Laws of Attraction - Chapter Forty-Three: No Time Like the Present [Part One]
Title: Laws of Attraction
Author: Major Roon
Fandom: The Closer
Pairing: Brenda/Sharon
Rating: NC-17/M
Chapter Forty-Three:
No Time like the Present
Sharon balanced on her dining chair. She grunted indignantly as her fingers reached for the storage box that she had difficulty getting to every year.
With one final huff she pulled the box down and stepped off her chair, pleased.
It was Christmas and Sharon was looking forward to her family’s annual trip to Park City. During the year she didn’t particularly miss the snow or the cold but every Christmas she felt that yearning within herself, and the anticipation of the upcoming trip left her buzzing and, for her standards, rather bubbly.
Seeing her children for five uninterrupted days and having them pretty much to herself was perhaps the biggest joy.
Sharon opened the box and retrieved her jacket. She had bought it a month ago for the trip, her other having gone out of fashion which had been enough of an excuse to buy the new one even though that voice in the back of her mind had protested slightly at spending this much for a last season’s Peuterey.
The brunette folded the jacket and put it over the cast iron frame of her bed.
Sharon smiled a little as she closed her ready packed suitcase that laid on the covers.
Her cell phone decided to ring at that moment and disturb her pre-Christmas cheer. Sharon hoped it wasn’t Pope or her mother, again, to ask her to bring her something or other that she had forgotten.
Instead, Sharon realized with a sinking feeling, it was Chief Johnson.
She sat on the edge of the bed, slumping over a bit and took a deep breath, steeling herself.
“Raydor.”
“Cap’n,” Brenda said, “This is Chief Johnson.”
Really, Sharon rolled her eyes and pulled her glasses from her nose. “Chief, what can I do for you today?” She tried to be polite and patient, the latter requiring quite the amount of self-control whenever Little Miss Peachy was involved.
“We’ve got a situation.”
Sharon swallowed, her eyes closing in near-despair. “A situation?” She asked delicately, trying to remain on a respectful level with the woman because it gave her a certain sense of civilizedness that Sharon found to be lacking in the world, especially in her line of work.
“Well,” Chief Johnson went on too nonchalantly. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves an Officer involved...um...death.”
Sharon nodded slowly. “A death, Chief?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” she hummed and glanced at the clock. “I suppose I should have a look.” She got up and pulled her suitcase from the bed, extending the handle.
“Absolutely, Captain.”
Sharon took her down jacket and draped it over her arm. “I’ll meet you at the scene then.”
“Oh that won’t be necessary,” Brenda said quickly.
“And why is that?”
“It’s quite clear what happened...we’ve got video and b’sides, the scene has already been released.”
The brunette sighed and made her way to the front door. “Released? Chief, if I am to conduct a thorough investigation, I will need a scene.”
“Well...that’s too bad. Um, look, Sharon...this won’t take long, it’s open and shut but I still have to sign off on three reports for Chief Pope, god knows why he’s still workin’ and I have to pick my Momma and Daddy up from the airport.” Brenda sighed loudly. “I’d love to take this off your hands, even the coroner says the autopsy should be pretty conclusive but I’ve just don’t got the time.”
Sharon rolled her eyes. “And I don’t have time for your...endless tales of woe--”
“Tales of woe?!” Brenda screeched, scandalized. “This is a serious police matter.”
“Of course.”
“A man got run over by the LAPD, if that’s not serious then what is, Captain?”
Sharon locked her front door, pulling her suitcase along. “Run over?”
“Yes,” Brenda confirmed. “Splattered across the windshield.”
“Oh for god’s sake...” Sharon mumbled under her breath and proceeded to her Hyundai in the driveway. “I’ll be right there. And please, Chief, don’t...do anything else till I get there, okay?”
“Okay...I was just tryin’ to be helpful.”
“Well,” Sharon opened the trunk of her car. “Don’t.”
“Fine,” the blonde sounded contrite. “I’ll see you in the morgue.”
“Perfect,” she said, more to herself, and hung up.
Run over?
She sighed.
Wonderful.
***
Sometimes Sharon felt like a pushover.
Not that she could leave, mind you, Brenda was still her superior officer and her orders had to be followed...even when they were completely ludicrous, as far as Sharon was concerned.
Truth be told, she had a life and she hardly got to see her children as it was.
