Disclaimer: The Sentinel and all Sentinel characters belong to Petfly Productions. No money is being made by this fic which was written purely for entertainment purposes only.
TITLE
By: Victoria May
"Sweet!" I exclaim as I pull into the long driveway leading up to the Lighthouse Condominiums. The condos stretch out along the beach, white and unblemished. A miniature lighthouse marks the edge of the housing development and would have looked tacky if it didn't look so darn real. Immaculate landscaping carpets the sloping grounds, ending at the flat strip of blacktop leading to each of the individual garages tucked neatly beneath the condos themselves.
Squinting to make out the small numbers beside each door, I finally come to 12337 and pull into the nearest available guest spot.
"Our little Hairboy's all grownup," I say as I climb out of my small '95 Miata and slowly stretch to get rid of the kinks in my back.
"It's a beauty all right," Rafe agrees.
I glance at him and I swear he's almost drooling as he stares at the new condominiums. He looks so entranced I almost feel bad for him-it would take him years to save up the money to get into this place on our salary. And the way he blows what he makes on his expensive suits, well, it just ain't happenin'. Can we say obsessive-compulsive? I mean, I've dated women who spent every last spare dime on jewelry and fancy clothes, but I've never met a man who cared so much what he put on his back. It's just not natural. Not that I would tell him that. He doesn't see anything wrong with his obsession and I'm not gonna be the one to burst his bubble.
"How'd you like to live here?" I throw at him as I close and lock the car door and start up the walk. It's cruel, I know, but I can't help myself. I feel a pang of regret when I hear him sigh wistfully behind me.
"Maybe they've got a position for me at Redwood," I hear him murmur as we near the stain-glass door. "When I make Captain . . ." he begins.
"When you make Captain, this place'll be so worn down I'll be able to afford it," I retort as I raise my hand and push the glowing doorbell.
"Way to be encouraging partner," Rafe rebukes me as he shoves his lapels back and sinks his pale hands into his trouser pockets. 'Strike a pose' resounds through my head in Madonna's sultry voice. Oh, I don't think he's aware that he's doing it, but the boy is as laid back as a GQ model. When he first showed up in Major Crimes, I thought it was nerves. Was I ever wrong. As his confidence grew, so did the wardrobe, the hair, and the smile.
The inner door opens with a soft whoosh and I can see the distorted image of Sandburg behind the textured blues, reds, and greens of the stained glass. I pull open the outer door and smile my greetings to our enthusiastic host.
"H, Rafe, come on in-welcome to Casa de Sandburg," he ushers.
"Nice place Sandburg," Rafe compliments behind me.
"Yeah, real nice," I agree, slapping our lively host on the back. "So, do we get the nickel tour now or later?" I ask, straining to see up one set of stairs and down another.
Blair takes our coats and they disappear into the entryway closet. "No time like the present," he says and jogs up the half flight of faux stone stairs-or maybe it's real stone for all I know. I shrug at Rafe and follow, wondering if maybe we should have removed our shoes at the door. But Blair is wearing his, so I doubt he's too worried about us tracking dirt through the condo.
The stairs open into a small foyer. Blair disappears around the corner and I follow, my breath catching as I step into the living room. This is not the Blair Sandburg I know. The place is immaculate. The stone floor continues in this room, leading up to a large stone mantel and fireplace that takes up nearly one whole wall. The furniture is white leather, the tables glass. A large print is centered on another wall-red, yellow and blue squares placed haphazardly on the canvas. Modern art. What really catches my eye is the large fur rug spread out over the stone floor in front of the fireplace.
Sandburg catches my eye and grins. "Fake," he reassures me, as if he could read my thoughts. "Actually, I rent the place furnished-it's not really my style, but it beats having to buy everything new," he says, shrugging as he slips through another doorway, leading us into a bright and open kitchen.
The kitchen opens into an eating area and the entire back wall is made of glass, overlooking the water. A patio stretches out and stairs disappear down, out of sight. But that isn't what's caught my attention. The most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on is standing in Sandburg's kitchen putting something in the oven.
She turns as we enter the room and graces us with the most mouth watering, luscious smile. I smile back and reach out to grab something, anything to keep me from swooning like a fool. I end up grabbing Rafe and he brushes my groping hand away from his arm.
"Hi!" Rafe says, pushing past me, his hand outreached. "Angeline, right?"
Her smile grows wider and now Rafe is grinning like a lunatic. "Yes, that's right. And you are?" she prompts, taking his hand.
"Oh! Sorry," Rafe laughs and blushes. An honest to goodness blush. I roll my eyes and step forward, my own hand extended.
"Hi Angeline. I'm Henri Brown. You can call me H. This here is my partner Rafe. Excuse his manners." My heart pitter-patters in my chest as she laughs and grasps my hand. I'm in heaven. I almost growl as Sandburg slips his arm around the goddess' waist and she turns her head, brushing those full, ripe lips against his.
