Physical therapy is a special sort of hell, Amanda thinks, letting her eyes slide closed and grimacing at the ache in her ribs as she settles into a seat on the bus. She could have called a cab or an Uber, but since she hadn't planned ahead and the bus was pulling up to the stop when she emerged from the rehab center, she figured what the hell. Rick had been right that there was a host of exercise intended for injuries such as hers, but she isn't entirely sure that physical therapists don't go into the profession due to latent sadist tendencies.
"You okay?" a kindly voice asks.
When she opens her eyes, there's an elderly woman next to her, smiling warmly. The oddity is that the woman's silver hair is damp, but then Amanda remembers there's an indoor warm water pool at the rehab center. It was on the list of activities for her to try, joining one of the aqua aerobics classes.
"Yeah. Physical therapy appointment took a lot out of me." Amanda is actually wondering if she should have taken advantage of the possibility to take more time off work. The original physician treating her had mentioned signing off on a week minimum. Working all day today, followed by a half hour of physical therapy is definitely not fun.
But they're so short handed at the station that taking extra time off work isn't really feasible, not as long as she's capable of mobility, so here she is. Rick's big bathtub sounds like heaven for now, or maybe the pool. She can't swim, but floating in the water would probably help all of her aches and pains.
"I can imagine. I'm almost done with mine." The woman taps her chest with an arthritis curled hand. "Bypass surgery."
"There's physical therapy after that?" Amanda asks, curious.
"Once they saw through your breastbone, of course. Gotta retrain all the muscles to work together again."
Suddenly cracked ribs don't seem quite as painful, not really. "Ouch."
"It's definitely a reason to live a healthy life if your family is prone to heart disease like mine. It wasn't my first heart surgery. At least I stopped smoking this time."
The chatter moves to less intense subjects, but that initial discussion sticks with Amanda, remembering the discussion with Rick about his eating habits. She gets off the bus at his building, propping herself up in the back corner of the elevator. It's five in the evening, and residents who end their work days at four-thirty are trickling home, so she has company. Rick texted while she was waiting on the elevator that he's held over by a case late in the day, but he'll be bringing supper if she doesn't mind eating late.
Apparently, it's also her day for random strangers chatting to her, and her law enforcement training means she responds politely when she really just wants a bath and a nap.
"Penthouse. Wow." The young man wears the sort of inexpensive suit common to entry-level workers. He's staring at the elevator panel, which is lit up for the twenty-ninth floor as well as Rick's.
"Visiting a friend," Amanda says, shrugging.
The guy chuckles, shaking his head. "That's not a visitor's access card you used."
"What do you mean?" She knows her card looks like the ones she's seen Carl, Rick, and Beth use, a photo ID with a burgundy border like the plush decor in the lobby.
"Red borders are residents. If you get one for a visitor, it has a green border. Helps security narrow down who can go where on their own. Red ones also charge for certain services back to the apartment, like getting a manicure in the salon or taking your dog to the groomer in the building."
"Huh. Well, I'm still a visitor. My friend is just stupidly generous, I think." Like encouraging Beth and Amanda to spend an insane amount of money for clothing and shoes, or this, letting her have free roam of one of the most expensive high rises in Atlanta.
"Sounds like a friend to keep around," he quips, bidding her a polite farewell when the elevator opens on his floor.
Amanda rides up to the penthouse in thoughtful silence.
Somehow, Rick isn't surprised one bit that Amanda's gone when he gets home close to seven. The fact that she stayed beyond the weekend is impressive by itself. But there is a surprise, and it's that there's a page ripped off the notepad in the kitchen propped on his bedside table.
Rubbing the paper between his finger and thumb, he smiles to himself. "Yeah, I'm sure this was all about one of the patrolmen offering you a ride to and from work, Amanda," he says softly, even as silly as it is to talk to himself. "But we'll go with that for now."
Sliding the note in behind his bookmark in his current book, he leaves it on the bedside table and goes to put the food in the fridge. If Amanda's gone home and Beth's working, the apartment is just too quiet with Carl at Lori's. Figuring it won't hurt to head down to the bar and put in an appearance, he heads back downstairs.
She's still running, but like he told Daryl, he can be patient.
It's not that Amanda's never had manicures before, but they were something done out of curiosity to see why everyone was so fascinated with the process. When she meets Beth at the upscale salon not that far from her apartment building, the younger woman is as cheerful as always about pampering them both. Something tells her this is going to be different than the small discount nail salons she's been to before.
Being a cop means fancy nails are out of the picture, because she doesn't want to just have to ruin all the work come Tuesday morning. At least that's her plan, until Beth happens.
