Chapter 46: Pickup Game
Saturday dawned bright and, as Flack had predicted, hot as hell. Gus was exhausted from working about 56 hours in the past three days due to a crappy case and issues dealing with the drastic temperature swing, thus she had a wicked sinus headache. She answer her door with an ice pack on her nose.
"What did you do now?" Flack exclaimed.
"Nothing just sinuses and I'm tired," she replied, motioning for him to come in.
"It has been a rough couple of days. You still want to come?" Flack hoped she did but he would understand if she backed out.
"Of course, I will be fine, I just need more coffee," she headed toward the kitchen.
"I have something to make you feel even better," he said holding out a brown paper bag with grease stains.
"A greasy bag thanks Flack, now I know how you get all the ladies."
"Just take it," Flack said shoving it towards her.
Gus took it, opened it, did a double take and lit up from every pore, "Flack, where the hell did you find beignets?" She said pulling out one, flinging powdered sugar on everything but herself and biting in. "Ohmygoditstillhot" she groaned in delight.
Flack understood Jerome's "foodgasm" comment now. "Guy in Murray Hill just moved here from New Orleans, opened a restaurant," he shrugged.
Gus unabashedly threw her arms around him and gave him a huge kiss on the cheek, "you are officially my new favorite person, Don!"
"Thanks," he laughed, "but you are getting me sticky."
"Have one, you won't care about being sticky," she said passing him the bag. Flack took one hesitantly. "It's just a donut, Flack, it won't bite you." He gingerly took a tiny bite. "Come on tough guy, you aren't even wearing one of your fancy suits. I won't count off if you get sugar all over your t-shirt and jeans, I promise," her eyes danced merrily.
Flack took a bigger bite getting an explosion of fried dough, hot grease, and powdered sugar. "Oh that is good," he groaned.
"I told you. Though much better at 3am while tipsy and in black tie by the Mississippi, but beggars can't be choosers."
Flack tried to picture this scene, but couldn't. One day he was going to make that girl take him to New Orleans...he realized Gus was staring at him. "What?"
"You have a little sugar," she said gesturing, fighting the urge to lick it off of him at the conjuncture of cheek and dimple. He tried to wipe it off. "You're never gonna get it like that," she said handing him a damp paper towel.
"Thanks," he said.
"Better now?" Gus asked him trying to not laugh.
"Much, now I got something else for you," Flack said throwing her a t-shirt. "You can't wear a Saints t-shirt to a basketball game," he said gesturing to her black and gold shirt.
"Well I'm sure as hell not about to wear a Hornets t-shirt," she scoffed, catching the t-shirt and starting to peel off the Saints one.
"Hey there, sunshine just because we're partners," he gestured and started to turn around. "I have a tank top on underneath, Flack, I am queen of layers."
Isn't that the truth Flack thought surveying the sliver of her stomach showing between the tank and her jeans. "The yellow looks good on you, I feel like big bird."
"I'm a fan of the yellow too, they go with my chucks." Sure enough there were a pair of bright yellow converse by the door.
"I can't believe you have converse and in bright yellow."
"I have them in purple and green too!"
"Why?" Flack wondered what entirely she did have hidden in her closet.
"Mardi Gras. They are the perfect Bourbon Street shoes."
"I'll take your word on it, you ready?" Flack said smirking at her.
"Can I take the last beignet with me?" Gus asked with a little pout.
"Are you gonna get sugar all over my car?" He had just cleaned it, but somehow that pout made him forget that.
"Probably," she shrugged, grinning and then sneezing.
"Fine, come on, sniffles."
Gus grabbed her tote, shoving the paper bag inside and off they went.
Sitting on the bleachers, waiting for the game to start Gus was pondering a nap, "are you working tonight?" she asked Flack bumping his knee with hers and handing over some overly salted popcorn.
"On call," he asked looking at her strangely, shouldn't she know when she was working.
"Me too, weird."
"Yeah, why wouldn't you be?"
She shrugged, handing a handi wipe to one of the kids who had dropped ketchup on himself, "dunno."
"Um, Gus, we are always going to be working the same time, partners remember? If I'm working, you're working, that's the way it works."
"Huh, I guess it is. Deshaun, would you like some hot dog with your ketchup, hon?" she turned back to Flack, "I might get sick of you then if I spend all the off time with you then too." He looked crestfallen. "I was joking Flack, if haven't gotten sick of you by now, I'm not going to." Flack just grinned. "You know next week I'll have been at NYPD for a year?"