She turns to face us again and I almost shiver from the intensity in her gaze. For a second, I feel like a bug under a microscope and find myself hoping I pass her inspection.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she finally says, breaking the spell.
"Will you be staying?" Rafe asks from behind me. Thank you! I wasn't going to be the one to ask, but I sure am hoping.
"Oh no. It's boys' night. I'm only here to help Blair get things ready."
Sandburg must have caught my fallen expression, or Rafe's, as he casually steers Angeline towards the stove and ushers us back into the foyer.
"On with the tour," he says, throwing a lingering glance back over his shoulder at Angeline. I catch sight of her smothering her laughter before I'm pulled down the hallway. The bathroom is pointed out, a guestroom, and finally Sandburg's bedroom.
This room is huge. Like the kitchen, one wall is virtually all windows. There are no drapes and I wonder how Sandburg can stand sleeping so exposed. Although, it would be a bit of a turn on-especially if he was getting busy with Angeline. A king-size bed sits in the middle of the room. The bed is so tall, a small step sits next to it. Metal posts reach upwards from the corners, and the top is enclosed with a frame. Kinky.
There's a chair in the corner; a few discarded pieces of clothes are tossed over the back and arms. A long dresser sits opposite the bed and one of the drawers is sitting open. I glance over and catch sight of the turbulent contents, threatening to fall out and onto the floor. Sandburg hastily pushes the escaping boxer shorts back into the drawer and pushes it closed.
Now this is the Sandburg I remember. I snigger and Sandburg laughs. "Hey, I never said I was neat!" he exclaims, kicking more stray bits of clothes into the closet and closing the door.
"This is some view," Rafe says from the window. Blair and I walk over and join him, all of our gazes trailing down the bluff and to the water.
"You don't happen to have a boat, do you?" I ask, catching sight of the docked boats, bobbing on the water. I haven't gone sailing in years-not since my Uncle Terrell passed away and Donny sold the old fishing boat.
"Right. I bought it with my trust fund."
His voice is a bit sharp and I glance over at him, startled out of my memories. He's facing away, but I can tell he's frowning and I wonder what I said wrong.
"Hey Hair . . .Blair, I didn't mean anything, you know?" I say, as apologetically as I can, not knowing what taboo I blundered over.
"No, I know," he says, turning away from the window. He shoots us a strained smile and gestures towards the door. Rafe and I share uneasy glances and follow him as he walks out and back down the hall. I know I said something wrong, but what? All I asked is if he had a boat down there. I haven't been sailing in years; I'd love to get back on the water.
Sandburg pokes his head into the kitchen and I can hear him telling Angeline we're going downstairs. There's a muffled conversation and he finally pops back out, nodding towards the stairs. Rafe heads down first and I follow, Blair trailing along behind. I let Rafe get ahead of us and stop at the front door. I'm really worried I said something to piss Blair off and I want to fix it before we get downstairs.
I reach out and touch his arm. "Hey Sandburg, I'm really sorry if I said something that offended you," I say. "I didn't mean anything by that crack about a boat. I was serious, you know? I love boating. Maybe it you get in tight with one of the neighbors who do have a boat-maybe some hot little number in a bikini-you can call me and we'll all go out together. Okay?" I ask, looking for a bit of reassurance.
I'm relieved when Sandburg laughs and hits me on the arm. "And Jim accused me of humping a table leg," he says, shaking his head. "I'm not offended man. But I am a little worried," he says.
I frown at him, puzzled. "Why?"
"You really need to get out more," he says, laughing again. "And quit drooling over my girlfriend," he adds, steering me down the next set of stairs.
"You know it man," I agree. "Maybe Angeline can set me up?" I ask, hoping.
"Maybe. I'll ask, okay?"
I grin and keep walking. The downstairs is as impressive as the upstairs was. The stone floor continues and opens onto a large 'family' room. A large entertainment center sits on the far wall with a gigantic TV and surround sound system. A long black couch stretches out, directly in front of the TV with two smaller couches to each side. A low, round table in the center is already covered in snacks for the game. The side wall is literally covered in strange, native wall hangings like masks and rugs and there's even a spear or two.
I turn and see that the wall behind us, next to the door, holds a long bar. Rafe's back there already, next to Joel, digging around in an icebox.
"Hey Joel, my man, I didn't know you were here," I say, drifting over.
"Got here early to help set up," he says, lifting a glass to his lips.
"You tending?" I ask.
"Sure. What's your pleasure?" he asks, setting his glass down.
"I'll take whatever you're having," I answer, eyeing the bright blue concoction in his glass.
He grins and begins mixing ingredients in a large tumbler. I walk over and lean against the bar just in time to see a fair amount of pineapple juice followed by vodka poured into the metal container. I missed whatever it was he used to get the blue color, but I shudder and figure I probably don't want to know anyway. He pours my finished drink and slides it across the bar towards me. I sip my blue drink and grimace.
