by Tara Wimble
Sara has a habit of proving her wrong. She’s sipping coffee, wearing black sweats and a tank top that’s better suited to Florida in the summer than L.A coming out of winter, grinning like the idiot in love that Hope’s grown to know over the last few months.
“Didn’t expect you to still have a shoulder. Vianne told me they blew it right off.” Sara jabs at the wrong shoulder with the hand that isn’t holding a mug of coffee, as she does every time she tells that joke, before catching Hope in a one armed hug. “Good to see you though.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Hope closes the door behind her, joking with her like this isn’t the sixth time they’ve ever met. “I’ve started courting Vianne. Her parents have given us their blessing. We’re going to get married in the spring.”
“Yeah, yeah. And I’m America’s Next Top Model.” Sara shoves at her and leads them both towards the kitchen. She’s barefoot on the wooden floor so only Hope’s steps make a noise when Sara announces. “Vianne! Your lover is here!”
Vianne is hunched over one of the counters, holding a pan, with her hair tied back. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten out of bed-” When Sara laughs, she looks up, mortified when she spots Hope standing in her kitchen. “Oh god.”
“Well,” Hope says. “I won’t ask how your weekend has been.”
Sara snorts a little at Vianne and flutters about the kitchen. She quickly pulls her hair out of her ponytail like Hope might have missed the bruise flourishing on her jaw.
“Shut up. Hey, go get that picture for Hope.” Vianne orders her girlfriend out of the kitchen but both of them hear her laughing down the hallway. Vianne’s apartment is small so no doubt their neighbours have heard it all by now as well. “You alright? You don’t usually pass by on your days off. Or should I ask you how your weekend turned out?”
Vianne flips a pancake over in the pan and wiggles her eyebrows so stupidly that Hope can’t keep a straight face.
“That good huh?”
“We had a good weekend.” Hope leaves it at that. She prefers, unlike Sara, to keep her private life out of the talk of her co-workers or fellow students. “And I asked her.”
“You did?” Vianne asks. “And you waited a week to tell me?”
“I’m assuming you slipped the invitation to her anyway?”
“You know it.” Vianne confirms. “Come on, it’s a huge deal for you. It’s one step closer to getting you back on the detective track.”
Hope nods. That’s another thing this inquiry kept her from doing. They locked her in at the lowest level depending on appeal. Getting this award and winning the appeal is the first step to finally getting somewhere in the department.
“If you’re not going to be proud, then Sara, Janice and I are going to do it for you.” Vianne turns off the heat and finishes stacking two plates of pancakes. “Do you want some?”
“I’m-”
“Okay third plate coming up!”
Before she can protest, Sara wanders back into the kitchen, still sipping coffee and hands her a folded piece of paper. “This better not be another Buddha flipping me off again-”
Sara swallows and grins. “Nah, that was a classic though.”
She opens it to see something unexpected but long overdue. “I didn’t think you’d finished this yet.”
She’d commissioned Sara to design a piece for her shoulder. She didn’t do a lot of drawing that didn’t involve buildings but she’d seen the designs that Sara had done for her own tattoos and it’d impressed her enough to ask.
“I had a long flight to spend on it and I-” Sara looks over at Vianne. “May have touched it up this morning.”
Hope scoffs. “Surprised you had the time.”
“Whatever.” Sara leans over and starts pointing at the paper. “If you want the writing to fit then you’ll have to insist on this script. Don’t settle if some jackass says he can’t do it.”
“I will.” It’s a reminder that will circle around the scar on the back of her shoulder.
“And please, make sure it looks good. Because I don’t want my name on this if someone fucks it up.”
Sara jumps when Vianne swats at her ass. “What? I’m serious!” She grins at Hope. “Sums you right up though doesn’t it?”
‘Persecuted but not forsaken. Cast down but not destroyed.’ Hope reads. “Pretty much.”
“Here you go.” Vianne places food in front of her and Hope can’t say anything to get out of it. She’s officially invited to breakfast with the future Winter-Lee’s.
Sara jumps up on the stool next to Hope with Vianne taking one on the end. She spears her own pancake on a fork and waits until Hope takes her first bite. “So, the girl you’re sleeping with is nineteen right?”
Hope chokes.
“Jesus, Sara.” Vianne mutters.
Sara doesn’t have a problem with being blunt though it doesn’t suit her voice at all. “What? I need to catch up, we haven’t seen each other since October.”
Hope coughs into her hand before managing to swallow.
“Besides, I’m not judging.” Sara shrugs. “I’m not.” She says again, pointedly. “I just want to know a little about her.”
“Like what?”
“Like how was she?” Sara winces suddenly and Hope sees Vianne’s foot retreat behind the counter. “Like how is she?”
Hope makes a show of eating again while Sara waits for her to say something. It gives her a second.
“I mean, I’m all for this-” Sara explains. “She’s a step up from your last foray into-”
“Into girls?” Hope interrupts.
“Into a relationship.” Vianne states honestly. There’s that weight she feels.
Sara points her fork at her. “I liked Lotta. She was nice.”