"C'mon, Amanda. It's a party, and your outfit and shoes are black. Add just a little color with your nails and feel pretty for the weekend. You're off the next two days, right?"
Sighing, Amanda nods and decides to just roll with the idea for now. "What do you have in mind? It has to be something I can take off at home. I don't want to come back just to be ready for work on Tuesday."
She ends up with garnet nails with just a hint of metallic dust that makes them catch the eye without having the bright contrast of a crimson or ruby red. It's prettier than she expected it to be, although she does draw the line at the pedicure. Beth just chatters to her where she waits for the blonde's toenails to end up a perfect match to her sapphire blue fingernails. The best part for Beth is that her uniform shirt at work won't really clash with the nails, so she'll get to enjoy them longer than Amanda will hers.
They're ushered along to the stylists next, hair before makeup. The trim that Amanda's been putting off starts off the session and ends with her hair in the most elegant updo she's ever had her hair arranged in. The addition of a small, sleek bronze and garnet chignon pin makes her realize why Beth suggested her nail color, especially once she passes Amanda a little pouch of accessories.
The bronzed garnet eyeshadow the stylist applies is a color no one has ever recommended to Amanda. The man just smirks slyly at her. "You've got green eyes, and everyone always says go with green or blue eyeshadow, right?"
"Usually." Tomboy or not, Amanda did experiment with makeup as a teenager and young adult. Any comment about her eyes almost always was followed by exactly what he said.
"Stay with the deep, wine colored reds, and you'll do just fine." As he holds the mirror up, Amanda has to agree. It pales in comparison to the muted earth tones she uses for work, because wearing no makeup at all seems to cause as much conflict as wearing anything especially feminine.
Beth's hair is going to emphasize the princess look. Her blond hair is braided with glittery, metallic blue ribbons, swept into a crown on top of her head. Her eyeshadow is a deep blue, making her eyes stand out even more than they usually do. She grins impishly at Amanda as they finally leave the salon.
"You are going to shock the hell out of people tonight, Amanda," she teases as they settle into the Uber summoned car. The driver pulls out into traffic. "So very elegant and kickass, like that hair pin ought to double as an assassin's blade."
Even the driver giggles at Beth's imagery, and the combination of her mirth and Beth's makes Amanda laugh, too. "I suspect that by the end of the night, I may wish it was a blade to make all the boring stop."
"Stabbing your coworkers at a charity ball probably won't raise lots of money, you know."
"Depends on how bad Gorman's irritated people. We might be able to raise money just for that."
"Maybe I could suggest it."
Beth's grin is as contagious as her laughter, so Amanda's smiling when she heads upstairs to her apartment. It almost overrides her sore ribs as she climbs. Tonight is going to be a pain in the ass, making nice with people she doesn't really know, but at least she can imagine Gorman dying by hair pin behind a potted plant to entertain herself.
Rick is used to the sort of gathering he's attending tonight, although the scale is larger than any fundraiser King County ever put on. His parents took him to plenty like this for reasons other than first responders or law enforcement, though, so mingling with donors and supporters is old hat to him. It's not really surprising that Beth takes to the process like a duck to water. Her generally bubbly personality combined with generally liking people makes her sparkle among the more jaded personalities.
Once he's sure she's in her element, he leaves her charming a couple he knows could meet the charitable goal single handedly and goes to fetch them both drinks. Champagne abounds around the room on waiter delivered trays, but he's never liked the bubbly stuff and Beth prefers to abstain. While the bartender is filling his order, Rick turns to survey the room.
"She's like a butterfly among moths," Gorman drawls, coming to a stop at the bar next to Rick. Despite the lingering heat, the French doors on either side of the long bar are open, allowing a breeze to filter into the room, bringing in the scent of whatever is blooming in the area outside. "I can see why you said she was the type to marry."
"This does seem to be her domain," Rick agrees readily. "I bet that man will have his checkbook out funding more than one charity before she's done. She was just mentioning how underfunded a local animal rescue group was on the way over."
Sometimes Rick thinks Beth might be a little wasted in an engineering career, with her gifts of persuasion, but at the same time, there are so many different ways to change the world. Beth's goals are on a much larger scale than this room. He can picture her managing research funding much the same way as she's skillfully spinning tales of need for the hardworking first responders of the Atlanta area.
"Bet your jaw dropped seeing her all put together in that little ensemble. Must've given your credit card quite the workout."
While Beth is beautiful in her own right, Rick's appreciation of her looks is similar to how he appreciates the looks of any pretty woman. Gorman's looking at him so expectantly that he ends up smiling wryly. But it isn't Beth he's thinking of when he replies.