"Really, it seems like you have been around forever."
"Are you getting sick of me then?" Gus mocked.
"No, oddball, I'm just saying sometimes I forget that I haven't known you my entire life."
"It's because you know practically everything about me. Which is a very very unusual thing Detective Flack," she said waving a finger at him, "you better not use any of it against me," she warned.
"Wouldn't dream of it, sunshine," he said ruffling her hair.
"Are you his girlfriend?" one of the kids asked.
"Nope, we just work together. We're partners," Gus answered without hesitation.
"You're po-lice too? A woman po-liceman?"
"Sure, why not?"
"I've seen it on tv" "But tv ain't real" "You sure do touch a lot for people who just work together" "Nuh uh my daddy touched someone he worked with a whole lot more. But my mama says she's just a no good home wrecking slut!" came a flurry of conversation around the pair.
"Are you a slut Miss Augusta?" asked a very angelic, slightly chubby child.
Gus cracked up and Flack looked horrified. "I think your mother was calling that woman names out of anger, sweetie, so let's try to not call anyone a slut from now on, all right?"
"Whatever!" The child rolled his eyes.
Gus lifted her t-shirt to fan herself, how had it gotten so hot in three days? Flack caught the kid behind him trying to get an up close look at Gus physique and shot his arm out.
"Ow, I wasn't doing nothin!" the kid exclaimed. Flack gave him a look, "respect," he said growling.
"Sorry," the kid mumbled.
"So let me get this straight," Gus said still confused about the whole pick-up basketball scene in New York, "this guy who is just a regular street guy is currently wiping the floor of someone who is signed with the NBA."
"Pretty much," Flack was amused, she knew all about the Saints, had this weird hockey obsession which still didn't make sense to him, and still didn't understand a pick up game?
"I guess that is sporting enough, better than cock fighting I suppose."
"You said cock Miss Augusta!"
"As in rooster, and y'all can really call me Gus, just Gus."
"You said y'all!" Giggles.
"Focus on the game you guys," she stressed.
By late in the afternoon, Gus and Flack were both more than happy to drop the kids back off at the community center. "Doctor Broussard from New Or-leens, I'm glad the good detective was able to get you to come back and help him," Pastor Carter greeted her.
"It was no problem," she said graciously despite her exhaustion.
"In that case, we might be able to put you too good use with our young wayward females here, they could use a good mentor or two."
"I would be happy to help in anyway I can, here's my card, you can call me to discuss it," she said handing him her business card.
"Ah, a detective now too, I see, a woman of many talents," the man grinned, "so how are you settling into the big city?"
"Not so scary if you have a good tour guide," Gus bumped Flack and grinned.
"She doesn't need one, she does just fine on her own," Flack retorted.
"Either way, take care of this one, Detective Flack," the pastor waved his finger at Flack.
"Will do, in fact I'm going to make sure she gets something to eat other than popcorn and hot dogs right now," Flack said with a little laugh.
"Carry on then, and have a blessed day," Pastor Carter said waving them off.
"Good save, something tells me he would have had me in there leading a support group in another five minutes," Gus muttered to Flack.
"Probably so. You look exhausted," he said surveying her.
"I am, and I also can't believe I am sunburned in New York in October, no one back in New Orleans would believe this, they think you are all in parkas and snowdrifts by now."
Flack grinned and poked at her red cheek leaving a fingerprint, "you did get toasty."
"Ow!" she mumbled, holding her cheek.
"Come one, let me get you home before you fall over, cranky pants," Flack drove her home in comfortable silence.
"Thanks for helping me out," he said pulling up to her place.
"I told you in small doses, it's fun. You wanna come up, if you don't have other plans," she added quickly.
"Fine, but I'm actually going to try to find a spot so Mrs. Potter doesn't give me the evil eye."
"Scared of a little old lady, huh? I'll order Chinese and see you in a few, let yourself in."
Flack finally gave up and parked out front and made his way up to Gus', upon entering he heard the shower running. He slipped his shoes off and walked over to the couch, turning on the television and making himself at home. He liked it here.
"Hey do me a favor," he heard Gus call.
"What?" he said turning seeing her wrapped in a towel and dripping all over the floor.
"I gotta dry off and change, but the delivery guy will be here any second, pay him would ya?"
"Slick," Flack said.
"No you dork, outta my wallet, it's in the tote," she pointed, trying to not drop her towel and slipped into her bedroom.
