Brenda pulled up at the crime scene and slammed her door as she got out of the car. She might not have been quite so cranky about the Saturday evening callout if she hadn't just been about to sit down with a chocolate lava cake. She still wasn't great at cooking, but heating up a frozen mini cake so the molten chocolate & caramel center was the perfect consistency was something she had become rather skilled at.
The oven had just finished preheating and she'd barely put the cake in and closed the door when her phone started ringing. She was fuming. But at least she'd remembered to turn off the oven and remove the cake before rolling out. She'd been looking forward to that cake all day, it was going to be her reward for cleaning up around the house and getting all the laundry done.
Her face was scrunched in a pout as she tossed her purse into the car without looking and plopped down in the driver's seat with an unceremonious thud, slamming the door and starting the engine.
For once, Brenda had actually managed to be one of the first to arrive on scene. As she started walking toward one of the uniformed officers, she hoisted her purse onto her shoulder with more force than strictly necessary. It swung wide enough that it almost made contact with Lt. Provenza, who had appeared at her shoulder having arrived only moments before as well. He dodged out of the way at the last second with surprising agility for a man of his age. But then again, given the number of ex-wives he'd racked up, Brenda supposed he'd probably had a fair amount of practice…
As they approached the uniformed officer, she caught the unwelcome sight of Sergeant Elliot walking toward them from the other direction. FID was here?! Perfect. Just perfect. She shoved her hand into her purse under the guise of looking for her gloves, but in truth, she was praying there was a piece of chocolate or even some hard candy somewhere in the recesses of the giant bag that would get her through what was already shaping up to be a very unpleasant weekend.
Finding nothing, she let out a huff as she came to a stop in front of the uniformed officer. Lt. Provenza and Sergeant Elliot shot one another less-than-collegial looks as they waited for the Deputy Chief to speak. Brenda was about to open her mouth and address the officer when she heard an unmistakable voice from somewhere behind her, "Good evening, Gentleman."
She whipped her head around to find Lt. Flynn and Detective Sanchez both frozen in place staring—in Flynn's case open-mouthed—at Captain Sharon Raydor, who had just emerged from the passenger side of an unfamiliar vehicle wearing a very familiar red dress, her lightweight wrap doing very little to cover what the dress revealed. She walked around the front of the car and leaned over to say something to the driver before the car pulled away. She turned and approached the two men who were doing their best to recover from the shock of seeing the normally buttoned-up Captain so…exposed.
"Ma'am," Julio was the first to recover, nodding his head politely in acknowledgement of her greeting as he discreetly elbowed his companion in the ribs.
The jolt seemed to help Flynn pick his jaw up off the ground, his eyes traveling up from Sharon's impossibly high stilettos over the considerable expanse of her toned legs, to the v of her neckline before finally landing on her face. The Captain raised an eyebrow as she waited for the Lieutenant's eyes to make their way up to hers, holding his gaze for long enough to watch him gulp at having been caught ogling her. He cleared his throat, trying to figure out how to extricate himself from the corner he seemed to have inadvertently backed himself into when he was saved by the approach of the Deputy Chief and Lt. Provenza.
"What, no broom tonight, Captain?" Provenza asked, gesturing in the direction of the retreating vehicle.
"Hmm…" she hummed, tipping her face up slightly to feel the non-existent breeze. "There wasn't enough hot air for me to catch a good updraft," she deadpanned, pausing. He snorted, his eyes quickly darting to the hemline of her skirt at the word 'updraft' before returning to meet her eyes, the glance and silent commentary not lost on her. "But now that you're here, Lieutenant, I could probably manage…" she finished with a smirk.
"Captain Raydor," Brenda cut in, interrupting their exchange before her lieutenant said something that might get him sent to another sensitivity training.
"Chief Johnson," the brunette responded, turning her attention to the younger woman.
Brenda was about to pull her aside for their first jurisdictional discussion since becoming friends when Chief Pope arrived on scene. "Oh, for heaven's sake, what's Will doing here?" she asked no one in particular. She marched over to where he was standing, her hands firmly placed on her hips. "Will, what in heaven's name is going on here?" she asked, as his phone started ringing.
