Since You Went Away - Chapter Seventeen: The Women
Title: Since You Went Away - Chapter Seventeen: The Women
Authors: i-must-go-first & UbiquitousMixie
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Rating: PG-13 (Overall M)
Word Count: 7934
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: Thanks to everyone for your continued support. In this chapter, sweater sets, pedicures, and home-cooked meals can only mean one thing: Mama’s in town!
---
She moved slowly, stealthily through the shadows, every line of her body flexing with supple, easy grace. Her keen sight penetrated the darkness, allowing her to keep her target in sight. She scented her opportunity, and knew it was finally coming, any second now, after seemingly endless waiting. No matter; she was good at waiting. She had learned how to be very, very patient when it was necessary.
She watched as the dark-haired woman moved around the kitchen, her movements also easy and graceful from long practice, efficient. Silverware rattled as she opened and closed a drawer. A single plate clinked on the counter. Finally, finally, she turned her back, her spine arching as she reached up high into a cabinet, and the moment had come.
The instinctive tensing of her muscles, followed by a quick, deft spring --
Sharon whirled, wineglass in hand, at the unmistakable sound. “Manzana!” she exclaimed. “No! Bad kitty!”
The cat’s good eye blinked balefully at her. The captain yanked the plate containing her steak salad from the counter top and nudged the cat to the floor with her elbow. “You’ve had your dinner,” she continued, keeping a wary eye on the salad as she uncorked the pinot noir and poured herself a glass. The distinctive pattering cadence of Manzana’s limping gait followed her into the living room, the feline parking herself statue-like beside Sharon’s stocking-clad feet as Sharon relaxed into her habitual corner of the sofa. The human member of the duo lifted the remote control and turned on the television, sipping her wine as she scrolled through the contents of her DVR. She wanted something engaging enough to keep her entertained, but not terribly cerebral. It had been a long, tiring day at the end of a long week, and she just wanted to relax.
The captain rolled her head from side to side, wincing when her vertebrae cracked. It had been a blessedly quiet, routine week inside FID, filled with nothing more noteworthy than the usual reports, meetings, and a couple of court appearances. There had been no unexpected summons from Chief Pope, no grisly murders, no being driven into close quarters with and out of her mind by Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. It had been peaceful, soothing; a reassuring return to the normality of her orderly routine.
It had been bloody boring.
It had also been entirely Brenda-free. Sharon wasn’t delusional enough to pretend that the two were unrelated. Brenda brought unpredictability, laughter -- fun. Being with the other woman had reawakened a part of Sharon that she’d almost forgotten existed, a spontaneous streak wider than most people would have expected.
She also brought complications.
Sharon sighed and picked up her knife and fork as the theme music for a hokey British detective series began to play. Manzana mewled pitifully, and Sharon made a mental note to ask Daniel if he’d been feeding her table scraps.
The captain appreciated that Brenda Leigh was giving her some breathing room. The way the blonde had looked at her after that very memorable kiss -- Brenda had wanted to kiss her again; Sharon knew that. She would have, if the older woman had given her the slightest indication that the gesture would have been welcomed. Even now, sitting in the privacy of her living room, the memory made Sharon’s pulse race. It also made her feel like she might vomit. She couldn’t deny the rush of desire she felt in Brenda’s presence; neither could she deny that it terrified her. She didn’t know what to do about it, but did know that she couldn’t wish it away, and wouldn’t if she could. Thinking about it made her head spin the way it did when she forgot her reading glasses, but she had to think it through before she could figure out what to do, how to proceed without wrecking what had quickly become one of the most important relationships in her life. So she appreciated the reprieve, even if the coveted solitude stretching before her seemed a little too uninterrupted.
When her cell phone rang, she was certain it would be Daniel. A glance at the screen provided confirmation, and Sharon told herself she was relieved, not disappointed.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Mom. I just called to say hi, since we haven’t talked in a few days. Did you --”
The rest of the sentence was impenetrably garbled by static. Sharon glanced down in time to see her signal strength drop to zero, and then the call dropped altogether.
She’d just pressed play, launching Inspector Barnaby and Sergeant Troy into action on screen, when the phone rang again. “Hey, baby,” she answered brightly. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”
After a pause, her caller responded, “Hey, Sharon. Are you busy?”
The brunette’s cheeks were immediately suffused with heat. “Brenda -- I thought you were Daniel.”
“Yeah, I - I figured. Are you busy? I could really use your help.”
Sharon sat up a little straighter, immediately launching into Captain Raydor mode. Manzana craned her neck toward the steak and sniffed, her little pink nostrils flaring with hope. “Of course, Chief. Where’s the scene?”
“No, there’s no -- I’m at home. It’s my mama.”
“What’s happened?” Sharon sprang to her feet, dinner forgotten. Manzana could do her worst. “Is it an emergency?”
“Well, I guess you could say that.” Brenda hesitated, and Sharon could just see her gnawing away on her lip. “She just called me. She’s in a cab, on her way here from the airport.”
**
Brenda was unwittingly biting on her fingernails when the buzzer sounded; with an annoyed groan she realized that she had chewed off the manicure she’d gotten only two days earlier. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably and she pressed the button to allow her visitor to enter the building. She tried not to pace and instead bit the inside of her cheek.
The near-immediate knock on her door made Brenda sigh with relief. “Thank the Lord you’re as much of a homebody as I am!” she said, tugging Sharon into the apartment.
Sharon looked around the little apartment, searching for any sign that her friend’s mother had arrived before her. “What exactly is going on? Did something happen at home?”
“No. Well, I don’t think so. She said she wanted to surprise me with a visit.”
“And this is a problem because...?” Sharon sat down on the red sofa and Sugar immediately lunged for her ankles, swatting playfully at the hem of her jeans.
“When she shows up outta the blue like this, there’s always a reason.” Brenda continued picking at her nails while she checked her phone to see how much time had elapsed since Willie Rae had called.