Flack heard her humming, trying to not imagine her drying off...he was interrupted out of a fantasy by the door buzzer. He heard a hairdryer from the bedroom. He went to get her wallet out of her tote, knocking it over as he went, it's contents flying everywhere. "Crap!" he muttered, going to meet the delivery guy. He walked back in, set the bag on the table and started to gather up her belongings when he something on a piece of paper on the floor caught his eye. A crescent and a star, the NOPD logo. He still heard the hairdryer running. He knew he shouldn't but something compelled him. He unfolded the letter scanning, "Implore you to consider this offer...background and qualifications...head of mobile crisis...please respond by November 1st". Flack felt something take hold of his heart and squeeze, was she going back home? Was she going to leave? How to ask her, he wasn't snooping on purpose...
"Crap did everything fall out again, I hate that bag for that!" Gus said from the hallway stooping to pick up a lip gloss. "Flack, you okay?" He made a strangled noise and shook his head. He stood up still holding the letter. Despite her sunburn, Gus could still feel herself going pale, she should have shredded the damn thing.
"Are you thinking about leaving, how could you not tell me?" Flack said wounded.
Gus saw loss in his eyes, a look she knew all too well from her own, she took a deep breathe and took a step towards him. He moved the slightest bit back away from her, she felt her heart crush, but closed the distance between them, prying the letter from his hand. "I didn't even consider it for a second. I am where I belong. I love it here, I love my job, I love being partners with you. The team, the whole team, not just Mac, is my family and that is not something I have had in a really long time. So, no Don, I'm not thinking about leaving. I already told them no the day I got the letter. Don't give it another thought, all right?" she said reaching up and patting him on the cheek.
He caught her hand, holding it for a moment before letting it drop, "I'm glad, I love having you around," he said softly.
"I'm glad because you're not getting rid of me yet. Now can we eat?" she said with a small smile.
"Yeah, we can eat," he said drawing her into a hug and inhaling the scent of her hair.
"Not if your crushing me," she said wiggling out and padding off to get chopsticks and napkins.
After stuffing themselves with Chinese and Gus slathering herself with aloe and taking sinus headache medicine, she curled up on the couch and stole the remote back from Flack. "I am not going to sit here and watch poker on television. On ESPN for god's sake, it's not a sport, you can't get hurt playing poker."
"Unless you go in with the wrong crowd."
"I suppose. Regardless, I'm more in a blow 'em up mindless action movie mood."
"Can't argue with that." Somewhere between the latest X-men and a horrible install of Fast and the Furious, Gus fell into a deep sleep. Flack shifted and moved a pillow so she was propped against him, just wanting to have her close. She didn't move, he almost wanted to make sure she was still breathing. He groaned when his phone buzzed on the table beside him, "Flack," he whispered.
"Sorry to interrupt you lover boy, but we got a call that we can't take and Thatcher's got the flu, or more likely he's drunk," Parker quipped over the line.
"Great, where at?"
"Rucker Park. Can you call it in to Broussard and get down there?"
"Not a problem," Flack said, hating to wake her but also trying to figure out what happened at the park they had been at just a few hours before. "Wake up sunshine, it's time to find a telephone booth and do a quick change."
"What?" she woke up sleepily and then jumped to alertness seeing the phone in his hand, "we got a call?"
"Yep, I'm going to grab my suit from the car, can you get changed in like five minutes?"
"Not a problem" Gus said jumping up. Shew flew into action, pulling out a basic black suit and a button down. She walked out to the living room tucking the shirt in and saw Flack already suited and ready to go. "Wow, you're good!"
"So are you," Flack truly was impressed she looked ready for action but still gorgeous, how did she do that? "Let's roll," he said watching her adjust her holster.
"Where's the car?" Gus asked clipping her shield on.
"Out front," Flack remarked sheepishly.
"And no evil eye, I'm impressed."
"As you said, I'm good," he grinned self assuredly and walked out.
"You know either I could call in for more info or I could drive so we don't, ya know, die on the way there. Where is there anyway?" Gus asked as car horns blasted around them and Flack barked into his radio.
"Do you even know how to use your radio?" Flack quipped back.
"Mostly or I could drive." She crossed her arms.
"Maybe one day," Flack said thinking he was curious and afraid of what she might be like behind the wheel.
"You let Stella drive," Gus retorted, feeling a twinge of jealousy.
"Correction, Stella doesn't let me drive. Don't be petulant."