Her son called her once a week, relaying much about his work life, whereas his private life, and it was strange to think of your children having such, remained in the dark.
Sharon wasn’t sure whether he was merely being secretive about one thing or another that he felt too embarrassed to talk to his mother about or perhaps he just couldn’t talk to her, per se. Perhaps he talked to other people, perhaps he was a very talkative person usually, perhaps she had missed one Christmas too many.
Johnson could have taken care of it herself, Sharon concluded, staring down at the blood stained linen sheet wrapped around their dead body.
And so far, it was ‘their’ body because somebody had yet to claim it.
And usually that was Johnson.
Sharon released a slow, deliberate breath - she had to get rid of this case.
Admittedly, it wasn’t necessarily the honorable thing to do, and to think of him as a mere criminal, having attacked somebody with a knife, was morally reprehensible because most of the time Sharon did find herself on that side of the fence with her investigations whereas Johnson was on the other...far, far at that.
She listened to Brenda relay her tales of woe yet again, her parents were coming to town, it was Christmas, her squad had plans, blah, blah, blah. Sharon had heard it before. Brenda was, if anything, very predictable in her efforts to manipulate people.
Sometimes Sharon wondered how her husband dealt with that.
The blonde probably jerked him around as well.
She blinked.
It was reprehensible to think of it that way but that sordid thing they were doing had given her a lot of insight. She had always known how to push the woman’s buttons, that was fairly easy but funnily enough, Brenda knew how to push hers just as well; at least Sharon now knew what to say in order to get her way.
Sometimes Brenda was completely oblivious to how transparent she actually was.
“Chief, I sympathize but I’m leaving tomorrow to be with my mom and dad in Park City. My kids are already there and my dad is not feeling well and this may very well be his last Christmas.”
Brenda stared at her for a moment, Sharon could practically see the wheels turning which she knew meant that she had very likely won this round - Brenda just was weak when it came to fathers.
“I’m sure we can wrap this up by tonight.”
What? No!
“Detective Sanchez, get Dr. Morales for me, wherever he might be and you,” she meant Sharon, “get the dash cam from the patrol car and interview the officers--”
“And I get the guy who was attacked in an interview room right away.”
Gabriel finished her sentence and was on his way.
“And we’ll take a statement together.”
The instance Brenda smirked at her, Sharon knew that she was mocking her.
“Together?” She asked silkily, knowing that the blonde particularly enjoyed that tone of voice.
“Yes,” Brenda turned on her heel, expecting her to follow. “You even get to pick when to ask your questions.”
“Is that supposed to be my Christmas present?” Sharon put her hands in the pockets of her blazer, clicking and clacking after the woman.
“No, Cap’n.” Brenda said over her shoulder. “I got somethin’ else for you...”
***
As the interview unraveled some of the mysteries of the case, Sharon began to get the sinking feeling that she would not make her flight.
Everyone knew how Johnson was - that she worked tirelessly and perhaps somewhat obsessively to solve murders, and that she wouldn’t let anybody stand in the way of her investigations.
Not even Sharon’s sick ‘Daddy’ or Gabriel’s trip to Italy.
Her ‘Gabriel’, Sergeant Elliott, was at home. His first Christmas with his new baby and even though Sharon felt tempted to call him in and have him take over, she didn’t have the heart to take that away from him.
After all, she knew how it was to look back on several missed festivities over the years.
And she really couldn’t not show up this time.
Sharon felt like she owed it to herself as well. She had had a hard time lately and the fact that she had to stand next to the woman she was carrying on with didn’t help matters. She knew why Brenda needed this, Sharon wasn’t an idiot, but she couldn’t figure out why she herself couldn’t just end it.
It was clear that she had to do something about it, sooner rather than later really, or else she might not be able to look her parents in the eye.
And then her mother would prod and pester her until she gave it up and all hell would break loose.
No. Her lips would be sealed.
First she had to make sure that she even got there. The airline wanted $700 to change her ticket, which she would pay, but that was beside the point. She knew she had to take care of her duties but at that moment she wanted to throttle the woman following a good whack over the head with that hideous handbag.
Sometimes Brenda annoyed her more than other times and it was those occasions she wished she could cuff her to the bed again.
Sharon smirked to herself then smirked at Detective Sanchez...and his hat.
Everyone was ready for Christmas, everyone except Johnson.