Sharon patiently watched the younger woman bristling with nervous energy and recalled the poised, wise presence that Willie Rae Johnson had exuded on the one occasion they had met. She had been, like any well-meaning mother, curious about Sharon and the friendship she shared with her daughter. On that miserable, lonely Christmas day, Willie Rae had been the most welcoming person of the group, making her feel as though she belonged in that ragtag, temporary family. They had cooked together, discussing embarrassing stories of Brenda Leigh’s childhood, and they had discussed Sharon’s children. Yes--Willie Rae was an impressively intense, self-aware woman, but Sharon had liked her. She had been the only person to lessen the ache of being away from her kids on Christmas Day.
“Could it be your father?” Sharon asked, her mind running the gamut of possible disasters that could have struck the Johnson family. “Has his cancer returned?”
“No. If he were sick, he would have come with her, or they’d have asked me to come home.” She dropped onto the couch beside Sharon, scooping the cat into her arms. Sugar pressed her paw to Brenda’s cheek and the blonde nuzzled her nose against the cat’s face. With the impatience of all young felines, Sugar allowed herself to be cuddled for only a moment before she wiggled herself free from Brenda’s grasp and leapt off the sofa. “But what if somethin’s wrong?”
“Brenda,” Sharon began tentatively, “is it possible that perhaps your mother simply wants to spend some time with you?”
Brenda groaned and dropped her head onto Sharon’s shoulder. “There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.”
“Why don’t you wait and see what happens before you doom this visit with all of your negative thinking?” Sharon adamantly tried to ignore the way Brenda’s hair smelled like vanilla. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Are you just sayin’ that so I’ll stop worryin’?”
“That depends,” Sharon said, unable to resist stroking back the blonde curls from Brenda’s face, “is it working?”
Brenda lifted her head and looked at her, piercing brown eyes scanning her face as if she hadn’t already memorized its features. “Maybe a little...” She smiled and, as if it were inevitable, her gaze dropped to Sharon’s lips.
Sharon’s pulse quickened. She resisted the urge to lick her lips, knowing it would only be perceived as an invitation, and she wasn’t entirely sure that it was an invitation she wished to extend. Only Brenda’s lips were curved in a serene grin, and Sharon wondered if her mouth had always been so sensual and inviting. She licked her lips and held her breath.
The shrill sound of the buzzer echoed throughout the apartment. The noise drew on, as if Willie Rae were unsure of how long to hold the button and had decided that a full thirty seconds was adequate. Sharon immediately straightened her back and Brenda gave a frustrated sigh as she got to her feet to unlock the main door.
“I’m gonna go down to meet her and help her with her bags. Will you keep an eye on Sugar for me and let us in when we get up here?”
“Of course.”
When Sharon was alone, she closed her eyes impatiently and scolded herself. What kind of person was she to be thinking about kissing Brenda Leigh when her mother was right outside? And yet, despite the firm talking-to’s she’d given herself about reinforcing the platonic side of their friendship, Sharon had wanted to kiss her. Badly. She had wanted to feel the slow, wet slide of Brenda’s tongue against her own.
Arousal curled low in her belly. When she heard voices in the hall, she rubbed at the tense muscles of her neck. She checked to make sure that Sugar was keeping herself busy in the kitchen with a crumpled up piece of paper and then she opened her door to greet her best friend’s mother.
“Mrs. Johnson,” Sharon said with that practiced, poised smile that made Brenda think she would’ve been an excellent spokesmodel. Toothpaste, hand lotion, wooden nickels -- if Sharon was selling, Brenda figured people would buy. “How nice to see you.” She stepped aside so the diminutive woman could enter the apartment, looking beyond her to a red-faced Brenda struggling up the last steps with her mother’s luggage. “Oh, my. That is a large suitcase.”
“I already told Brenda Leigh not to worry, dear. I’m not movin’ in; I just brought her a few things for her new apartment. And call me Willie Rae, Sharon.” She enthusiastically gripped Sharon’s elbows and gave them a little shake, as if they were already old friends. “I’m so glad to see you again, here keepin’ my daughter company.”
Sharon’s cheeks felt hot, and she knew her eyes were a little too bright as she smiled back, assaulted by images of just how she might have been keeping the woman’s precious only daughter company right that very minute had Willie Rae’s timing been better. Or worse; surely she meant worse.
The brunette darted a furtive glance at Brenda’s mouth. No, she’d definitely meant better.
This was ridiculous, the captain scolded herself with a firm shake of her head. She couldn’t just go around kissing her best friend! And she couldn’t dwell on the thought of it while she was attempting to help entertain said best friend’s sweet, elderly, Southern, no-doubt-right-wing mother.
Willie Rae was turning in a circle, a delighted smile on her comfortably lined face. “Why, Brenda Leigh! This place is just darlin’. And so bright and cheerful --”
Brenda smiled, pleased by the approbation. “Sharon helped me pick the colors,” she proclaimed proudly. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest, and we can put your suitcase in the bedroom.”
“Mrs. -- Willie Rae, have you eaten?”
When she answered that she hadn’t, Brenda chimed in, “You must be tired after your flight. We can order in. Come on, Mama.”
As Brenda showed off her abode, Sharon went into the kitchen and began a brisk survey. By the time Brenda and Willie Rae returned, she was defrosting a bag of frozen shrimp and chopping an onion.
“Oh, Sharon, you don’t have to do that,” Brenda fussed, watching intently.
“You can’t feed your mother an exclusive diet of Chinese take-out, Brenda.” She looked up from her chopping with a one-sided smirk. “Besides, I’m starving.”
“Can I help?”
“You can put water on to boil for pasta, and then go visit with your mother.”
Brenda bent and rummaged through the cabinet that housed the large saucepan, managing to make an inordinate amount of noise in the process. “I’m gonna have plenty of time to visit with my mother,” she muttered. “She’s stayin’ a week.”
“Yes, you do have plenty of time,” Sharon agreed pleasantly. “Starting now.” She made a little shooing motion. “Go on.”
“Be careful with that knife,” Brenda cautioned, earning herself a fierce glare.
The two Johnson women were cooing over Sugar’s antics in identical tones of besotted adoration when Sharon peeked out of the kitchen twenty minutes later. “Dinner’s ready, ladies.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Brenda sprang to her feet with a quick, eager smile. “I’ve had the hardest time keepin’ Mama out of the kitchen. I don’t think she would’ve lasted another ten minutes.”