"Cheers," he says, raising his glass and chuckling. I roll my eyes sip my sour drink slowly.
The doorbell chimes and I can hear the suction of the front door opening above us. I wonder briefly if Jim has arrived, but know it's not him when Angeline appears in the doorway followed by two guys I don't recognize. One guy's short and slightly round, wearing rumpled khakis and a yellow polo shirt. The other guy sticks his head around the corner and throws a smile our way before ducking back out again. He's tall, with short, dark hair and green eyes. Dressed in pressed blue jeans and a J. Crew sweater. These guys aren't what I'd expect when I think 'Blair's friends'.
I'm instantly disgusted at myself for the thought. The stranger is dressed no differently than Rafe, or even Ellison at times. But I guess I've always seen Blair as a hanger-on, not really fitting into Major Crimes but accepted because he was always there. I'd never met any of his friends from his university days, but I pictured them to be grunge-clad political zealots, like he looked when he first started hanging around Ellison.
Sure he'd lost the torn jeans and Goodwill sweaters and started showing up in Chinos and button downs, but I always figured it was because he'd wised up and figured out what was good for him, hanging around at the station so much. Its not like Sandburg is stupid and he has eyes and ears. I'm sure he noticed the looks he'd drawn and the smothered laughter at some of his more outrageous outfits. What was acceptable for a college student didn't fly around a bunch of testosterone laden cops with attitudes. And when he was constantly being pegged as a vice cop, well, even he knew the significance of that.
I guess I never really saw Sandburg as being one of us-even when he'd crossed that line and claimed his own shield. Never thought of him as being more than just 'Ellison's partner'. I'm ashamed to realize that I never really considered him a friend. Never got to know him. Hell, I still don't know him.
I never stopped seeing him as some punk college kid who started tagging along at Ellison's heels. I never considered that away from us, he was practically a doctor, in all but title. A teacher at a prestigious university. A genius really. I never stopped to credit him for his contributions to our cases or his insights that only someone world traveled and highly educated would have.
He was just Sandburg. Even after the shield. I don't think any of us ever let him escape from Ellison's shadow. I'd put money on it that no one saw him as one of us-as a detective with the same contributions to make as the next person. And I'm as guilty as anyone for keeping Blair in a box of our own making-our own preconceived notions.
So I shouldn't be surprised really that Blair is living in this condo, with a supermodel-gorgeous woman hanging on his arm, and preppy friends. Who am I to say what's normal for Sandburg-I never knew to begin with.
Before I can pull my attention away from the trio in the doorway, Angeline glances into the family room and then pauses, calling out, "Blair?"
A muffled "In here!" answers her and Angeline disappears down the hallway in the opposite direction, the strange guys following. I tip my head slightly, straining to hear what's going on down the hall, curious as to whom the two guys are. When Jim relayed the invitation to catch the game over here, he never said anything about Blair inviting anyone else.
And just where is Ellison anyway? I'd have figured he'd be the first one here. He'd happily extended the invitation, but now that I think about it, he didn't talk about it afterwards. He'd just smile a little and bury his nose in work until whoever it was talking about the game went away. Looking back, his smiles had seemed to be little more than pretty grimaces.
Well damn! Ellison was scared about the whole thing all along! Why didn't I see it? Well, duh, you dumb-ass . . .like you saw Ellison and Sandburg's partnership crumble before Blair had disappeared from the bullpen and our lives for good? Brown, it is time to pull your nose out of your ass and start paying attention. Sandburg doesn't deserve to go through that shit again.
Joel and Rafe grab their drinks and drift towards the couches. Rafe grabs my arm as he passes. I wave him off and pull out my cell phone.
"I'm going to call Ellison and see what's holding him up," I say, turning back to the bar and perching on a barstool. Remembering that Jim had to work this morning, I dial the office and wait while his phone rings.
Finally, the ringing stops and the man's brisk voice barks, "Major Crimes, Ellison speaking," into my ear.
"Jimbo! What's the hold up man?" I ask, cutting to the point.
"I've got a ton of paperwork built up here, H. It's going to take me a while to clear this up," he says. He sounds funny and I wonder if he's mumbling on purpose.
"Listen Jim. That stuff can wait, this can't. This has been planned for weeks and Sandburg's expecting you. Everyone else is here already." Well it's true. Captain Banks is out of town visiting his sister, so he's the exception today.
"Okay, okay. I'll just finish this up and I'll get out of here. I'll only be a little late, but I'll get there," he says, sounding like he's trying to end the call.
Hell no, am I going to let him get away with this. I don't care if he is scared; he's going to be here if I have to go and drag his sorry ass here myself.
"Ellison!" I bark. "Untuck that tail and get your ass over here!"