He sighed, holding up a finger, and then answered the phone, turning and walking away from her to focus his attention on the call. She glared at his back, but didn't follow. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as he hung up the phone and headed back toward Brenda. As he reached her, no fewer than five unmarked cars pulled up and agents in FBI jackets began spilling out.
"Brenda—," Will started to speak, but was immediately interrupted.
"You have got to be kidding me!" it came out as a half hiss, half whine as Brenda watched Agent Fritz Howard step out of one of the vehicles and begin giving orders to the agents around him, who quickly dispersed.
"Chief Johnson, Captain Raydor," he called out, indicating for both women to join him several yards away from the other members of Brenda's team.
"What is going on, Will? Why is the FBI swarming our crime scene?" Brenda demanded.
"Because it's now their crime scene," Will stated matter-of-factly. Brenda's face began to contort in outrage and Sharon opened her mouth, but both were cut off mid-action.
"When the uniforms ran the victim's ID, it triggered an FBI alert. He was apparently a key player in some big operation they've been running. I'm still trying to figure out how the hell we didn't know an FBI agent was working undercover in Narcotics," he said, shooting an accusatory glance in Agent Howard's direction, "but both the agent and his deceased informant are now the FBI's mess to clean up."
He turned to face Sharon, trying very hard to keep his focus on her eyes and not…lower, which was difficult given the bright red color and the vast expanses of newly-exposed skin. "Captain," he cleared his throat, "since the officer involved was, in fact, an agent, the after-action report is the FBI's responsibility."
Looking from one woman to the other, he continued, "You and your teams are free to go."
Brenda started to open her mouth again, but stopped.
"Come on, this is great news! Go. Enjoy the rest of your weekends," he shooed them off to dismiss their teams and turned in the direction of Agent Howard. He was not looking forward to this conversation, but at least the overtime for this case would be coming out of someone else's budget for once…
Territorial and stubborn as always, Brenda was frustrated at having the case stolen out from under her. She wanted to scream, but she was also relieved. She looked up to the heavens and thought someone must have been looking out for her because she'd somehow managed to avoid the double nightmare of having to share a case with both Sharon and Fritz. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks as she and Sharon walked over to dismiss their respective teams.
"Chief Johnson, a word?" Sharon called out as everyone was heading to their cars to leave.
"Yes, Captain?" Brenda said as she approached the older woman.
"As Lt. Provenza so astutely pointed out earlier, I'm without my broom this evening," she stated, keeping her voice low to avoid the ears of any passing FBI agents and pulling her wrap more tightly around her. "Would you be able to give me a ride home?"
"Why, of course, Captain. I'd be happy to," she answered overly politely as they headed toward Brenda's vehicle.
Once they were safely inside with the doors closed, insulated somewhat from the prying eyes and ears around them, Brenda glanced over at Sharon, allowing herself to fully take in the other woman's appearance for the first time that evening. Her hair was swept to one side and pinned in a complicated bundle of waves leaving the beautiful, wide neckline of the dress in full view. Her makeup was heavier than usual, done for an evening out, and her shoes were at least an inch higher than what she normally wore to work. Sharon looked amazing. Brenda felt a familiar warmth spread through her and her face took on a look of reverence as she continued regarding the beautiful woman sitting next to her. She was glad she'd at least seen the dress before or her jaw might have been on the ground right along with Lt. Flynn's tonight.
"Brenda, you're staring," the brunette said gently, breaking the silence, feeling both flattered and self-conscious at being the subject of the blonde's intense scrutiny.
The younger woman's cheeks colored as she turned to face forward and started the car. "Well, I can't help it. You can't just go showing up at crime scenes looking like that," she said, gesturing at Sharon, "and expect people not to look at you. Andy was just about ready to pass out. And did you see Will? I thought he might have an aneurysm trying to keep his eyes in neutral territory."