“It just doesn’t seem right to let your guest do the cookin’,” Willie Rae returned in a tone of mild disapproval as they all moved toward the dining table.
“You’re a guest,” the blonde pointed out to her mother, her eyes meeting Sharon’s. “I did offer to help.”
The warmth in those soft green eyes soothed Brenda’s mildly ruffled feathers, reassuring her that she and Sharon understood one another and her friend didn’t fault her for her lack of skills in the culinary department. “It’s just pasta, nothing fancy,” Sharon interjected mildly, pulling her chair up to the table. “And no trouble at all.”
“We’ll go out somewhere nice tomorrow night,” Brenda said. She smoothed her napkin over her lap. “You too, Sharon.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Sharon murmured rather awkwardly.
“It wouldn’t be an intrusion at all, dear,” Willie Rae insisted as she served herself, her quick, light movements making Sharon think of a bird -- something light and sleek and colorful, in a summer garden. “It would be a pleasure. I haven’t really gotten to know any of Brenda’s friends since she was in high school. But if you have plans --”
“Of course she doesn’t,” Brenda interrupted grumpily, with a distinctly proprietary air.
Sharon raised her eyebrows. “I could have plans,” she countered.
Brown eyes widened. “But you don’t, do you?”
The captain’s answering smile was rueful. “No, of course not. I’d love to join you.”
“Invite Daniel,” Brenda chimed in recklessly, and looked to Willie Rae. “Sharon’s son. He’s in medical school,” she explained. “You’ll like him.”
“I’m sure I will, sweetheart, but I know who Daniel is. Sharon and I got to have a nice long talk when she helped me with the dinner last Christmas,” Willie Rae reminded, and Sharon was gratified to see Brenda pale slightly, no doubt wondering what mortifying anecdotes her mother might have shared with the other woman. The captain smiled slightly and Willie Rae’s warm gaze settled on her. “Now, how are both of your children, Sharon?”
Sharon’s stomach clenched, but she merely looked down at her plate for a second. When she looked back up, she met Brenda’s stricken stare.
Willie Rae frowned, her pride at having remembered that there were two Raydor offspring quickly replaced by concerned confusion.
“Mama--” Brenda began, but Sharon gently cleared her throat.
“It’s all right, Brenda.” It never got any easier telling people that her daughter was dead, and this occasion was no different. Despite the hollow-sounding words and the bitter taste they left in her mouth once they had been spoken, Sharon knew that she could not defer to her friend whenever the question arose. “My daughter passed away.”
“Oh.” Willie Rae’s slender hand clutched her throat, and Sharon could tell by the ashen hue of the older woman’s cheeks that she was imagining the pain a mother must feel at the loss of her child. “Oh Sharon, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been just horrible for you and your family.”
“It was.” She looked away, uncomfortable at the twin pairs of pitying glances from the Johnson women, and rose gracefully to her feet. “What can I get you to drink, Willie Rae?”
“You don’t have to wait on me!” Willie Rae swatted at Brenda’s arm, tactfully taking Sharon’s cue to change the subject. “Brenda Leigh, don’t be rude! Sharon here cooked us a lovely dinner--don’t make her serve the drinks too.”
“Oww,” Brenda whined, ruefully rubbing her forearm. “Sit, Sharon. I’ll get it. What would you like? I’ve got a pitcher of tea in the fridge.”
“That would be just fine,” Willie Rae replied, and Sharon nodded in agreement. She sat dutifully by her plate, waiting for Brenda to return before she began to eat. “Sharon, Brenda Leigh was tellin’ me all about the case you helped her solve.
The brunette resisted raising an eyebrow, wondering which details the blonde had squeamishly omitted. She doubted, for instance, that Brenda mentioned the part where they made out in the bedroom they shared. She smirked. “Actually, Willie Rae, Brenda spent most of her time in the pool while I did all of the grunt work.”
“Hey!” Brenda shrieked. “It was a team effort...and don’t you forget that I saved your life!” She set down two glasses of iced tea and went back for the third.
“I was the lucky one on the ground floor when our friendly neighborhood sociopath paid us a visit,” Sharon explained, grinning at the sight of Willie Rae’s captivated expression. “Your daughter was kind enough to stop her before she did any real damage.”
“To think they had you both sittin’ around, waitin’ for a killer to show up!” Willie Rae exclaimed, blanching slightly at the image. “As if you were human bait! I can’t believe the LAPD would put you in that position!”
Brenda caught Sharon’s eye, and she knew better than to explain that it had, in fact, been Brenda’s idea. “Dangers aside, I think we managed okay. Besides, it was nice to work with Brenda and be on the same team for once.”
The blonde nearly choked on her shrimp. She coughed, cheeks growing pink, and then smiled awkwardly at her mother’s concerned stare. “Sorry. Shar, this is so yummy. You’ll have to teach me how to make it sometime.”
Willie Rae furrowed her brow and frowned disapprovingly. “I should think Sharon wouldn’t want anythin’ to do with teachin’ you to cook after that accident you two had!”
Sharon laughed. “It was my own fault.”
Brenda grimaced. “I still feel so bad about that. You’ve got that nasty scar on your hand to mark the occasion.”
Sharon looked down at the scar in question. “It’s not like anyone’s staring at my hands, Brenda.”
Brenda’s cheeks remained flushed as she attacked her pasta with fervor.
“Well, it sure is nice to know that Brenda’s got a friend out here,” Willie Rae added, oblivious to her daughter’s reddened face. “I was so worried about her after the...” she lowered her voice “...the divorce and all.”
“I’ve been fine, Mama. I’ve got my friend and my cat. What more does a single girl need?”
“At your age?” Willie Rae asked, pointing her fork at her daughter. “Companionship. A nice, well-mannered man to spend your life with.”
“Oh, Mama,” Brenda moaned, drawing the syllables out and sounding for all the world like a put-upon teenager. “Please don’t start that. I’ve already been divorced twice. I’d think you and Daddy would be about ready for me to hang up my datin’ hat for good.”