"I'm not," she almost started to pout.
"You were about to pout," Flack smirked.
"No I wasn't," Gus chewed her lip, she so was.
"You know where we were are earlier?"
"Yeah, Rucker Park?"
"That's where we are going," he said turning a corner quickly.
"Why?" Gus said trying to not slide across the front seat.
"Well you see we are homicide detectives and there was a homicide and now we go detect," he snarked.
"Maybe you should have taken a nap too," she snapped back, but without bite.
"You did look pretty comfortable," Flack thought about gluing his mouth shut.
"Were you watching me sleep?" Gus thought that was...interesting.
"No."
"That's just creepy Flack. Am I to presume from your sarcasm that we don't know anything about the scene and it is basically a how you say politely Charlie Foxtrot?"
"Someone has been teaching you the terminology sunshine and it wasn't me!"
"I picked up a few things observing in the pit day in and day out, though I prefer SNAFU or FUBAR, but what are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do, indeed," he shook his head, she cracked him up and surprised him on a daily basis.
They arrived at a chaotic scene were little information had been gathered, despite the body being left inb etween the four buildings. It wasn't surprising, the area saw more than its fair share of shootings and drug deals. Most likely it was a drug deal gone bad or a turf war or a retaliation.
Flack and Gus both skidded to a stop when they saw the body.
"Isn't that?" Gus gaped.
"Yep," Flack answered motioning the patrolman over. "Details, whatcha got?"
"Alonzo Chopper Tevis, homeless, but won fifty grand playing in a one-on-one tournament. Too bad he won't have a chance to enjoy his winnings, it was against some big shot NBA dude too."
"Yeah, we know," Flack said.
"Fifty grand, that might be motive," Gus said, having a hard time believing that a homeless guy pulled 50 g's on a pick up game, "I wonder how the books looked," she mumbled.
"What do you know about betting?"
"There is a video poker machine in every bar, restaurant and convenience store in south Louisiana. But I learned about odds at the Fairgrounds, my dad liked horses."
It was always another revelation with this woman, wasn't it. "Who's else is working it?" Flack asked.
"We would be the lucky ones," Stella said from behind Gus, Mac following behind, focusing his flashlight on the ground.
"Blood trail says he crawled here," Mac said, "but those spatter patterns confuse me." "Mac Taylor confused, why I never!" Gus teased, he shot her a look and she shut down.
"Let's see who I can trick into talking," Gus said, wandering off. Gus felt like she had about a million doors slammed in her face. It was something she had witnessed time and time again in the C.J. or St. Thomas or Magnolia or any of the other projects in New Orleans, but there she had been a psychologist and they would eventually let her in, here she was a cop and it stung. She came out of the building, dejected and found the scene mostly processed with only a couple of peons working it. "Mac and Stella go back to the lab?" she asked Flack, who looked as frustrated as her.
"Follow the evidence," Flack retorted.
"Hope there is some because I have nothing. I feel like I have been stood up for the prom."
"I hardly see that happening to you, sunshine."
"I didn't ever go. I was at Loyola by the time my friends went, college parties trump prom."
"I would imagine. You'll get used to the door slamming thing by the way." He ruffled her ponytail.
"It's just odd he dragged himself back here..." Gus was deep in thought.
"Must of been some reason for it," he could see her wheels turning.
"I suppose," just then her phone rang.
"Hey Gus, feel like going to Mass?"
"Mac, it's one o'clock in the morning!"
"We need to go talk to a priest, we found a prayer card. The church is by the scene," he said giving her the address.
"Meet you there, I'll light a candle and see if I can butter up the priest first." Flack gave her an odd look. "Hey you need someone to go to a catholic church, I'm your girl. Mac found a prayer card. So you have fun with the slamming doors by yourself, I'm going to plead sanctuary."
Gus found the church easily enough, and was shocked to find it open. Maybe she wouldn't have to rouse a priest angrily from bed. She entered, crossing herself with holy water, genuflecting, and sat to say a brief prayer. Old habits die hard, she supposed. She did mean it when she said she would plead sanctuary though. While not towing the Vatican line to a tee, she did take solace in the familiarity of an old church. The ritual and pageantry and community had been her family when her parents died, and it was something she still turned to. Every bad case she had her entire professional life usually ended with her lighting a candle for a lost soul, now as a detective the souls where just a little more concretely lost. She went over to light a candle, spotting something in the wax of one of the votives. She made a mental note but didn't touch it, Mac and Stella should be here soon enough.
