Gun Shy

by Lori L. Lake

  Jaylynn stood thinking for a minute. “Everything you make is great. Surprise me.”

  “Okay. A bevy of surprises coming right up.” Luella disappeared into the house, and soon Dez and Jaylynn heard the clatter of pans.

  Dez bent to open one of the cans of paint, and Jaylynn saw creamy yellow. “Nice color, Dez. It’ll look good in here.”

  “Luella picked it out. She didn’t like this pale gray. It does look pretty miserable, doesn’t it?” Jaylynn nodded. “Roll or trim?” Dez held a roller rack in one hand and an angled paintbrush in the other.

  “Trim.”

  “Good. I hate trimming.” Dez handed over the brush.

  “That’s lucky because I never liked rolling. I’m not good at it, and my hair always ends up a sticky mess.”

  “Ah. You need to know the trick of always keeping the roller in front of you.” She screwed an extender onto the end of the rack and picked up the can and poured paint into the metal pan. As Dez finished pouring, Jaylynn bent automatically with the brush to wipe away the drips on the can.

  Jaylynn said, “I’ll stick with the detail work, thank you. That way my hair will survive the ordeal.” She picked up the paint can and poured a shot into a plastic butter container. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Wherever. On crews we found that if the trimmers follow behind the rollers, we tend to stay out of each other’s way. I’m starting here over the door and working toward the kitchen.” She stepped up on the ladder to roll the first stripe across the high ceiling.

  “Okay.” Jaylynn moved to the left of the door and painted along the edge of the door molding. “What crews were you talking about?”

  “In college I did a lot of painting which was basically how I supported myself. I worked for a couple of companies.”

  Jaylynn finished the edge as Dez came down the ladder, loaded up her roller again, and slid the ladder farther down the wall. She watched Dez step back up the ladder and systematically apply the paint, very quickly settling into a rhythm. “Can I borrow the ladder for a minute to do above the doors?”

  Dez stopped rolling and pointed over at the hall closet. “Open that door. There’s a step stool in there that’ll do.”

  Jaylynn followed her instructions and snagged an aluminum mini-stepladder. “You know what we need?” Dez stopped rolling and gazed at her, no expression on her face. “Tunes. We need some good tunes.”

  “Fine, go up and move the CD player off the kitchen table. The cord’ll stretch into the hall up there. Pick out whatever you want, crank it up, and we’ll deafen Luella.” Dez stepped down off the ladder and refilled the roller with more pale yellow paint.

  Jaylynn put her paint container on the stair and carefully set the paintbrush over the top of it. She checked her hands for stray paint, wiped them on her shorts, and jogged up to Dez’s apartment.

  It had been a long time since she’d been up these stairs. The door to the kitchen was open, and everything looked the same as before. She stepped inside and headed into the living room toward the entertainment center. Scanning through the CD titles, she grabbed four and moved to leave the room, but the open roll-top desk caught her eye. She hesitated, but couldn’t resist.

  Striding quickly to the foot of the bed, she stood in front of the desk. The pigeonholes were neatly filled with pads of paper, envelopes, a stack of small notebooks, a stapler, and various folded papers. On the desk surface an electric bill sat on top of some sheets of paper, and holding it down was a flat clay paperweight, about six inches across and olive green in color, with a small child’s handprint in the middle of it. Embedded in the clay, someone had scratched DEZ. Squinting to look closer, Jaylynn noticed that before the pottery pancake had been fired, someone had written “Jeremy, age 4” at the bottom.

  Flanking the clay creation were two photos. Recognizing Ryan immediately, she took note of the man’s clean-cut good looks. She’d seen pictures of him at the station, but not with his shirt off. He’d been built like a super hero—no wonder he won bodybuilding competitions. The other picture struck her so strongly that she set the CDs down and picked it up. She was amazed by how much Dez resembled the man, and she saw where she got her height and build. He was a nice-looking man. But what struck her most was the leggy little girl in red hugging her father’s leg. Her black hair was shoulder length and wavy, and her upturned face displayed rosy cheeks and an irrepressible smile.

