Happy birthday, Mellow Mel
Title: Uninvited
Author: Aussie
Word count: 2840
Rated: T
Happy birthday, Mel! I hope this makes you smile a little. And yes, obviously Sharon's son's name is Brice. :)
I tucked the file under my arm and headed for Raydor’s office. Once there, I tilted my head to check through the glass panel beside its door. Rusty was already in her inner sanctum, hovering in front of her desk, but she still saw me and gestured for me to enter anyway.
“It’s not like I’ve never been around alcohol and drugs,” Rusty was saying as I walked in.
“So, you’re admitting there will be alcohol and drugs at this party?” Raydor jotted down something on her notepad. Both Rusty and I craned our necks, trying to read her tiny handwriting upside down. “I’ll get the appropriate division to check on things,” she added.
“What!” Rusty and I cried simultaneously.
“You can’t do that!” Rusty went on.
I agreed with the kid. “For just one minute, can you quit being the cop?”
“I’m just being the responsible citizen. If minors are indulging in--”
“I didn’t say they would be there, I’m just saying that if they are, I won’t touch them,” Rusty insisted. “And you don’t need to stop me from going to what will probably be a boring drug- and alcohol-free party because of that possibility. I won’t--”
“No, you won’t,” Raydor agreed before Rusty could finish the sentence. Then, she stood up and pointed wordlessly to the books lying in an untidy pile beside her visitor’s chair.
She took the file from me, and flicked it open to read through the comments I’d added on the pages with no emotion.
“Lieutenant,” she said, beckoning me to follow her out into the larger office where the Major Crimes unit was based.
I followed, realizing she expected Rusty to go back to his homework. She was finished debating the subject of him attending any teenager’s party. He obviously got as far with winning an argument with her as I did.
I’d give Rusty credit, however. He showed more balls than some cops I know by following us.
“You don’t trust me?” he accused.
Raydor paused by Tao’s desk. “It’s not that I don’t trust you--”
“You sent me to that school!” Rusty reminded her. “You wanted me to be friends with these good kids from the right families. Their parties--”
“That’s not the only issue.”
While Rusty wasn’t giving up, everyone in the Major Crimes squad had: given up all pretense of working. The room was eerily silent with everyone avidly eavesdropping.
“I don’t make the rules. I merely follow them.”
“Come on, Sharon.” I was still trying to get used to people calling her by her first name, and now Rusty was drawing it out until it had six syllables instead of two. “You said you wanted me to make friends.”
I poured myself a coffee. This was getting juicy. Would Raydor give in? With the squad right here witnessing her weakness?
To my disappointment, she ignored Rusty’s plea and took the clipboard Tao was offering her. Next, she slowly flicked through its attached pages, apparently engrossed.
“This is the perfect opportunity, and now you’re saying I can’t go,” Rusty continued to whine.
Again the captain never answered, and instead handed the report back to Tao with a soft ‘thank you’ before she strode across the room. Rusty quickly followed her.
Unexpectedly, before she reached the whiteboard, she stopped in her tracks and swung around so fast that the kid almost barrelled into her.
“Will there be any adults there?” she asked, her steely gaze meeting Rusty’s desperate one.
“No, I told you--”
Raydor waved her hand in the air. “You’re an intelligent boy, Rusty,” she drawled. “Why do you find it so difficult to understand the meaning of twenty-four hour adult supervision?” she asked with a quiver of her eyebrow.
“Yeah, but...”
She turned away again. Picking up a marker and tapping it against her thigh as she stared at a grisly photograph of a victim. I thought about reminding her that the kid shouldn’t be looking over her shoulder at such things.
“You could go with him, Captain,” beside me Sykes twittered, daring to enter into their debate.
“I’m already the new kid,” Rusty pointed out with a roll of his eyes “And now you’re suggesting I take a cop to crash a Halloween party?”
Sykes wheeled her chair around, not a nervous habit, I’d decided, but an immature one. She probably swung her legs in chairs too--difficult given her height.
“She could dress up. No one would even know.”
Unfortunately, at that exact moment, I’d been taking a sip of coffee. I made a choking noise and spat into my mug. “Are you suggesting a woman the age of the Captain here could pass as a teenager with a bit of makeup?” I asked, disbelieving. God, the woman was almost as old as I was!