"What are you talking about H.?" he asks, wearily.
"Look man, I don't know what your problem is, but right now, I don't care. The game is starting in twenty minutes and you'd better be here. That means you get your ass up, off that chair, and get over here-no stops for anything. Got it?"
There's a long pause before he finally answers, quietly, "Got it."
"Great, I'll see you in twenty." As an afterthought, I add, "He needs you here man."
"I know, I'll be there."
Satisfied, I break the connection and tuck my phone back in my pocket. I grab my drink and slip off the stool and join the others around the TV. As I sit down, Joel turns to me.
"Is he coming?" he asks. Joel always was the astute one. It doesn't surprise me that he's as aware of Ellison's stall tactics as I am.
"He says," I answer, shrugging. Just then, the other two guys appear in the doorway. There's no sign of Sandburg or Angeline, and I smile, making a guess at what they're up to. The little guy pauses at the door, but the tall one steps forward, his hand outstretched.
"Arthur Tennison, pleased to make your acquaintance," he says, shaking first Joel's hand, then Rafe's and finally my own. I wait until Joel and Rafe finish before introducing myself.
"Henri Brown. You can call me H., everyone else does," I offer. "Rafe, Joel and myself used to work with Blair at Major Crimes. You work with him at Redwood?" I ask.
He nods and gestures towards the short guy. "This is Ken Barby; he also works at Redwood," Ken offers.
My eyes widen and I fight to contain my laughter. Ken's face is flaming red and he offers a nervous smile.
"My parents had a sick sense of humor," he says.
I do laugh at that and jerk my head towards a bunch of framed photos Blair has scattered around the bar. "Don't feel bad," I say, grinning. "Do you know what Blair's middle name is?"
Ken looks puzzled and shakes his head. I get up and lead him over to the photos, pointing out one of Sandburg as a little kid. It's a cute picture-the kid's all curls and dimples. He's probably about five in that picture and unless you know him, it's real hard to tell if it's a boy or a girl.
"Blair Jodi," I say, laughing at the growing glee on Ken's face.
"No way!" Rafe says, behind me before pushing past to see the photo. "He told you that?"
I snigger. "Of course not. He doesn't even know I know. I stopped over to pick up Ellison for a stake out once and Naomi was there. She was only too happy to show off pictures of her baby."
"Did she want a little girl or something?" Rafe asks, studying the picture.
"Nope. She just believed in naming the baby as soon as she knew she was pregnant. She said unborn babies are people too and should have names, so she picked one that could go to a boy or a girl."
"I'm sure Blair loved that," Joel said, his voice booming out from behind us.
"Blair's just fine with it, thank you." We all turn and try to hide our laughter as Blair enters the room. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up Boomer . . .Marion," he says, glaring at Rafe and me.
"Marion?" I mouth at Rafe. Hell, I've been his partner for five years and never knew his first name.
"What of it, Boomer?" Rafe shoots back.
"Well, at least it's just my middle name. Lots of people have stupid middle names," I say.
Blair just rolls his eyes. "I'm going to walk Angeline out. Behave please and no more digging up all my dirty little secrets," he says, laughing. "Oh," he turns back. "Remind me to have a talk with my mom the next time she's in town."
We all laugh as the pair disappear around the corner. The four of us break from our huddle around the bar and rejoin Joel on the couches.
Arthur grabs a handful of chips and settles back to munch. "So, tell us what Blair was like before he joined our merry little crew."
"Um." Rafe and I exchange uncomfortable glances. I know I'm still uncomfortable talking about before-before Blair threw his career out the window to protect Ellison. Before Blair joined our ranks. Before he disappeared into the nether and no one questioned where he'd gone. Before I discovered my role in the turn his life had taken.
"Neo-hippy witch doctor punk," a voice answers from the doorway. "At least that was my first impression of him when we met. All that hair and earrings, and he had on this wild vest-every color of the rainbow in that thing. Weird jungle music blasting in the background."
Another voice laughs and says, "Yeah, and this caveman here threw me up against the wall and threatened to bust me for drug possession."
"You have to admit, you were pretty out there Chief."
Blair just laughs and says, "This is Jim Ellison, my old partner on the force. Jim, this is Ken and Arthur, we work together at Redwood."
Jim steps forward and shakes their hands before turning back to Blair. "Sorry I'm late. I had some things to clear up," he says softly, blushing a little. "Can I help with anything?" he offers.
"Yeah, there's some food upstairs you can help me bring down, and I can give you the grand tour at the same time," Blair answers. From the curious look Blair is giving Jim, I won't be expecting them back anytime too soon-they've got a lot to talk about.
Left alone again, I turn to Arthur and Ken and say, "You know, you guys really need to watch out. Hairboy's a real trouble magnet."
"Hairboy?"
