Since You Went Away - Chapter Eight: The Hustler
Title: Since You Went Away - Chapter Eight: The Hustler
Authors: i-must-go-first & UbiquitousMixie
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Rating: PG-13 (Overall M)
Word Count: 5805
Disclaimer: Not ours. Please don’t sue.
Summary: A late-night craving and a coincidental meeting lead a certain deputy chief to discover that there’s much more to the inimitable Captain Raydor than meets the eye, and to realize that her mama was right: sometimes all a single woman really needs is a good girlfriend.
Authors’ Note: Once again, we’re very sorry about the delay between chapters. Here’s the newest installment, wherein you can decide if Brenda and Sharon made Santa’s “Naughty” or “Nice” list this year. Your comments are amazing--thank you for your continued support! Enjoy!
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Sharon was standing just inside the hallowed halls of Major Crimes, surveying a stunningly vacant, darkened murder room and trying to decide whether she could work up a really good measure of justified indignation or if she was just too tired when her phone chimed, signalling the arrival of a new text or email. She hesitated, trepidation edging her bone-deep weariness. If it was an email, it could be from Chief Pope. Commander Rames had been turning a mottled purple and making noises about going straight to the chief when Sharon had last seen the head of Vice an hour or so earlier. Could she pretend she was unavailable? Say she’d dropped her phone in the toilet, or something, and high-tail it home?
When the captain finally decided to retire, she’d go postal if some joker gave her a gold watch as a parting gift. When that day arrived, if ever it did, she fully intended to destroy every timepiece she owned and to avoid hearing the words “seventy-two-hour reporting cycle” ever again, even if it meant she’d have to shatter her own eardrums.
With a resigned sigh, she drew her phone from her bag and activated the screen. She relaxed fractionally when she saw the little text message envelope, and tapped it with her fingertip.
Hey! We’re having a celebratory drink at Malloy’s. Come by and then we’ll go to dinner.
The captain’s irritation ebbed. Brenda hadn’t forgotten about their plans after all, then, and Sharon could now admit to herself that she’d been looking forward to dinner and a movie with her friend as the reward at the end of this unexpectedly hellish week.
On the surface, Captain Raydor reacted with the same calm neutrality to each new investigation that crossed her desk, but privately she shuddered each time she had to tangle with Vice. It wasn’t that the division’s officers were especially corrupt -- that would’ve been a little too much of a cliche. They were, however, especially difficult to deal with, because they assumed that Raydor assumed they were all bent. The massive chip on their collective shoulders weighed Sharon down. And Commander Rames -- suffice it to say that she preferred Commander Taylor. She suspected Rames had seen one too many episodes of Miami Vice, and fancied himself a suave Don Johnson type, despite his potbelly and liver spots.
On second thought, the brunette wrinkled her nose. The last word she’d use to describe her current mood was ‘celebratory’, and if there were two individuals on God’s green earth sure to make her feel even less so, they were Louie Provenza and Andy Flynn.
Still, insisting that she’d just meet Brenda afterward would be churlish.
When Sharon darkened the doorway, so to speak, of Malloy’s, she always felt a little like an out-of-town gunslinger in an old John Ford movie. The place was unashamedly a cop bar, its walls decorated with photos of fallen men and women in blue, and there were always a few seconds of frozen hostility from the patrons before they went back to sipping their screwdrivers or slurping their beers. Tonight was no exception, but the captain was prepared. She surveyed the Friday night crowd and spotted several familiar faces, but not the ones she was looking for.
“Hey, Captain Raydor! Whatcha drinkin’?”
Mike Tao’s boisterous greeting was so unexpected, on multiple levels, that Sharon actually gave a little jump. “Hello, lieutenant,” she said, looking up at the man looming over her left shoulder and wondering how such a large man could move so stealthily.
“Everybody’s back there.” He jerked his thumb over his own left shoulder, indicating the alcove housing Malloy’s two weatherbeaten pool tables. “Playin’ pool. It’s my turn for a drink run. What’ll you have?”
“Oh, ah --” Sharon blinked, startled, and knew her glasses made her look particularly owlish. “That’s okay. I’ll get mine.”
Tao clapped a large hand on her blazer-clad shoulder. “No way, we’re celebrating! You a beer drinker? You don’t look like a beer drinker.”
“Whiskey,” Sharon responded vaguely. “Whiskey and Coke.” She was looking in the direction Tao had indicated; if she dodged slightly to the left, she could see that Flynn appeared to be running the table while Provenza scowled, one hand on his hip and a cue dangling forlornly from the other, and the others looked on and watched.
When Brenda Leigh leaned forward, contorting herself around Detective Gabriel, and called, “Yoohoo, Sharon!” the captain knew the deputy chief was a couple of drinks ahead of her.The little wave only confirmed it.The older woman focused on Brenda’s sunny smile, blocking out the much cooler responses of the men, as she walked over to join them.
“You made it,” Brenda said cheerfully, edging over so there was room for Sharon to lean against the wall beside her. “I was worried you wouldn’t get my text.”
“Congratulations on closing your case. I’d toast you, but --”
“The captain needs a drink!” Brenda cried, surprising her. “David --”
“No, no.” Sharon reached across the smaller woman, laying her hand on Gabriel’s sleeve. “Tao’s getting me one. He insisted.”
Brenda huffed. “Of course he insisted,” she retorted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world -- as if everyone in Major Crimes would be nothing but delighted to see Captain Raydor. Sharon snickered to herself. Chocolate eyes shifted back to the pool table and the chief called out, “Good game, Andy!” Sharon wondered if Brenda Leigh had been a cheerleader in high school. She could just picture it.
“Challenging all comers!” Flynn replied with a grin. “Anybody who actually knows how to play pool dare to take me on?”
Provenza folded his arms and grumbled, but brightened slightly when Tao tapped his shoulder with a cold longneck.
To everyone’s surprise, Brenda pushed herself away from the wall. “I will,” she said.
Sanchez raised his eyebrows. “You know how to play, chief?”
“Sure.” Brenda grinned, pushing up the sleeves of the teal sweater she wore with gray slacks. “I haven’t played in ages, but my daddy had a pool table down in the basement when I was growin’ up.”
Tao handed Sharon her whiskey and Coke and gave the chief what looked like vodka and lime. Brenda promptly gave hers to Sharon to hold, reaching to take the second cue from Provenza. “You ready, lieutenant?” At Flynn’s nod, she grinned and batted her long eyelashes. “Watch and learn, y’all.”
The men cheered sportingly, raising their glasses to the deputy chief’s success. Provenza patted Flynn apologetically on the back, reminding the younger lieutenant that allegiances were pledged to the woman in charge. Sharon hid a smirk in her glass as she took a sip of her drink, sucking her teeth as the alcohol pleasantly burned her throat. It settled warmly in the pit of her stomach and, as she quickly chased that sip with a larger one, Sharon decided to grant herself a night off.
She watched as Flynn twisted the blue chalk cube over the tip of his cue. “Whaddya say, chief - give it a blow for good luck?” He grinned lasciviously at her and Sharon nearly choked on her drink.
Brenda, for her part, merely laughed. “Ha! In your dreams!” She waved at Provenza. “Go on now.”
“I think not,” Provenza immediately said, plucking the chalk from Flynn’s hand and passing it to the deputy chief.
Brenda chuckled and, after powdering her cue, turned to Sharon. “What about you, captain?” Brenda asked, eyes twinkling as she held out her cue. “For luck?”
Ignoring the boorish whoops of the other men, Sharon licked her lips and leaned forward, locking eyes with the blonde as she puckered her lips together and blew away the excess chalk. She then leaned back against the wall, her cheeks hot and her belly hotter. She raised her glass to Brenda. “Good luck.”
The deputy chief turned back to the others with a broad, cocky grin. “Rack ‘em up.”
