Charlie comes in on the twenty-third. Brenda picks her up on a late lunch hour and spends most of the drive back downtown apologizing about having to go back to the office.
"It's okay," Charlie says. "I can just hang out in your office. I have my ipad, I'll be fine." She pauses. "There's wifi, right?"
"I'm sure someone knows how to get you on," Brenda says. "And then after we can go to dinner with David - you remember Detective Gabriel? Well, Investigator, now, but David is just fine. He offered to take us to dinner."
"Whatever you want to do Aunt Brenda," Charlie says.
"I know it's too late to ask this but you're sure you're okay spending Christmas away from your parents?" Brenda asks.
She'd spent a long time on the phone with her brother Bobby before she bought the ticket. He'd said that Charlene was an adult and allowed to spend Christmas with whomever she chose.
"I understand that, but I don't you to be mad at me because she picked me this year," Brenda had said.
"I'm not mad, big sister," Bobby had said. "I think it's a mature decision. Besides, what would you do if she didn't come out?"
Go see a movie, order Chinese food. Shop online.
"I'd be fine," Brenda says.
Brenda looks over at her now, her face hidden mostly behind a pair of huge sunglasses. She's chewing gum, has been chewing since she got off the plane and she rides slunk down low in the seat, one leg tucked up under her. Like she hasn't a care in the world.
"I mean," Charlie says now, "It's weird there without grandma. It doesn't feel like it used to."
"It's different as a grown up," Brenda says. "I guess when you have your own kids, you try to make it special for them like you remember it bein' but…" Brenda laughs uncomfortably. "I dunno. It's different, yeah."
"How come you never had kids?" Charlie asks. She may be grown but she's still young and Brenda tries not to flinch at the blunt question.
"Well," she says. They're almost to the office now, but they're sitting at a red light. She turns to her niece. "I was never sure whether I wanted them or not and I thought I probably I shouldn't have kids until I was sure and I never got sure."
"I'm not sure," Charlie says. "They're cute and stuff but what if I got, like, super fat?"
Brenda rolls her eyes. "You have ages to decide," she says. They pull into the parking structure - Brenda has a designated space - something she'd negotiated when she got hired. Charlie leaves her suitcase in the trunk but brings her backpack, hefting it onto her shoulders. She's in black leggings and soft boots and has a red, hooded UGA sweatshirt on.
"Okay, dinner with Detective Gab- I mean David, and then what else do you have planned?"
"Well, we have options," Brenda says. "If you want to see your Uncle Fritz, we can arrange for that."
Charlie pushes up her sunglasses and looks at her aunt skeptically. "Really?"
"Just because we're not married anymore doesn't mean you have to forget you ever met him," Brenda says.
"That's okay," Charlie says. "I came to see you."
"Okay," Brenda says, relieved though she tries not to show it. They reach the elevators and Brenda calls for it. "We were invited to a Christmas Eve dinner with my friend Sharon and some of her family."
"Have I met her?" Charlie asks.
They step onto the elevator.
"I don't think so, but she has a son around your age," Brenda says. "She said we can come Christmas Eve, but if you want to stay in and cook for ourselves, then we can do brunch with them on Christmas Day instead."
"Whatever," Charlie says. "I'm just impressed you made a friend."
"Now why does everyone think that!" Brenda huffs. Charlie smirks, follows her out of the elevator and down the hall, past the empty desk of her assistant who'd taken the whole week off to be with her kids, and into the office.
"Nice digs," Charlie says. There's a small sofa against the wall and Charlie drops her bag onto it and sits down.
"I have one meeting," Brenda says, glancing at her watch. "I'm gonna try to hurry it along so hopefully we'll be out of here in two hours."
"And the wifi?" Charlie asks.
"Oh, right," Brenda says. "Okay, bring your computer thingy and come with me."
She leaves Charlie with one of the younger investigators still around this late into the day so close to Christmas with strict instructions to return her to Brenda's office when they got the ipad working.
When Brenda gets out of her meeting, two hours and ten minutes later, she finds Charlie curled up, asleep on the sofa. Her phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out quietly, watching from the doorway and looks at the screen. It's Sharon.
Did she arrive safely?
Brenda types back slowly an affirmative and then waits, hoping Sharon will reply. They haven't seen much of each other since the Biltmore and Brenda has been keeping herself kind of distant. Not calling, not letting herself text too much. It's too easy depending on Sharon's friendship, too easy to let herself want the company. She thinks about Sharon's lips against her skin all the time, every day since it happened and that's a red flag. Brenda knows herself too well and so… space. But she misses Sharon and she can't even tell if Sharon has noticed because she's been working so much. The holidays are always a busy time for murders. People snap, people give up.