Sharon Raydor swung around, her hands on her hips, and pinned me with a glare.
I soon noticed no one was willing to go out on a limb for me and my rash comment. Tao quickly opened up a suspect’s laptop and began scrolling through its settings. Sanchez placed his cellphone to his ear and stared at the far wall. Even Flynn, my best friend, decided he needed to shuffle through some papers on his desk.
Too late now. I bravely blustered on: “Sykes, your ass kissing has no bounds, does it?”
Raydor’s mouth twisted. “A little green paint on my face?” she suggested in a low tone and a jerk of her head.
I grimaced, knowing exactly what she was implying. Or was I implying it? One or the other...
“But why are you fighting about it anyway, Captain?” Sykes asked, ignoring the mood of her two superiors -- as usual. “Surely you and Rusty are both coming to Provenza’s party, right? Everyone got their invitation a couple of weeks ago,” she blurted out. “I’ve got my costume all sorted out. There’ll be some teenagers there for you, Rusty, and for the Captain...” Sykes bit down on her lip, her brow furrowing at the question of whom Raydor would be socializing with at my annual party.
Over Sykes’ head, Raydor’s gaze met mine again. “Luckily, I don’t particularly like Halloween,” she said. A nerve in her cheek twitched.
“What teenagers?” Rusty asked, shattering the tension once more. His interest switched as he quickly decided that any party would be better than none. "Is it dress up?”
I expelled a dramatic sigh. I guess I’d have to cough up an explanation. “Did it ever occur to you, Sykes, that the reason Captain Raydor never offered the alternative of my party to Rusty is because she wasn’t invited?” I growled.
Sykes screwed her face up. “Why not?”
“Because, Sykes, she’s my boss.” I spoke slowly, as if Sykes was an extremely young child. More often than not, she was. “And sometimes, Sykes, I like to party without my boss looking over my shoulder and quoting to me every police regulation I happen to be breaking.”
Raydor made a snorting sound.
Sykes turned and smiled at her. “You can just drop Rusty off. He can meet some new friends, and there will be several responsible adults supervising him.”
“A win/win situation,” Raydor offered dryly.
“Exactly!” Sykes trilled excitedly.
“Excellent,” Raydor murmured quietly. “Rusty, you should go and sit in the break room to do your homework. We’ll talk about this later.”
Rusty finally took the hint that the subject was closed and, with one last frustrated glance in Sharon’s direction, he stomped back to her office, gathered up his gear, and noisily relocated to the break room.
Raydor cleared her throat when he’d finally disappeared. “Lieutenant Tao, have you got that ballistics report back yet?” she asked.
No more mention of parties or invitations. I should be thankful. Yep, this was the Sharon Raydor I could almost put up with: all business.
*****
I leaned my hip against the kitchen counter as I poured myself a glass of wine.
Then, longingly, I contemplated the couch. How nice it would be to dim the lights, put on some music and stretch out on it. Not thinking for a while would be such a luxury.
“What time is Lieutenant Tao picking you up?” I asked, turning toward the corner of the living room. Yes, there was room enough for Rusty’s things if I placed them in a neat pile. Better yet, I could transfer them all to the spare bedroom while he was out--
“He’s not.”
“Oh?” I took a gulp of wine and felt my cheek twitch. “Who is?” I didn’t relish the idea of either Provenza or Flynn turning up at my door.
“No one. I’m not going.” He frowned across at me. “You didn’t notice I hadn’t changed,” he complained, tugging at the light blue polo t-shirt with St Joseph’s embroidered on its corner which he still wore.
“In my experience teenage boys don’t take as long to get ready as teenage girls,” I shot back in defense.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, flipping open the laptop his school had recently supplied him with, “I’m not going.”
“But...I thought you really wanted to go--”
“Yeah, well...” He shrugged.
“You’re not going to slip out in the middle of the night? Sneak off to that boy’s party--”
“No!” In his agitation, a small pile of clothes fell onto the floor from one end of the couch. I suppress the urge to pick them up, or to snap at him to do it. I have to remember he’s not my child. I have to remember to take things slowly.