Sharon watched the scene with a momentary sense of detachment; though her own division maintained its own sense of camaraderie, she couldn’t remember the last time they’d all gone out as a group. It seemed that where Internal Affairs was concerned, most officers preferred to get as far away as possible from the job--and, subsequently, each other--as soon as they reached their down time. She didn’t blame them. She liked her co-workers, but she didn’t want to invite them into her personal life.
The members of Major Crimes, however, were incredibly tight-knit. Though she was an outsider looking in, Sharon was surprised that she no longer felt that imminent hostility and suspicion while in their presence. She didn’t feel particularly unwelcome. As she sucked back the rest of her drink, startled to have reached the bottom of the glass already, she mused over the possibility that the team had warmed up to her simply because Brenda had.
She looked at the woman in question, admiring the smooth lines of her body as she cleanly broke the balls, calling out “solids” as two slid effortlessly into the corner pockets. This wasn’t the quiet night Sharon had been looking forward to but she found that her disappointment was rapidly waning. She crunched on a piece of ice and asked a passing waiter for a refill.
“She may have you by the proverbial balls, my friend,” Provenza consoled as Brenda sank another ball on her next turn. Flynn’s confidence had simmered down considerably as his stripes managed to miss more often than not.
Sharon’s eyes focused once more on Brenda, studying the other woman’s form. She hadn’t decided whether the deputy chief was a decent player or if Flynn was simply distracted by the fluttering brown eyes of the younger woman. His crush was no secret and Sharon could barely suppress a laugh as she realized that Flynn would have been much worse off had Brenda been wearing a skirt. As it was, the lieutenant was lucky that Brenda was on the other side of the table; from where Sharon stood, she had the best vantage point and could easily see just how flattering Brenda’s gray pants were.
The waiter returned with Sharon’s refreshed drink and, not having realized she had been staring at her friend’s ass, she blinked and awkwardly thanked him.
Tao had taken Brenda’s spot leaning against the wall beside Sharon, and now he bent slightly toward her. “The chief has good form.”
“Yes,” the captain agreed, doing her best not to blush. Flynn made a shot, and Sharon turned her attention to the man beside her. “Do you play, lieutenant?”
“My name is Mike.”
If it had been anyone else, Sharon would’ve sworn he was flirting with her, but the open friendliness on Tao’s face spoke for itself. She smiled slightly, awkward, and sipped her drink. “Do you play, Mike?” she repeated.
“Not personally, no. But I appreciate the sheer beauty of the physical geometry involved. Now, see --” He gestured excitedly toward the game in progress. “See how Andy just missed that shot? That’s because he failed to correctly determine the angle of trajectory of the secondary mover -- that is, that blue ball there --”
Blue balls, Sharon thought with a little smirk, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t had time to eat lunch. Maybe she should order a bar snack, if Brenda wanted to stay for much longer.
Tao was still talking. “Lay off, Mike,” groused Provenza, sidling up to them. “If you bore Captain Raydor enough, she’ll probably audit us again.”
The captain folded her lips together to suppress a grin. “You never know,” she agreed. “Anything’s possible.”
“The captain,” murmured Gabriel, who seemed to be the most buttoned-up of the group, “needs another drink.” She was startled to see that she did, and looked around for at least a dish of peanuts or stale pretzels, something to have on her stomach, not that she felt she needed it. She felt just fine. “May I, ma’am?”
Sharon flashed him a smile, and judging by the look on the detective’s face, it was an unusual one. “Thank you, detective.”
“Do you play, captain?” asked Provenza’s gravelly voice.
“Oh, ah --” Maybe she needed that snack after all. Sharon knew her reflexes were off as she felt her eyes widen in slow motion.
“You should,” Tao chimed in. “It looks like this game’s almost over.”
Flynn grumbled something under his breath, and Provenza positively cackled.
“I don’t know what you’re so pleased about,” muttered the younger of the two lieutenants. “If the chief can beat me, imagine how badly she’d kick your ass.”
“Come on, Sharon,” Brenda called out, looking over her shoulder with a bright grin and batting her eyelashes. “I could use some real competition.”
“I don’t play,” the older woman replied. She contemplated the dregs of her second drink and pressed against the wall, as if hoping to fade out of sight.
“I’ll show you how!” Provenza exclaimed with a shadow of a leer, and Sharon thought, Monday someone will tell him he tried it on with the Wicked Witch, and he’ll never live it down. The man was definitely in his cups, but he was also the hero of the hour -- something about him running, or at least jogging.
“I don’t think she wants to be taught how to lose,” Flynn snorted. “I can help you out, captain.” He flashed her a grin and the wink he usually reserved for Brenda, and Sharon felt her lips part slightly in amazement.
“Come on, Sharon, play,” Brenda wheedled. “It’ll be fun.”
Perhaps incongruously, the captain flashed back to junior high gym class, when she’d been coerced into playing volleyball. “It’s a team sport,” her best friend, Emma Madison, had pointed out. “It can’t be that bad, Sharon. All you have to do is stand there.”
Sharon had given into peer pressure, and it had been that bad.
And this wasn’t even a team sport. She’d be expected to do more than stand there, wouldn’t she?
Before Sharon could point out that she hadn’t said she didn’t know how to play, just that she didn’t play, Brenda added, “And don’t worry, I can teach you.” You won’t have to let Flynn man-handle you, her expression seemed to say.
The green-eyed captain bit her lip and looked around at the expectant faces of the men surrounding her, and especially at the bright smile of the one woman. “I guess this means we’re not going to the 9:00 showing of The Artist,” she murmured.
“There’ll be other showin’s.” Brenda tossed back the remains of her drink and held the empty glass out to Sanchez. “Come on. It’ll be fun, really. I promise.”
Sharon swallowed, and then she tossed back the dregs of her drink as well. And then, for perhaps only the second time in fifty-four-plus years, Sharon Raydor gazed helplessly into the eyes of a good friend and spectacularly caved to peer pressure. “Okay,” she agreed. “I guess it might be fun, if you’re sure you can show me how.”
Brenda’s eyes twinkled, and she radiated confidence. “Of course I can. A Georgia girl like me, capt’n?” She looked from her cue to Sharon, as if sizing them both up. “It’s just another skills test. Just like the firin’ range.” The blonde swept her hair back and looked at her team. “Now, who’s gonna play against us?”
Sharon frowned. “I thought we were going to play each other.”
Dark chocolate eyes rolled toward the dingy ceiling. “How can I play against you when I’m showin’ you how to play?”
Flynn handed off his cue. “Proceed with caution,” he warned, eyeing the men around him. He reached into the various pockets on his side of the table, rolling the balls toward the rack that Tao had set on the felt tabletop.
Sharon looked around at each of them as if daring any of them to accept the challenge. Brenda’s self-assured, overly confident demeanor was infectious; it didn’t matter that Sharon was slightly lightheaded from the alcohol she’d consumed, or that Gabriel was on his way back with her third drink, or even that she wasn’t even a member of the cool kid’s club--it was on. She looked at Provenza.
The older lieutenant held up his hands in surrender. “I know better than to go up against the pair of you,” he added, feigning an exaggerated shudder. “Julio, take one for the team.”
Sanchez grinned and nodded, setting down his beer in order to grab himself a cue. “Who’s with me?”
Gabriel returned to their little corner of the rapidly-filling bar, setting down the three drinks he’d carried back with him. Everyone looked at him expectantly. He blanched. “Um. Did I miss something?”
Flynn snatched up the Coke that the detective had brought back, taking the plastic stirrer between his teeth. “You’re playing with Sanchez against the chief and Captain Raydor.”
A slightly panicked expression crossed over David’s face before he diplomatically loosened his tie and accepted the cue that Julio held out with a flourish.
Brenda turned to Sharon, quickly giving her a once-over. “First things first,” she said, her deft hands quickly plucking the two large buttons of Sharon’s blazer until it was hanging open. “Get this off and get comfortable. You look like you’re here to arrest us.”