Are you coming for dinner? I'm doing the shopping this evening for tomorrow.
Brenda bites her lip, snaps and gives up the fight. We'll be there.
Sharon sends back one of those little yellow smiley faces.
"Charlie," Brenda calls. "Time to go."
oooo
Charlie says she likes the little apartment, but Brenda feels strange about it all the same. She finds herself saying the same things over and over again "I don't need much space" and "It's so close to my office" even though she knows it makes her sound defensive. The truth of the matter is, she was so eager to get out of the duplex that she didn't much care where she landed and now she realizes that being an almost fifty-year-old woman living in a tiny one bedroom apartment is kind of pathetic. Maybe she should buy a house.
Then again, any move would certainly take her out of walking distance from Sharon and Rusty and the only person who seems to care that she's pathetic is Brenda herself.
Charlie sleeps in the bed with her, they lie next to one another giggling and reminiscing and talking about Charlie's life, mostly. Brenda keeps asking her questions about herself - her classes, boys, her friends, on and on until Charlie's voice fades into the steady sound of her breathing - she's fast asleep. It's tempting to curl up into Charlie, hold her close but it might wake her up and she might not want to be that cuddled up to her aunt and Brenda knows that her own loneliness isn't something she should ask her niece to help her carry.
Brenda doesn't sleep well, she wakes up every few hours but Charlie sleeps like a rock and just having her there is comforting enough to lull her back to sleep every time. When Brenda opens her eyes to find daylight, she's alone in her bed, but she can smell coffee and hear Charlie in the kitchen, talking on her phone.
"She's fine, mom," Charlie says. "I don't know why everyone is so worried. She's fine."
Brenda gets up quietly, tiptoes into the bathroom and softly closes the door. Sits on the toilet and watches her feet as she pees. Her body feels her age - sore feet, sore back, always tired but in her head, she still feels like she could be Charlie's age or sixteen or eleven and a half or anything at all. She wonders if she'll ever feel grown up on the inside - she wonders if Sharon feels the same way.
Probably not. Probably Sharon was born an adult. Probably she changed her own diapers and put herself to bed when she was a baby.
She flushes the toilet, brushes her teeth. Only glances at herself in the mirror before heading out to find the coffee. Charlie is still on the phone and she waves at her aunt and says, "I gotta go."
Brenda takes them out to breakfast. The dinner with David the night before had been fun and casual and they'd filled up on french fries and loaded potato skins and had eaten ribs and out of season ears of yellow corn. David was sweet and Brenda really did appreciate the effort he put into making sure Brenda knew that she was still important to him. But they didn't linger because Brenda knew David had a big family and that they'd all be in town.
In the parking lot, David had hugged Charlie and leaned into peck Brenda on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Chief," he'd said.
In the booth, holiday music piped through the speakers, Charlie says, "I think I'm still full from last night."
"I'm getting waffles," Brenda says, tossing down her menu.
Charlie smiles, rolls her eyes. "Okay, me too."
While they eat, Charlie says, "Where are we going again, tonight?"
"My friend Sharon's condo is just a couple blocks away," she says. "Close enough we can walk."
"And you know this lady how?"
"We used to work together," Brenda says. "She's a Captain for the LAPD. She works for Major Crimes now."
"So she's the new you," Charlie says. "That must have been weird."
"Sorta," Brenda admits.
"And she has a kid?"
"Three," Brenda says. "Her boys will be here tonight, but the daughter didn't come home, I don't think. And she said someone else, I'm not sure. She's really nice, though. Well. She can be really nice."
"Or she can be a scary cop," Charlie says. "Yeah, I know the type." She waggles her eyebrows at her aunt which makes Brenda laugh.
"She's really smart and she puts up with me, so I like her pretty well."
"Grandpa said Uncle Fritz… I mean, Fritz is a cop now, too." Charlie stabs her fork into a strawberry. "Is it weird to talk about him? We don't have to."
"It's okay," Brenda says, gently. "Just because we couldn't be married anymore doesn't mean I don't still love or miss Fritz."
"Then why…?"
"People change," Brenda says. "And it can't always be helped."
Charlie looks like she doesn't have any idea what Brenda is talking about.
"But yes, to answer your question, he did retire from the FBI so he could work for the LAPD." What she doesn't say is that his job change was partly the reason things fell apart. That Brenda just couldn't stand the fact that he'd done it, that he was already several months into the job when he'd admitted that he'd done so against doctor's orders.
A waiter comes by to drop off the check and top off their coffee. Charlie murmurs a thank you, politely.
"I know it's Christmas Eve but if you're feelin' real brave, I thought we could do a little shopping?" Brenda says. Charlie grins.
"Really?"
"Sure," Brenda says. "Besides, I already mailed your big present to Georgia so it's on me."