She was always ready for a murder.
What a miserable existence that must be.
Sharon wanted to roll her eyes.
What in the world attracted her to the woman that even when she was being completely insufferable, Sharon couldn’t help but want her.
The brunette was seldom selfish, she made a point not to be, but Brenda was just something she wanted to have.
She took it. For once.
And it felt good.
Satisfying.
As Brenda sped down the hall to greet her parents in the ‘Murder Room’, as they called it, Sharon contemplated to just remain in the exact same spot.
Meeting her parents?
Out of the question but the way Sanchez eyed her up, as if he knew something, which he very likely didn’t, made Sharon feel just a tad uneasy.
She hurried after the woman then, Sanchez right behind her, and tried to come up with an impromptu game plan, improvise a nonchalant and entirely unsuspicious first meeting.
Her parents had no idea and Sharon tried not to let the guilty conscience show as her eyes zeroed in on Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.
She looked terribly sweet, Sharon thought, and it was apparent where Brenda got her sense of fashion from.
He looked imposing, like somebody you didn’t want to antagonize.
Sharon swallowed. She hadn’t even looked at Fritz yet. She couldn’t.
Some days were just better than others, some days she couldn’t even remember having slept with this man’s wife, some days it completely slipped her mind but others Sharon barely managed to look at him.
“I just wish we all could watch Lieutenant Provenza put on his Santa suit...”
The brunette took a breath upon which she realized that she had stopped breathing altogether.
“...and take all these toys to the needy children.”
So, that were the parents.
Brenda didn’t seem fazed at all.
Sharon wanted to disappear.
However, Brenda’s nonchalance calmed Sharon somewhat, oddly enough. She couldn’t help but admire her ability to become Daddy’s little girl, change personality, in the blink of an eye.
Was she genuine?
Sharon couldn’t tell.
The brunette felt a hot flush coming on, it was panic, she realized and even though she had wanted to remain silent and to simply wait it out, desperation made her do the craziest things.
Like entering a room with the parents and the husband of the woman she was carrying on with.
She was sleeping with Brenda Leigh Johnson. Not just the Chief, no, with an actual person who deceived her entire family and was even despicably good at it.
“Um, Chief Johnson...” Sharon said quietly, hoping to interrupt the cheerfulness and remind Brenda where they were at and what they were supposed to be doing.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Sharon almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then:
“Momma, Daddy, this is my Captain Raydor.”
Absolute silence. Sharon blinked.
“I-I mean, my friend, Captain Sharon...”
It just went from bad to worse. The brunette felt the blood drain from her face, the idea of whacking the blonde with her giant purse getting more and more appealing.
“I mean, my friend, Sharon Raydor.”
Her friend...Sharon Raydor. She glanced at Fritz.
Oh, yes, Sharon thought, swallowing convulsively. He was thinking it. And he didn’t even spare her a glance.
Sharon was pretty sure that the man hated her guts.
“We’ve been waitin’ to meet one of Brenda’s friends since she graduated high school.”
Any other day Sharon would be greatly amused at Brenda’s expense but not today. She glanced at Fritz again.
Her parents were absolutely lovely.
“Well, here I am.”
Sharon surprised even herself. She wasn’t a good liar, at least she liked to think so; being a good liar wasn’t something people prided themselves with.
“Wait a minute Clay; did you say Captain, as in you work here?”
The brunette nodded. “Yes, that’s right, Mrs. Johnson.” Manners. If Catholic school had taught her anything, it was manners. Sharon was glad for it, being able to fall back on proper mannerly conduct, ladylikeness, pleasantries even, was a great comfort.
“Ah, I see, her friend works here.” Mrs. Johnson said evenly.
A recurring theme then, Sharon noted.
“Please, call me Willie Rae. Brenda’s friends are my friends too.”
Sharon grasped the woman’s hand, plastering a smile onto her face. “Okay, Willie Rae.” It felt like an initiation yet she couldn’t help but think about her children, if somebody did that to them.
Not that Brenda wasn’t just as responsible but as a parent you were meant to overlook these things, or weren’t you?
Clay would skin her alive, Sharon was sure. And Fritz? He still hadn’t looked at her. Perhaps he felt superior because he had what he thought she wanted. It angered her slightly; she didn’t want anything though, he could have her, which sounded somewhat archaic but it wasn’t like Sharon was trying to ruin anything on purpose.