And we're off. Now that the ice has been broken, I think we'll all get along just fine. Of course we're using our one common denominator to bring us together, but so what. Blair won't mind.
TITLE
By: Victoria May
"Sweet!" I exclaim as I pull into the long driveway leading up to the Lighthouse Condominiums. The condos stretch out along the beach, white and unblemished. A miniature lighthouse marks the edge of the housing development and would have looked tacky if it didn't look so darn real. Immaculate landscaping carpets the sloping grounds, ending at the flat strip of blacktop leading to each of the individual garages tucked neatly beneath the condos themselves.
Squinting to make out the small numbers beside each door, I finally come to 12337 and pull into the nearest available guest spot.
"Our little Hairboy's all grownup," I say as I climb out of my small '95 Miata and slowly stretch to get rid of the kinks in my back.
"It's a beauty all right," Rafe agrees.
I glance at him and I swear he's almost drooling as he stares at the new condominiums. He looks so entranced I almost feel bad for him-it would take him years to save up the money to get into this place on our salary. And the way he blows what he makes on his expensive suits, well, it just ain't happenin'. Can we say obsessive-compulsive? I mean, I've dated women who spent every last spare dime on jewelry and fancy clothes, but I've never met a man who cared so much what he put on his back. It's just not natural. Not that I would tell him that. He doesn't see anything wrong with his obsession and I'm not gonna be the one to burst his bubble.
"How'd you like to live here?" I throw at him as I close and lock the car door and start up the walk. It's cruel, I know, but I can't help myself. I feel a pang of regret when I hear him sigh wistfully behind me.
"Maybe they've got a position for me at Redwood," I hear him murmur as we near the stain-glass door. "When I make Captain . . ." he begins.
"When you make Captain, this place'll be so worn down I'll be able to afford it," I retort as I raise my hand and push the glowing doorbell.
"Way to be encouraging partner," Rafe rebukes me as he shoves his lapels back and sinks his pale hands into his trouser pockets. 'Strike a pose' resounds through my head in Madonna's sultry voice. Oh, I don't think he's aware that he's doing it, but the boy is as laid back as a GQ model. When he first showed up in Major Crimes, I thought it was nerves. Was I ever wrong. As his confidence grew, so did the wardrobe, the hair, and the smile.
The inner door opens with a soft whoosh and I can see the distorted image of Sandburg behind the textured blues, reds, and greens of the stained glass. I pull open the outer door and smile my greetings to our enthusiastic host.
"H, Rafe, come on in-welcome to Casa de Sandburg," he ushers.
"Nice place Sandburg," Rafe compliments behind me.
"Yeah, real nice," I agree, slapping our lively host on the back. "So, do we get the nickel tour now or later?" I ask, straining to see up one set of stairs and down another.
Blair takes our coats and they disappear into the entryway closet. "No time like the present," he says and jogs up the half flight of faux stone stairs-or maybe it's real stone for all I know. I shrug at Rafe and follow, wondering if maybe we should have removed our shoes at the door. But Blair is wearing his, so I doubt he's too worried about us tracking dirt through the condo.
The stairs open into a small foyer. Blair disappears around the corner and I follow, my breath catching as I step into the living room. This is not the Blair Sandburg I know. The place is immaculate. The stone floor continues in this room, leading up to a large stone mantel and fireplace that takes up nearly one whole wall. The furniture is white leather, the tables glass. A large print is centered on another wall-red, yellow and blue squares placed haphazardly on the canvas. Modern art. What really catches my eye is the large fur rug spread out over the stone floor in front of the fireplace.
Sandburg catches my eye and grins. "Fake," he reassures me, as if he could read my thoughts. "Actually, I rent the place furnished-it's not really my style, but it beats having to buy everything new," he says, shrugging as he slips through another doorway, leading us into a bright and open kitchen.
The kitchen opens into an eating area and the entire back wall is made of glass, overlooking the water. A patio stretches out and stairs disappear down, out of sight. But that isn't what's caught my attention. The most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on is standing in Sandburg's kitchen putting something in the oven.
She turns as we enter the room and graces us with the most mouth watering, luscious smile. I smile back and reach out to grab something, anything to keep me from swooning like a fool. I end up grabbing Rafe and he brushes my groping hand away from his arm.
"Hi!" Rafe says, pushing past me, his hand outreached. "Angeline, right?"
Her smile grows wider and now Rafe is grinning like a lunatic. "Yes, that's right. And you are?" she prompts, taking his hand.
"Oh! Sorry," Rafe laughs and blushes. An honest to goodness blush. I roll my eyes and step forward, my own hand extended.
"Hi Angeline. I'm Henri Brown. You can call me H. This here is my partner Rafe. Excuse his manners." My heart pitter-patters in my chest as she laughs and grasps my hand. I'm in heaven. I almost growl as Sandburg slips his arm around the goddess' waist and she turns her head, brushing those full, ripe lips against his.