Sharon smirked into her tea glass as she realized Willie Rae was poised to launch into essentially the same speech she got from Daniel on a regular basis. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to introduce her son to Brenda Leigh’s mother.
“Don’t you agree, now, Sharon?”
Sharon’s attention was yanked back to the present by the older woman’s question, and she found the eyes of the two Johnson women fixed attentively on her. “Ah --”
Brenda’s expression plainly telegraphed that whatever Willie Rae had said, Sharon’s life wouldn’t be safe if she agreed.
“It would be a cryin’ shame for Brenda resign herself to spendin’ the rest of her life alone. Sometimes a woman just needs the companionship of a good man. There are some things in life you aren’t meant to do by yourself.”
The captain hoped she didn’t look as shell-shocked as she felt. Had Willie Rae Johnson just made an oblique reference to sexual satisfaction? You don’t need a man for that, honey, Sharon thought before she could stop herself, and then felt her face flame. No. Brenda’s mother had probably just meant you needed a man around to fix the faucet when it leaked and program the VCR. Brenda was her mother’s daughter, after all.
Remembering their conversation about VCRs and vibrators, Sharon tittered. Brenda looked at her like she’d clearly lost her mind, and then the blonde’s eyes widened in horror, and she blushed too. She was remembering Sharon’s threat to tattle to Willie Rae.
Unfortunately, the deputy chief was completely safe on that front, which she ought to know. If Sharon brought up the notorious Rabbit, Brenda Leigh now had plenty of material to retaliate. Oh, Mama, did I tell you about the time Sharon stuck her tongue down my throat?
More awkward than she had felt any time in recent memory, Sharon sat frozen to her chair, fork poised in midair, unable to think of a single thing to say.
“Don’t ask Sharon, Mama,” Brenda piped up cheerily. “She doesn’t date.”
That’s right, the dark-haired woman reminded herself. I don’t date, and there are reasons for that.
Fortunately, before the two Johnsons could begin dissecting all the gory details of her nonexistent love life, Sharon’s phone rang. She excused herself in a flash and fumbled to extract it from her handbag. She glanced at the screen, hesitated for a split second, and then brusquely answered, “Raydor.”
“Ooh, the captain is in. You’re not back at work, are you, Mom?”
“All right, I’m on my way,” Sharon said, rising from her seat and shooting her dinner companions a quick, apologetic glance.
“Mom, what’s going on? Are you drunk?”
“Just text me the address. How many shots fired?”
“Oh-ho. You owe me big time. I may not have a clue what you’re up to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fully intend to collect. You remember those sunglasses you insisted were obscenely expensive?”
“I see. Thank you, officer.”
Daniel snickered. “You’re such a wimp, Mom. G’night.”
Sharon slipped her phone back into the side pocket of her bag, but before she could even utter a word of apology, Willie Rae was waving her off. “That’s all right, dear. I know how it is: duty calls. We’ll see you tomorrow, though.”
“I’ll call you,” Brenda promised, following her to the door.
The captain fluttered her fingers at both of them in a little wave. She only felt a tiny bit guilty. “See you tomorrow,” she offered insouciantly, “unless I get all wrapped up in this case.” She pursed her lips regretfully, suggesting that her phantom case promised to be a complicated one and it was all too likely that she’d spend her weekend slaving away.
The blonde leaned in the doorway, pouting. The expression did absurd things to her mouth, and Sharon forced herself to look away. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
Just like that, those icy-hot tingles were back again, starting at the back of her neck and on the soles of her feet and working their way to meet in the middle. She suddenly felt like a teenager after a first date, standing hesitantly on someone’s front porch in the glaring puddle cast by the inevitable outdoor light. Instead of an anxious father glaring through the curtains, there was Willie Rae at the table, smiling benevolently; but the effect was the same. No matter how dangerously tempting the prospect, there was no power in heaven or on earth that would make Sharon even consider kissing Brenda Leigh good night. It wasn’t even an option.
Distinctly relieved and feeling suddenly lighter, she managed a weak smile. “You know how it is,” she said. “Night, Brenda. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
As Sharon crossed the courtyard, she heard Brenda’s door close, and realized that she was already breathing easier, tension ebbing from her tight shoulders. That had gone well enough, she reassured herself. Thanks to Willie Rae’s presence, nothing the slightest bit inappropriate had happened tonight.
As she slid behind the wheel of her car, Sharon Raydor decided that, no matter how Brenda Leigh might feel about it, for her part she was very glad Willie Rae had come to visit.
**
While sitting in the backseat of Brenda’s car that was headed in the direction of the nearest shopping mall, Sharon decided that she was not, in fact, glad that Willie Rae had visited. What she had hoped would be a quiet morning of yoga, CNN, and lounging with her cat had gone up in smoke as soon as she received Brenda’s call. The blonde had locked herself in the bathroom, muffling the sound of her voice with the spray of the shower, and had chastised Sharon for using a made-up crime scene as an excuse to leave. When Sharon had feigned ignorance, Brenda coolly informed her that, while she had been unable to check up on her husband’s fake cases that fell under the purview of the FBI, she could check up on Sharon’s. The tone of her voice implied that Sharon would indeed be spending the day traipsing around Macy’s with the deputy chief and her mother, or else.
Sharon wasn’t particularly keen on finding out just what “or else” entailed.
The fact of the matter was that Sharon simply wanted to stay far, far away from situations that included Brenda removing articles of clothing. Except, of course, for the fact that she didn’t want to avoid them at all. She vividly remembered Brenda’s tiny black bikini and shuddered.
“Brenda Leigh, turn down the air conditionin’. Sharon’s practically shiverin’ back there,” Willie Rae implored, giving the captain a sympathetic look. Sharon smiled politely and screamed internally.
“I can’t remember the last time Brenda Leigh took me shoppin’,” Willie Rae said, punctuating her remark with an excited wiggle. “It’s been so long since we had a girls’ day out, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has, Mama,” Brenda agreed, her eyes flicking up to catch Sharon’s in the rear-view mirror.
“And I’m so glad that you were able to come along,” the older woman continued, turning back to smile warmly at Sharon. “Isn’t it lucky that you were able to wrap up your case so quickly? Why--you should teach Brenda Leigh a thing or two about that. I swear, this girl takes days on her work. We hardly ever see her when we visit!”