“Maybe I should...” Sharon muttered, shrugging the jacket off nonetheless, revealing the snug white t-shirt she wore beneath. She draped the blazer over the back of a chair and gamely met the deputy chief’s gaze. “Better?”
Brenda’s eyes swept over the captain’s body, her gaze emboldened by the dangerous confidence-boosting powers of vodka. “Much. Now...you know how to hold the stick, right?”
Sharon smirked, plucking up Brenda’s cue where it rested against the table. “You mean the cue, right?”
The blonde waved off the mistake. “You gotta make sure you take a relaxed but firm stance with it. It’s not like a shotgun. You get all rigid and you’re gonna send balls flyin’ everywhere.”
Provenza and Flynn tittered on the other side of the table. Sharon shot them a warning glare and, to her immense satisfaction, they both side-shuffled over to the wall. She laughed, warmed by the throaty timbre of her own voice--when was the last time she had loosened up like this?--and demonstrated her form, cradling the wooden cue between her fingers.
“You’re bent over too far,” Brenda complained, coming around behind the captain. “Straighten your back a little,” she instructed, placing her hands on the captain’s hips. She tugged gently, pulling Sharon’s ass back against the cradle of her own hips, Sharon’s spine lengthening. “There...like that.”
Sharon flushed, feeling warm all over. When the chief lingered behind her for several minutes and the indistinct drone of nearby chatter filled her ears, the captain cleared her throat and stood. “Thank you for the demonstration,” Sharon added, cocking her hip slightly.
Brenda tilted her head, blonde curls sweeping over her shoulder, and grinned. “My pleasure.” She looked at their two opponents. “Y’all wanna break?”
Sanchez and Gabriel exchanged a glance. “Ladies first,” Gabriel offered, and Sanchez grinned mischievously.
The deputy chief nodded firmly and turned to the only other woman present. “Okay, Sharon.”
“Stripes or solids?” asked Sanchez, and Brenda looked at Sharon. “Solids,” the brunette replied, seemingly at random.
“Okay, now, wait.” Brenda reached around Sharon, her body covering the taller woman’s like a shield as she wrapped her right hand around Sharon’s right hand. “You’re gripping the cue too hard. Ease up on the shaft.”
Just off to her right, Sharon heard someone choke and splutter.
“Like that?”
“Yeah.” Sharon had to blow out a mouthful of blonde curls as Brenda positioned the captain’s left hand, helping her form a bridge. “You’re almost ready.” Brenda Leigh stood up straight, and Sharon immediately missed the warmth stretched along her spine. A trouser-clad knee nudged her inner thigh and she nearly fell over. “Widen your stance a little, and keep it firm, but don’t lock your knees.”
Sharon nodded. Locking her knees would be bad. If she locked her knees she might pass out, and that would be more embarrassing than when the volleyball in gym class had broken her glasses.
“Don’t worry too much about aimin’.”
Long, meticulously straightened chestnut hair fell over Sharon’s shoulder as she turned her head and pinned Brenda with an incredulous look.
“No, I mean it. The most important parts of the game are the grip and the stroke,” the blonde insisted confidently, and Sharon heard more spluttering.
“This is a trap,” Julio announced, ogling his opponents. He looked seriously at Gabriel. “You might have to go on without me.”
Gabriel nudged the shorter man in the ribs.
For Sharon’s part, she didn’t seem to notice the brief exchange. She felt entirely too aware of the chief’s body pressed against her own, and even more aware of the fact that she didn’t altogether dislike it. She was miles away from the frustrations that had plagued Captain Raydor only an hour before and now appeared to be plummeting headfirst into a whole bevy of new complications.
“Think you can handle this?” Brenda asked smoothly, her body heat causing Sharon to burn.
“You’d be surprised what I can handle,” Sharon replied with a smirk, shooting the cue with a quick motion of her hand. The balls clicked and scattered across the table and a yellow solid plunked into the side pocket.
Brenda jumped upright, clapping her hands together swiftly. “Yes! Jus’ like that!”
“Beginner’s luck,” declared Provenza from where he sat with his arms folded. “Don’t worry, boys.”
“I bet you can handle all kinds of things, can’t ya, Captain Raydor?” Flynn jeered teasingly, grinning at her from over Provenza’s shoulder. “I bet you’ve got plenty of experience.”
“Don’t you wish you knew?” Sharon returned, straightening and waiting for Brenda to take her shot. She made short work of a green solid, and her teammate murmured, “Very nice, chief.”
The casual bantering back and forth continued as they each sank another ball before Sharon missed, and then as David and Julio made a respectable showing in their own right. They weren’t too badly matched, despite Sharon’s vaunted status as a novice; Gabriel was only slightly better than the captain, and Sanchez didn’t have Brenda’s chops.
“‘Kay now, here.” Brenda again moved slightly behind Sharon, studying the table intently. “You’re gonna take this shot. See how those balls are lined up?” The deputy chief held her hand out, four fingers stiff and straight with her thumb tucked against her palm, indicating the red and dark green balls. “It’s a combination, see?”
The captain nodded mutely, her tongue peeking out to run across her lips.
“You have to picture the angle,” Tao spoke up helpfully, and Sharon nodded again. She knew that. She’d always been good at math.
“Think you can do it?”
The older woman opened her mouth to say she could, but what came out was, “You might need to help me.”
Brenda dimpled with pleasure, and it occurred to Sharon that it was the first time she’d ever actually asked the deputy chief to assist her with anything. Sharon wasn’t good at asking for help.
She’d thought she was prepared, but when Brenda’s hand rested on her hip, she jerked, and Brenda laughed. “Steady, now,” she admonished, giving said hip a little pat. “Nice and smooth, Sharon. Don’t rush it.”
Across the table, Gabriel and Sanchez exchanged a look of comical dismay. Was there any conceivable way that this was actually happening, or were they all involved in a mass hallucination?
“This one’s just a little more complex than the other shots you’ve been takin’, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you have to exert more force,” Brenda instructed, absently smoothing her hand up the other woman’s spine. “You don’t want to go ploughin’ into it; just finesse it.”
This time even Sharon’s lips parted in astonishment, and she craned her neck to get a glimpse of the woman hovering behind her. Surely Brenda Leigh realized how she sounded. She couldn’t just be oblivious to all those sexual double entendres... could she?
Brenda’s features scrunched petulantly as she frowned. “Concentrate,” she scolded, and the captain whipped her dark head back around. She was concentrating, just not on the game.
“Yeah, captain,” Andy snickered, “concentrate,” and Sharon leveled a glare at him.
“Bite me,” she suggested. “Or better yet, don’t. I haven’t had my tetanus or rabies shots recently.”
Tao and Provenza responded with identical high-pitched Oooh-oooh’s, and the chief’s grip on Sharon’s hip tightened. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Brenda exclaimed. “Just do it, would you? Get it in there!”
Sharon scratched.
“It’s all right,” Provenza intoned benevolently. “Not every woman knows how to handle her balls the way Chief Johnson does.”
The chief was too irritated by Sharon’s mistake to pay attention. “Sharon!” she exclaimed, planting her hands on her own hips this time. “You weren’t even tryin’!”
For her part, Sharon was only too glad to straighten, her face flushed with heat and embarrassment. She took a large step away from Brenda, trying to be subtle about it. “Sorry,” she muttered, but knew she didn’t sound it at all. Thank God their turn was finally over. She lifted a palm to her flaming cheek, and Brenda mistook the cause of her very noticeable flush.
“It’s okay,” the blonde resumed in a very different tone, smiling softly as she looked directly into Sharon’s eyes. “It’s just a game. We might even still win.”
The brunette smiled back weakly. “I think I need some air.”
“Are you all right?” Brenda asked, the playful tone of her voice suddenly serious.
Sharon waved her off. “I’m fine--just a little warm.”