  Jaylynn was filled with a strange longing. She wanted to go back in time and know this small girl, reach out to her, protect her from the impending loss she was soon to experience. She didn’t want the elfin smile on the girl’s face marred by sorrow. The feeling was so intense she abruptly set down the photo and backed away. Confused, she turned to leave, but caught sight of the stack of CDs and reversed course to pick them up. She heard the scrape of the ladder on the floor downstairs and, with a guilty start, hustled over to the doorway and back to the kitchen.

  Dez situated the ladder and climbed up to the third rung. She rolled the paint right up to the last corner to finish the ceiling. She wasn’t used to working overhead, and her neck muscles had tightened up. Since her shoulders and trapezoids were already tight from the workout the day before, she was glad to be done with that. She heard Jaylynn out on the landing up above, and then a percussion and synthesizer beat started up. Jaylynn clonked down the stairs as a smooth voice began singing.

  Dez frowned. The voice was familiar, but she didn’t know why. She listened to more of the song as she started rolling the far wall. After a minute of puzzling, she said, “Who is this?”

  “Lisa Stansfield. Isn’t she great?”

  Oh, Dez thought, it’s that CD she gave me for Christmas. “Yeah. She’s got a nice voice.”

  The next song started, and Dez listened to the words as a woman with a sexy voice sang about finding love, finding the real thing. She got down off the ladder another time for more paint. Maybe she should have listened to this CD since Jaylynn had given it to her, but in truth, she had forgotten about it. She couldn’t recall why she hadn’t liked it before, and she puzzled for a moment about that, but still couldn’t remember. Now she listened to the soulful voice and decided she liked her very much.

  Jaylynn asked, “Are we painting up the stairs and around the landing above?”

  Dez paused on the ladder and fixed her with cool blue eyes. “No, we stop at the foot of the stairs right there. And I’ll get done rolling way before you ever finish trimming, so I’ll get another brush and help.” She paused and fixed her gaze on Jaylynn. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I wasn’t complaining. Just wanted to get an idea of the flow here. I’ve got the doors done and I’ll do along the baseboards next, okay?”

  “Sounds good. On to the walls for me.”

  They worked away in silence for several more minutes, listening to Lisa Stansfield’s expressive voice. Jaylynn’s favorite song on the CD, “The Very Thought of You,” came up next. The singer’s voice was full of longing and hope. She’d played this song over and over in her room until Sara asked if something was wrong with her CD player. She hadn’t listened to it for several weeks, though, and now she understood why.

  Turning away from Dez’s line of vision, she sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor and tried to focus on the paint strokes, but the song evoked too many feelings. She was faced with two contradictory sets of emotions. With one set of emotions she enjoyed being with Dez, talking to her, getting occasional unexpected responses about things from her. She liked riding together, feeling protected by her tough partner, continually haggling over any number of subjects throughout the course of each shift. In the last two weeks, ever since her resolution at Minnehaha Falls, she’d relaxed—and so had Dez.

  But despite the resolution, the other set of emotions proved harder to repress than she had hoped. She went home alone every night burning so bright with attraction for her partner that she was surprised no one else noticed. She purposely tried to keep
a safe distance from Dez because when she got too physically close, she was overwhelmed with a longing she truly couldn’t explain as merely sexual.

  Jaylynn had never felt so miserable in her life while feeling good at the same time. But she knew full well that unrequited love was a huge downer. She’d had her fill of it with Sandi in high school. She didn’t know how much longer she could go on repressing her feelings. Even though things were definitely going better, it got harder and harder every day to ignore the emotions. It was driving her crazy.

  Jaylynn was grateful when that particular song ended. The next tune, which was fluffy and mindless, made her feel a little less desperate. Leaving the paint container on the floor, she set the brush on it, rose, and stretched her lower back.

  Dez asked, “You having trouble with your back lately?”

  Jaylynn was surprised at the question. “Why?”

  “You’ve seemed uncomfortable. You stretch it a lot like you’re in pain.”

  “It’s not so much pain, but my lower back is tight. It loosens up when I’m off duty, then I’m back cooped up in the car with all that gear on. It’s just bugging me.”

  “It’s the belt.”

  “What?”

  “The duty belt. They’re designed for men. Mine fits me fine because I have no hips, but you do.”