Sharon let out a low chuckle as Brenda paused to turn a corner and change lanes. Once they were situated in the new flow of traffic, the blonde continued more quietly, "You look incredible, Sharon." She couldn't help the soft smile that accompanied her glance over at the beautiful woman in her passenger seat before her eyes returned to the road.
"Hmm, thank you," Sharon replied, feeling heat travel up her chest and neck toward her cheeks. "While I would have preferred not to encounter any of the boys this evening, their reactions were rather…entertaining. But I'm certainly not looking forward to my next meeting with Chief Pope. I'll have to remember to wear a pantsuit and turtleneck," her chuckle turning into more of a pained groan at the thought.
"Oh, I don't know," Brenda mused, "I guess it depends on what you're hoping to get out of the situation–"
"NO, Brenda," Sharon interjected.
"I'm not suggesting…with him," she shook herself to get the image out of her head, "I just mean that in negotiations, it's good to be aware of all the types of leverage you may have at your disposal. You never know what avenue may prove to be most effective in securing a favorable outcome…"
Sharon raised her eyebrow and shot Brenda a dirty look before turning her attention out the passenger window, not wanting to engage any further in that line of discussion.
They drove in silence for several minutes before Brenda spoke. "So…who dropped you off tonight?" she ventured tentatively, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy she felt curling itself around in her stomach. "If–if you don't mind me asking…"
"Hmm?" she turned back to face the blonde. "Oh, I was out with Gavin. He has season tickets to the opera and was trying to take my mind off the pending dissolution of my marriage," she said with a faint smile, shrugging one shoulder.
"Oh…well, I'm sorry our non-case interrupted your evening," she replied, slightly embarrassed by the surge of relief she felt at learning that Sharon had been out with Gavin and not on a date.
"So am I. But it's Saturday night and, thanks to our non-case, I find myself with a free evening after all," Sharon said more brightly as they pulled into her parking lot. "Would you care to come up for some coffee or something?"
Brenda smiled and nodded, grabbing her purse and following her friend across the parking lot. She took a moment to appreciate the rear view of Sharon's outfit, her body filling with a warm, buzzing feeling again as she hurried to catch up with the brunette. Was it her imagination or had she detected a little extra sway in the other woman's hips as she led the way into the building?
"Would you like some coffee?" Sharon asked, closing and locking the door behind them. She slipped off her shoes and headed toward the kitchen, depositing her purse and wrap along the way. "Or would you prefer wine? I have a Merlot, if you're interested?"
"You have a Merlot?" Brenda asked, intrigued, rounding the corner to join her in the kitchen.
"I do. Would you like to inspect it first, or shall I go ahead and open it?"
"Well, my momma taught me never to look a gift horse in the mouth, so why don't you just go ahead and open it," she answered, leaning against the counter with a smile as she recalled their previous exchange about wine.
She watched as Sharon fussed with something in the refrigerator before closing the door and turning back to face her. "I made chocolate mousse earlier, but it needs to chill for a little bit longer before it'll be ready to eat."
"Merlot and chocolate dessert?! Sharon Raydor, you're a woman after my own heart," Brenda beamed, "I was just about to have some dessert of my own earlier, but then we got called out, so this is perfect."
They were sitting next to one another on the couch halfway through their second glasses of wine, when they heard muffled fumbling noises outside in the hall. Both women stopped for a second to listen before resuming their conversation, figuring one of the neighbors had just gotten home.
Their conversation was interrupted again a moment later by the scraping of a key and then banging on the front door, a voice calling out, "Sharon?"
The brunette rolled her eyes apologetically and put a hand on Brenda's knee, squeezing gently before she stood, "Why don't you go in the kitchen and pull out our dessert while I deal with this?" Brenda nodded and got up, moving toward the kitchen.
The pounding continued, getting louder, "Come on, Sharon, let me in!"
Leaving the chain in place, Sharon cracked the door open, "What do you want, Jack?"
"What? No hello?" he said, flashing what he hoped was a winning smile.
"Hello Jack. What do you want?" Sharon rephrased, her tone flat.