“Me too. Let’s step outside for a minute, ‘kay?” Brenda motioned to Flynn. “C’mon, pinch hitter. We’re takin’ a breather.”
“How do you know what a pinch hitter is?” Provenza asked incredulously.
“More importantly,” Flynn butted in, “where are the two of you going?” His eyebrows climbed his forehead; the man was clearly trying not to waggle them suggestively.
“Girl talk,” Brenda replied with an impish smile. “You best not lose this game for us.”
“You got it, chief,” Flynn said, his grin persistent.
“We’ll be back in two shakes.” With that, Brenda grabbed Sharon’s hand and led the way to the front door. Sharon allowed herself to be pulled along.
The cool evening air was a welcome respite from the smoky, overcrowded atmosphere of the bar. Sharon retracted her hand as soon as the door shut behind them, sweeping her hair up into her palm to allow the breeze to whisper across her neck. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, focusing solely on her breath, hoping to reign in the ceaseless pounding of her heart.
“What’s goin’ on?” Brenda asked, closer to Sharon than she’d anticipated. “Hot flashes?”
Ha! Menopause! Sharon nearly laughed. “Something like that.” Her head spun dizzily and she thought longingly of Saltines.
“I know how you feel. All those people in there doesn’t help any, does it?”
Sharon simply nodded.
“Havin’ fun?”
“It’s certainly a change of pace.”
“You and I both know that’s not an answer. You seemed like you were havin’ a good time, bein’ a good sport about everythin’...”
Sharon opened her eyes, allowing her hair to fall back across her shoulders. Brenda’s face, which had been so peacefully relaxed, was now fraught with tension. “I am having a good time. It’s just not what I expected this evening.”
The blonde laughed breathlessly. “I know...it’s not what I expected either. They’ve been teasin’ me lately. They called me a prude, would you believe it?”
Sharon raised an eyebrow, comprehension slowly dawning. “Honestly, yes.”
Brenda swatted at Sharon’s arm. “Oh you.” She sighed. “When they suggested comin’ here to celebrate, I just knew I could get them back and I just knew you’d play along.”
The brunette swallowed an uncomfortable sensation, something that vaguely resembled disappointment and resentment and tipsy indignation. As soon as she recognized it, it was gone. “I thought you were being particularly wanton this evening,” she observed.
“Well, I didn’t think you’d mind, seein’ how you wanna date me an’ all.” Brenda winked and Sharon groaned.
“Right. Yes. That’s it exactly.” Sharon eyed the building, deciding she’d rather face Gabriel and Sanchez now that she was fully apprised of the secondary game that the deputy chief had forgotten to tell her about. “Shall we head back inside?”
Brenda nodded. “Guess it doesn’t help that I’m feelin’ a little frisky these days,” she added, moving toward the door. “Maybe later, when we get outta here, you can give me some advice on...” She lowered her voice “...vibrators.”
And, just like that, heat burned Sharon’s face.
As they traipsed through the main area of the bar, Sharon grabbed the sleeve of a passing server, and before she could open her mouth the smiling young man asked, “Whiskey and Coke, right?”
“And a vodka and lime,” Brenda Leigh piped up from over her shoulder, and Sharon smirked. Maybe she should tell him to make the chief’s a double.
Brenda had complimented her on being a good sport, which was all well and good, except the older woman couldn’t shake the unpleasant feeling that she was also the butt of the joke. She knew that wasn’t how the deputy chief had intended it; in the blonde’s mind, it was the two of them versus the rest of Major Crimes, teaching all those men a lesson. Getting their Thelma and Louise on, or whatever.
But Sharon hadn’t gotten the memo. It was that damn junior high volleyball game all over again. Her glasses were intact this time, but here she was, so flustered by her friend being so unexpectedly -- well, handsy -- that she was reduced to blaming her response on menopause. It was a less-than-dignified position in which to find herself. Maybe, she thought grimly, she should’ve let Andy Flynn be her instructor after all; at least that way she would’ve known exactly what she was in for.
In the back of her mind, a small voice informed Sharon Raydor that she really needed to get laid. Humiliatingly, the voice sounded suspiciously like her son’s. She ignored it.
Whiskey and Coke in hand, she had a plan. The captain was going to get her own back.
Lieutenant Flynn was leaning over to take a shot while Sanchez and Gabriel looked on, Gabriel taking a pull from an imported beer and Sanchez sipping on something that looked dark brown and deadly. Sharon didn’t break her stride, gaining speed as she approached.
“Step aside, lieutenant,” she barked in her full-on Captain Raydor voice, one Flynn was a little too accustomed to hearing, and he responded instinctively, standing up straight and actually lifting one hand in the air. She fleetingly wished she could see Brenda’s no-doubt startled expression, but the looks on the faces of the men in front of her gave her a reasonable idea of what her friend’s mobile features were doing.
“Need that,” she continued in the same tone of command, snapping her fingers. A bewildered, half-admiring Flynn handed over his cue, and she glimpsed Provenza’s exaggerated moue of dismay. She pivoted, pointing one manicured finger straight at Lieutenant Tao. “Rack ‘em up, Mike.”
As the astonished Tao hastened to comply, Sharon transferred all her weight to one foot, lowered one hand to her hip in her best bad-ass pose, and fervently prayed she wasn’t about to make a complete ass of herself.
Brenda sidled up alongside her, tapping her restless fingers against her glass. Her expression was one of bemused interest and she raised an eyebrow. “Goin’ on your own already?”
“Oh I think I can handle it,” Sharon said dismissively, watching as Tao compulsively spun each of the balls until the numbers were displayed on top.
“You didn’t like bein’ my partner?” Brenda asked, tilting her head. She swung her hips gently and Sharon wondered if this was Brenda’s own flirtatious nature or if she was simply continuing to put on a show.
“Ready for you, captain,” Tao announced, removing the rack cleanly from the table.
Sharon bared her teeth in a dangerous smile. She leaned in close to Brenda’s face, brushing aside an errant lock of hair in order to get closer to her ear. “It’s showtime, Brenda Leigh,” she whispered, her voice low and husky. Sharon took a particular thrill in the noticeable shiver that coursed over the younger woman’s body. Without further preamble, Sharon turned her attention to the table.
“I don’t like the look of this,” Provenza muttered. “I don’t like this at all.”
Brenda laughed and rolled her eyes. “She’ll be just fine,” she cooed, appreciatively eyeing the older woman’s form in lining up her cue with the cue ball.
“I’ve known this woman a lot longer than you have, chief,” Provenza replied, pointing at the captain. “She’s sneaky. Mark my words--she’s got something up her sleeve.”
Sharon merely smirked as she took her first shot, pocketing two stripes and a solid right away. She caught Brenda’s impressed grin and shifted to the other side of the table, sending the cue ball into a flawless combination shot.
Brenda gaped.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Provenza announced, “I think we’ve been hustled.”
The blonde watched as the captain moved seamlessly around the table, sinking her shots as if she had been playing for years. It occurred to Brenda through the hazy fog of tipsy exhilaration that Sharon had said she didn’t play, not that she couldn’t. The look of stern concentration on her friend’s face as she plotted her next shot was nearly as sexy than her cool, flirtatious confidence, if not moreso.
Brenda hadn’t thought twice about the fact that Sharon had so easily entrusted her with the task of teaching her how to play; she’d been too caught up in the thrill of tempting the other woman with innuendo, too wrapped up in seeing just how far she was able to tease the captain until she broke. It had been far more intoxicating than her limey beverage to see the woman let her hair down. For a woman plagued with her own burgeoning sexual frustration, Brenda had noticed it immediately in her friend and had poked and prodded her inhibitions until Sharon was practically oozing sensuality.
She had hoped to prove a point to her men that she was not a prude, but she was forced to admit that she had proven something entirely different: that Sharon Raydor--the woman, not the captain--was a tempting prospect indeed. She could only imagine what she’d overhear them saying on Monday morning.