"Deal," Charlie says.
"Anyway, I don't know about you, but I don't have anything to wear tonight," Brenda says.
"Aunt Brenda, you have like eight thousand things to wear," Charlie scoffs. "I've seen your poor closet."
"Yeah, but nothin' Sharon hasn't already seen," Brenda says. She digs into her purse for her wallet and slips out her debit card, tucking it into the book that holds their check.
"Is your friend hard to impress?" Charlie asks, leaning back, wrapping her warm coffee mug in two hands. She'd put in two packets of sugar and doused it in creamer when she'd first gotten it and Brenda can see the liquid in the mug, milky and sweet. "Like, I have this friend Sarah - well, I mean we're friends but I hate her - and she's always trying to one up people in stuff. Always bragging about her grades and how much stuff costs and what her daddy buys for her. Ugh. I hate her."
Brenda shakes her head. "No. We weren't always friends. When we worked together, we weren't all that friendly but now we are. It's not competition she just… makes me want to be a better person, does that make sense? She's so good that I wanna be good, too."
Charlie nods slowly and Brenda laughs, mortified at herself. "I'm ramblin'. Where do you want to shop? What kind of places do you like?"
Brenda takes them to The Grove because it isn't too far and it has enough variety and it's touristy. Parking is an expensive nightmare and they circle for awhile before they find a spot. Driving in traffic still stresses Brenda out and Charlie offers to drive home and Brenda might just take her up on it.
"I like LA malls," Charlie says as they walk toward the shopping center. The sun is shining and while it isn't exactly warm by LA standards, Brenda feels warm enough in her trench coat. "They're always outside."
The place is packed, a madhouse but Charlie doesn't seem to mind, easily navigating through the throngs of people. It helps that they have nothing to do for hours and hours, no gifts to buy last minute. There's a Santa Claus set up at one end of the mall with a line that seems to wind for a mile and they stay away from there. They spend nearly forty minutes in an Anthropologie and Brenda buys Charlie a dress. Charlie tries to stop her - "Aunt Brenda it's too expensive, stop, two hundred dollars for a dress is crazy!" but the dress is so cute and looks so good on her.
"It's just money, I'll make more," Brenda says with a wink. "And it's Christmas!" It's a cream colored dress with a pattern of lavender peonies, a deep vee in the back and a more modest vee in the front and the color makes Charlie look tan and beautiful, makes her legs look long and her waist look tiny. The sales person at the fitting room says, "Your daughter looks beautiful!"
"My niece," Brenda says.
"She looks a lot like you," the girl says, surprised. Brenda just smiles.
"Are you sure?" Charlie says. "It's not exactly a Christmas dress."
"It is if you wear it for Christmas," Brenda says, sliding her credit card across the counter.
She lets Charlie pick out her outfit and is surprised when, inside the Banana Republic, Charlie hands her not a dress but a skirt and a blouse. The skirt is shorter and tighter than anything Brenda might have picked up, but the bottom is scalloped with black lace and the blouse has a silvery sheen and when she comes out of the dressing room Charlie laughs, delighted with herself.
"You're like a Barbie doll, this is amazing," Charlie says. "I bet you'd look good in whatever I put on you."
"I don't know, honey, it's kind of short," Brenda says, twisting to look behind herself at her reflection in the mirror - to see if her bottom is actually hanging out the way it feels, but all she sees is leg. "I won't be bending over any, that's for sure."
"You can wear hose if you think it's too short," Charlie says. "But you have to get it!"
"It might be too fancy," she hedges.
"It's Christmas Eve dinner," Charlie says. "It's the fanciest meal of the year."
"Let me ask her," Brenda says, walking back into the dressing room where her purse is. She pulls out her phone, taps out a text.
Are we dressing up for dinner? The text whooshes out into the air. Sharon must have her phone on her because she starts to reply right away.
I don't know what you backwoods hill folk do in the south, but here we dress up for Christmas Eve dinner.
Brenda gapes at her phone. "That bitch!"
"What?" Charlie says, pressing into the small doorway. Brenda holds up her phone so she can read it and Charlie laughs. "I like her." She squints. "Is that the wicked witch from the Wizard of Oz?"
"I keep meaning to change it, but I don't know how," Brenda says. "Okay. I'll buy it."
Charlie claps her hands together twice. "Yay!"
oooo
"What's in this one?" Charlie asks, holding the wrapped gift for Sharon. Brenda is bringing their gifts and wine, what else?
"An angel," Brenda says. "She's real into angels."
"And for the kid?" Charlie asks, looking at the much smaller box.
"Cash," Brenda says. They're walking over, bundled up as best as they can be in the dresses they'd bought. "And his name is Rusty."