“I’ve already told Sean I’m not going,” he grumbled, thankfully stretching out to pick up the clothes. Only he spoiled the effect by adding them to the mess of books, stationery and leftovers from his various snacks already vying for space on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry, Rusty,” I said, completely sincere. I wonder how many teenage parties he’s been to in the past. He’s spent so much time with adults. Ones that liked to party way too much, I’m sure. “Once the emergency--”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, returning his attention to the laptop screen. “I get it.”
I stared at the top of his head. His hair was sticking out in all directions. I was unsure whether he’d styled it this way deliberately, or the effect had been achieved from running his fingers through it in frustration. “I guess you’re a little old to go trick-or-treating...” I murmured, reminding myself yet again not to treat him like a child. Not a child. Not my child.
“I’ve never been trick-or-treating,” he said, so softly I had to lean forward to hear.
To hide my shock, I took another sip of the wine. It was a new riesling; one I’d never tried before. It was leaving a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. Just like Sharon Beck.
“Rusty--”
“We were always moving round; she couldn’t let me go out when she didn’t know the neighbors well enough. She was only protecting me.”
I licked my lips, the wine wasn’t bitter enough for comparing this time. Rusty’s excuses for his mother’s behavior were many and varied. And he genuinely believed every one.
“She couldn’t go with you?” I asked hesitantly.
“She usually worked on all the holidays.”
I thought about the occupations listed on Rusty’s mother’s file. The list of male names Sharon Beck had co-habitated with had looked much longer in print. The woman was unable to get one Halloween night off in sixteen years?
“Would you like to...” I paused, unsure what I was really going to offer. To take Rusty out to some nice neighborhood to knock on doors and...
The doorbell made us both jump.
“Talk of the devil,” I murmured, grabbing a bag of sweets I’d organized earlier. The intercom had remained silent, so our caller had to be one of the children who lived in the apartment block.
Just as we both expected, our guest cried ‘trick or treat’ as I opened the external door. The guest’s age, gruff voice and familiar stocky body topped with thick grey hair, however, were not quite so anticipated.
My jaw dropped. “I didn’t buzz you in...” I frowned, quite certain my comment should have been a statement, but somehow, embarrassingly, I’d made it sound like a question.
“I flashed my badge,” Provenza said unrepentantly, brushing past me--still clutching the bag of candy tightly against my chest--to enter my apartment. “Nice place,” he noted with a low whistle. “How much would a place like this cost--”
“Lieutenant?”
Provenza ignored my low tone and walked along the hallway. “Two bathrooms?” he asked, muttering calculations for property prices under his breath.
“Lieutenant!” I shouted when my second-in-command was getting alarmingly close to the master bedroom doorway.
Rusty exhaled audibly when my sharp tone this time stopped the lieutenant in his tracks.
“Yes,” Provenza said, keeping his tone deliberately vague I suspected as he glanced over his shoulder to where Rusty and I stood side by side. Rusty’s stance warmed my heart. His shoulders were back, his chest puffed out. He was ready to protect me? I didn’t need protecting, but it was nice to think he was going to try.
“Rusty called Tao, Tao called me.”
I blinked at Provenza’s cryptic comment.
“Anyway, have you got something you can use as a costume?”
I looked from Rusty to Provenza and then down at the candy I still held in my arms. For one horrible moment I thought I was going to dig around in the bag to find a Ding-Dong. I glanced toward the kitchen. Where had I put my wine?
“Captain,” Provenza prodded.
“You’re inviting me to your annual Halloween party?” I asked, uncertain.
“No. I make it a rule to never invite my superiors. No Pope, no Taylor.”
“But...”
“But, Rusty is invited, and as he has to be in your care...”
I gaped at Provenza. I’d had too much wine. I was misunderstanding. It was our MO after all, Provenza and I, to misunderstand each other.
“You’re inviting me to your annual Halloween party?” I repeated, wanting him to say the words.
“No!” he instantly denied. “Stop saying that and go and find something to wear!”
I held Provenza’s gaze for a long minute. I was wrong. He wasn’t going to say the words, but we were understanding each other.
“I’m not going without Sharon,” Rusty piped up.