"Are you lost, my child?" said a voice behind her.
She turned to see a priest standing behind her, she smiled. "Do you mean that spiritually, metaphorically or in reality?"
He smiled back, "I mean it however you interpret it."
"Actually I am Detective Broussard with NYPD, homicide."
He nodded stoically, "too many of those around here, can't say I have seen you before, nor do many of you find your way in here."
"I'm a recent convert. To being a detective I mean, I was a psychologist, though that seems another lifetime ago already."
"Well then surely you will understand the bounds of confidentiality I have."
"I will understand them, but I still have an investigation to conduct."
He nodded, "Who has fallen this time?"
"Chopper Tevis."
"Sad, a good man, or at least trying to be-"
They were interrupted by the arrival of Mac and Stella. "My associates," Gus said, gesturing.
"A full calvary I see, must be an important case."
"Every case of mine is important to me," she replied.
"And to us, Mac Taylor, Crime Lab. Father-?"
"Crawford, Father Crawford. She told me you are investigating the death of Chopper Tevis, tragic."
"Yes, we found this prayer card on his body," Stella said holding up the evidence bag. She started talking with the priest while Gus pulled Mac over to the candles at the alter.
"Check that out," she said pointing, "now anyone who lights a candle at an alter knows how to do it without getting burned enough to lose a button. Even I have never done that."
"Good eye, maybe you are on the wrong side of the team."
"No way, Uncle Mac. In fact, I'm gonna go back out there and have a few more doors slammed in my face for emphasis."
"Enjoy yourself."
"Night, thank you Father."
"You too, Detective, hope you find your way."
Stella and Mac exchanged a look...
A few more slammed doors the next morning and more than a couple of lewd proposals, Gus was sitting on a swing in the park looking frustrated.
"I take it you got nothing from the priest," Flack said happy he finally found her.
"There was a button, Mac and Stella are running with all that."
"You look like you are thinking hard."
"Something must have been awfully important for him to drag himself back here."
"Hold that thought," Flack said answering his phone, he spoke briefly and hung up. "Something important like an ex-wife and a son who live in that building and just deposited Chopper's money from the game?"
"That's important all right, which building?"
"That one," Flack pointed to the building at the Northeast side.
"Well let's go talk to the ex-Mrs. Chopper."
The talk wasn't so fruitful, a lot of gnashing of teeth about how the money was rightfully hers and how she didn't want to take him back because he had been on drugs and she was afraid he couldn't stay clean. And then a whole speech about how proud she was of him. A brief appearance by the son only got them a few grunted words and attitude.
"Charming young man," Gus muttered.
Flack and Gus were attempting to eat when Flack got a call from Stella. "Button button who's got the button," he chanted.
"Huh?" she was trying to solve a murder and he was chanting children's rhymes?
"Your button, Stella got a match, hustler by the name of Moody. Sounds like a runner, though so maybe you should sit this one out."
"Are you gonna keep babying me?" she hissed at him.
"Are you gonna keep getting hurt?" he looked down at her knowingly.
"I see your point, I'm going to head back to the lab then, or start on the paperwork."
"You know my paperwork has vastly improved since partnering with you."
"When you have to do charts for the BOP, you get to know paperwork."
It was a couple of hours before Gus saw Flack again. She wandered through the lab, talking with Hawkes about how he reconstructed a tattoo. "Sounds yummy," she said over coffee.
"It was fun, let me tell you, but I think it broke the case!"
"Well then, all in a days work!" He smiled. "How are things going for you, Sheldon?"
"Same old, I'm good. How are you liking the field?"
Gus broke into a huge grin. "I know, it's great isn't it, I can't imagine being back in the ME's office."
"Sorry to break in on your coffee date, but we found something," Flack said from the canteen door.
"Woot!" Gus exclaimed.
"Woot?" both men questioned.
"Did Moody run?"
"Not very far. But he had a watch on him that was reported stolen by a couple in from out of town and were mugged after watching the game."
Gus groaned, "Tell me they aren't here on a babymoon?"
Flack just shook his head, "nah, some Teacher of the Year award thing."
"Good, I don't have to change me shoes then!"
"Let's go, they are at their hotel."