"But I thought you said she had two sons," Charlie says.
"She does, but I haven't met the other one yet, so…" She glances over at Charlie, worried now. "Is it really rude? Not bringing him something?"
"He's a total stranger," Charlie says. "And he probably didn't get you anything."
"That's true." Brenda shrugs. Too late now. "We'll just slip those under the tree real quick and not ever mention it again."
When they get to the glass doors, Charlie says, "Oh, this really is close." She squints up at the long list of names next to the intercom. "Which one do we push?"
"It's okay," Brenda says, fishing around for her keys in her purse. She feels the plastic of her car key and yanks. "I have a key."
"You have a key?"
"For house sitting," Brenda says, though Brenda has never house sat for Sharon. "She has my key, too."
Charlie is quiet, looking around at the lobby, quiet in the elevator, too.
"Don't be nervous," Brenda says, though she's a little nervous, truth be told. Suddenly, she feels like she might be overdressed or maybe under. She'd taken Charlie's advice and worn black pantyhose if for no other reason than warmth, but she feels not herself. Too much eye makeup maybe or too high of heels. She hesitates for a moment before knocking until Charlie smirks at her.
"Who's nervous?" she asks softly.
Brenda knocks hard and can hear Sharon's voice call through the door, "Come in!"
Charlie falls into line behind her, holding the gifts to her chest. She'd wrapped them for Brenda - they'd stopped at a Walgreen's on the way home and had bought a roll of paper - green holly leaves with berries and tiny golden bells - and a roll of gold ribbon - tags and clear tape. Brenda had attempted to wrap the angel herself, in its sturdy, velvet lined box but when Charlie saw her struggling to even cut the paper straight, she'd stepped in and gracefully wrapped both of them herself and done a far better job of it, too.
"How'd you get so good at this kind of stuff?" she'd asked but she knows, of course, the answer. Charlie had stuck around, had listened to her grandmother and her mother, hadn't always had her head in the clouds and one foot out the door. Brenda's grandma Charlene hadn't been crafty, though she'd been a fair gardener and had spent summers teaching Brenda how to can and jar fruit preserves. Brenda doesn't have occasion now to make jam or can beans but she thinks she still could, if she had to.
Sharon greets them as soon as they make it past the little entry way. She's in a red dress; it has a big full skirt and sleeves that go down to her elbows and Brenda thinks she can see a bow on the back. She's made up too, more so than usual. Heavy makeup at her eyes and cherry red lips and her hair in soft waves and she stretches her arms out and says, "You're here!"
"Hi!" Brenda says. Seeing her feels like a jolt of caffeine to her system. She's been working so hard to keep her distance, to get a handle on her strange feelings for Sharon that she hadn't realized how badly she has been missing her and seeing her now is like looking at the first tulip in the spring after months and months of gray.
"Come in," Sharon says. "I'm so glad you're here! You must be Charlie, look at you, you're so beautiful, you look just like your aunt."
Charlie smiles and dips her head. Brenda had let her borrow a green cashmere cardigan and she's going to let her keep it because it looks way better on Charlie anyway. Goes better with her skin tone, brings out the gold in her eyes.
"Thanks," Charlie says.
"I'm Sharon," she says. "Come in, come in and meet my guys."
They all shuffle in, following Sharon and there is a little bow on the back of her dress, right on her waist and the dress is nearly backless and Brenda can practically imagine her hand reaching out, her fingertips trailing down the pale skin covering Sharon's spine. She sticks the hand not holding the wine bottle into her pocket.
"This is Rusty, this is my son Richard - Brenda, I don't think you've met Richard, yet, and this is-"
"Lieutenant Flynn!" Brenda says.
"Hiya, Chief," he says with a smirk.
"Andy," Sharon finishes.
"Charlie!" he says. "Nice to see you again."
"You too, Lieutenant," she says. If Sharon is surprised that Andy and Charlie are already acquainted, she doesn't show it.
"Okay, okay, Rusty show Charlie to the tree so she can put those down," Sharon says. "Brenda come in and take off your coat and hand that wine over."
She does, hands the wine right to Sharon and slips off her coat, hangs it in the closet while Sharon immediately gives the bottle to her tall, handsome son and then walks over to where Charlie and Rusty are standing by the tree, trying to figure out where to put the gifts among all the bounty.
"So you're Brenda, huh?"
"And you're Richard Raydor," Brenda says. "I've heard virtually nothing about you."
"I wish I could say the same thing," he says. "But she talks about you a lot. And you can call me Ricky."
"Ricky," she says. "What do you say we crack that bottle open?"
"Sure," he says. "Let me just find the corkscrew."
"Third drawer from the left," she says. He grins.
"You know, you aren't how I pictured you at all," he says, pulling open the drawer and digging around for Sharon's fancy stainless steel corkscrew.