“It is just so lucky,” Brenda echoed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
Sharon smirked at the blonde’s evident annoyance, her guilt absolved as soon as she realized that she had played the work card just as Brenda had time and time again. “I’d love to get my hands on Major Crimes,” she teased. “They’d certainly benefit from a lesson or two in efficiency and time management.”
Brenda snorted. “And have you standin’ in my murder room with your little watch? Nooo, thank you. We do just fine on our own.” She navigated the car into the busy parking lot and found a spot not too far from the entrance.
“Well, thank the Lord the two of you managed to get the mornin’ off.” Willie Rae unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. Her bright red vest, which displayed a vibrant array of cross-stitched birds, gleamed brightly in the sunlight. “The pair of you really need a heavy dose of retail therapy.”
Sharon raised an eyebrow at Brenda, who gaped. “What do you mean?”
“Brenda Leigh, I bought you that skirt five years ago. You need to spruce up your wardrobe, especially if you’re gonna catch the eye of a good man.”
Sharon snorted as the trio made their way toward Macy’s, unable to bite back her laughter. “I’ve been itching to take her shopping for ages, Willie Rae.”
“You could use a few new items yourself,” the older woman added, wiping the smirk from Sharon’s face. Brenda practically hooted with giggles. “Everythin’ I’ve ever seen you wear is black or gray or navy. A pretty girl like you needs a little color.”
“Don’t worry, Mama,” Brenda replied, eyes gleaming. “We’ll find her somethin’ nice and pink.”
The glare Sharon sent Brenda’s way was murderous. The blonde merely smirked malevolently in return.
No. Sharon was not glad that Willie Rae had come to town.
**
“Mama, I’m never gonna wear this dress,” Brenda whined, holding out a hideous frock that had more flowers and bows than her childhood Sunday school dresses. Sharon would mock her into eternity if she so much as tried it on. Before her mother could protest, she set it back on the rack. “Let’s keep lookin’. Why don’t we find somethin’ nice for you to wear when you go home?”
“A goin’ away outfit, Brenda Leigh? Already?” Her mother raised an eyebrow.
“I was thinkin’ along the lines of somethin’ pretty for you to wear for Daddy when he picks you up from the airport,” she amended, her eyes casually scanning the Women’s department for sign of her elusive friend. “Don’t you think he’d like that?”
“After all these years, Brenda Leigh, your father is happy to see me in whatever I’m wearin’. I don’t need to impress him. You, on the other hand...”
Brenda scowled and rolled her eyes, spying the captain beside a display of cardigans. Willie Rae looked in the same direction and her eyes lit up. “Oh look, twin sets in every color of the rainbow!” she exclaimed, hastening over to join the dark-haired woman. “You just wouldn’t believe how hard these are to come by in Atlanta. The selection’s always picked over, but here, it looks like they’ve got just everything.” Sharon smiled tolerantly, the tolerance turning into a deadly smirk when the silver-haired woman continued, “Brenda Leigh, do you need any new ones? It looked to me like your yellow one’s startin’ to ball up. And look at these adorable little pearl buttons.”
The chief looked down at her mother’s frail but capable hands playing among the folded garments, and Sharon knew her friend was tempted, but didn’t want to risk a display of enthusiasm in front of her. “No, Mama, I think I’m good.”
“How ‘bout you, Sharon?” Willie Rae held a pale pink sweater up next to the captain’s cheek, and Brenda watched her friend’s green eyes turn glassy.
“That’s really not my color,” she managed.
“You should branch out, honey. Take a chance! Look at all these beautiful colors. Now, what on earth a pretty girl like you is doin’ in all those drab grays --” Willie Rae gestured toward Sharon, who smiled tightly, her eyes meeting Brenda’s. Brown eyes flashed back the younger woman’s sympathy. In her black jeans and boots and a slinky gray sweater that had probably cost at least a week’s pay, Sharon looked effortlessly elegant, perfect for Los Angeles; but she clearly fell short of Willie Rae’s standards.
“Those buttons,” Sharon tried again, tentatively, thinking she should be applauded for managing not to grimace.
“Mama, that’s not Sharon at all,” Brenda decreed, swooping down to rescue the captain and tucking her mother’s hand through the crook of her elbow. “We’ll find her somethin’ bright and colorful that she’ll actually wear, I promise.” The blonde patted her mother’s hand, but it was Sharon’s gaze she met with an ominous twinkle of mischief as she added, “You just wait and see.”
When Sharon realized Brenda’s strategy was to distract her mother from her mission to revolutionize the wardrobes of her daughter and her daughter’s best friend, she eagerly jumped on board. As much as Sharon herself would’ve loved to see some alterations in Brenda Leigh’s clothing choices, she wasn’t willing to risk getting stuck with a complete Liz Claiborne suit and fake pearls; some prices were just too high to pay, even for friendship. They’d managed to tempt the older woman with a pale pink suit that, even Sharon had to admit, set off her delicate complexion and her twinkling eyes, because, as the captain had pointed out when Willie Rae had again trotted out her line about not needing to impress Clay, “But isn’t it nice to be able to once in a while anyway?”
Poor Sharon, Brenda would think later, feeling mildly apologetic. She hadn’t even seen it coming. One minute she’d been standing there listening to Brenda’s mother extol the virtues of synthetic fabrics (“They just never wrinkle, and you can wash them out in the sink and have ‘em dry in a jiffy!”), and the next Willie Rae had shanghaied her into a dressing room with a hideous fuchsia sweater dress.
Smiling that same self-satisfied smile that Brenda remembered seeing grace her lips every summer when her mama won the strawberry-pie-baking contest at the First Methodist, Willie Rae patted Brenda’s hand. “Now, you stay right here, and don’t let her take it off until I see,” she instructed, indicating the area where they stood right outside the door of the dressing room Sharon occupied. “I’m gonna gather up a few more things that caught my eye.”
After a moment the blonde heard an unmistakable hiss: “Brendaaa!”
She swallowed a laugh. “It’s okay, Sharon, she’s gone.”