“I know, kid. That’s why she’s got to go and find a costume.” Provenza shook his head. “Young people today. You have to explain everything to them,” he grumbled.
Rusty hesitated. “Sharon?”
I smiled over at him. “What were you planning on wearing to the party?” I asked. “Brice’s soccer outfit?”
I had found Brice’s old soccer uniform and offered it to Rusty to use as a costume a few day’s ago. Surprisingly, he’d readily accepted.
“Go and get changed,” I ordered quietly. Then, I turned to Provenza. “I can’t drive. I’ve been drinking--”
“Typical. Another drunk--”
“So we’ll need to get a lift with you,” I continued, ignoring his interruption, “and we’ll get a cab home.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this show on the road, shall we?”
I hummed and opened my mouth, but the doorbell rang just as I was about to offer some sort of snappy reply.
“That really will be trick-or-treaters.” I took a step closer and dumped my bag of goodies into Provenza’s arms. “I’ll get changed,” I said, ignoring his squeak of protest. “You dish out the candy.”
“What?” he screeched at my retreating back.
The doorbell echoed throughout the apartment again.
“All right!” he called. “Impatient!”
I smiled. I could be patient.
******
I prudently checked out the door’s peephole, and swung it open after I confirmed it was just kids waiting on the other side. Why had Sharon Raydor blithely opened it to me earlier, I wondered as I handed out the candy. I’d need to speak to her about that, I realized. She was the head of Major Crimes now, after all.
I shut the door and froze. She was the head of Major Crimes. I wasn’t. I was going to live with that?
I leaned against the door for a moment. “Don’t dress up like a hooker!” I called down the hallway. “Flynn’s a leg man! You don’t want to give him any ideas!”
She had good legs. And she was good to the kid. I opened the bag and drew out a stick of gum, chewing thoughtfully after I’d shoved it in my mouth.
I wasn’t ready to admit she was good at her job. And I was definitely not going to admit I was inviting her to my annual Halloween party...
“Hurry up!” I called. “We don’t wanna miss Sykes’ entrance!”
Women, I huffed to myself. Life would be so much less complicated without them. And yet...
The End
Author: Aussie
Word count: 2840
Rated: T
Happy birthday, Mel! I hope this makes you smile a little. And yes, obviously Sharon's son's name is Brice. :)
I tucked the file under my arm and headed for Raydor’s office. Once there, I tilted my head to check through the glass panel beside its door. Rusty was already in her inner sanctum, hovering in front of her desk, but she still saw me and gestured for me to enter anyway.
“It’s not like I’ve never been around alcohol and drugs,” Rusty was saying as I walked in.
“So, you’re admitting there will be alcohol and drugs at this party?” Raydor jotted down something on her notepad. Both Rusty and I craned our necks, trying to read her tiny handwriting upside down. “I’ll get the appropriate division to check on things,” she added.
“What!” Rusty and I cried simultaneously.
“You can’t do that!” Rusty went on.
I agreed with the kid. “For just one minute, can you quit being the cop?”
“I’m just being the responsible citizen. If minors are indulging in--”
“I didn’t say they would be there, I’m just saying that if they are, I won’t touch them,” Rusty insisted. “And you don’t need to stop me from going to what will probably be a boring drug- and alcohol-free party because of that possibility. I won’t--”
“No, you won’t,” Raydor agreed before Rusty could finish the sentence. Then, she stood up and pointed wordlessly to the books lying in an untidy pile beside her visitor’s chair.
She took the file from me, and flicked it open to read through the comments I’d added on the pages with no emotion.
“Lieutenant,” she said, beckoning me to follow her out into the larger office where the Major Crimes unit was based.
I followed, realizing she expected Rusty to go back to his homework. She was finished debating the subject of him attending any teenager’s party. He obviously got as far with winning an argument with her as I did.
I’d give Rusty credit, however. He showed more balls than some cops I know by following us.
“You don’t trust me?” he accused.
Raydor paused by Tao’s desk. “It’s not that I don’t trust you--”
“You sent me to that school!” Rusty reminded her. “You wanted me to be friends with these good kids from the right families. Their parties--”
“That’s not the only issue.”