"No?" she says.
"No," he says. "First of all you're like the world's teeniest person."
She laughs, a throaty guffaw that surprises herself.
"And your accent is very disarming," he says. "Where are you from? Alabama?"
"Georgia," she says, pulling out wine glasses.
"I thought you were going to be like a giant, deep-voiced harpy with claws," he says.
"Stop, the flattery is just too much," she says.
He laughs as he pulls out the cork. "I think you just make her nervous."
"That is the word on the street," Brenda says, strangely pleased by it all. When it's just her and Sharon, they're sort of normal - well, normal for them, but it's endearing that Sharon talks about her when she's not around and isn't so confident as she seems.
"I think she makes you nervous, too," Ricky says.
"What makes you say that?" Brenda asks.
"Have you met her?" Ricky laughs. Brenda smiles.
"You laugh like her," Brenda says.
He pours a glass for her and an extra one and she brings it over to Sharon who takes it and says, "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."
"It's been a busy time," Brenda says. "And I know Ricky was coming into town. You don't get to see him very often."
"Charlie is just beautiful," Sharon says.
"She's grown up real good," Brenda says. "Rocky there for a bit but she seems to have come out the better for it."
"When does she go back?"
"The day after tomorrow," Brenda says. "I promised Bobby I'd have her home before New Years, anyway."
Sharon sips her wine and then reaches out one hand, stopping just before she touches Brenda's hip.
"Nice skirt," she says.
"I was worried it was going to be too backwoods for you," Brenda teases. Sharon rolls her eyes.
"I hope it isn't uncomfortable for you that I invited Andy," Sharon says. Andy is standing next to Rusty now, listening to Charlie talk about school. "His children are all at their mother's this evening and he didn't have anywhere to go."
"It's fine," she says. "People in glass houses."
"I didn't invite you two because you're pathetic!" Sharon says. "I invited you because you're easy to please and won't complain about my cooking."
"Actually," Brenda says. "Charlie is a really good cook so if you need any help, she's your girl."
"It's practically done now," Sharon says. "Just have to put it on the table. But if you come for brunch tomorrow, I'll put her to work."
"Oh," Brenda says. "We don't want to be a nuisance."
"That's one of the things I like about you," Sharon says. "You make me feel needed and you show up for free food. Don't let me down, now."
In the kitchen, something starts to beep and Ricky says, "Mom!"
"Coming, coming," she says. Sharon clinks her wine glass against Brenda's before walking away.
Dinner is better than anything Brenda could have come up with, even if she'd had the entire month of December to plan. They have pot roast and twice-baked potatoes, so rich and creamy that Brenda savors every bite. Sharon serves them dinner on her fine china with red cloth napkins and the real silver. It's all very civilized and it's usually the kind of thing that makes her teeth itch but she's surprised to find that she's having fun, even if they're a cobbled together, motley sort of group. Still, Brenda makes it a point to check in with Charlie every so often during the evening to make sure she isn't bored or too tired. After they eat dessert, Charlie asks for Brenda's phone.
"Where's yours?" Brenda asks.
"Mine is dying and I want to take a picture of you and Sharon and send it to daddy," she says. "I think he thinks we're sitting at home in our sweats eating ice cream out of the carton, or something."
"There's an idea with merit," Brenda says. "It's in my purse by the door."
"You haven't looked at it all night?" Charlie asks, clearly scandalized.
"And just where would I keep it?" Brenda asks. "No pockets in this tiny skirt you made me get!"
Charlie rolls her eyes and walks away to get the phone, comes back in and says, "Sharon!"
"Yes, my dear," Sharon says, looking up from the pile of dishes in her sink. Brenda knows exactly what she's thinking - that she wants to start cleaning right away but is afraid it'll be too rude.
"Come stand over here with Aunt Brenda so I can take your picture," Charlie says. "I want to show my dad that I'm somewhere nice and not joining a girl gang and selling drugs."
"Bobby ain't too fond of Los Angeles," Brenda says.
"A picture," Sharon says, though her cheer is clearly false.
"C'mere," Brenda says. "In front of the tree?"
"No, that's too bright, I think. How about over by the window," Charlie says. Rusty, Ricky, and Andy all move away to give the ladies space and then stand in a row, watching Sharon and Brenda situate themselves.
"If Provenza could see them now," Andy says.
"He still mad about the girl lunch thing?" Rusty asks.
"He was so sure they'd fight. So sure," Andy says chuckling, shaking his head.
"We can hear you," Sharon calls.
"Okay, stand a little closer. Good," Charlie says. "Aunt Brenda, put your arm around her and stop looking terrified."