  Jaylynn grinned up at her. “So, what you’re saying is that as long as I have a big fat butt my back will bother me?”

  “No! That’s not what I meant. And you do not have a fat butt.” She shook the paint roller in the air for emphasis, descended, and pushed the ladder to the side. She set the roller in the paint pan and rubbed her hands on her shorts, then came to stand in front of Jaylynn, her hands on her own slim hips. “Where does the duty belt hit you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Where does it rest?” She gestured at Jaylynn’s middle. “Up here closer to your waist, more over your hips? Where?”

  Jaylynn put her hands on her waist. “It kind of sits about here.”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem. It’s not balanced for your build, Jay. You need one molded and cut to fit around a woman’s hips instead of sitting on them like men’s belts do. You want it to rest here.” She bent slightly and brought her hands to Jaylynn’s hips where she firmly pressed on either side. “That’d be about right.”

  Jaylynn blushed. “Or I could lose some weight.”

  “What? Are you kidding? That’s your natural shape—totally normal. Even if you did lose weight—which you don’t need to do—you’d still have the same problem because your waist is slim here.” She moved her hands up and made a karate chop motion on either side of Jaylynn’s waist and stepped back. “You can get a much better belt at the uniform store. They’ll measure you and even special order for ya. They’re kind of spendy, but you won’t have your back bugging you.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that sooner or later. Thanks.”

  “Let’s take a break and get some more lemonade,” Dez said. “Haven’t heard anything from Luella for a while. Probably fallen asleep. Let’s go wake her up.” She arched an eyebrow and tiptoed into the house. Jaylynn followed quietly, relieved Dez’s back was now to her so she could take a minute to recover from her touch.

  Later, after an excellent meal courtesy of Luella, they worked on the finishing touches of the paint job. The sun was high in the sky, and the back hall was humid. Wet paint didn’t make it any better. Jaylynn felt the sweat dripping off her back. She wiped her forehead with the back of her arm and resumed trimming. A minute later when Dez caught sight of her, she laughed out loud, pointing at the rookie.

  “What?” Jaylynn asked.

  “You got the biggest smudge on your forehead. It’s practically as big as a playing card.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “No, really.” She set down her paint and brush, picked up a damp rag and came to stand in front of Jaylynn. Palming the back of Jaylynn’s head with her left hand, she scrubbed away at the paint with her other hand until it came off.

  Jaylynn looked to the left of Dez’s shoulder, holding her breath. She felt the blush start and was grateful when Dez said, “There. Now you don’t look like you’ve been branded.” She stepped away and tossed the rag to the side.

  Jaylynn let her breath out in a rush. She squatted down and slapped some paint in the corner near the floorboards, cursing silently when it dripped. Setting the plastic container down, she licked her thumb and wiped the drip off the hardwood, then ran her thumb and fingers across the chest of her shirt until they were dry.

  From behind her she heard, “Now I see why you look like this wet rag here while I continue on in pristine splendor.”

  Jaylynn stood and faced her, and Dez saw Jaylynn could effect a wicked look quite well. Jaylynn advanced, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Dez backed up, a grin spreading across her face. “Wait a minute.” She stuck her arm out only to have Jaylynn grab her wrist and push her back against the closed closet door. “I could wear this shirt again. I—”

  Jaylynn smacked Dez’s midsection with the flat side of the brush and grinned devilishly as Dez extended her hands wide and looked down. “Hey, do I deserve—”

  Jaylynn drew a line diagonally from one broad shoulder down to the other hip, managing to smear a dab of paint on Dez’s shorts before Dez decided enough was enough. She gave the smirking woman her most fiendish look—and snatched the paintbrush from her hand.

  Weaponless, Jaylynn backed up toward the screen door. In a mock serious voice, she said, “Careful. That thing’s loaded.” Dez didn’t stop advancing upon her. “Hey! Hey! We just painted all these walls. Don’t be messing—” She opened the screen door and darted out, followed by a laughing maniac who chased her around the backyard. In a flat out run, Jaylynn might have been able to outdistance Dez, but in the backyard Dez proved quite agile. Before Jaylynn could reach the fence, Dez grabbed hold of the back of her shirt. One-handed, she pulled the shrieking rookie around in a half hug and lifted her in the air, holding her there while she applied a pale splotch of paint to the hip of the already smudged gray shorts.