She just really wished they weren’t doing this.
It was detrimental to her mental health, one way or another which was the dilemma.
Sharon wanted to throw up as they finally made it out into the hallway. She felt like a dying swan which, perhaps verged on overly dramatic but she had been accused more than once to have a flair for it anyway.
She might as well wallow in it.
Brenda was quiet as they strode down the corridor; perhaps she realized she had messed up.
My Captain Raydor?
Freudian slip? Sharon wasn’t interested.
“Look--”
“Ah!” The brunette held up her hand; she wasn’t interested in that either. “Whatever it is, I do not want to hear it.”
She heard the blonde scoff loudly. “You won’t let me apologize? What kinda person are you?”
Sharon wanted to retort, despite herself - she didn’t talk back and she didn’t get into ridiculous arguments...except, of course, when Brenda was around because petty little fights were part of their daily routine.
She was sick of it.
“Half the time, you don’t even mean it.”
“I do so!” Brenda was about to grab her when an officer rounded the corner.
“Chief,” he said with a deep voice then glanced at her. Sharon made eye contact. He nodded at her, “Captain.” He couldn’t look away fast enough.
Sharon groaned internally; the story of her life.
“Look...Sharon.”
The brunette rummaged for her keycard - she had had it five minutes ago.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”
Sharon nodded, accepting the apology somewhat but in the pit of her stomach she felt that it wasn’t enough.
Sorry I got you into this mess.
Sorry you’re feeling so horrible because of me.
Sorry you liken yourself to a dying swan and blame everybody else but yourself.
The brunette swiped her keycard.
“I’m sorry,” she said as Brenda walked through the door. “I just really need to get away for Christmas.”
The blonde nodded. “To see your kids.”
Sharon sighed. “To see my kids.”
“Your son’s with the FBI, isn’t he?” Brenda started somewhat awkwardly. “What’s the other one doin’?”
The brunette smirked at the put on conversational tone; Brenda was just so obvious sometimes and Sharon had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that it was a rather endearing quality.
“Now, now, Brenda,” She patted the woman’s shoulder. “I really don’t appreciate nosiness. Especially from my friends.”
Part Two
Author: Major Roon
Fandom: The Closer
Pairing: Brenda/Sharon
Rating: NC-17/M
Chapter Forty-Three:
No Time like the Present
Sharon balanced on her dining chair. She grunted indignantly as her fingers reached for the storage box that she had difficulty getting to every year.
With one final huff she pulled the box down and stepped off her chair, pleased.
It was Christmas and Sharon was looking forward to her family’s annual trip to Park City. During the year she didn’t particularly miss the snow or the cold but every Christmas she felt that yearning within herself, and the anticipation of the upcoming trip left her buzzing and, for her standards, rather bubbly.
Seeing her children for five uninterrupted days and having them pretty much to herself was perhaps the biggest joy.
Sharon opened the box and retrieved her jacket. She had bought it a month ago for the trip, her other having gone out of fashion which had been enough of an excuse to buy the new one even though that voice in the back of her mind had protested slightly at spending this much for a last season’s Peuterey.
The brunette folded the jacket and put it over the cast iron frame of her bed.
Sharon smiled a little as she closed her ready packed suitcase that laid on the covers.
Her cell phone decided to ring at that moment and disturb her pre-Christmas cheer. Sharon hoped it wasn’t Pope or her mother, again, to ask her to bring her something or other that she had forgotten.
Instead, Sharon realized with a sinking feeling, it was Chief Johnson.
She sat on the edge of the bed, slumping over a bit and took a deep breath, steeling herself.
“Raydor.”
“Cap’n,” Brenda said, “This is Chief Johnson.”
Really, Sharon rolled her eyes and pulled her glasses from her nose. “Chief, what can I do for you today?” She tried to be polite and patient, the latter requiring quite the amount of self-control whenever Little Miss Peachy was involved.
“We’ve got a situation.”
Sharon swallowed, her eyes closing in near-despair. “A situation?” She asked delicately, trying to remain on a respectful level with the woman because it gave her a certain sense of civilizedness that Sharon found to be lacking in the world, especially in her line of work.
“Well,” Chief Johnson went on too nonchalantly. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves an Officer involved...um...death.”