She turns to face us again and I almost shiver from the intensity in her gaze. For a second, I feel like a bug under a microscope and find myself hoping I pass her inspection.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she finally says, breaking the spell.
"Will you be staying?" Rafe asks from behind me. Thank you! I wasn't going to be the one to ask, but I sure am hoping.
"Oh no. It's boys' night. I'm only here to help Blair get things ready."
Sandburg must have caught my fallen expression, or Rafe's, as he casually steers Angeline towards the stove and ushers us back into the foyer.
"On with the tour," he says, throwing a lingering glance back over his shoulder at Angeline. I catch sight of her smothering her laughter before I'm pulled down the hallway. The bathroom is pointed out, a guestroom, and finally Sandburg's bedroom.
This room is huge. Like the kitchen, one wall is virtually all windows. There are no drapes and I wonder how Sandburg can stand sleeping so exposed. Although, it would be a bit of a turn on-especially if he was getting busy with Angeline. A king-size bed sits in the middle of the room. The bed is so tall, a small step sits next to it. Metal posts reach upwards from the corners, and the top is enclosed with a frame. Kinky.
There's a chair in the corner; a few discarded pieces of clothes are tossed over the back and arms. A long dresser sits opposite the bed and one of the drawers is sitting open. I glance over and catch sight of the turbulent contents, threatening to fall out and onto the floor. Sandburg hastily pushes the escaping boxer shorts back into the drawer and pushes it closed.
Now this is the Sandburg I remember. I snigger and Sandburg laughs. "Hey, I never said I was neat!" he exclaims, kicking more stray bits of clothes into the closet and closing the door.
"This is some view," Rafe says from the window. Blair and I walk over and join him, all of our gazes trailing down the bluff and to the water.
"You don't happen to have a boat, do you?" I ask, catching sight of the docked boats, bobbing on the water. I haven't gone sailing in years-not since my Uncle Terrell passed away and Donny sold the old fishing boat.
"Right. I bought it with my trust fund."
His voice is a bit sharp and I glance over at him, startled out of my memories. He's facing away, but I can tell he's frowning and I wonder what I said wrong.
"Hey Hair . . .Blair, I didn't mean anything, you know?" I say, as apologetically as I can, not knowing what taboo I blundered over.
"No, I know," he says, turning away from the window. He shoots us a strained smile and gestures towards the door. Rafe and I share uneasy glances and follow him as he walks out and back down the hall. I know I said something wrong, but what? All I asked is if he had a boat down there. I haven't been sailing in years; I'd love to get back on the water.
Sandburg pokes his head into the kitchen and I can hear him telling Angeline we're going downstairs. There's a muffled conversation and he finally pops back out, nodding towards the stairs. Rafe heads down first and I follow, Blair trailing along behind. I let Rafe get ahead of us and stop at the front door. I'm really worried I said something to piss Blair off and I want to fix it before we get downstairs.
I reach out and touch his arm. "Hey Sandburg, I'm really sorry if I said something that offended you," I say. "I didn't mean anything by that crack about a boat. I was serious, you know? I love boating. Maybe it you get in tight with one of the neighbors who do have a boat-maybe some hot little number in a bikini-you can call me and we'll all go out together. Okay?" I ask, looking for a bit of reassurance.
I'm relieved when Sandburg laughs and hits me on the arm. "And Jim accused me of humping a table leg," he says, shaking his head. "I'm not offended man. But I am a little worried," he says.
I frown at him, puzzled. "Why?"
"You really need to get out more," he says, laughing again. "And quit drooling over my girlfriend," he adds, steering me down the next set of stairs.
"You know it man," I agree. "Maybe Angeline can set me up?" I ask, hoping.
"Maybe. I'll ask, okay?"
I grin and keep walking. The downstairs is as impressive as the upstairs was. The stone floor continues and opens onto a large 'family' room. A large entertainment center sits on the far wall with a gigantic TV and surround sound system. A long black couch stretches out, directly in front of the TV with two smaller couches to each side. A low, round table in the center is already covered in snacks for the game. The side wall is literally covered in strange, native wall hangings like masks and rugs and there's even a spear or two.
I turn and see that the wall behind us, next to the door, holds a long bar. Rafe's back there already, next to Joel, digging around in an icebox.
"Hey Joel, my man, I didn't know you were here," I say, drifting over.
"Got here early to help set up," he says, lifting a glass to his lips.
"You tending?" I ask.
"Sure. What's your pleasure?" he asks, setting his glass down.
"I'll take whatever you're having," I answer, eyeing the bright blue concoction in his glass.
He grins and begins mixing ingredients in a large tumbler. I walk over and lean against the bar just in time to see a fair amount of pineapple juice followed by vodka poured into the metal container. I missed whatever it was he used to get the blue color, but I shudder and figure I probably don't want to know anyway. He pours my finished drink and slides it across the bar towards me. I sip my blue drink and grimace.
