Chapter Seven—Interlude

The Swan Lake was a dive just off Broadway. Going in, you'd think they'd forgotten to pay their electric bill. The place was usually lit by candles and a fireplace at the far end, even in the summer. It wasn't out of the ordinary to hear wailing coming from the bathrooms, and the roof was almost notorious as a fabulous spot to throw oneself off. Would-be actors were the most frequent customers, and the bartenders were known to throw in a little Shakespeare every now and then. That was the only class the Swan Lake had.

Karen was settled into a grimy chair across the room from the bar, trying to ignore her friend.

"Karen? Karen?" Anne Donnelly waved a hand in front of Karen's face.

Karen finally looked back.

"Are you ignoring me for a reason?"

"I just, you know." Karen hesitated before laying it out. "It's hard to listen to you numbering off rotten things about a guy I have to work with everyday."

"I just want to make sure you don't ever forget where he came from."

"Don't worry, I can't," Karen said, though she meant, she couldn't forget with Anne constantly reminding her.

"But you keep—"

"I respect him as a cop. I never said I respected him as a human being."

"Do you?" Anne asked.

Karen looked away and watched a man wearing a pink tutu downing shots at the bar. "He doesn't seem like a bad guy…"

"Yeah, that's the Dunbar charm. Trust me, there's nothing underneath, just the charm."

"Okay."

"Why are you so distracted tonight?"

"Can we change the subject?" Karen said, a little harsher than she'd planned.

"I just did," Anne said. "I asked why you're so distracted. But if you want to keep talking about Jim Dunbar—"

"I see him all day, I don't need to talk about him all night. Jim's a cop, we work together. I wish I knew how he figures some of these cases out… Anne, it's driving me crazy. Ever since he's been there, being partnered up with him, sometimes it's like I don't exist. I'm not as experienced. I don't always know what I'm looking for. They give me crap for being female."

"You knew it was a "man's job.""

"So? That doesn't mean they shouldn't accept me. Sometimes I think, even though I've worked with them longer, that Marty and Tom, they respect a blind cop more than me. And yeah, he's good at his job, but—"

Anne grinned. "Good. As long as you resent him, I don't have to worry about you falling for him."

"Anne!"

"Sorry."

"I just feel like now I'm the one with something to prove, not him."

Anne's eyes wandered and Karen quickly followed her gaze. She tried to cover her face, but she knew it was too late.

"Hey, Karen," the guy slurred. "I thought that was my favorite detective." He tried to lean over her chair while nonchalantly running a hand through his dark hair. He'd shaved right before coming out, like he'd tried to impress Karen with once before, and he reeked of after-shave cologne. He licked his lips, bringing her attention to the one tooth in front that had been discolored after years of smoking.

Karen stood up. "I'm leaving."

"Great, I'll come," he said. He stood up, shrugging his shoulders like he needed to reposition his shirt to make it more comfortable.

"Matt, get lost."

"But I thought we had something." He always had been whiny.

"One date, that's all we had." Karen grabbed her coat. He tried to help her on with it, but she wrenched it out of his grasp. She put a hand up to his chest and he grinned lasciviously, but she pushed him backwards out of her way with her best don't-mess-with-the-cop attitude. He moved where she pushed, but when she moved past, he grabbed her hand and kissed it, trying to pull her close. Karen shot him a disgusted look. "Drunken misconduct—I'll book you if you don't let go."

"Be still my heart," he said with a grin, but he let go.

Anne was laughing.

"That's what I was trying to avoid, thanks, Anne," Karen said on the way out.

"You keep up this string of bad dates, we won't be able to go anywhere anymore."

"New York is just not big enough," Karen grumbled.

Marty remembered how horrified he'd been the day the lieutenant had briefed them about the new detective being assigned. Jim Dunbar, blind as a bat. Marty'd followed the bank robbery. He was a cop; they'd all been obsessed with the bank. It had been one of those days every cop dreams he'll never see.

And Dunbar, he'd never see a day like that again. He'd been lucky to live. He'd been a poster boy for the media, but that just made him an ass to the cops he was trying to work with again, the butt of some cruel jokes passed around the squads. The blind cop.

Until he actually got reinstated, then he'd become a hero again. No cop would make fun of him while he was on the job.

And Marty'd be forced to work with him? Put his life on the line to save this guy if it came down to it? He'd have rather dragged his senile, wheelchair-bound grandmother out in the line of fire—at least she could see to duck.