"I don't bite," Sharon murmurs, stepping closer so they are hip to hip. Her hand slides around Brenda's waist so she does the same thing, and up close like this, arm in arm, she realizes that Sharon's waist is tiny and her wrists seem so small. Like she'd never noticed that Sharon was delicate because of her larger than life personality. But she's thin and pretty and smells sweet, like expensive perfume and Brenda swallows, feels adrenaline pump through her because standing this close makes her want to run.
"Smile," Charlie says.
Sharon angles her body a little and plasters on a smile and Brenda tries to do the same. Charlie holds up the phone and takes the picture.
"One more," Charlie says. "Try to look like friends. Smoosh your cheeks or something."
"Yeah," Ricky says in a derisive tone. "Smoosh your faces, mom."
"Yeah, Sharon," Rusty says. "Smoosh."
"You boys be nice," Brenda tries to scold but Sharon sighs loudly, for show, and grabs Brenda's face and kisses her cheek hard with a big loud "Mwah!"
"Yes!" Charlie says. "Now that is a cute picture."
"Let me see, let me see," Sharon says, abandoning Brenda over at the window to circle around the couch and look at the phone.
"Come see," Charlie says. Brenda smooths her hands over her thighs nervously and walks over, peers over Sharon's shoulder to see the silly picture. It is cute. Brenda can see the beginning of a smile on her own face and Sharon's little high heeled foot popped into the air.
"Send it to me," Sharon says.
"And now you can put it in for Sharon's new caller ID picture," Charlie says.
"Why, what was my old one?" Sharon asks.
"Uh, it was shut up Charlene Johnson and mind your business," Brenda says.
"Whoops," Charlie says.
"Brenda, what was it?" Sharon demands.
"Well, Lieutenant Tao put it in a long time ago!" Brenda says crossing her arms.
Andy starts to laugh. "No. Still?"
"What?" Sharon demands. Brenda sighs and, squirming, scrolls through her phone until she finds Sharon's information and hands the phone over. Sharon looks at it, holding it at arm's length away before rolling her eyes and handing it back. "I don't even get to be the green witch, I have to be the one that the house falls on?"
"It was a long time ago," Brenda says.
"We text every day!" Sharon exclaims.
"Are you really mad at me?" Brenda asks. Sharon tries to look stern, gives her a glare that would wound lesser men but Brenda can see the corner of her mouth twitch. "Charlie, put the new one in please."
Charlie takes the phone and sits down on the couch, immersed.
"Dare I ask what I am in your phone?" Brenda asks.
Sharon smirks, reaches up to rub her thumb along Brenda's cheek.
"Lipstick," she murmurs.
"Russian Red," Brenda says softly, looking at Sharon's lips.
Sharon hums the affirmative.
oooo
The morning after Charlie leaves, Sharon meets her at the park for a run. Brenda feels quiet and kind of moody and is fearful that she's going to say the wrong thing so she just keeps her mouth shut. Sharon doesn't seem to mind and so Brenda will run to only the soundtrack of their heavy breathing and their feet on the ground.
I'm going running, Brenda had texted and hadn't received a response but when she got to the park fifteen minutes later, Sharon was waiting at their bench, her hands tucked between her knees look tired and miserable.
"I feel fat," Sharon says. Not much of a greeting but Brenda can certainly relate. She's eaten so much food in the last few days that she feels a little out of sorts, too. She plops next to Sharon on the bench and because she is so tired that she can't over think anything, lets her head rest against Sharon's shoulder.
"You look fat," Brenda says, her eyes closed. She can feel the laugh rumble through Sharon.
"This was your bright idea," she says, but lets her head rest on top of Brenda's.
"I miss spring," Brenda says. She misses warm breezes and sunny mornings and the way the jasmine vines creep through all the hedges and all at once seem to burst into fragrant bloom.
"All right, get up, lets do this," Sharon says sitting up and shrugging Brenda off. Brenda pouts but stands up, falls into their usual routine of stretching on the bench. Brenda watches Sharon and mimics her movement, stretching out first the left leg, then the right. "How many laps?"
"I don't know," Brenda says rubbing her face. "Until we don't wanna anymore."
Sharon rolls her eyes and breaks into an easy jog and Brenda stands and watches for long enough that she has to sprint to catch up. After four laps they stop, head toward home. At the corner where Sharon has to turn and Brenda keeps on straight, Sharon says, "What are you doing for New Years?"
"Oh," Brenda says. "Well, David wants me to go to this party thing he and some friends are throwing but I don't know."
"Chief Pope is hosting a party and ordered all department heads to make an appearance if they aren't on call," Sharon says.
"Let me guess," Brenda says. "No more over time for Major Crimes."
Sharon lifts one shoulder and rolls her eyes.