“Brenda, this dress is made from substances that do not occur in nature,” Sharon continued, her clipped words agonized.
“You don’t have to buy it; just twirl for Mama and she’ll be happy,” Brenda soothed. “Trust me, this day is my entire childhood and adolescence.” Maybe, she thought with faint hope, after this little outing Sharon would have a smidge more respect for her friend’s sense of personal style, given this insight into her disadvantaged upbringing.
“It has appliques!” Sharon wailed, sounding as if she were smothering, and Brenda just managed to turn her hysterical laughter into a cough when her mother reappeared.
“Do you have it on, dear? Let me see.”
Several seconds of silence followed. “I’d rather not,” Sharon finally responded in her cool Captain Raydor tone.
It worked on legions of police officers and perps, but it didn’t faze Brenda’s mother. “Come on, now. Open that door and don’t be silly.”
Brenda distinctly heard a sigh before the door opened just enough to reveal her friend, whose lovely curves had been swallowed by a hideous pinkish-purple shroud. It was so bad that, after a couple of seconds of stunned silence, Brenda couldn’t hold back her giggles. “Oh, Lord, Sharon --”
The brunette pressed her lips very firmly together. “I know,” she said flatly. “I told you. I look like I’ve been attacked by The Blob.”
Willie Rae looked alarmed. “Maybe in another size,” she suggested doubtfully, and was answered by the quick shutting of the dressing room door as Sharon stepped back inside.
“No!” the two younger women exclaimed in unison.
As Brenda wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, she took in her mother’s crestfallen countenance and made a split-second decision. “Don’t go anywhere, Shar,” she called. “We’ll be back in a tick.” She grabbed Willie Rae’s hand and led her back out onto the sales floor.
Despite the glare of the hideously unflattering overhead fluorescent lights, ubiquitous in dressing rooms, Sharon had begun to shiver and was extremely tired of standing around in her socks and underwear when her friend’s voice rang out: “Knock knock!”
“I’m not dressed,” the captain replied, resigned to her fate. “Whatever it is, just pass it over the top.”
“No, you’re gonna like these,” Brenda returned confidently, stretching up on tiptoe to hand over several hangers. “And you have to let us see.”
“You too, Brenda Leigh. This’ll be just darlin’ on you,” Sharon heard vaguely from outside as she contemplated the garments Brenda had handed her. No fake pearls, no appliques, no sequins, and nary a Liz label in sight -- but certainly nothing she would ever pick out for herself.
The blonde was saying something about there not being any free dressing rooms. Skeptically eyeing a vee-neck sweater in deep rose, Sharon heard Willie Rae respond, but all she clearly made out was her own name.
“Try on the sweater first,” Brenda called, and with a roll of her eyes, Sharon resolved to get this over with as quickly as possible. She yanked her jeans back on, double-checked that her bra was properly adjusted, and stripped the sweater from the hanger. It was a damn sight better than that awful dress, but it was still pink, Sharon thought, and then hesitated as she glimpsed her own reflection. The material hugged her curves, the neckline plunging more daringly than anything she’d wear to work. It sort of looked... not terrible.
When she opened the door, Willie Rae beamed, and Brenda clasped her hands in front of her chest. “I knew that would look great on you,” Brenda declared happily. “That rose color, with your beautiful brown hair --”
She should have known. Sharon’s eyebrows crept toward her hairline. “You picked this out?”
“I helped,” Brenda responded in a tone that plainly telegraphed that yes, she’d picked it out. “You’re buyin’ that, captain, and that is a direct order. Now the dress.”
“Do you think my clothes are boring?” Sharon heard herself ask, thinking of the night they’d gone out dancing with Morales, and feeling a ridiculous twinge of hurt.
“I think your clothes are beautiful.” Brenda’s eyes seemed to caress Sharon, lingering on her prominently-displayed chest, and the captain hoped that neither of the Johnsons had noticed her quickly indrawn breath. Brenda Leigh had intentionally selected a sweater that would show off her breasts? Well, well. That put a different complexion on things. Maybe she’d be taking this sweater home with her after all. “But it’d be nice to see you in bright colors sometimes. Now try the dress.”
“Did you choose it too?” Sharon asked in a low tone, her pulse still not recovered from the way Brenda had looked at her.
Those brown eyes were soft as they sparkled back at her. “I told you, I helped,” she replied in the same low tone.
“You go on in there with her, honey; it’ll save time. That line’s a mile long.” Willie Rae’s voice made Sharon jump -- for a few seconds she’d all but forgotten the elderly woman was there. Brenda’s mother shoved a long dress at Brenda and then shoved Brenda at Sharon. “There’s plenty of space.”
“Mama, Sharon might not want to share,” Brenda protested, turning to look over her shoulder at Willie Rae. The captain realized that was what she’d heard Mrs. Johnson say a moment before: not Sharon, but “You can just share.”
“Don’t be silly. Sharon’s had two children; I’m sure she’s not a prude. Besides, neither of you has got anything the other one hasn’t got,” Willie Rae retorted, giggling at her mild version of ribaldry. Then, having heard enough excuses, she efficiently closed the cubicle door in her daughter’s face.
Brenda stared at the door for a few counts, and then slowly turned around to face the other woman. “Mama’s right,” she said, striving for normality. “There’s no reason to be silly.” But she heard the high, nervous tremor in her voice, and she knew Sharon heard it too.
Unsurprisingly, the captain decided to brazen it out. “Right,” she agreed. “Did they still have co-ed locker rooms when you went through the academy?” As she spoke, Sharon turned her back and smoothly whipped the sweater over her head. Brenda stared unabashedly at the creamy skin of her back, the curve of her spine against the stark contrast of her black bra.
The blonde didn’t realize that she was staring until Sharon’s arm reached in front of her to drape the sweater back on its hanger. She blinked, heat rising in her cheeks as she found herself with an eyeful of Sharon’s breasts. She caught her own gaping reflection in the mirror and the sight of her desire-laden eyes was enough motivation to turn around. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, beating so rapidly that Brenda wondered if Sharon might actually be able to hear it. With trembling fingers she worked the buttons of her pale orange cardigan through their holes, shrugging it off her shoulders before setting it down on the bench.