  “I was planning to wear these again,” Jaylynn said in a sorrowful voice as Dez set her down. Jaylynn looked down as she gripped the edge of her shorts.

  She tried to give Dez a recriminating pout but ended up laughing instead.

  “Gimme that paintbrush. I have to go finish that final corner, you big lug.”

  Dez sheepishly handed her the paintbrush. Big mistake. Jaylynn used it immediately to swipe another line from the opposite shoulder to hip, leaving Dez with a giant X across her shirt. Jaylynn burst out laughing and dashed away. “You’ve been marked with the yellow X,” she shouted as her feet hit the stairs and she scrambled inside through the screen door.

  Dez stood grinning in the hot sun. She looked down at her paint-stained T-shirt and experienced an easing of worries she hadn’t even known she was carrying. This was the old Jaylynn: the lighthearted, hopeful, confident, sometimes comical, and occasionally irreverent person she had first met. Quite some time had passed since the “real” Jaylynn had shown herself, but sure as she herself was now marked, Dez knew she’d just seen the relaxed and happy version of her friend. I missed that. I missed the “real” Jay a lot. She strode toward the house, up the stairs, and through the screen door. Jaylynn was down on one knee finishing the last of the trim.

  “Thank God we’re almost done. This stuff is drying and getting tacky.” She stood up and smiled Dez’s way. “Lovely outfit by the way. I hear it’s all the rage in Paris.”

  Dez grinned back. “That’s me—Designer Dez.”

  Luella chose that moment to clear her throat. “If you two are done horsing around, I’d like to know if you need a snack.”

  The two women exchanged glances. Dez said, “I’m still stuffed from lunch. What about you, Jay?”

  “I couldn’t eat another thing for at least two hours.”

  Dez shook her head and rolled her eyes. “How ’bout w
e all go to the movies then?”

  “What?” Luella and Jaylynn asked simultaneously.

  “Yeah, I’ll even buy,” Dez said.

  “Nonsense,” Luella said. “You girls just worked like dogs. I’ll buy. But what would we see?”

  Dez said, “That’s easy. You’ve been wanting to see that Entrapment flick at the cheap theater.” She pointed over at Luella, but looked at Jaylynn as she said, “She’s got the hots for Sean Connery, and they’re doing a whole weekend of his films.”

  Luella pointed at Dez, but looked at Jaylynn. “She’s got the hots for that Zeta-Jones woman.”

  Dez blushed. “Luella!”

  “Excuse me,” Jaylynn said, “but I’m vain enough to be concerned about my attire, and you,” she pointed at Dez, “I’m sure Luella would be embarrassed to be seen with you in that outfit. I know I would.”

  “Even though you created it?” Dez asked dryly.

  “Especially.”

  Jaylynn gazed up at Dez and they both smiled warmly. For the first time in a long while, Jaylynn could meet Dez’s eyes without reservation.

  Luella said, “Well? What are we all waiting for?” She slapped Dez on the behind. “Get your skinny butt upstairs and make yourself presentable. And you,” she gestured to Jaylynn, “come with me and get into those clean clothes you brought.”

  Dez took the stairs up to her apartment two at a time, whipping her T-shirt over her head as she arrived at the top. The apartment was warm and muggy, the air almost moist against her damp skin. She ducked into the bathroom and stripped off all her clothes and stepped into the shower for a quick rinse. After toweling dry, she moved back into the living room and dressed. Seated on the couch, she slipped on her Adidas and double-knotted the long laces. She rose and her eyes came to rest upon the two photos on her desk. She walked over and stood for a long moment studying the picture of Ryan, then closed the roll-top desk and headed downstairs.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dez hovered in the roll call room, sipping from her ever-present water bottle and awaiting Jaylynn’s entrance. Jaylynn had arrived extra early, at the lieutenant’s request, and was currently talking to him behind closed doors. More than six months had gone by since Jaylynn started her official probation period, so today she was getting her second quarterly progress report. Dez had already put in her two cents about Savage, Oster, and Mahoney, the three recruits she’d had experience with. She’d also made a few informal comments about Dwayne Neilsen.