"Well," Brenda says. "I'll do yours if you do mine."
"That's what I was hoping would happen," Sharon says. "I'll call you about it."
Brenda flutters her fingers goodbye.
Sharon does call the morning of the 30th. Brenda's office is quiet - the courts are still closed, many of the city services on furlough for the time between Christmas and New Years, but she doesn't have anything better to do than go to work and is happy to hear Sharon's voice. Things are obviously not so slow over there, she can hear activity behind Sharon's voice through the line, can hear Julio quite clearly say, "Sit down and shut up you stupid punk!"
"Slow day?" Brenda says sarcastically.
"Average," Sharon says. "We're helping with overflow from Robbery-Homicide. But I was calling about tomorrow."
"You wanna have lunch and talk about it?" Brenda asks.
"I was just gonna eat at my desk," Sharon says apologetically. "It's kind of a madhouse over here."
"It's quiet here," Brenda says. "I could come to you. We could talk about it."
"You… you'd come here?" Sharon asks, surprised. "I didn't think you were comfortable with that."
"It's been nearly three years," Brenda says. "I think I could probably spend 45 minutes there without burstin' into flames."
"Then yes, come on down. Around quarter till one?"
"You want me to bring you something?" she asks.
"No, I'm good."
"I'm gonna bring you something," Brenda says.
She can hear the laughter in Sharon's voice. "I have to go, see you in a bit."
"Bye," she says.
Brenda gets so engrossed in her work, though, that when she realizes that she has to go, she has to hurry so she won't be late and she decides to grab two snack cakes out of her desk drawer and toss them into her purse. She doesn't know whether Sharon will like it or not, but she'd promised to bring something and anyway, who doesn't like chocolate cake, creamy filling all dipped in fudge? What kind of horrible monster would turn that down?
She has to sign in down in the lobby, walk through the metal detector, clip a visitor's pass to her lapel. The young officer helping her looks new and she doesn't know him but there's an older man there who does recognize her, she can tell, because he won't meet her eyes. Like she's the prodigal son, returning from disgrace. But she holds her head high, calls for the elevator, pressed the number 9 and doesn't relax until the doors slide closed and she's alone.
When the doors part again, it's the general level of mayhem she expects from helping out another division. People in handcuffs lining the walls, slumped in plastic chairs and sitting on the linoleum. No less than three men call her baby as she hauls herself down the hall toward the murder room.
She reaches into her purse for her keycard out of habit before she realizes that she doesn't have one because she doesn't work here anymore. She stands at the glass door, her back to the wolves, and she fumbles for her telephone but thankfully Julio looks up from his desk and stands, smoothing his tie across his belly before rushing over to open the door for her.
"Hi Chief," he says with a small smile.
"Detective Sanchez," she says. "Seems exciting around here today!"
"Scum bags, ma'am," he says.
"Julio, I'm not your boss anymore, you can call me Brenda."
"Yes, ma'am," he says. She smiles.
"We'll work on it," she says. "Is Sharon… I mean, Captain Raydor around? Or is my coming down here a big waste of time?"
"Go wait in her office," Julio says. "She should be back any minute."
The busy murder room saves her, actually, from making small talk with all her former division because other than Julio, none of them are there. She loves them all but time has turned friendship into acquaintance and it's the catching up - the how are you's, the small talk about work and life that tires her out. She always wants to pick right back up where they'd left off but it never works out that way. If anything, Sharon is the best example of that. She'd left Major Crimes to Sharon feeling like they might even be friends but it took two years and a sprained ankle to even get them talking again. And now, look at them. Maybe it's just because Brenda doesn't have a lot of friends, but from what she remembers, this isn't exactly how friendship supposed to feel. It's good, it's fulfilling even, but it's not easy.
She feels twisted up inside and when she pushes open the door to the office, her stomach twinges and she presses a hand flat against her abdomen. It's like looking at a copy of a copy. It's her office, but it's not. There's a plant in the corner, she'd never be able to keep a plant alive, would never even dream to try. The artwork on the wall is different, there's a little silver angel on the windowsill - she knew there would be.
She walks around to the desk and pulls open the top drawer. Lets out the breath she didn't know she was holding. Manila folders, a pair of scissors. An emery board.
The door opens before Brenda can close it. Sharon stops and then rolls her eyes.
"What's mine is yours, I guess," she says.
"Sorry," Brenda says and she is. "Just curious."
"Not all of us have the metabolism of a fourteen-year-old boy," Sharon says. "If I ate like you, I'd look like Chief Pope."
"Ha," Brenda says, walking around to the guest chair. "He does seem to be off his grapefruit diet again."
"You know I tend to drop weight under extreme stress but that does not seem to be the case for our illustrious chief," Sharon grins. "Pity."