Sharon nodded slowly. “A death, Chief?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” she hummed and glanced at the clock. “I suppose I should have a look.” She got up and pulled her suitcase from the bed, extending the handle.
“Absolutely, Captain.”
Sharon took her down jacket and draped it over her arm. “I’ll meet you at the scene then.”
“Oh that won’t be necessary,” Brenda said quickly.
“And why is that?”
“It’s quite clear what happened...we’ve got video and b’sides, the scene has already been released.”
The brunette sighed and made her way to the front door. “Released? Chief, if I am to conduct a thorough investigation, I will need a scene.”
“Well...that’s too bad. Um, look, Sharon...this won’t take long, it’s open and shut but I still have to sign off on three reports for Chief Pope, god knows why he’s still workin’ and I have to pick my Momma and Daddy up from the airport.” Brenda sighed loudly. “I’d love to take this off your hands, even the coroner says the autopsy should be pretty conclusive but I’ve just don’t got the time.”
Sharon rolled her eyes. “And I don’t have time for your...endless tales of woe--”
“Tales of woe?!” Brenda screeched, scandalized. “This is a serious police matter.”
“Of course.”
“A man got run over by the LAPD, if that’s not serious then what is, Captain?”
Sharon locked her front door, pulling her suitcase along. “Run over?”
“Yes,” Brenda confirmed. “Splattered across the windshield.”
“Oh for god’s sake...” Sharon mumbled under her breath and proceeded to her Hyundai in the driveway. “I’ll be right there. And please, Chief, don’t...do anything else till I get there, okay?”
“Okay...I was just tryin’ to be helpful.”
“Well,” Sharon opened the trunk of her car. “Don’t.”
“Fine,” the blonde sounded contrite. “I’ll see you in the morgue.”
“Perfect,” she said, more to herself, and hung up.
Run over?
She sighed.
Wonderful.
***
Sometimes Sharon felt like a pushover.
Not that she could leave, mind you, Brenda was still her superior officer and her orders had to be followed...even when they were completely ludicrous, as far as Sharon was concerned.
Truth be told, she had a life and she hardly got to see her children as it was.
Her son called her once a week, relaying much about his work life, whereas his private life, and it was strange to think of your children having such, remained in the dark.
Sharon wasn’t sure whether he was merely being secretive about one thing or another that he felt too embarrassed to talk to his mother about or perhaps he just couldn’t talk to her, per se. Perhaps he talked to other people, perhaps he was a very talkative person usually, perhaps she had missed one Christmas too many.
Johnson could have taken care of it herself, Sharon concluded, staring down at the blood stained linen sheet wrapped around their dead body.
And so far, it was ‘their’ body because somebody had yet to claim it.
And usually that was Johnson.
Sharon released a slow, deliberate breath - she had to get rid of this case.
Admittedly, it wasn’t necessarily the honorable thing to do, and to think of him as a mere criminal, having attacked somebody with a knife, was morally reprehensible because most of the time Sharon did find herself on that side of the fence with her investigations whereas Johnson was on the other...far, far at that.
She listened to Brenda relay her tales of woe yet again, her parents were coming to town, it was Christmas, her squad had plans, blah, blah, blah. Sharon had heard it before. Brenda was, if anything, very predictable in her efforts to manipulate people.
Sometimes Sharon wondered how her husband dealt with that.
The blonde probably jerked him around as well.
She blinked.
It was reprehensible to think of it that way but that sordid thing they were doing had given her a lot of insight. She had always known how to push the woman’s buttons, that was fairly easy but funnily enough, Brenda knew how to push hers just as well; at least Sharon now knew what to say in order to get her way.
Sometimes Brenda was completely oblivious to how transparent she actually was.
“Chief, I sympathize but I’m leaving tomorrow to be with my mom and dad in Park City. My kids are already there and my dad is not feeling well and this may very well be his last Christmas.”
Brenda stared at her for a moment, Sharon could practically see the wheels turning which she knew meant that she had very likely won this round - Brenda just was weak when it came to fathers.
“I’m sure we can wrap this up by tonight.”
What? No!
“Detective Sanchez, get Dr. Morales for me, wherever he might be and you,” she meant Sharon, “get the dash cam from the patrol car and interview the officers--”
“And I get the guy who was attacked in an interview room right away.”
Gabriel finished her sentence and was on his way.