"Cheers," he says, raising his glass and chuckling. I roll my eyes sip my sour drink slowly.
The doorbell chimes and I can hear the suction of the front door opening above us. I wonder briefly if Jim has arrived, but know it's not him when Angeline appears in the doorway followed by two guys I don't recognize. One guy's short and slightly round, wearing rumpled khakis and a yellow polo shirt. The other guy sticks his head around the corner and throws a smile our way before ducking back out again. He's tall, with short, dark hair and green eyes. Dressed in pressed blue jeans and a J. Crew sweater. These guys aren't what I'd expect when I think 'Blair's friends'.
I'm instantly disgusted at myself for the thought. The stranger is dressed no differently than Rafe, or even Ellison at times. But I guess I've always seen Blair as a hanger-on, not really fitting into Major Crimes but accepted because he was always there. I'd never met any of his friends from his university days, but I pictured them to be grunge-clad political zealots, like he looked when he first started hanging around Ellison.
Sure he'd lost the torn jeans and Goodwill sweaters and started showing up in Chinos and button downs, but I always figured it was because he'd wised up and figured out what was good for him, hanging around at the station so much. Its not like Sandburg is stupid and he has eyes and ears. I'm sure he noticed the looks he'd drawn and the smothered laughter at some of his more outrageous outfits. What was acceptable for a college student didn't fly around a bunch of testosterone laden cops with attitudes. And when he was constantly being pegged as a vice cop, well, even he knew the significance of that.
I guess I never really saw Sandburg as being one of us-even when he'd crossed that line and claimed his own shield. Never thought of him as being more than just 'Ellison's partner'. I'm ashamed to realize that I never really considered him a friend. Never got to know him. Hell, I still don't know him.
I never stopped seeing him as some punk college kid who started tagging along at Ellison's heels. I never considered that away from us, he was practically a doctor, in all but title. A teacher at a prestigious university. A genius really. I never stopped to credit him for his contributions to our cases or his insights that only someone world traveled and highly educated would have.
He was just Sandburg. Even after the shield. I don't think any of us ever let him escape from Ellison's shadow. I'd put money on it that no one saw him as one of us-as a detective with the same contributions to make as the next person. And I'm as guilty as anyone for keeping Blair in a box of our own making-our own preconceived notions.
So I shouldn't be surprised really that Blair is living in this condo, with a supermodel-gorgeous woman hanging on his arm, and preppy friends. Who am I to say what's normal for Sandburg-I never knew to begin with.
Before I can pull my attention away from the trio in the doorway, Angeline glances into the family room and then pauses, calling out, "Blair?"
A muffled "In here!" answers her and Angeline disappears down the hallway in the opposite direction, the strange guys following. I tip my head slightly, straining to hear what's going on down the hall, curious as to whom the two guys are. When Jim relayed the invitation to catch the game over here, he never said anything about Blair inviting anyone else.
And just where is Ellison anyway? I'd have figured he'd be the first one here. He'd happily extended the invitation, but now that I think about it, he didn't talk about it afterwards. He'd just smile a little and bury his nose in work until whoever it was talking about the game went away. Looking back, his smiles had seemed to be little more than pretty grimaces.
Well damn! Ellison was scared about the whole thing all along! Why didn't I see it? Well, duh, you dumb-ass . . .like you saw Ellison and Sandburg's partnership crumble before Blair had disappeared from the bullpen and our lives for good? Brown, it is time to pull your nose out of your ass and start paying attention. Sandburg doesn't deserve to go through that shit again.
Joel and Rafe grab their drinks and drift towards the couches. Rafe grabs my arm as he passes. I wave him off and pull out my cell phone.
"I'm going to call Ellison and see what's holding him up," I say, turning back to the bar and perching on a barstool. Remembering that Jim had to work this morning, I dial the office and wait while his phone rings.
Finally, the ringing stops and the man's brisk voice barks, "Major Crimes, Ellison speaking," into my ear.
"Jimbo! What's the hold up man?" I ask, cutting to the point.
"I've got a ton of paperwork built up here, H. It's going to take me a while to clear this up," he says. He sounds funny and I wonder if he's mumbling on purpose.
"Listen Jim. That stuff can wait, this can't. This has been planned for weeks and Sandburg's expecting you. Everyone else is here already." Well it's true. Captain Banks is out of town visiting his sister, so he's the exception today.
"Okay, okay. I'll just finish this up and I'll get out of here. I'll only be a little late, but I'll get there," he says, sounding like he's trying to end the call.
Hell no, am I going to let him get away with this. I don't care if he is scared; he's going to be here if I have to go and drag his sorry ass here myself.
"Ellison!" I bark. "Untuck that tail and get your ass over here!"
"What are you talking about H.?" he asks, wearily.