"You changed the locks?! When did you change the locks?" Sharon didn't respond, she just stared at him through the barely-open door, waiting for an explanation. "Come on Shar, please let me in. I just want to talk," he pleaded, holding up the annulment papers.
Sharon could hear a door open down the hall and decided this was too loud of a conversation to be having through a door at this hour. She didn't want to make a scene and wake the entire floor with her marital issues. She closed the door and unhooked the chain.
As soon as she cracked the door back open, Jack pushed his way into the condo, ready to launch into his spiel. He stopped in his tracks as he took in Sharon's appearance: bare feet, sure, but that dress, the hair, the makeup…His mood shifted. "You're awfully tarted up tonight," he said, his friendly tone turning into something decidedly more accusatory.
"Gosh, Jack, you sure do know how to make a woman swoon." Jack rolled his eyes. "You said you wanted to talk," Sharon went on, trying to refocus the conversation, "If you have something to say, then say it. Or did you just come by to interrupt my evening and sling insults at me? Because if that's the case, I'll have to ask you to leave. I have better things to do."
"You got a hot date or something?" Jack asked, looking at her outfit again.
She completely ignored his question, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms as she responded with a question of her own, "Why are you here, Jack?"
"I knew that's what this was about!" he shouted, holding up the papers and pointing them at her with an accusing glare.
"That's not what this is about and you know it," her voice was lower than his, but held a cold, firm edge that warned him to back off. He dropped his arm back down to his side and she sighed, "I'm not really sure what's left to talk about at this point anyway…"
A noise broke the silence that followed and Jack's head snapped around, "Wait, is he still here?!" He stormed further into the condo looking for the source of the sound. His eyes darted around the living room, landing on the bottle of wine and two half-empty glasses on the coffee table and then he caught movement in the kitchen.
Brenda had just opened the refrigerator door when Jack stormed in. She'd frozen in place, not wanting to disrupt their conversation, but she couldn't just stand there all night with the door wide open…Finally, she gave up. It was going to start beeping soon anyway. Sharon had asked her to get dessert out, and she wasn't about to do anything as ridiculous as crouching down and hiding behind the counter. So she took a breath, closed the refrigerator door as softly as she could, and set the bowl of mousse on the countertop. Apparently she hadn't been quiet enough. She kicked herself for not waiting until he was talking again…but she knew from past experience that the door really was about to start beeping.
Jack's eyes moved from Brenda back to the wine glasses and then to Sharon in her red dress. "What the hell, Sharon? A woman?!" he shouted, his face contorting in disbelief.
"Jack—" Sharon tried to interject.
"You've got to be kidding me…You're fucking women now?!" He was yelling so loudly Sharon was sure the entire complex could hear him.
"That's enough!" She snapped, her tone cutting so sharply it caused both Jack and Brenda to flinch.
He let out a humorless chuckle and lowered his voice slightly, "Well doesn't that just take the fucking cake…" His voice started to get louder again as he continued, "I came here to talk with you, to reason with you…" He angrily strode over to the desk and grabbed a pen, knocking over the holder, the contents spilling out onto the desk and floor. "But you know what, Sharon? You can have your fucking annulment," he sneered as he leaned over and scribbled his signature on the papers before standing up again.
He walked back over to Sharon, shoving the papers at her hard enough to knock her back a step, one of the pages falling to the floor. "Good luck getting married again in your precious church! Fucking dyke!" he practically spat out the last words as he stormed out of the condo, slamming the door loudly behind him.
As silence descended on the condo, Brenda slowly exited the kitchen to check on Sharon. The older woman stood stunned, staring at the closed door, her hands holding onto air, a pile of papers littering the floor at her feet. After a moment, she seemed to shake herself and calmly stepped over the papers to put the chain back on the door again. She paused, her hands pressed against the secured door, bracing herself as she took several deep breaths before turning back to the room.
"Are you ok?" Brenda asked softly as she approached, reaching out to put a hand on Sharon's arm, but the other woman flinched and pulled away, squatting down to gather the scattered papers and put them back in order. Brenda stepped back to give her space, deciding to move over to the desk area and pick up the array of pens and pencils Jack had strewn across the desk and floor.