Flack, Gus and Mack practically filled the couple's tiny hotel room. An imposing sight, the couple sat on their bed, afraid, and spilled out their story. Lily and Clay Becker were in town for the awards ceremony and had heard about the pick-up game and thought it would be an "only in New York" kind of activity. After being mugged that night, they got a flat tire. As Clay changed it, a man crawled up to them, begging for help, and out of fear, Lily smashed his head with her brass apple award. Little did she know that she killed the man she and Clay had watched play basketball only hours earlier. All three detectives were downtrodden at this story, taking Lily and Clay in to the station did not feel like justice. Back at the precinct, Mac parted ways with them. Hopefully to see Peyton, Gus thought.
Flack turned to her and said, "well that's just kills the whole apple a day theory." Gus groaned, "You didn't just go there, I know you didn't."
"I did!"
"I think I'm gonna head home."
"You want a lift?"
"Nah, I think I'm going to see a priest about finding my way first."
"You're speaking in riddles again, Gus," he said, wondering why the sudden downturn in her demeanor.
"See ya, Flack," she said walking off, hugging herself.
"See ya, sunshine," he called after her.
"What?" he said to Lafferty who was staring at him.
"Nothing," Lafferty buried his head in his paperwork.
Chapter 47: Homewrecker
The week didn't get any more uplifting. Crap cases, crap hours, crap weather. Gus was a in a foul mood that ice cream, margaritas and lighting all the candles in all the churches couldn't fix.
"What is wrong with you, you aren't living up to your nickname, sunshine?" Flack said leaning over his desk towards hers.
"It is not reasonable for me to be happy all the time," she grumbled while thinking 'I really have some aggression I need to work out and want to get laid but I had to break if off with my supplier because he was engaged, wanna go find a supply closet?'
Their lieutenant came by their area just then, so Gus didn't have a chance for any snarky commentary.
"Hey, Loo," Flack said. Gus just gave a half wave.
"My dream team isn't looking so happy."
"It's all her, Loo, I'm good."
"Sorry to hear that Broussard. I just wanted to see if you had the White case file. I was shocked to not see it on my desk, as your paperwork has been drastically improving, Flack!"
"Once again, all her."
"Broussard, why am I not surprised?"
"I know my charting, what can I say. Here it is, I was doing a little QA."
"Of course," the lieutenant said, shaking his head in disbelief, normally getting case files was like pulling teeth. "One would think you worked for the feds, but your clearance rate is too high." Gus just glowered. "She is in a bad mood, what did you do to her, Flack, cut off her coffee supply?"
"I didn't do anything!"
"Try to lighten up Broussard, and go see special vics they have better coffee."
"Like nobody else drinks coffee around he-" she started and stopped upon hearing a shrill voice say, "I'm looking for Detective Broussard!" The woman was strikingly attractive, but also had a look in her eyes like she was a little crazed. "Right here," Gus said getting up and walking towards the woman.
"The crazies even come to you, great," Flack muttered wondering if he should follow.
"Can I help you?" Gus asked curiously.
"Maybe, I doubt it though," the woman all but spit at Gus.
"Should I know you?" Gus questioned, the woman encroaching very much on her personal space. The woman was feisty:, trendy jet black hair, pale skin, about 4 inches shorter than Gus and 40 pounds lighter but looking mean as a snake.
"Christina Perellia, about to be Christina Murphy and I just wanted to see if you could stop sleeping with my fiancée seeing as our wedding is only a month away!" she yelled, gathering the attention of every person in hearing range.
Christina...Murphy...crap Colin's fiancée! Gus pulled herself up to her full height, squaring her back, "listen lady, as soon as I found out dear Colin liked dipping his wick in a lot of places, I told him where to go!" Gus knew every man was hoping for a chick fight, probably placing bets right now.
"Yeah right!" Christina said tapping her foot, her fists clenched.
"Hey, believe me or not, but shouldn't you be having this conversation with him? Maybe down at the engine house in front of all his co-workers instead of in here in front of mine." Gus tried to remain non-threatening, but she wanted to shake some sense into this woman.
"Just answer me this, woman to woman..."
Gus fought the urge to roll her eyes, "Go on."
"When was the last time you slept with Colin?"
Oh great now she was going to broadcast her sexual history to the entire homicide division, "I didn't exactly mark it on my calendar, but a few weeks ago."
"I don't trust you," Christina sneered, teetering on her high heels.
"I didn't say you should, but maybe you shouldn't trust the man you are about to marry either!" Gus was pissed now.
"I'm not gonna trust you because I have evidence!" the woman looked smug.