While Rusty wasn’t giving up, everyone in the Major Crimes squad had: given up all pretense of working. The room was eerily silent with everyone avidly eavesdropping.
“I don’t make the rules. I merely follow them.”
“Come on, Sharon.” I was still trying to get used to people calling her by her first name, and now Rusty was drawing it out until it had six syllables instead of two. “You said you wanted me to make friends.”
I poured myself a coffee. This was getting juicy. Would Raydor give in? With the squad right here witnessing her weakness?
To my disappointment, she ignored Rusty’s plea and took the clipboard Tao was offering her. Next, she slowly flicked through its attached pages, apparently engrossed.
“This is the perfect opportunity, and now you’re saying I can’t go,” Rusty continued to whine.
Again the captain never answered, and instead handed the report back to Tao with a soft ‘thank you’ before she strode across the room. Rusty quickly followed her.
Unexpectedly, before she reached the whiteboard, she stopped in her tracks and swung around so fast that the kid almost barrelled into her.
“Will there be any adults there?” she asked, her steely gaze meeting Rusty’s desperate one.
“No, I told you--”
Raydor waved her hand in the air. “You’re an intelligent boy, Rusty,” she drawled. “Why do you find it so difficult to understand the meaning of twenty-four hour adult supervision?” she asked with a quiver of her eyebrow.
“Yeah, but...”
She turned away again. Picking up a marker and tapping it against her thigh as she stared at a grisly photograph of a victim. I thought about reminding her that the kid shouldn’t be looking over her shoulder at such things.
“You could go with him, Captain,” beside me Sykes twittered, daring to enter into their debate.
“I’m already the new kid,” Rusty pointed out with a roll of his eyes “And now you’re suggesting I take a cop to crash a Halloween party?”
Sykes wheeled her chair around, not a nervous habit, I’d decided, but an immature one. She probably swung her legs in chairs too--difficult given her height.
“She could dress up. No one would even know.”
Unfortunately, at that exact moment, I’d been taking a sip of coffee. I made a choking noise and spat into my mug. “Are you suggesting a woman the age of the Captain here could pass as a teenager with a bit of makeup?” I asked, disbelieving. God, the woman was almost as old as I was!
Sharon Raydor swung around, her hands on her hips, and pinned me with a glare.
I soon noticed no one was willing to go out on a limb for me and my rash comment. Tao quickly opened up a suspect’s laptop and began scrolling through its settings. Sanchez placed his cellphone to his ear and stared at the far wall. Even Flynn, my best friend, decided he needed to shuffle through some papers on his desk.
Too late now. I bravely blustered on: “Sykes, your ass kissing has no bounds, does it?”
Raydor’s mouth twisted. “A little green paint on my face?” she suggested in a low tone and a jerk of her head.
I grimaced, knowing exactly what she was implying. Or was I implying it? One or the other...
“But why are you fighting about it anyway, Captain?” Sykes asked, ignoring the mood of her two superiors -- as usual. “Surely you and Rusty are both coming to Provenza’s party, right? Everyone got their invitation a couple of weeks ago,” she blurted out. “I’ve got my costume all sorted out. There’ll be some teenagers there for you, Rusty, and for the Captain...” Sykes bit down on her lip, her brow furrowing at the question of whom Raydor would be socializing with at my annual party.
Over Sykes’ head, Raydor’s gaze met mine again. “Luckily, I don’t particularly like Halloween,” she said. A nerve in her cheek twitched.
“What teenagers?” Rusty asked, shattering the tension once more. His interest switched as he quickly decided that any party would be better than none. "Is it dress up?”
I expelled a dramatic sigh. I guess I’d have to cough up an explanation. “Did it ever occur to you, Sykes, that the reason Captain Raydor never offered the alternative of my party to Rusty is because she wasn’t invited?” I growled.
Sykes screwed her face up. “Why not?”
“Because, Sykes, she’s my boss.” I spoke slowly, as if Sykes was an extremely young child. More often than not, she was. “And sometimes, Sykes, I like to party without my boss looking over my shoulder and quoting to me every police regulation I happen to be breaking.”
Raydor made a snorting sound.
Sykes turned and smiled at her. “You can just drop Rusty off. He can meet some new friends, and there will be several responsible adults supervising him.”