Lotta was a reporter that Hope dated for a while. She was young and carefree and ultimately couldn’t deal with Hope’s bubbling resentment post-Scully.
“She was Swedish and you couldn’t understand a word she was saying.” Vianne rolls her eyes.
Hope nods. “She did that on purpose.”
“She was hot though.” Sara finishes.
“Um, girlfriend here?” Vianne nudges Sara. For a second Hope feels intrusive on their morning. She doesn’t know how long Sara has been back for or how long she’s staying but Vianne’s eyes when she leaves again will always tell her that it wasn’t long enough.
“Objectively speaking.” Sara laughs. Instead of carrying on she leans back onto Vianne’s shoulder and kisses her neck. “Love you.”
“Was there a question about Janice in there?” Hope prompts, looking down and eating again.
“Her name is Janice, huh?” Sara jumps on that. “This one here hasn’t said a word.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should.” Vianne explains.
“It’s okay.” Hope cuts her pancake up. “Yeah, her name is Janice McPherson.”
“Irish?”
“Undetermined.”
“Hot?” This time Sara flinches away from Vianne, expecting a playful blow but gets nothing as Vianne nods when Hope says;
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“And you’ve invited her to this party?”
Hope suddenly feels very normal. Vianne curls her foot around Sara’s ankle under the table. Sara grins excitedly, gesturing towards her, asking questions and engaging. It makes her wonder why she was so worked up about asking Janice in the first place.
Then she feels her phone vibrate and she remembers.
“Yeah,” She ignores it. “I feel like she’s going to be thrown in the deep end here though.”
“Prepare her then.” Vianne suggests. “You’ll have to call her or something and tell her the dress code and what time you’ll pick her up and stuff. Odds are she’s a lot more nervous than you.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Wait until you’re on that stage and half the people that tried to screw you out of this medal are glaring up at you.” Vianne reminds her that Ian Rollins, Brian
a Scully and several other captains that backed their statements will be in attendance watching Christenne present the award to her.
Hope stabs her fork into the pancake. “You say that like I won’t be glaring back.”
Sara claps her hands together. “That’s more like it.”
Persecuted but not forsaken. Hope thinks. Cast down but not destroyed
Still, she lets the call go.
Chapter 10
DATING Robin is kind of like...not dating Robin.
“Come on, shoot it.” Robin spreads her arms out defending the space around her. The basket hovers above her head like a halo. “Shoot it.”
There’s more kissing. That’s a big difference.
“You’re gonna miss.”
There’s more trash talking as well.
“You say that now but,” Lexie crosses the ball between her hands. “You ain’t a baller, yo.”
“Are we around each other too much that you start speaking like me?” Robin voices. It’s all the distraction she needs.
She’s not intimidating with a smirk and a bounce in her step and Lexie knows this is for fun but the urge to win is always there. She doesn’t trick Robin like she can, there’s no fancy footwork or passing the ball through her legs, just Lexie feigning one way and powering the other. Robin slaps the air and misses. Lexie’s layup kisses the back board and tips into the net.
“Game over!” Lexie doesn’t even get the rebound. She puts her hands around her mouth and pretends to roar with the echo of some imaginary crowd. “And L.A shouts for Jamesonnnn!”
Robin groans but comes to give her belated hug when she tracks the ball down. She swings them off the court so the thirteen year old boys that have been glaring at their one-on-one game for the past half an hour can play.
“Say it, say it.” Lexie chants. She’s a smug winner. There’s no hiding that.
“Winner.” Robin kisses her. Breathless surprise follows Lexie forgetting for a second who’s really won here.
But it rushes back when the kiss ends and one of the boys begins to cat-call like he even stands a chance. “You know what that means right?”
“You win?” Robin picks up the ball and her bag, forgetting the jeers behind them.
Lexie walks ahead. “Yup. So, food is on you and we watch the Clippers game while you finish your public speaking homework.”
Robin pulls her bag over her shoulder. There’s nothing in it other than her phone but she insisted on bringing it with her. “What would have happened if I’d won?”
“2nd base.” Lexie breezes.
Robin trips over the edge of the court.
“Didn’t I set that out in the rules?” Lexie throws over her shoulder sweetly.
“No.” Robin bites her lip. “No you didn’t.”
She doesn’t have to say anything else. The quiet unspoken is an art form that Robin masters well. She swings close and holds her hand. The shaking that once accompanied it has gone and Lexie smiles. They walk away from the courts onto the street. Their feet lead them to the nearest store and while Lexie loads up their cart with all the food that she’s making Robin by, her girlfriend-
Wow.
“What?”
Lexie looks up from the soda she’s holding to Robin. “Sorry, I just-”
Robin takes the soda. “Do you want to get another one for later?”
“Yeah.”
Her girlfriend. Her actual, going on dates, holding hands, badly tweeted haiku sending girlfriend.
Robin puts another soda in her cart and runs her hand over Lexie’s elbow. “I’m gonna find pizza. Meet you at the register?”
She nods.