It's Amanda, with that black jumpsuit outlining the curves he knows intimately, and her creamy skin exposed along her arms and shoulders. The impression would be almost monochrome except for the splashes of deep, wine-hued red at the tips of each finger, across her eyelids, and around her neck in the form of some a tasteful garnet necklace whose pendant rests right at the apex of her cleavage. That little teardrop gemstone makes his fingers itch to explore below it, where the jumpsuit seems to just barely cling to her breasts.
Even her shoes have a flash of red, although it is not the subdued hue of garnet. As she movee around the room earlier, her change in height made him notice the stilettos with their heels that would easily even out their height difference. Women's fashion may be mostly mystery to him, but he knows those red soles. The idea of Amanda spoiling herself like that intrigues him, even more than just the spike of interest that her in heels engenders.
Beth sparkles, with all the intentional pizzazz of a woman dressed to draw attention to her. Amanda? She smoulders, with the carefully banked fire hidden, escaping only in those glimmers of red among the black and white.
"A woman that beautiful makes a man wonder why he needs to go out in public at all," Rick muses, not really seeing Beth at all, even as she laughs at the overjeweled brunette she's speaking with. "And makes every last penny well spent, especially once it is strewn across my bedroom floor."
"That is a very interesting point about money well spent. You haven't even bothered looking for your little bit of side action," Gorman says, accepting a tumbler of whiskey from the bartender as Rick's own drinks are delivered.
"Didn't realize she was here." Rick takes a sip of his drink, making a point of scanning the room. He doesn't see Amanda anywhere, not now. But earlier? He means every word he said about whatever that outfit cost.
"She's probably dodging McGinley. Little shit has been hankering after Shepherd since they both joined the department. Probably half of why he's still patrol while she's made sergeant, because he keeps thinking with the wrong head."
The crude speech seems more fitting to an actual bar than here, so Rick arches a brow and motions to the room with his tumbler. Gorman chuckles, acknowledging the point. Then he points out a blond man of about Amanda's age hovering near the woman he knows is Dawn Lerner.
"Looks like he's trying to make up for lost time." Rick knows he needs to talk to Lerner tonight, to assess her in a way that Amanda can't, not as her subordinate. "Is she even worth the time he's taking to try to brownnose?"
"Could be. Tough nut to crack. She's a hardass when it something that'll put all eyes on the department, but if you're subtle, keep it below board, she looks the other way." Gorman's voice drops low, even though the bartender is at the other end of the bar serving someone else. "Not susceptible to monetary gain. Fired a sergeant last year for taking bribes, even though the idiot offered to cut her in."
"So not a future partner in…" Rick waves his free hand between them. "Our partnership enterprise."
"Hell, no. Woman's more uptight than Shepherd. Thinks her fancy education makes her above petty concerns like money."
Rick lets a sly smirk slide onto his features and hopes it doesn't look ridiculous. "Uptight is not how I would describe the good sergeant. Her? She's worth cultivating."
Gorman actually looks thoughtful at that, and Rick sees the idea taking hold. His type runs young and vulnerable, so Rick isn't worried about him taking the wrong sort of interest in Amanda. But convincing him that she's an asset gives a wider base of access into Gorman's activities.
"I should get back before Beth fleeces that man of his entire fortune," Rick tells him. "You gonna be at the bar next Friday? Agent told me the appraisal on the property will be back by then."
"Final stop before making the investment, right?" When Rick nods, Gorman shrugs. "Yeah, I'll be there. Shit's damn complicated."
"That's real estate for you. Especially the commercial side. Best get used to it." Rick doesn't have the heart to tell him how relatively uncomplicated the current transaction is, compared to others he's been a part of.
Gorman just laughs and wanders off. Gathering up Beth's champagne flute of ginger ale along with his tumbler, he heads back in the crowd.
Amanda leans against the smooth stone of the building, glad no one else is outside on the patio despite the lighting and decorations. The acoustics had fed Rick and Gorman's discussion out to her the same way their first conversation had drifted to her on the balcony. It's not as gut wrenching as that first time, but there's an uneasy knot in the depths of her stomach.
She's finally willing to acknowledge that she's jealous of Beth. The young blonde gives her no real reason to be, because she seems to be the lead cheerleader on Rick and Amanda being more than partners. But Gorman's description of Beth as a butterfly is half right. She's nothing so ephemeral as such a fragile insect, although she has its grace and beauty.
No, Beth is more of a hummingbird. Delicate, breathtakingly pretty, and dangerous as hell when riled, Amanda thinks. She's seen hummingbirds flog larger birds away from sugar water feeders. Beth has that sort of strength to her.
