in transition at once.
"I'll get up and get Joan settled into a cab around then," Rick says. He yawns, and despite it being barely nine in the evening, she knows his day probably started as early as hers did, considering his commute.
Settling into bed is both weird and soothing at the same time. Rick even says a soft good night, rolling to his right side and facing away from her. Amanda echoes the sentiment, settling under the sheet and facing that pretty view. It seems to take her longer to fall asleep than it does him, probably because she can't help but be aware that for the first time in three years, she's not alone in the bed. They're too high up to hear street noise like in her apartment.
It's too quiet, she thinks, but eventually, she focuses on his quiet, even breathing, and the long day catches up with her. Tomorrow, they'll turn over the new information to Shane and see if Eugene can work more magic. They can't keep saving people one at a time from the predator masquerading in a law enforcement uniform. Her thoughts run a circle of their case, the sheer contradiction Rick keeps presenting, the view outside the windows, and back to the warmth at her back until finally, sleep claims her completely.