“And we’ll take a statement together.”
The instance Brenda smirked at her, Sharon knew that she was mocking her.
“Together?” She asked silkily, knowing that the blonde particularly enjoyed that tone of voice.
“Yes,” Brenda turned on her heel, expecting her to follow. “You even get to pick when to ask your questions.”
“Is that supposed to be my Christmas present?” Sharon put her hands in the pockets of her blazer, clicking and clacking after the woman.
“No, Cap’n.” Brenda said over her shoulder. “I got somethin’ else for you...”
***
As the interview unraveled some of the mysteries of the case, Sharon began to get the sinking feeling that she would not make her flight.
Everyone knew how Johnson was - that she worked tirelessly and perhaps somewhat obsessively to solve murders, and that she wouldn’t let anybody stand in the way of her investigations.
Not even Sharon’s sick ‘Daddy’ or Gabriel’s trip to Italy.
Her ‘Gabriel’, Sergeant Elliott, was at home. His first Christmas with his new baby and even though Sharon felt tempted to call him in and have him take over, she didn’t have the heart to take that away from him.
After all, she knew how it was to look back on several missed festivities over the years.
And she really couldn’t not show up this time.
Sharon felt like she owed it to herself as well. She had had a hard time lately and the fact that she had to stand next to the woman she was carrying on with didn’t help matters. She knew why Brenda needed this, Sharon wasn’t an idiot, but she couldn’t figure out why she herself couldn’t just end it.
It was clear that she had to do something about it, sooner rather than later really, or else she might not be able to look her parents in the eye.
And then her mother would prod and pester her until she gave it up and all hell would break loose.
No. Her lips would be sealed.
First she had to make sure that she even got there. The airline wanted $700 to change her ticket, which she would pay, but that was beside the point. She knew she had to take care of her duties but at that moment she wanted to throttle the woman following a good whack over the head with that hideous handbag.
Sometimes Brenda annoyed her more than other times and it was those occasions she wished she could cuff her to the bed again.
Sharon smirked to herself then smirked at Detective Sanchez...and his hat.
Everyone was ready for Christmas, everyone except Johnson.
She was always ready for a murder.
What a miserable existence that must be.
Sharon wanted to roll her eyes.
What in the world attracted her to the woman that even when she was being completely insufferable, Sharon couldn’t help but want her.
The brunette was seldom selfish, she made a point not to be, but Brenda was just something she wanted to have.
She took it. For once.
And it felt good.
Satisfying.
As Brenda sped down the hall to greet her parents in the ‘Murder Room’, as they called it, Sharon contemplated to just remain in the exact same spot.
Meeting her parents?
Out of the question but the way Sanchez eyed her up, as if he knew something, which he very likely didn’t, made Sharon feel just a tad uneasy.
She hurried after the woman then, Sanchez right behind her, and tried to come up with an impromptu game plan, improvise a nonchalant and entirely unsuspicious first meeting.
Her parents had no idea and Sharon tried not to let the guilty conscience show as her eyes zeroed in on Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.
She looked terribly sweet, Sharon thought, and it was apparent where Brenda got her sense of fashion from.
He looked imposing, like somebody you didn’t want to antagonize.
Sharon swallowed. She hadn’t even looked at Fritz yet. She couldn’t.
Some days were just better than others, some days she couldn’t even remember having slept with this man’s wife, some days it completely slipped her mind but others Sharon barely managed to look at him.
“I just wish we all could watch Lieutenant Provenza put on his Santa suit...”
The brunette took a breath upon which she realized that she had stopped breathing altogether.
“...and take all these toys to the needy children.”
So, that were the parents.
Brenda didn’t seem fazed at all.
Sharon wanted to disappear.
However, Brenda’s nonchalance calmed Sharon somewhat, oddly enough. She couldn’t help but admire her ability to become Daddy’s little girl, change personality, in the blink of an eye.
Was she genuine?
Sharon couldn’t tell.
The brunette felt a hot flush coming on, it was panic, she realized and even though she had wanted to remain silent and to simply wait it out, desperation made her do the craziest things.
Like entering a room with the parents and the husband of the woman she was carrying on with.
She was sleeping with Brenda Leigh Johnson. Not just the Chief, no, with an actual person who deceived her entire family and was even despicably good at it.