---
Authors: i-must-go-first & UbiquitousMixie
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Rating: PG-13 (Overall M)
Word Count: 5805
Disclaimer: Not ours. Please don’t sue.
Summary: A late-night craving and a coincidental meeting lead a certain deputy chief to discover that there’s much more to the inimitable Captain Raydor than meets the eye, and to realize that her mama was right: sometimes all a single woman really needs is a good girlfriend.
Authors’ Note: Once again, we’re very sorry about the delay between chapters. Here’s the newest installment, wherein you can decide if Brenda and Sharon made Santa’s “Naughty” or “Nice” list this year. Your comments are amazing--thank you for your continued support! Enjoy!
-
Sharon was standing just inside the hallowed halls of Major Crimes, surveying a stunningly vacant, darkened murder room and trying to decide whether she could work up a really good measure of justified indignation or if she was just too tired when her phone chimed, signalling the arrival of a new text or email. She hesitated, trepidation edging her bone-deep weariness. If it was an email, it could be from Chief Pope. Commander Rames had been turning a mottled purple and making noises about going straight to the chief when Sharon had last seen the head of Vice an hour or so earlier. Could she pretend she was unavailable? Say she’d dropped her phone in the toilet, or something, and high-tail it home?
When the captain finally decided to retire, she’d go postal if some joker gave her a gold watch as a parting gift. When that day arrived, if ever it did, she fully intended to destroy every timepiece she owned and to avoid hearing the words “seventy-two-hour reporting cycle” ever again, even if it meant she’d have to shatter her own eardrums.
With a resigned sigh, she drew her phone from her bag and activated the screen. She relaxed fractionally when she saw the little text message envelope, and tapped it with her fingertip.
Hey! We’re having a celebratory drink at Malloy’s. Come by and then we’ll go to dinner.
The captain’s irritation ebbed. Brenda hadn’t forgotten about their plans after all, then, and Sharon could now admit to herself that she’d been looking forward to dinner and a movie with her friend as the reward at the end of this unexpectedly hellish week.
On the surface, Captain Raydor reacted with the same calm neutrality to each new investigation that crossed her desk, but privately she shuddered each time she had to tangle with Vice. It wasn’t that the division’s officers were especially corrupt -- that would’ve been a little too much of a cliche. They were, however, especially difficult to deal with, because they assumed that Raydor assumed they were all bent. The massive chip on their collective shoulders weighed Sharon down. And Commander Rames -- suffice it to say that she preferred Commander Taylor. She suspected Rames had seen one too many episodes of Miami Vice, and fancied himself a suave Don Johnson type, despite his potbelly and liver spots.
On second thought, the brunette wrinkled her nose. The last word she’d use to describe her current mood was ‘celebratory’, and if there were two individuals on God’s green earth sure to make her feel even less so, they were Louie Provenza and Andy Flynn.
Still, insisting that she’d just meet Brenda afterward would be churlish.
When Sharon darkened the doorway, so to speak, of Malloy’s, she always felt a little like an out-of-town gunslinger in an old John Ford movie. The place was unashamedly a cop bar, its walls decorated with photos of fallen men and women in blue, and there were always a few seconds of frozen hostility from the patrons before they went back to sipping their screwdrivers or slurping their beers. Tonight was no exception, but the captain was prepared. She surveyed the Friday night crowd and spotted several familiar faces, but not the ones she was looking for.
“Hey, Captain Raydor! Whatcha drinkin’?”
Mike Tao’s boisterous greeting was so unexpected, on multiple levels, that Sharon actually gave a little jump. “Hello, lieutenant,” she said, looking up at the man looming over her left shoulder and wondering how such a large man could move so stealthily.
“Everybody’s back there.” He jerked his thumb over his own left shoulder, indicating the alcove housing Malloy’s two weatherbeaten pool tables. “Playin’ pool. It’s my turn for a drink run. What’ll you have?”
“Oh, ah --” Sharon blinked, startled, and knew her glasses made her look particularly owlish. “That’s okay. I’ll get mine.”
Tao clapped a large hand on her blazer-clad shoulder. “No way, we’re celebrating! You a beer drinker? You don’t look like a beer drinker.”
“Whiskey,” Sharon responded vaguely. “Whiskey and Coke.” She was looking in the direction Tao had indicated; if she dodged slightly to the left, she could see that Flynn appeared to be running the table while Provenza scowled, one hand on his hip and a cue dangling forlornly from the other, and the others looked on and watched.
When Brenda Leigh leaned forward, contorting herself around Detective Gabriel, and called, “Yoohoo, Sharon!” the captain knew the deputy chief was a couple of drinks ahead of her.The little wave only confirmed it.The older woman focused on Brenda’s sunny smile, blocking out the much cooler responses of the men, as she walked over to join them.
“You made it,” Brenda said cheerfully, edging over so there was room for Sharon to lean against the wall beside her. “I was worried you wouldn’t get my text.”
“Congratulations on closing your case. I’d toast you, but --”
“The captain needs a drink!” Brenda cried, surprising her. “David --”
“No, no.” Sharon reached across the smaller woman, laying her hand on Gabriel’s sleeve. “Tao’s getting me one. He insisted.”
Brenda huffed. “Of course he insisted,” she retorted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world -- as if everyone in Major Crimes would be nothing but delighted to see Captain Raydor. Sharon snickered to herself. Chocolate eyes shifted back to the pool table and the chief called out, “Good game, Andy!” Sharon wondered if Brenda Leigh had been a cheerleader in high school. She could just picture it.
“Challenging all comers!” Flynn replied with a grin. “Anybody who actually knows how to play pool dare to take me on?”
Provenza folded his arms and grumbled, but brightened slightly when Tao tapped his shoulder with a cold longneck.
To everyone’s surprise, Brenda pushed herself away from the wall. “I will,” she said.
Sanchez raised his eyebrows. “You know how to play, chief?”
“Sure.” Brenda grinned, pushing up the sleeves of the teal sweater she wore with gray slacks. “I haven’t played in ages, but my daddy had a pool table down in the basement when I was growin’ up.”
Tao handed Sharon her whiskey and Coke and gave the chief what looked like vodka and lime. Brenda promptly gave hers to Sharon to hold, reaching to take the second cue from Provenza. “You ready, lieutenant?” At Flynn’s nod, she grinned and batted her long eyelashes. “Watch and learn, y’all.”
The men cheered sportingly, raising their glasses to the deputy chief’s success. Provenza patted Flynn apologetically on the back, reminding the younger lieutenant that allegiances were pledged to the woman in charge. Sharon hid a smirk in her glass as she took a sip of her drink, sucking her teeth as the alcohol pleasantly burned her throat. It settled warmly in the pit of her stomach and, as she quickly chased that sip with a larger one, Sharon decided to grant herself a night off.
She watched as Flynn twisted the blue chalk cube over the tip of his cue. “Whaddya say, chief - give it a blow for good luck?” He grinned lasciviously at her and Sharon nearly choked on her drink.
Brenda, for her part, merely laughed. “Ha! In your dreams!” She waved at Provenza. “Go on now.”
“I think not,” Provenza immediately said, plucking the chalk from Flynn’s hand and passing it to the deputy chief.
Brenda chuckled and, after powdering her cue, turned to Sharon. “What about you, captain?” Brenda asked, eyes twinkling as she held out her cue. “For luck?”
Ignoring the boorish whoops of the other men, Sharon licked her lips and leaned forward, locking eyes with the blonde as she puckered her lips together and blew away the excess chalk. She then leaned back against the wall, her cheeks hot and her belly hotter. She raised her glass to Brenda. “Good luck.”
The deputy chief turned back to the others with a broad, cocky grin. “Rack ‘em up.”