Don’t turn around, Brenda told herself. She pulled her white tank top over her head, piling it on top of her sweater. As she reached for the zipper of her flowery skirt, Sharon’s hip nudged her own. Despite the warning voice in her head, Brenda looked over her shoulder. The brunette was shimmying her jeans back down her legs, her backside covered in a set of low-rise black panties. When Sharon straightened her back, she cast a glance over her shoulder.
Their eyes met. Lips parted in a simultaneous acknowledgment: we are in a small, enclosed space, we are half-naked, and Willie Rae is just outside.
Still, Brenda let out a shaky breath as she turned around, her fingers deftly unzipping her skirt before she let it pool around her feet. She had no way of knowing if the other woman was still looking and hoped that she was.
“C’mon, you two,” Willie Rae impatiently called from outside the dressing room. “I’m on pins and needles out here!”
“This dressin’ room’s a little smaller than I thought,” Brenda mentioned for lack of better things to say as she gathered the fabric of the dress in her hands. The unzipped top of the dress fell forward, allowing her to step inside and pull it up around her waist. Behind her, she heard Sharon adjusting her own dress in a rustle of fabric.
“Are you claustrophobic, Brenda Leigh?” Sharon asked, turning around to raise a curious eyebrow at the blonde.
Brenda looked back over her shoulder. “No. Just...aware.” She licked her lips, her eyes darting from the alluring shape of Sharon’s mouth to the inviting display of cleavage. “Can, um, you zip me up?”
Sharon observed her for a long moment, her eyes dark and filled with something urgent, before she reached forward and brushed Brenda’s hair to the side. She took a step forward, her breath warm on Brenda’s back, as she peered down at the spattering of freckles on the blonde’s pale shoulders. There were goosebumps on her skin and as Sharon slowly worked the zipper up her spine, she allowed her knuckles to graze against her flesh. Brenda shivered violently, her breath coming in heavy gasps. When Sharon’s hands reached the nape of her neck Brenda spun around.
The captain nearly groaned at the unbearably tortured expression on Brenda’s face. She could see it in her eyes, in the way her lips parted, that Brenda wanted to kiss her. No--Brenda would kiss her and Sharon was going to let her.
A sharp knock on the door forced them to jump apart. Releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Sharon quickly unlocked the door and looked upon the elder woman with an expression that rivaled that of a deer in the headlights.
“Oh don’t you two look just beautiful!” Willie Rae exclaimed, grabbing their hands as she drew them out of the dressing room. No longer distracted by close quarters, Sharon allowed herself to look at what Brenda was wearing. The dress was a deep eggplant color and clung to Brenda’s slender body as if it had been painted on. It reminded Sharon of the blue dress that Brenda owned, slinking against her curves. Sharon loved purple and, she realized, she loved the way the younger woman looked in it, her creamy pale skin nearly glowing against the vibrant tone.
Brenda, for her part, was distracted by the dress she had chosen for Sharon. It was an olive green wrap, the color enhancing the emerald of her eyes. She bit her lip, proud of her success in selecting a garment that flattered every aspect of her friend’s body. She would buy it for Sharon herself if the captain refused.
“You look lovely,” Sharon said lamely. She schooled her expression, forcing herself to look away from the shape of Brenda’s hips.
“Sharon’s right.” Willie Rae directed Brenda to stand right in front of the mirror, turning her daughter’s body as if she were a doll. “This color’s a little dark though, don’t you think?”
“No,” Brenda answered at once. “I love this color.” In the mirror, her eyes found Sharon’s.
“If you insist.” Willie Rae heaved the burdensome sigh of a mother dealing with her impertinent child. “I hope you’ll get that dress, Sharon. We saw that one and just knew you’d love it.”
“I...might. It’s a very nice dress.”
“You will and that’s all there is to it,” Brenda declared. “Let’s hurry up and change...there’s a Cinnabon outside callin’ my name.”
“I thought you were cuttin’ down on sugar?” Willie Rae raised a disapproving eyebrow.
Brenda lied, “I’m always cuttin’ down.” She swept back into the dressing room, Sharon following closely behind.
When the door was locked and Brenda’s dress unzipped, Sharon turned away and stared intently at the wall. “You need to stop looking at me like that,” she whispered, pulling her dress over her head.
“Huh?” Brenda spun around, the top of her dress draping loosely over her torso.
Sharon felt the other woman’s movement, felt those eyes again boring into her bare back, and refused to turn. She removed her own sweater from its peg on the wall and pulled it over her head, her movements measured. Like I’m your damned Cinnabon, she thought. Like I’m your damned sickly sweet, double-chocolate, chocolate-dipped dessert with an extra side of chocolate sauce. She huffed out a quick breath. “We’ve already had this conversation,” she said instead. “There’s no reason to have it again, especially not with your mother three feet away.”
Wisely, Brenda Leigh said nothing; and after changing back into her jeans and slipping her boots on, Sharon tossed both the rose-colored sweater and the green dress across the dressing room’s single stool. She certainly had no reason to purchase either.
**
Authors: i-must-go-first & UbiquitousMixie
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Rating: PG-13 (Overall M)
Word Count: 7934
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: Thanks to everyone for your continued support. In this chapter, sweater sets, pedicures, and home-cooked meals can only mean one thing: Mama’s in town!
---
She moved slowly, stealthily through the shadows, every line of her body flexing with supple, easy grace. Her keen sight penetrated the darkness, allowing her to keep her target in sight. She scented her opportunity, and knew it was finally coming, any second now, after seemingly endless waiting. No matter; she was good at waiting. She had learned how to be very, very patient when it was necessary.
She watched as the dark-haired woman moved around the kitchen, her movements also easy and graceful from long practice, efficient. Silverware rattled as she opened and closed a drawer. A single plate clinked on the counter. Finally, finally, she turned her back, her spine arching as she reached up high into a cabinet, and the moment had come.
The instinctive tensing of her muscles, followed by a quick, deft spring --
Sharon whirled, wineglass in hand, at the unmistakable sound. “Manzana!” she exclaimed. “No! Bad kitty!”