"Look man, I don't know what your problem is, but right now, I don't care. The game is starting in twenty minutes and you'd better be here. That means you get your ass up, off that chair, and get over here-no stops for anything. Got it?"
There's a long pause before he finally answers, quietly, "Got it."
"Great, I'll see you in twenty." As an afterthought, I add, "He needs you here man."
"I know, I'll be there."
Satisfied, I break the connection and tuck my phone back in my pocket. I grab my drink and slip off the stool and join the others around the TV. As I sit down, Joel turns to me.
"Is he coming?" he asks. Joel always was the astute one. It doesn't surprise me that he's as aware of Ellison's stall tactics as I am.
"He says," I answer, shrugging. Just then, the other two guys appear in the doorway. There's no sign of Sandburg or Angeline, and I smile, making a guess at what they're up to. The little guy pauses at the door, but the tall one steps forward, his hand outstretched.
"Arthur Tennison, pleased to make your acquaintance," he says, shaking first Joel's hand, then Rafe's and finally my own. I wait until Joel and Rafe finish before introducing myself.
"Henri Brown. You can call me H., everyone else does," I offer. "Rafe, Joel and myself used to work with Blair at Major Crimes. You work with him at Redwood?" I ask.
He nods and gestures towards the short guy. "This is Ken Barby; he also works at Redwood," Ken offers.
My eyes widen and I fight to contain my laughter. Ken's face is flaming red and he offers a nervous smile.
"My parents had a sick sense of humor," he says.
I do laugh at that and jerk my head towards a bunch of framed photos Blair has scattered around the bar. "Don't feel bad," I say, grinning. "Do you know what Blair's middle name is?"
Ken looks puzzled and shakes his head. I get up and lead him over to the photos, pointing out one of Sandburg as a little kid. It's a cute picture-the kid's all curls and dimples. He's probably about five in that picture and unless you know him, it's real hard to tell if it's a boy or a girl.
"Blair Jodi," I say, laughing at the growing glee on Ken's face.
"No way!" Rafe says, behind me before pushing past to see the photo. "He told you that?"
I snigger. "Of course not. He doesn't even know I know. I stopped over to pick up Ellison for a stake out once and Naomi was there. She was only too happy to show off pictures of her baby."
"Did she want a little girl or something?" Rafe asks, studying the picture.
"Nope. She just believed in naming the baby as soon as she knew she was pregnant. She said unborn babies are people too and should have names, so she picked one that could go to a boy or a girl."
"I'm sure Blair loved that," Joel said, his voice booming out from behind us.
"Blair's just fine with it, thank you." We all turn and try to hide our laughter as Blair enters the room. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up Boomer . . .Marion," he says, glaring at Rafe and me.
"Marion?" I mouth at Rafe. Hell, I've been his partner for five years and never knew his first name.
"What of it, Boomer?" Rafe shoots back.
"Well, at least it's just my middle name. Lots of people have stupid middle names," I say.
Blair just rolls his eyes. "I'm going to walk Angeline out. Behave please and no more digging up all my dirty little secrets," he says, laughing. "Oh," he turns back. "Remind me to have a talk with my mom the next time she's in town."
We all laugh as the pair disappear around the corner. The four of us break from our huddle around the bar and rejoin Joel on the couches.
Arthur grabs a handful of chips and settles back to munch. "So, tell us what Blair was like before he joined our merry little crew."
"Um." Rafe and I exchange uncomfortable glances. I know I'm still uncomfortable talking about before-before Blair threw his career out the window to protect Ellison. Before Blair joined our ranks. Before he disappeared into the nether and no one questioned where he'd gone. Before I discovered my role in the turn his life had taken.
"Neo-hippy witch doctor punk," a voice answers from the doorway. "At least that was my first impression of him when we met. All that hair and earrings, and he had on this wild vest-every color of the rainbow in that thing. Weird jungle music blasting in the background."
Another voice laughs and says, "Yeah, and this caveman here threw me up against the wall and threatened to bust me for drug possession."
"You have to admit, you were pretty out there Chief."
Blair just laughs and says, "This is Jim Ellison, my old partner on the force. Jim, this is Ken and Arthur, we work together at Redwood."
Jim steps forward and shakes their hands before turning back to Blair. "Sorry I'm late. I had some things to clear up," he says softly, blushing a little. "Can I help with anything?" he offers.
"Yeah, there's some food upstairs you can help me bring down, and I can give you the grand tour at the same time," Blair answers. From the curious look Blair is giving Jim, I won't be expecting them back anytime too soon-they've got a lot to talk about.
Left alone again, I turn to Arthur and Ken and say, "You know, you guys really need to watch out. Hairboy's a real trouble magnet."
"Hairboy?"
And we're off. Now that the ice has been broken, I think we'll all get along just fine. Of course we're using our one common denominator to bring us together, but so what. Blair won't mind.