Sharon watched the scene with a momentary sense of detachment; though her own division maintained its own sense of camaraderie, she couldn’t remember the last time they’d all gone out as a group. It seemed that where Internal Affairs was concerned, most officers preferred to get as far away as possible from the job--and, subsequently, each other--as soon as they reached their down time. She didn’t blame them. She liked her co-workers, but she didn’t want to invite them into her personal life.
The members of Major Crimes, however, were incredibly tight-knit. Though she was an outsider looking in, Sharon was surprised that she no longer felt that imminent hostility and suspicion while in their presence. She didn’t feel particularly unwelcome. As she sucked back the rest of her drink, startled to have reached the bottom of the glass already, she mused over the possibility that the team had warmed up to her simply because Brenda had.
She looked at the woman in question, admiring the smooth lines of her body as she cleanly broke the balls, calling out “solids” as two slid effortlessly into the corner pockets. This wasn’t the quiet night Sharon had been looking forward to but she found that her disappointment was rapidly waning. She crunched on a piece of ice and asked a passing waiter for a refill.
“She may have you by the proverbial balls, my friend,” Provenza consoled as Brenda sank another ball on her next turn. Flynn’s confidence had simmered down considerably as his stripes managed to miss more often than not.
Sharon’s eyes focused once more on Brenda, studying the other woman’s form. She hadn’t decided whether the deputy chief was a decent player or if Flynn was simply distracted by the fluttering brown eyes of the younger woman. His crush was no secret and Sharon could barely suppress a laugh as she realized that Flynn would have been much worse off had Brenda been wearing a skirt. As it was, the lieutenant was lucky that Brenda was on the other side of the table; from where Sharon stood, she had the best vantage point and could easily see just how flattering Brenda’s gray pants were.
The waiter returned with Sharon’s refreshed drink and, not having realized she had been staring at her friend’s ass, she blinked and awkwardly thanked him.
Tao had taken Brenda’s spot leaning against the wall beside Sharon, and now he bent slightly toward her. “The chief has good form.”
“Yes,” the captain agreed, doing her best not to blush. Flynn made a shot, and Sharon turned her attention to the man beside her. “Do you play, lieutenant?”
“My name is Mike.”
If it had been anyone else, Sharon would’ve sworn he was flirting with her, but the open friendliness on Tao’s face spoke for itself. She smiled slightly, awkward, and sipped her drink. “Do you play, Mike?” she repeated.
“Not personally, no. But I appreciate the sheer beauty of the physical geometry involved. Now, see --” He gestured excitedly toward the game in progress. “See how Andy just missed that shot? That’s because he failed to correctly determine the angle of trajectory of the secondary mover -- that is, that blue ball there --”
Blue balls, Sharon thought with a little smirk, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t had time to eat lunch. Maybe she should order a bar snack, if Brenda wanted to stay for much longer.
Tao was still talking. “Lay off, Mike,” groused Provenza, sidling up to them. “If you bore Captain Raydor enough, she’ll probably audit us again.”
The captain folded her lips together to suppress a grin. “You never know,” she agreed. “Anything’s possible.”
“The captain,” murmured Gabriel, who seemed to be the most buttoned-up of the group, “needs another drink.” She was startled to see that she did, and looked around for at least a dish of peanuts or stale pretzels, something to have on her stomach, not that she felt she needed it. She felt just fine. “May I, ma’am?”
Sharon flashed him a smile, and judging by the look on the detective’s face, it was an unusual one. “Thank you, detective.”
“Do you play, captain?” asked Provenza’s gravelly voice.
“Oh, ah --” Maybe she needed that snack after all. Sharon knew her reflexes were off as she felt her eyes widen in slow motion.
“You should,” Tao chimed in. “It looks like this game’s almost over.”
Flynn grumbled something under his breath, and Provenza positively cackled.
“I don’t know what you’re so pleased about,” muttered the younger of the two lieutenants. “If the chief can beat me, imagine how badly she’d kick your ass.”
“Come on, Sharon,” Brenda called out, looking over her shoulder with a bright grin and batting her eyelashes. “I could use some real competition.”
“I don’t play,” the older woman replied. She contemplated the dregs of her second drink and pressed against the wall, as if hoping to fade out of sight.
“I’ll show you how!” Provenza exclaimed with a shadow of a leer, and Sharon thought, Monday someone will tell him he tried it on with the Wicked Witch, and he’ll never live it down. The man was definitely in his cups, but he was also the hero of the hour -- something about him running, or at least jogging.
“I don’t think she wants to be taught how to lose,” Flynn snorted. “I can help you out, captain.” He flashed her a grin and the wink he usually reserved for Brenda, and Sharon felt her lips part slightly in amazement.
“Come on, Sharon, play,” Brenda wheedled. “It’ll be fun.”
Perhaps incongruously, the captain flashed back to junior high gym class, when she’d been coerced into playing volleyball. “It’s a team sport,” her best friend, Emma Madison, had pointed out. “It can’t be that bad, Sharon. All you have to do is stand there.”
Sharon had given into peer pressure, and it had been that bad.
And this wasn’t even a team sport. She’d be expected to do more than stand there, wouldn’t she?
Before Sharon could point out that she hadn’t said she didn’t know how to play, just that she didn’t play, Brenda added, “And don’t worry, I can teach you.” You won’t have to let Flynn man-handle you, her expression seemed to say.
The green-eyed captain bit her lip and looked around at the expectant faces of the men surrounding her, and especially at the bright smile of the one woman. “I guess this means we’re not going to the 9:00 showing of The Artist,” she murmured.
“There’ll be other showin’s.” Brenda tossed back the remains of her drink and held the empty glass out to Sanchez. “Come on. It’ll be fun, really. I promise.”
Sharon swallowed, and then she tossed back the dregs of her drink as well. And then, for perhaps only the second time in fifty-four-plus years, Sharon Raydor gazed helplessly into the eyes of a good friend and spectacularly caved to peer pressure. “Okay,” she agreed. “I guess it might be fun, if you’re sure you can show me how.”
Brenda’s eyes twinkled, and she radiated confidence. “Of course I can. A Georgia girl like me, capt’n?” She looked from her cue to Sharon, as if sizing them both up. “It’s just another skills test. Just like the firin’ range.” The blonde swept her hair back and looked at her team. “Now, who’s gonna play against us?”
Sharon frowned. “I thought we were going to play each other.”
Dark chocolate eyes rolled toward the dingy ceiling. “How can I play against you when I’m showin’ you how to play?”
Flynn handed off his cue. “Proceed with caution,” he warned, eyeing the men around him. He reached into the various pockets on his side of the table, rolling the balls toward the rack that Tao had set on the felt tabletop.
Sharon looked around at each of them as if daring any of them to accept the challenge. Brenda’s self-assured, overly confident demeanor was infectious; it didn’t matter that Sharon was slightly lightheaded from the alcohol she’d consumed, or that Gabriel was on his way back with her third drink, or even that she wasn’t even a member of the cool kid’s club--it was on. She looked at Provenza.
The older lieutenant held up his hands in surrender. “I know better than to go up against the pair of you,” he added, feigning an exaggerated shudder. “Julio, take one for the team.”
Sanchez grinned and nodded, setting down his beer in order to grab himself a cue. “Who’s with me?”
Gabriel returned to their little corner of the rapidly-filling bar, setting down the three drinks he’d carried back with him. Everyone looked at him expectantly. He blanched. “Um. Did I miss something?”
Flynn snatched up the Coke that the detective had brought back, taking the plastic stirrer between his teeth. “You’re playing with Sanchez against the chief and Captain Raydor.”
A slightly panicked expression crossed over David’s face before he diplomatically loosened his tie and accepted the cue that Julio held out with a flourish.
Brenda turned to Sharon, quickly giving her a once-over. “First things first,” she said, her deft hands quickly plucking the two large buttons of Sharon’s blazer until it was hanging open. “Get this off and get comfortable. You look like you’re here to arrest us.”