“Um, Chief Johnson...” Sharon said quietly, hoping to interrupt the cheerfulness and remind Brenda where they were at and what they were supposed to be doing.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Sharon almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then:
“Momma, Daddy, this is my Captain Raydor.”
Absolute silence. Sharon blinked.
“I-I mean, my friend, Captain Sharon...”
It just went from bad to worse. The brunette felt the blood drain from her face, the idea of whacking the blonde with her giant purse getting more and more appealing.
“I mean, my friend, Sharon Raydor.”
Her friend...Sharon Raydor. She glanced at Fritz.
Oh, yes, Sharon thought, swallowing convulsively. He was thinking it. And he didn’t even spare her a glance.
Sharon was pretty sure that the man hated her guts.
“We’ve been waitin’ to meet one of Brenda’s friends since she graduated high school.”
Any other day Sharon would be greatly amused at Brenda’s expense but not today. She glanced at Fritz again.
Her parents were absolutely lovely.
“Well, here I am.”
Sharon surprised even herself. She wasn’t a good liar, at least she liked to think so; being a good liar wasn’t something people prided themselves with.
“Wait a minute Clay; did you say Captain, as in you work here?”
The brunette nodded. “Yes, that’s right, Mrs. Johnson.” Manners. If Catholic school had taught her anything, it was manners. Sharon was glad for it, being able to fall back on proper mannerly conduct, ladylikeness, pleasantries even, was a great comfort.
“Ah, I see, her friend works here.” Mrs. Johnson said evenly.
A recurring theme then, Sharon noted.
“Please, call me Willie Rae. Brenda’s friends are my friends too.”
Sharon grasped the woman’s hand, plastering a smile onto her face. “Okay, Willie Rae.” It felt like an initiation yet she couldn’t help but think about her children, if somebody did that to them.
Not that Brenda wasn’t just as responsible but as a parent you were meant to overlook these things, or weren’t you?
Clay would skin her alive, Sharon was sure. And Fritz? He still hadn’t looked at her. Perhaps he felt superior because he had what he thought she wanted. It angered her slightly; she didn’t want anything though, he could have her, which sounded somewhat archaic but it wasn’t like Sharon was trying to ruin anything on purpose.
She just really wished they weren’t doing this.
It was detrimental to her mental health, one way or another which was the dilemma.
Sharon wanted to throw up as they finally made it out into the hallway. She felt like a dying swan which, perhaps verged on overly dramatic but she had been accused more than once to have a flair for it anyway.
She might as well wallow in it.
Brenda was quiet as they strode down the corridor; perhaps she realized she had messed up.
My Captain Raydor?
Freudian slip? Sharon wasn’t interested.
“Look--”
“Ah!” The brunette held up her hand; she wasn’t interested in that either. “Whatever it is, I do not want to hear it.”
She heard the blonde scoff loudly. “You won’t let me apologize? What kinda person are you?”
Sharon wanted to retort, despite herself - she didn’t talk back and she didn’t get into ridiculous arguments...except, of course, when Brenda was around because petty little fights were part of their daily routine.
She was sick of it.
“Half the time, you don’t even mean it.”
“I do so!” Brenda was about to grab her when an officer rounded the corner.
“Chief,” he said with a deep voice then glanced at her. Sharon made eye contact. He nodded at her, “Captain.” He couldn’t look away fast enough.
Sharon groaned internally; the story of her life.
“Look...Sharon.”
The brunette rummaged for her keycard - she had had it five minutes ago.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”
Sharon nodded, accepting the apology somewhat but in the pit of her stomach she felt that it wasn’t enough.
Sorry I got you into this mess.
Sorry you’re feeling so horrible because of me.
Sorry you liken yourself to a dying swan and blame everybody else but yourself.
The brunette swiped her keycard.
“I’m sorry,” she said as Brenda walked through the door. “I just really need to get away for Christmas.”
The blonde nodded. “To see your kids.”
Sharon sighed. “To see my kids.”
“Your son’s with the FBI, isn’t he?” Brenda started somewhat awkwardly. “What’s the other one doin’?”
The brunette smirked at the put on conversational tone; Brenda was just so obvious sometimes and Sharon had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that it was a rather endearing quality.
“Now, now, Brenda,” She patted the woman’s shoulder. “I really don’t appreciate nosiness. Especially from my friends.”
Part Two