Past his prime, too injured to return to work, but too stupid to know better. Get over it, that's what Marty wanted to tell the guy.

And he'd walked in with a dog. Not with a dog in tow, but with one in the lead. And a gun to boot—but that was passé now. Marty didn't have to worry about the gun anymore.

Lately, he hadn't felt the need to worry about Dunbar anymore, either. Or to worry about Karen partnered with him. Jim had proved himself and Marty had to admit, he was glad to see some of it rubbing off on Karen. She was lucky to have him as a role model.

Some things still bugged him, though. Jim was like this flawless icon they were all supposed to bow before. And Marty found himself trying to hold his own, not be overshadowed by this blind guy.

It was harder to resent Jim now. They were coming together as a squad. Experience, expertise, imagination. Marty had to smile, some of the things Dunbar came up with were at once ingenious and insane. Marty wasn't sure he'd be able to stick to his guns with some of those crack-pot theories Dunbar came up with. He respected Dunbar for sticking to them.

The thing with the coffee was still bugging him a little, though. He'd spent most of the day with the guy. As soon as he'd let the dog go, taken off his sunglasses and settled in at his desk, he was just another cop. Lunch had been a little awkward at first, sitting right across the table, holding a conversation. Marty'd always found eye contact to be important. He'd just been getting comfortable again, hadn't even offered to get coffee because Jim couldn't get it himself, had just been offering because he was going. He'd come back to find Jim in classic Dunbar-thinking mode, held up the coffee—nothing.

Not a movement, not a flicker, no acknowledgement.

It was Jim, the guy who'd saved their butts on the Tongue Collector case. And Marty felt he was right back there, hoping to God this man could hold his own like he'd promised.

Tom was an easygoing guy. He thought it was funny, that girl coming up and kissing Jim. Jim had gotten it on with this girl once, but he was playing it all saintly, like it was another life, warning Tom the bad things that could happen. Tom would just go with the flow.

Life at the squad had sure been more interesting since Dunbar had come around. Awkward, sometimes, yeah, but it wasn't as much of a pain as he'd thought it would be. When Jim relaxed, he could be a great guy. And on the job, Tom was taking the opportunity to learn from him. The brass never would have reinstated him if he wasn't good. And Tom had seen it firsthand. New blood, that's what they'd needed.

And to see Dunbar rubbing off on Karen, it made him proud. Karen was really coming into her own finally. Tom was finally getting over the woman stigma enough to joke around with her, too. Yeah, everything was coming around.

And Tom had a date with Simone. Hot, tall, long legs, he was surprised Jim had never called her, but he guessed being married, Jim was right to keep back. Shouldn't do that when you gotta go home to the same woman every night. But when you were just playing the field…

"You work with Jimmy?" Simone asked.

"Yeah."

"That's cool." She scooted her chair a little closer. "I kinda like detectives. You're always trying to save the world, one person at a time. I like that."

Tom smiled.

"I always hoped Jimmy'd call me, even though he was married. He always had the best stories, could keep us rolling for hours, even though he was usually so serious, you know."

Tom gave a half nod, watching her closely while she talked about Jim, how he had been. Before. Tom hadn't thought about it too often—just that once when that guy'd come up to thank Jim for helping his blind nephew.

Jim before, that had to be a sight.

"Was he… like he was the other night?"

"I'm surprised he pushed me away, never thought Jimmy was much of one for restraint," Simone said dryly.

"That's it?"

"It's been a year or so since I've seen him. But you cops, you always disappear for a while. Never want to stay in one place too long." She ran a hand across Tom's chest and Tom grinned down at her. "But you cops never change."

Tom snagged her hand. "Are we gonna talk about Jim all night?"

"Let's dance."

Simone took his hand and pulled him out to the dance floor, cuddling up close. Tom looked down on her, but all he could think about was Jim. Maybe he hadn't changed all that much, maybe he just wasn't comfortable around him and Marty yet—or maybe just not that comfortable being blind, always trying to compensate. Tom never really thought about Jim being blind anymore. Thinking of it now, how difficult it might be for him, thinking about whether or not Jim was the same guy he used to be—Tom shook his head to clear it, pushing the thoughts aside. Jim was Jim.

And Jim was usually right about most things. Tom felt he shouldn't be there on that dance floor with some girl wrapped around him that wasn't Nikki. Damn Jim, Tom would have to take it up with him the next day. He didn't need a conscience outside the one he already had. But the damage was done. After that dance, he'd go home. But for the moment, he held Simone close.