"You want to talk to me about evidence, tell me I heard that wrong?" Gus said turning to the men watching them. "You believe this?" she said to them.
The woman jerked her back around, "listen you might think you are some fancy detective, and I am just some dumb secretary, but if you aren't sleeping with him, how did I find these in his glove compartment this morning when they weren't there two days ago?" the woman shoved a barely there scrap of lace in Gus' face.
Gus took a step back, "Seems pretty simple to me, he's sleeping with somebody else that isn't me or you." "How do you figure that?" the woman was ready to fight.
"Well I am going go out on a limb and guess they aren't yours and I know they aren't mine because I don't wear g-strings. I prefer to not have something stuck up my ass all day!" she turned her head over her shoulder, "if anyone comments on that I will shoot you!" She turned back to the woman.
"Yeah right!" Christina looked ready to pounce.
"You want to go check in the bathroom, I'm telling you-" Gus was cut off by a slap across her face.
"Shut up you bitch!" Christina cried in a rage. Gus turned her head back slowly, staring the woman down. The air seemed to crackly with electricity, everyone took a shared intake of breathe except Flack, who by this point had come up and around behind Christina.
He had her cuffed before she knew what was happening, "bad move, sweets, you just assaulted a police officer. Worse move, it was my partner." Christina starting struggling, trying to kick out, practically foaming at the mouth. "You trying to make it two assault charges?" Flack said, shoving her at a uniform, "get her out of my face!"
Gus was in the same spot, standing eerily still, fuming and mortified. She couldn't bare to turn around and face the other detectives. This would be all over in minutes and she knew she would look like the homewrecker.
Flack came up to her, wanting to hug her or rub her cheek. He stopped short and looked down at her, "Gus, you cool?" he said.
"I was telling the truth!" she said loudly and steadily.
"We know," came Parkers voice behind her. Gus closed her eyes, torn between thankful and curious.
Flack looked up behind Gus, this was an odd showing of support, he figured the boys club would have months of fun with this one. "How do you know, Parker?" Flack asked.
"We all do, every time Broussard leans over her desk to ream you a new one, we can see down her pants. Why do you think we all get real interested in Woodside's computer whenever you too are arguing?"
Gus didn't know if this was better or worse. "I gotta clear my head," Gus whimpered and headed for the Crime Lab's roof.
Gus was staring over the side, the city bustling on outward as far as she could see. She suddenly felt very small and lost.
"I know you aren't this upset over someone seeing your panties, sunshine. Somehow I am betting you were more the type to lift your skirts over your head as a child," Flack called from the access hatch.
She had to smile, "actually Flack it seems I haven't broken that habit yet."
"Not what I meant," he said coming over to her, leaning over the rail along side her, resting his elbows on the edge. "What are you doing up here?"
"Seeing as I was already taken down a few notches in front of everyone, I felt I would complete the cycle of feeling insignificant," she said gesturing out to the horizon.
Flack looked down at her, she did look very much like a little girl lost. Her hair blown out of its ponytail, her hands hidden inside her shirt cuffs, her shoes off making her trouser legs hide her feet, she had chewed her lipstick off and her cheek still bore a slight imprint. It took every ounce of willpower for him to not sweep her up in his arms and kiss the hell out of her. He looked out toward the city. "You are anything but insignificant, Gus."
She looked up, "I wish I still kept a bottle in my desk," she mumbled.
"Ask Thatcher for his," Flack joked.
"It wouldn't suck so much if the whole world hadn't witnessed that exchange and if I hadn't tried damn hard to do the right thing!" Flack just nodded slightly, letting her talk. She turned and slid down the side of the wall to the ground. "As soon as I knew, I cut it off, but does that matter, no? I still get the brunt of this woman's anger. I give up, I can't win when it comes to men and now I am also the laughingstock of homicide."
"Actually I don't think that's true. The guys are pretty impressed that you took the high road. Most of them wouldn't have."
"Yeah, High Road Broussard, that and a couple bucks will barely get me a coffee."
Flack was still leaning on his arms on the ledge, he couldn't join her sitting or he would do something that they both might regret. "Please quit selling yourself short, sunshine," Flack said, staring out into the distance trying to sort out what to say or not say.
Before he would figure it out, Gus was standing, brushing herself off and sliding back into her shoes, "I can't hide up here forever, I may as well go face the music. I swear to god though, if underwear end up on my desk, some one if going to end up eating them".
Flack smiled and shook his head, 'and she's back', he thought.