“Maybe I should...” Sharon muttered, shrugging the jacket off nonetheless, revealing the snug white t-shirt she wore beneath. She draped the blazer over the back of a chair and gamely met the deputy chief’s gaze. “Better?”
Brenda’s eyes swept over the captain’s body, her gaze emboldened by the dangerous confidence-boosting powers of vodka. “Much. Now...you know how to hold the stick, right?”
Sharon smirked, plucking up Brenda’s cue where it rested against the table. “You mean the cue, right?”
The blonde waved off the mistake. “You gotta make sure you take a relaxed but firm stance with it. It’s not like a shotgun. You get all rigid and you’re gonna send balls flyin’ everywhere.”
Provenza and Flynn tittered on the other side of the table. Sharon shot them a warning glare and, to her immense satisfaction, they both side-shuffled over to the wall. She laughed, warmed by the throaty timbre of her own voice--when was the last time she had loosened up like this?--and demonstrated her form, cradling the wooden cue between her fingers.
“You’re bent over too far,” Brenda complained, coming around behind the captain. “Straighten your back a little,” she instructed, placing her hands on the captain’s hips. She tugged gently, pulling Sharon’s ass back against the cradle of her own hips, Sharon’s spine lengthening. “There...like that.”
Sharon flushed, feeling warm all over. When the chief lingered behind her for several minutes and the indistinct drone of nearby chatter filled her ears, the captain cleared her throat and stood. “Thank you for the demonstration,” Sharon added, cocking her hip slightly.
Brenda tilted her head, blonde curls sweeping over her shoulder, and grinned. “My pleasure.” She looked at their two opponents. “Y’all wanna break?”
Sanchez and Gabriel exchanged a glance. “Ladies first,” Gabriel offered, and Sanchez grinned mischievously.
The deputy chief nodded firmly and turned to the only other woman present. “Okay, Sharon.”
“Stripes or solids?” asked Sanchez, and Brenda looked at Sharon. “Solids,” the brunette replied, seemingly at random.
“Okay, now, wait.” Brenda reached around Sharon, her body covering the taller woman’s like a shield as she wrapped her right hand around Sharon’s right hand. “You’re gripping the cue too hard. Ease up on the shaft.”
Just off to her right, Sharon heard someone choke and splutter.
“Like that?”
“Yeah.” Sharon had to blow out a mouthful of blonde curls as Brenda positioned the captain’s left hand, helping her form a bridge. “You’re almost ready.” Brenda Leigh stood up straight, and Sharon immediately missed the warmth stretched along her spine. A trouser-clad knee nudged her inner thigh and she nearly fell over. “Widen your stance a little, and keep it firm, but don’t lock your knees.”
Sharon nodded. Locking her knees would be bad. If she locked her knees she might pass out, and that would be more embarrassing than when the volleyball in gym class had broken her glasses.
“Don’t worry too much about aimin’.”
Long, meticulously straightened chestnut hair fell over Sharon’s shoulder as she turned her head and pinned Brenda with an incredulous look.
“No, I mean it. The most important parts of the game are the grip and the stroke,” the blonde insisted confidently, and Sharon heard more spluttering.
“This is a trap,” Julio announced, ogling his opponents. He looked seriously at Gabriel. “You might have to go on without me.”
Gabriel nudged the shorter man in the ribs.
For Sharon’s part, she didn’t seem to notice the brief exchange. She felt entirely too aware of the chief’s body pressed against her own, and even more aware of the fact that she didn’t altogether dislike it. She was miles away from the frustrations that had plagued Captain Raydor only an hour before and now appeared to be plummeting headfirst into a whole bevy of new complications.
“Think you can handle this?” Brenda asked smoothly, her body heat causing Sharon to burn.
“You’d be surprised what I can handle,” Sharon replied with a smirk, shooting the cue with a quick motion of her hand. The balls clicked and scattered across the table and a yellow solid plunked into the side pocket.
Brenda jumped upright, clapping her hands together swiftly. “Yes! Jus’ like that!”
“Beginner’s luck,” declared Provenza from where he sat with his arms folded. “Don’t worry, boys.”
“I bet you can handle all kinds of things, can’t ya, Captain Raydor?” Flynn jeered teasingly, grinning at her from over Provenza’s shoulder. “I bet you’ve got plenty of experience.”
“Don’t you wish you knew?” Sharon returned, straightening and waiting for Brenda to take her shot. She made short work of a green solid, and her teammate murmured, “Very nice, chief.”
The casual bantering back and forth continued as they each sank another ball before Sharon missed, and then as David and Julio made a respectable showing in their own right. They weren’t too badly matched, despite Sharon’s vaunted status as a novice; Gabriel was only slightly better than the captain, and Sanchez didn’t have Brenda’s chops.
“‘Kay now, here.” Brenda again moved slightly behind Sharon, studying the table intently. “You’re gonna take this shot. See how those balls are lined up?” The deputy chief held her hand out, four fingers stiff and straight with her thumb tucked against her palm, indicating the red and dark green balls. “It’s a combination, see?”
The captain nodded mutely, her tongue peeking out to run across her lips.
“You have to picture the angle,” Tao spoke up helpfully, and Sharon nodded again. She knew that. She’d always been good at math.
“Think you can do it?”
The older woman opened her mouth to say she could, but what came out was, “You might need to help me.”
Brenda dimpled with pleasure, and it occurred to Sharon that it was the first time she’d ever actually asked the deputy chief to assist her with anything. Sharon wasn’t good at asking for help.
She’d thought she was prepared, but when Brenda’s hand rested on her hip, she jerked, and Brenda laughed. “Steady, now,” she admonished, giving said hip a little pat. “Nice and smooth, Sharon. Don’t rush it.”
Across the table, Gabriel and Sanchez exchanged a look of comical dismay. Was there any conceivable way that this was actually happening, or were they all involved in a mass hallucination?
“This one’s just a little more complex than the other shots you’ve been takin’, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you have to exert more force,” Brenda instructed, absently smoothing her hand up the other woman’s spine. “You don’t want to go ploughin’ into it; just finesse it.”
This time even Sharon’s lips parted in astonishment, and she craned her neck to get a glimpse of the woman hovering behind her. Surely Brenda Leigh realized how she sounded. She couldn’t just be oblivious to all those sexual double entendres... could she?
Brenda’s features scrunched petulantly as she frowned. “Concentrate,” she scolded, and the captain whipped her dark head back around. She was concentrating, just not on the game.
“Yeah, captain,” Andy snickered, “concentrate,” and Sharon leveled a glare at him.
“Bite me,” she suggested. “Or better yet, don’t. I haven’t had my tetanus or rabies shots recently.”
Tao and Provenza responded with identical high-pitched Oooh-oooh’s, and the chief’s grip on Sharon’s hip tightened. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Brenda exclaimed. “Just do it, would you? Get it in there!”
Sharon scratched.
“It’s all right,” Provenza intoned benevolently. “Not every woman knows how to handle her balls the way Chief Johnson does.”
The chief was too irritated by Sharon’s mistake to pay attention. “Sharon!” she exclaimed, planting her hands on her own hips this time. “You weren’t even tryin’!”
For her part, Sharon was only too glad to straighten, her face flushed with heat and embarrassment. She took a large step away from Brenda, trying to be subtle about it. “Sorry,” she muttered, but knew she didn’t sound it at all. Thank God their turn was finally over. She lifted a palm to her flaming cheek, and Brenda mistook the cause of her very noticeable flush.
“It’s okay,” the blonde resumed in a very different tone, smiling softly as she looked directly into Sharon’s eyes. “It’s just a game. We might even still win.”
The brunette smiled back weakly. “I think I need some air.”
“Are you all right?” Brenda asked, the playful tone of her voice suddenly serious.
Sharon waved her off. “I’m fine--just a little warm.”