“A win/win situation,” Raydor offered dryly.
“Exactly!” Sykes trilled excitedly.
“Excellent,” Raydor murmured quietly. “Rusty, you should go and sit in the break room to do your homework. We’ll talk about this later.”
Rusty finally took the hint that the subject was closed and, with one last frustrated glance in Sharon’s direction, he stomped back to her office, gathered up his gear, and noisily relocated to the break room.
Raydor cleared her throat when he’d finally disappeared. “Lieutenant Tao, have you got that ballistics report back yet?” she asked.
No more mention of parties or invitations. I should be thankful. Yep, this was the Sharon Raydor I could almost put up with: all business.
*****
I leaned my hip against the kitchen counter as I poured myself a glass of wine.
Then, longingly, I contemplated the couch. How nice it would be to dim the lights, put on some music and stretch out on it. Not thinking for a while would be such a luxury.
“What time is Lieutenant Tao picking you up?” I asked, turning toward the corner of the living room. Yes, there was room enough for Rusty’s things if I placed them in a neat pile. Better yet, I could transfer them all to the spare bedroom while he was out--
“He’s not.”
“Oh?” I took a gulp of wine and felt my cheek twitch. “Who is?” I didn’t relish the idea of either Provenza or Flynn turning up at my door.
“No one. I’m not going.” He frowned across at me. “You didn’t notice I hadn’t changed,” he complained, tugging at the light blue polo t-shirt with St Joseph’s embroidered on its corner which he still wore.
“In my experience teenage boys don’t take as long to get ready as teenage girls,” I shot back in defense.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, flipping open the laptop his school had recently supplied him with, “I’m not going.”
“But...I thought you really wanted to go--”
“Yeah, well...” He shrugged.
“You’re not going to slip out in the middle of the night? Sneak off to that boy’s party--”
“No!” In his agitation, a small pile of clothes fell onto the floor from one end of the couch. I suppress the urge to pick them up, or to snap at him to do it. I have to remember he’s not my child. I have to remember to take things slowly.
“I’ve already told Sean I’m not going,” he grumbled, thankfully stretching out to pick up the clothes. Only he spoiled the effect by adding them to the mess of books, stationery and leftovers from his various snacks already vying for space on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry, Rusty,” I said, completely sincere. I wonder how many teenage parties he’s been to in the past. He’s spent so much time with adults. Ones that liked to party way too much, I’m sure. “Once the emergency--”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, returning his attention to the laptop screen. “I get it.”
I stared at the top of his head. His hair was sticking out in all directions. I was unsure whether he’d styled it this way deliberately, or the effect had been achieved from running his fingers through it in frustration. “I guess you’re a little old to go trick-or-treating...” I murmured, reminding myself yet again not to treat him like a child. Not a child. Not my child.
“I’ve never been trick-or-treating,” he said, so softly I had to lean forward to hear.
To hide my shock, I took another sip of the wine. It was a new riesling; one I’d never tried before. It was leaving a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. Just like Sharon Beck.
“Rusty--”
“We were always moving round; she couldn’t let me go out when she didn’t know the neighbors well enough. She was only protecting me.”
I licked my lips, the wine wasn’t bitter enough for comparing this time. Rusty’s excuses for his mother’s behavior were many and varied. And he genuinely believed every one.
“She couldn’t go with you?” I asked hesitantly.
“She usually worked on all the holidays.”
I thought about the occupations listed on Rusty’s mother’s file. The list of male names Sharon Beck had co-habitated with had looked much longer in print. The woman was unable to get one Halloween night off in sixteen years?
“Would you like to...” I paused, unsure what I was really going to offer. To take Rusty out to some nice neighborhood to knock on doors and...
The doorbell made us both jump.
“Talk of the devil,” I murmured, grabbing a bag of sweets I’d organized earlier. The intercom had remained silent, so our caller had to be one of the children who lived in the apartment block.
Just as we both expected, our guest cried ‘trick or treat’ as I opened the external door. The guest’s age, gruff voice and familiar stocky body topped with thick grey hair, however, were not quite so anticipated.