When Brenda finished and turned around, she saw Sharon heading back to the living room with two dessert bowls filled with chocolate mousse, a tight smile on her face. The blonde walked over and took a bowl from her, careful to avoid touching anything but the dish itself, and sat down on the couch. The tension in the room was palpable and she could feel Sharon retreating further into herself as the silence stretched.
Brenda was at a loss. She wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure where to start. She wanted to reach out and pull the other woman into a hug, to comfort her friend. But Sharon clearly didn't want to be touched, she was shutting down, and Brenda didn't know what to do. She didn't know what Sharon needed.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Brenda asked, her voice tentative, her eyes not leaving the chocolate mousse in front of her. The situation felt so tenuous that even looking at the other woman might push her over the edge.
Sharon was perched stiffly on the far end of the couch with her own dish. She shook her head slightly as she answered, "No, not particularly." She poked at her mousse for a minute in silence before setting it on the coffee table in favor of her wine glass. It was a full minute before Sharon broke the silence again.
"I shouldn't have let him in. It's just—it's late and I didn't want him to keep yelling and banging in the hallway waking up the entire floor." She sighed heavily, "But that's Jack…he would have made a ruckus as long as he needed to to get me to open the door…he wouldn't have cared if he woke the whole building…"
She tried to laugh it off with a shrug as she exchanged her now-empty wine glass for her dessert, but her attempt at a smile looked more like a pained grimace. She took a bite of dessert and immediately regretted it, her stomach churning with nausea. Sharon abruptly set her dish back down with a loud clatter and then pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, her jaw clenched tightly shut. Once she was confident the contents of her stomach wouldn't reemerge if she opened her mouth, she uttered a quiet, "I'm sorry," turning and meeting Brenda's eyes as she stood up. "I'm not feeling well. I think I need to call it a night."
"Of course," Brenda said softly as she stood. "Are you sure you'll be ok? Do you need anything before I go?"
Sharon shook her head 'No' and gave the blonde an unconvincing smile. "I just need some time…That was—he caught me off-guard. I should have expected…" She trailed off before shaking herself again and continuing, "I'll be fine. Really. I just…" She pressed her hand to her mouth again as if that might stop both the bile and the flood of emotions threatening to spill out at any moment.
Brenda simply nodded and gathered her things to leave, not wanting her to feel like she needed to make excuses or justify her need for space. Brenda's chest tightened as she watched the brunette try, and fail, to hold her flimsy mask in place. Sharon's face twitched as she tried to suppress the emotions that were cascading across her features. Brenda tried to track them, to read her, but they came in such quick succession it was impossible to tease them apart. Maybe if she'd had more time…but right now she needed to leave. That was the one thing Sharon had asked for.
Recalling the way the other woman had recoiled when she'd tried to touch her earlier, Brenda made no move to hug her or initiate any physical contact as she moved to leave. Instead, she offered a reassuring smile as she grabbed her coat and slipped into her shoes. She paused at the door, turning one last time and meeting Sharon's eyes, "If you need anything…"
Sharon nodded, managing a little more passable smile in thanks as the blonde exited, closing the door softly behind her. Brenda waited until she heard the deadbolt engage and the chain slide back into place before she headed down the hall toward the elevators.
Sharon's body moved on autopilot as she carried the dishes to the kitchen and put the chocolate mousse back in the refrigerator before washing the wine glasses and loading the dishwasher. She had no memory of getting into the shower, but the scalding water felt good burning trails down her skin. She stood in the stream, unmoving, until the water started to run cold, reluctantly getting out and drying off.
She carefully hung up her red dress and donned her favorite old pajamas, finding, to her dismay, that the soft, worn fabric provided little—if any—of its usual comfort. Her insides were still roiling as she slid into bed. Mercifully, the combination of the wine and the hot shower were enough to pull her down into a deep, dreamless sleep. She wasn't ready to think about Jack's visit or his words just yet.