“Me too. Let’s step outside for a minute, ‘kay?” Brenda motioned to Flynn. “C’mon, pinch hitter. We’re takin’ a breather.”
“How do you know what a pinch hitter is?” Provenza asked incredulously.
“More importantly,” Flynn butted in, “where are the two of you going?” His eyebrows climbed his forehead; the man was clearly trying not to waggle them suggestively.
“Girl talk,” Brenda replied with an impish smile. “You best not lose this game for us.”
“You got it, chief,” Flynn said, his grin persistent.
“We’ll be back in two shakes.” With that, Brenda grabbed Sharon’s hand and led the way to the front door. Sharon allowed herself to be pulled along.
The cool evening air was a welcome respite from the smoky, overcrowded atmosphere of the bar. Sharon retracted her hand as soon as the door shut behind them, sweeping her hair up into her palm to allow the breeze to whisper across her neck. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, focusing solely on her breath, hoping to reign in the ceaseless pounding of her heart.
“What’s goin’ on?” Brenda asked, closer to Sharon than she’d anticipated. “Hot flashes?”
Ha! Menopause! Sharon nearly laughed. “Something like that.” Her head spun dizzily and she thought longingly of Saltines.
“I know how you feel. All those people in there doesn’t help any, does it?”
Sharon simply nodded.
“Havin’ fun?”
“It’s certainly a change of pace.”
“You and I both know that’s not an answer. You seemed like you were havin’ a good time, bein’ a good sport about everythin’...”
Sharon opened her eyes, allowing her hair to fall back across her shoulders. Brenda’s face, which had been so peacefully relaxed, was now fraught with tension. “I am having a good time. It’s just not what I expected this evening.”
The blonde laughed breathlessly. “I know...it’s not what I expected either. They’ve been teasin’ me lately. They called me a prude, would you believe it?”
Sharon raised an eyebrow, comprehension slowly dawning. “Honestly, yes.”
Brenda swatted at Sharon’s arm. “Oh you.” She sighed. “When they suggested comin’ here to celebrate, I just knew I could get them back and I just knew you’d play along.”
The brunette swallowed an uncomfortable sensation, something that vaguely resembled disappointment and resentment and tipsy indignation. As soon as she recognized it, it was gone. “I thought you were being particularly wanton this evening,” she observed.
“Well, I didn’t think you’d mind, seein’ how you wanna date me an’ all.” Brenda winked and Sharon groaned.
“Right. Yes. That’s it exactly.” Sharon eyed the building, deciding she’d rather face Gabriel and Sanchez now that she was fully apprised of the secondary game that the deputy chief had forgotten to tell her about. “Shall we head back inside?”
Brenda nodded. “Guess it doesn’t help that I’m feelin’ a little frisky these days,” she added, moving toward the door. “Maybe later, when we get outta here, you can give me some advice on...” She lowered her voice “...vibrators.”
And, just like that, heat burned Sharon’s face.
As they traipsed through the main area of the bar, Sharon grabbed the sleeve of a passing server, and before she could open her mouth the smiling young man asked, “Whiskey and Coke, right?”
“And a vodka and lime,” Brenda Leigh piped up from over her shoulder, and Sharon smirked. Maybe she should tell him to make the chief’s a double.
Brenda had complimented her on being a good sport, which was all well and good, except the older woman couldn’t shake the unpleasant feeling that she was also the butt of the joke. She knew that wasn’t how the deputy chief had intended it; in the blonde’s mind, it was the two of them versus the rest of Major Crimes, teaching all those men a lesson. Getting their Thelma and Louise on, or whatever.
But Sharon hadn’t gotten the memo. It was that damn junior high volleyball game all over again. Her glasses were intact this time, but here she was, so flustered by her friend being so unexpectedly -- well, handsy -- that she was reduced to blaming her response on menopause. It was a less-than-dignified position in which to find herself. Maybe, she thought grimly, she should’ve let Andy Flynn be her instructor after all; at least that way she would’ve known exactly what she was in for.
In the back of her mind, a small voice informed Sharon Raydor that she really needed to get laid. Humiliatingly, the voice sounded suspiciously like her son’s. She ignored it.
Whiskey and Coke in hand, she had a plan. The captain was going to get her own back.
Lieutenant Flynn was leaning over to take a shot while Sanchez and Gabriel looked on, Gabriel taking a pull from an imported beer and Sanchez sipping on something that looked dark brown and deadly. Sharon didn’t break her stride, gaining speed as she approached.
“Step aside, lieutenant,” she barked in her full-on Captain Raydor voice, one Flynn was a little too accustomed to hearing, and he responded instinctively, standing up straight and actually lifting one hand in the air. She fleetingly wished she could see Brenda’s no-doubt startled expression, but the looks on the faces of the men in front of her gave her a reasonable idea of what her friend’s mobile features were doing.
“Need that,” she continued in the same tone of command, snapping her fingers. A bewildered, half-admiring Flynn handed over his cue, and she glimpsed Provenza’s exaggerated moue of dismay. She pivoted, pointing one manicured finger straight at Lieutenant Tao. “Rack ‘em up, Mike.”
As the astonished Tao hastened to comply, Sharon transferred all her weight to one foot, lowered one hand to her hip in her best bad-ass pose, and fervently prayed she wasn’t about to make a complete ass of herself.
Brenda sidled up alongside her, tapping her restless fingers against her glass. Her expression was one of bemused interest and she raised an eyebrow. “Goin’ on your own already?”
“Oh I think I can handle it,” Sharon said dismissively, watching as Tao compulsively spun each of the balls until the numbers were displayed on top.
“You didn’t like bein’ my partner?” Brenda asked, tilting her head. She swung her hips gently and Sharon wondered if this was Brenda’s own flirtatious nature or if she was simply continuing to put on a show.
“Ready for you, captain,” Tao announced, removing the rack cleanly from the table.
Sharon bared her teeth in a dangerous smile. She leaned in close to Brenda’s face, brushing aside an errant lock of hair in order to get closer to her ear. “It’s showtime, Brenda Leigh,” she whispered, her voice low and husky. Sharon took a particular thrill in the noticeable shiver that coursed over the younger woman’s body. Without further preamble, Sharon turned her attention to the table.
“I don’t like the look of this,” Provenza muttered. “I don’t like this at all.”
Brenda laughed and rolled her eyes. “She’ll be just fine,” she cooed, appreciatively eyeing the older woman’s form in lining up her cue with the cue ball.
“I’ve known this woman a lot longer than you have, chief,” Provenza replied, pointing at the captain. “She’s sneaky. Mark my words--she’s got something up her sleeve.”
Sharon merely smirked as she took her first shot, pocketing two stripes and a solid right away. She caught Brenda’s impressed grin and shifted to the other side of the table, sending the cue ball into a flawless combination shot.
Brenda gaped.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Provenza announced, “I think we’ve been hustled.”
The blonde watched as the captain moved seamlessly around the table, sinking her shots as if she had been playing for years. It occurred to Brenda through the hazy fog of tipsy exhilaration that Sharon had said she didn’t play, not that she couldn’t. The look of stern concentration on her friend’s face as she plotted her next shot was nearly as sexy than her cool, flirtatious confidence, if not moreso.
Brenda hadn’t thought twice about the fact that Sharon had so easily entrusted her with the task of teaching her how to play; she’d been too caught up in the thrill of tempting the other woman with innuendo, too wrapped up in seeing just how far she was able to tease the captain until she broke. It had been far more intoxicating than her limey beverage to see the woman let her hair down. For a woman plagued with her own burgeoning sexual frustration, Brenda had noticed it immediately in her friend and had poked and prodded her inhibitions until Sharon was practically oozing sensuality.
She had hoped to prove a point to her men that she was not a prude, but she was forced to admit that she had proven something entirely different: that Sharon Raydor--the woman, not the captain--was a tempting prospect indeed. She could only imagine what she’d overhear them saying on Monday morning.
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