She watches her walk off and doesn’t move after she sees her disappear. She just needs a moment. They’ve been fooling around all afternoon, avoiding coursework and responsibility, in favor of lounging around in Robin’s room while Janice is out shopping with Laurel and playing basketball. Her legs ache from the running reminding her to get back into going the gym again but her stomach feels a pull as well. And it’s leading her in the direction of Robin.
The cart supports her forearms as she idly wanders through the aisles. Robin and her stupidly loose braid that she’s wanted to re-do for her all day. Robin who keeps saying that they haven’t been on a real date yet because going to the movies and her paying wasn’t romantic enough. Robin who stares at her like there are planets in her eyes that she can’t fully appreciate with one look.
She moves in a daze, picking up the rest of their items and steering towards where Robin is holding more than enough pizza for the two of them in one hand.
When she smiles Lexie knows that she’s blushing.
Robin doesn’t ask her to help unload the food. She takes care of it all, making small talk with the girl on the checkout, glancing back at her with every pause.
Lexie doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t let it all bubble over until they’ve put everything they’ve bought into cupboards, started cooking and switched the Clippers on. Robin is about to hunch over and start working on her public speaking coursework, like she promised, when Lexie takes her notepad away from her.
“Hey, I don’t need you to help me with this one-” Robin’s laugh is cut short by Lexie kneeling until her body leans against Robin. “Lex-”
She needs this kiss. She needs it as she pushes Robin against the couch and crawls over her body.
It’s not ideal to be straddling Robin as the game goes on in the background. The crowd cheering acts spurs her on though, cupping Robin’s cheek then running her hand down her jaw, she feels Robin tense before hands grab at the top of her thighs. Tentative at first until Lexie opens their kiss, deepening and hears the whimper coming from Robin.
When her back arches and thrusts Lexie up against her, they both break back flushing.
Robin looks more aloof than usual. Her hair is ten times worse than before and she laughs at little when Lexie tries to fix it. “We should watch the game later.”
A buzzer goes off on Lexie’s phone.
“Pizza’s ready.”
Robin bites her lip and all thoughts of that appetite disappears.
Lexie tugs Robin up by her collar. “It’ll still be good cold.”
“Better even.” Robin agrees breathlessly
***
“SO, I need more details.” Laurel’s voice echoes from behind the curtain of the changing area. “Unlike you the only thing I remember about the night you attempted to defend my honor-”
“Our honor.” Amy chimes in as she opens the curtain just enough to pass Janice another dress. “Ooh, that looks nice.”
Janice turns to look over her shoulder. “Not too sure about it being backless.”
“Rocking it.” Amy emphasizes and closes the curtain again.
“-and as much as I believe all this happiness over her, I’d like to know a little more about where she’s taking you, what she’s like, whether she can financially support you-”
“Woah,” Janice blushes in response. The dress isn’t what she’s going for so she tugs the zip and shimmies out of it. “She asked me on a date not to show up for our wedding.”
“You just thought about it.”
“It’s a police thing.”
“A police benefit. Full of the boys and girls in blue. They don’t just hand out invitations to this thing.” Laurel lectures her. “You have to like, donate a ton of money to get on that list.”
Janice picks the next dress off the line and slips it on. “Or be semi-dating a cop.”
“Did she say you were dating?”
“No because this is the date. The first date.”
A snort comes from outside and Janice sticks her head out. “What was that?”
Amy rests her head on Laurel’s shoulder, trying not to laugh. “Nothing.”
Janice retreats inside but she hears perfectly well the second time around when Laurel mutters about not sleeping with someone on the first date. “Speak for yourself Santo
s!”
Amy giggles uncontrollably in response.
This one isn’t too bad. The light is kind of bad in the changing room but the green is just dark enough not to be standoffish. Janice smoothes the front down a bit and assesses. It’s a dark, classy green, perfect for this kind of thing, yet it kind of intimidates her. It means something. When Hope had emailed her during the other day, the only way she would have gotten it after Lexie had taken her phone away from her to force her to study, to tell her about the dress code for this event, she was a little worried. The last time she wore a dress she was at her high school prom trying to tell the guy she took to keep his hands off her ass because she wasn’t into that. It hadn’t left a good feeling towards dresses really.
“Are you going to come out- again- or answer any of my questions?”
Janice pauses just to remember what she looks like in the dress before she goes out there. “She’s tall, dark and intimidating. She’s originally from Seattle, eleven years into the LAPD, pretty much a freaking hero and-”
She sweeps the curtain back and poses outlandishly just for effect. “-she’s not going to know what hit her.”
Amy’s jaw drops a little and Janice stores that in the back of her mind because one day Laurel will do something and she’ll need that for leverage.
“Oh wow. Put that away.” Laurel rolls her eyes at her display but her smile has approval, and blindness, written all over it.
“But seriously?” Janice drops the act and waits for approval.
Laurel tilts her head. “Turn.”
She’s not even halfway through her 360 when Laurel claps her hands together and declares them done. “My job here is done.”
“Amy picked that one out.” Janice interrupts.
“Don’t question the influence of my fashion expertise.” Laurel ushers her back into the changing room. “We’ll wait at the counter for you.”