My jaw dropped. “I didn’t buzz you in...” I frowned, quite certain my comment should have been a statement, but somehow, embarrassingly, I’d made it sound like a question.
“I flashed my badge,” Provenza said unrepentantly, brushing past me--still clutching the bag of candy tightly against my chest--to enter my apartment. “Nice place,” he noted with a low whistle. “How much would a place like this cost--”
“Lieutenant?”
Provenza ignored my low tone and walked along the hallway. “Two bathrooms?” he asked, muttering calculations for property prices under his breath.
“Lieutenant!” I shouted when my second-in-command was getting alarmingly close to the master bedroom doorway.
Rusty exhaled audibly when my sharp tone this time stopped the lieutenant in his tracks.
“Yes,” Provenza said, keeping his tone deliberately vague I suspected as he glanced over his shoulder to where Rusty and I stood side by side. Rusty’s stance warmed my heart. His shoulders were back, his chest puffed out. He was ready to protect me? I didn’t need protecting, but it was nice to think he was going to try.
“Rusty called Tao, Tao called me.”
I blinked at Provenza’s cryptic comment.
“Anyway, have you got something you can use as a costume?”
I looked from Rusty to Provenza and then down at the candy I still held in my arms. For one horrible moment I thought I was going to dig around in the bag to find a Ding-Dong. I glanced toward the kitchen. Where had I put my wine?
“Captain,” Provenza prodded.
“You’re inviting me to your annual Halloween party?” I asked, uncertain.
“No. I make it a rule to never invite my superiors. No Pope, no Taylor.”
“But...”
“But, Rusty is invited, and as he has to be in your care...”
I gaped at Provenza. I’d had too much wine. I was misunderstanding. It was our MO after all, Provenza and I, to misunderstand each other.
“You’re inviting me to your annual Halloween party?” I repeated, wanting him to say the words.
“No!” he instantly denied. “Stop saying that and go and find something to wear!”
I held Provenza’s gaze for a long minute. I was wrong. He wasn’t going to say the words, but we were understanding each other.
“I’m not going without Sharon,” Rusty piped up.
“I know, kid. That’s why she’s got to go and find a costume.” Provenza shook his head. “Young people today. You have to explain everything to them,” he grumbled.
Rusty hesitated. “Sharon?”
I smiled over at him. “What were you planning on wearing to the party?” I asked. “Brice’s soccer outfit?”
I had found Brice’s old soccer uniform and offered it to Rusty to use as a costume a few day’s ago. Surprisingly, he’d readily accepted.
“Go and get changed,” I ordered quietly. Then, I turned to Provenza. “I can’t drive. I’ve been drinking--”
“Typical. Another drunk--”
“So we’ll need to get a lift with you,” I continued, ignoring his interruption, “and we’ll get a cab home.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this show on the road, shall we?”
I hummed and opened my mouth, but the doorbell rang just as I was about to offer some sort of snappy reply.
“That really will be trick-or-treaters.” I took a step closer and dumped my bag of goodies into Provenza’s arms. “I’ll get changed,” I said, ignoring his squeak of protest. “You dish out the candy.”
“What?” he screeched at my retreating back.
The doorbell echoed throughout the apartment again.
“All right!” he called. “Impatient!”
I smiled. I could be patient.
******
I prudently checked out the door’s peephole, and swung it open after I confirmed it was just kids waiting on the other side. Why had Sharon Raydor blithely opened it to me earlier, I wondered as I handed out the candy. I’d need to speak to her about that, I realized. She was the head of Major Crimes now, after all.
I shut the door and froze. She was the head of Major Crimes. I wasn’t. I was going to live with that?
I leaned against the door for a moment. “Don’t dress up like a hooker!” I called down the hallway. “Flynn’s a leg man! You don’t want to give him any ideas!”
She had good legs. And she was good to the kid. I opened the bag and drew out a stick of gum, chewing thoughtfully after I’d shoved it in my mouth.
I wasn’t ready to admit she was good at her job. And I was definitely not going to admit I was inviting her to my annual Halloween party...
“Hurry up!” I called. “We don’t wanna miss Sykes’ entrance!”
Women, I huffed to myself. Life would be so much less complicated without them. And yet...
The End