"No, he's a stress eater," Brenda says. "Speaking of - where's your lunch?"
"Microwave," Sharon says. "Yours?"
Brenda pulls a sandwich in a plastic bag out of her purse.
"Lovely. I'll be right back," Sharon says. While she's gone, Brenda sets the chocolate snack cake on Sharon's desk blotter. A few minutes later, she comes back in, holding a tupperware full of something delicious smelling. Better than turkey on wheat bread. Sharon sits, smirks at the cake. "Cute."
"So," Brenda says. "Tomorrow."
"Can I ask you something?" Sharon asks. "About Chief Pope?"
"You want to get Pope over with first? I don't care, really, except I think David's thing is all the way out in Santa Monica, so-"
"Not about the party," Sharon says. "About the past."
Brenda puts her sandwich down and reaches for her snack cake, feeling a little defensive. Will has changed so much in the last twenty years and the people in Los Angeles don't at all know the man she'd met in Atlanta. "He wasn't always like this."
Sharon shakes her head. "You know what? It's none of my business."
"No, it's all right," Brenda says. "Though I doubt there's much you don't know after vetting me for Chief of Police."
"Oh I know the when and the how," she says. "Just not the why. Especially knowing Chief Howard. Pope just doesn't seem like your type."
"Authority figures," Brenda blurts.
"Excuse me?"
"My type. I always fall for… not power, exactly. But authority." She unwraps the foil partly revealing half of the cake. "I didn't know he was married."
"I know that, Brenda," Sharon says. "This isn't an interrogation."
"He could be impressive," Brenda says. "And he knew so much about police work and I was unhappy at the state department and the fact that he wanted me was… well, I think I fell for him professionally, at first. I always want to be the best student, always have to be the smartest person in the room and then when you spend so much time at work and things are always stressful…"
"Lines start to blur," Sharon finishes for her. "It was a long time ago."
"It really was," Brenda says. "I'm not proud of it." She takes a bite of the cake, lets the chocolate soothe her. Sharon watches her for a long moment and then lets out a slow breath.
"Watching you eat that feels like a sin," she says. "Too much enjoyment for a single human vessel."
"They're not quite the same since hostess got bought out but it's better than nothin'," she says and swipes her finger through the creamy center and drags her tongue across the pad of the digit. "It's good, Captain. You should try yours."
Sharon clears her throat and says, "Maybe later." But she shrugs out of her blazer and lifts her hair off the back of her neck, like she's too warm though the office feels fine to Brenda, maybe even cool. "But I think you're right," she says when she has settled into stillness once more save for the fork she keeps stabbing into her lunch. "If we do Investigator Gabriel's soiree first, we can end up at Pope's which is much closer to home."
"You want to try for cabs?" Brenda asks. Sharon shakes her head.
"I don't mind driving," she says. "I'll have champagne at midnight be fine."
"You should be able to have fun too," Brenda complains.
"I've been having far too much fun lately," Sharon says. "Trust me. I'm happy to drive. In fact, I insist upon it."
"If you say so," Brenda says, crumpling up the foil and tossing it into the trash bin. She picks up her sandwich again though it will be a bit of a let down after the sweetness of the cake. "What's your little nugget doing?"
"Rusty? Who knows," Sharon says. "He always says hanging out, whatever that means. I encouraged him to invite people over to the condo but that didn't fly."
"It's more fun to go out, I s'pose," she says. "We'll have fun, right? Even if they are work parties?"
"We'll have fun," Sharon says. "Get dressed up. Let all those eligible bachelors drool over us." Sharon smiles enough to flash white teeth.
"What'd you say? Two women who clearly don't need what they have to offer?" Brenda says, stifling a giggle. Sharon squirms a little in her seat, looks a touch uncomfortable.
"Well," she drawls out, "We may not need it, but don't you miss it?"
"Men?" Brenda scoffs. "No."
"Well, not men, just sex," Sharon says. "I don't know, maybe it's being around all these guys all the time. Constantly bombarded with innuendo and testosterone."
"Oh, that," Brenda says. "Well, yeah, I do." She brings a hand to her mouth. "I really do, actually."
Sharon manages a small smile and then rolls her eyes at them both. "We're pathetic."
"No!" Brenda says. "Now we have a goal for tomorrow, that's all." She waggles her eyebrows and whatever excuse Sharon is about to spout about how she can't do that is stopped by Provenza barreling into the murder room and shouting in a booming voice, "Damn it Flynn! What did I say about the 405 this time of day?"
Brenda crumples up the plastic bag and stands. "I'm going to go out the back." She points at the snack cake still on the desk. "Promise me you'll eat that."
"Yeah, yeah," Sharon says. "See you tomorrow?"
"It's a date," Brenda says.