Rick isn't an actor, not by any real stretch of the word. He gets by in this operation mostly by playing himself. When he spoke of Beth, his words were colored by lust. She knows that tone, knows it as well as she knows all the sounds of his arousal. Breathing deeply, she tries to just let it go.
They've made each other no promises. It's not Amanda's norm, but she's discovering that nothing about Rick fits into her neatly aligned life. He keeps jumbling things around, and while the pieces mostly fall nicely into new places, eventually, she might not recognize it at all. That scares her, maybe even more than hearing passion in his voice toward Beth.
"Why are you hiding out here?"
Amanda suppressed a groan at hearing McGinley's voice. They'd gone through training together and started in the Atlanta Police Department at the same time. She ignored his crush back then, and it was made easy by the fact that he was stationed elsewhere. But since he transferred into her station last year, he's been a puppy at her heels.
"Needed a change of scenery," she admits, figuring why not use the truth. "Too much chatter and too many perfumes clashing with each other."
"No kidding. It's like a who's who of perfume in there. No one warned me about that part," the blond says. "Do you want something to drink?"
Raising her glass, Amanda shows him she's got a tumbler in hand. Rum and coke, her one indulgence ordered mainly because she knew Dawn would get frustrated if she didn't at least pretend to unwind. McGinley smiles, before he chatters lightly about work, and she lets him, because at least his words are familiar ground for her, unlike the schmoozing going on inside.
At least one thing's been accomplished tonight. Gorman confirmed Dawn's not involved, because she's sure the bastard would have bragged at having the lieutenant on board with any of his schemes. It leaves whoever the mastermind of the escort service still unknown, but at least Amanda isn't handing in reports to a madame masquerading as a police officer, and that's a much larger relief than she expected.
Rick loosens his tie and tosses it on the bench at the foot of the bed before habit makes him pick it up and put it away. His jacket and pants follow, and he paces back to the bed to eye his phone on the charger. The impulse to call Amanda is immense, but she was still at the benefit when he left. She'd arrived with her boss, and Lerner was a politician born. He doubted the woman would leave until she had to.
Instead, he settles for getting undressed and showering, glad that the apartment has such a strong hot water supply since Beth went straight to the shower when they got home. Stretching out in the bed, he reaches for his book and can't concentrate, especially when he focuses on the little note-turned-bookmark.
Carl was asleep when he got home, unusual for the teenager on the weekend, but Rick won't argue. He hadn't minded Rick needing to go to the banquet, just saying Sophia was coming over to go swimming and watch a movie. Too restless to read or sleep, Rick ends up sending a text to Amanda and getting up to rotate the television in the nook to be able to watch from bed.
He's a little surprised when the phone rings instead of a returned text twenty minutes later. The smile on his face probably shows in his voice. "I didn't expect you to call so late. Figured I'd just get a text."
"You just said to let you know I was home safely. I can hang up and text, you know." There's a teasing note in her voice he's not quite used to.
"Have you been drinking, Amanda?" he drawls, smiling and turning the television off.
"I spent the last hour stuck between my boss and the worst case of puppy love on the damned planet. There may have been a few champagne flutes involved."
Rick laughs before heading back to his bed. "The last time alcohol and a late night call were combined was nice," he admits. "But I would much prefer you were here with me. You don't know how much I had to resist sneaking you off to some closet somewhere and peeling that jumpsuit right off you."
"That would be far too complicated for a closet quickie, you know." She sounds amused, no doubt picturing him trying to get her out of the complexity of womanly formal wear.
"I'm sure I could figure out how to peel that top down just enough to follow the path that pretty necklace was leading me on."
She's quiet long enough to make him wonder if he's offended her somehow. "Amanda?"
"What would you have done to me, with all those people around?" she asks, and there's a purr to her voice, something like velvet underlying her words. He knows that tone, knows it well.
"The same as I did the first time I had you naked in front of me." Rick can recall that like it was hours ago instead of weeks ago. Being between her thighs, smelling just how aroused he made her? If she'd been in a skirt tonight, the temptation might have been too much.
Hearing her sharp intake of breath and the sound of cloth shifting makes Rick a wee bit suspicious. "What are you doing, Amanda?" he drawls softly. "Are you thinking about me on my knees in front of you?"
Amanda whines, and Rick grins, hand sliding south himself, easing under his boxer briefs. This isn't as good as having her there with him, but he isn't going to pass on the chance to hear that breathless cry she makes when her pleasure peaks, so he begins to talk. With any luck, she'll miss him enough to come over tomorrow night.
A/N: Alas, no actual smut. Phone sex is not really my idea of fun writing. :)
Next chapter: Amanda finally gets to really meet Michonne to learn how Rick's best friend ended up engaged to his ex's divorce lawyer...