The cat’s good eye blinked balefully at her. The captain yanked the plate containing her steak salad from the counter top and nudged the cat to the floor with her elbow. “You’ve had your dinner,” she continued, keeping a wary eye on the salad as she uncorked the pinot noir and poured herself a glass. The distinctive pattering cadence of Manzana’s limping gait followed her into the living room, the feline parking herself statue-like beside Sharon’s stocking-clad feet as Sharon relaxed into her habitual corner of the sofa. The human member of the duo lifted the remote control and turned on the television, sipping her wine as she scrolled through the contents of her DVR. She wanted something engaging enough to keep her entertained, but not terribly cerebral. It had been a long, tiring day at the end of a long week, and she just wanted to relax.
The captain rolled her head from side to side, wincing when her vertebrae cracked. It had been a blessedly quiet, routine week inside FID, filled with nothing more noteworthy than the usual reports, meetings, and a couple of court appearances. There had been no unexpected summons from Chief Pope, no grisly murders, no being driven into close quarters with and out of her mind by Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. It had been peaceful, soothing; a reassuring return to the normality of her orderly routine.
It had been bloody boring.
It had also been entirely Brenda-free. Sharon wasn’t delusional enough to pretend that the two were unrelated. Brenda brought unpredictability, laughter -- fun. Being with the other woman had reawakened a part of Sharon that she’d almost forgotten existed, a spontaneous streak wider than most people would have expected.
She also brought complications.
Sharon sighed and picked up her knife and fork as the theme music for a hokey British detective series began to play. Manzana mewled pitifully, and Sharon made a mental note to ask Daniel if he’d been feeding her table scraps.
The captain appreciated that Brenda Leigh was giving her some breathing room. The way the blonde had looked at her after that very memorable kiss -- Brenda had wanted to kiss her again; Sharon knew that. She would have, if the older woman had given her the slightest indication that the gesture would have been welcomed. Even now, sitting in the privacy of her living room, the memory made Sharon’s pulse race. It also made her feel like she might vomit. She couldn’t deny the rush of desire she felt in Brenda’s presence; neither could she deny that it terrified her. She didn’t know what to do about it, but did know that she couldn’t wish it away, and wouldn’t if she could. Thinking about it made her head spin the way it did when she forgot her reading glasses, but she had to think it through before she could figure out what to do, how to proceed without wrecking what had quickly become one of the most important relationships in her life. So she appreciated the reprieve, even if the coveted solitude stretching before her seemed a little too uninterrupted.
When her cell phone rang, she was certain it would be Daniel. A glance at the screen provided confirmation, and Sharon told herself she was relieved, not disappointed.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Mom. I just called to say hi, since we haven’t talked in a few days. Did you --”
The rest of the sentence was impenetrably garbled by static. Sharon glanced down in time to see her signal strength drop to zero, and then the call dropped altogether.
She’d just pressed play, launching Inspector Barnaby and Sergeant Troy into action on screen, when the phone rang again. “Hey, baby,” she answered brightly. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”
After a pause, her caller responded, “Hey, Sharon. Are you busy?”
The brunette’s cheeks were immediately suffused with heat. “Brenda -- I thought you were Daniel.”
“Yeah, I - I figured. Are you busy? I could really use your help.”
Sharon sat up a little straighter, immediately launching into Captain Raydor mode. Manzana craned her neck toward the steak and sniffed, her little pink nostrils flaring with hope. “Of course, Chief. Where’s the scene?”
“No, there’s no -- I’m at home. It’s my mama.”
“What’s happened?” Sharon sprang to her feet, dinner forgotten. Manzana could do her worst. “Is it an emergency?”
“Well, I guess you could say that.” Brenda hesitated, and Sharon could just see her gnawing away on her lip. “She just called me. She’s in a cab, on her way here from the airport.”
**
Brenda was unwittingly biting on her fingernails when the buzzer sounded; with an annoyed groan she realized that she had chewed off the manicure she’d gotten only two days earlier. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably and she pressed the button to allow her visitor to enter the building. She tried not to pace and instead bit the inside of her cheek.
The near-immediate knock on her door made Brenda sigh with relief. “Thank the Lord you’re as much of a homebody as I am!” she said, tugging Sharon into the apartment.
Sharon looked around the little apartment, searching for any sign that her friend’s mother had arrived before her. “What exactly is going on? Did something happen at home?”
“No. Well, I don’t think so. She said she wanted to surprise me with a visit.”
“And this is a problem because...?” Sharon sat down on the red sofa and Sugar immediately lunged for her ankles, swatting playfully at the hem of her jeans.
“When she shows up outta the blue like this, there’s always a reason.” Brenda continued picking at her nails while she checked her phone to see how much time had elapsed since Willie Rae had called.
Sharon patiently watched the younger woman bristling with nervous energy and recalled the poised, wise presence that Willie Rae Johnson had exuded on the one occasion they had met. She had been, like any well-meaning mother, curious about Sharon and the friendship she shared with her daughter. On that miserable, lonely Christmas day, Willie Rae had been the most welcoming person of the group, making her feel as though she belonged in that ragtag, temporary family. They had cooked together, discussing embarrassing stories of Brenda Leigh’s childhood, and they had discussed Sharon’s children. Yes--Willie Rae was an impressively intense, self-aware woman, but Sharon had liked her. She had been the only person to lessen the ache of being away from her kids on Christmas Day.
“Could it be your father?” Sharon asked, her mind running the gamut of possible disasters that could have struck the Johnson family. “Has his cancer returned?”
“No. If he were sick, he would have come with her, or they’d have asked me to come home.” She dropped onto the couch beside Sharon, scooping the cat into her arms. Sugar pressed her paw to Brenda’s cheek and the blonde nuzzled her nose against the cat’s face. With the impatience of all young felines, Sugar allowed herself to be cuddled for only a moment before she wiggled herself free from Brenda’s grasp and leapt off the sofa. “But what if somethin’s wrong?”
“Brenda,” Sharon began tentatively, “is it possible that perhaps your mother simply wants to spend some time with you?”
Brenda groaned and dropped her head onto Sharon’s shoulder. “There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.”
“Why don’t you wait and see what happens before you doom this visit with all of your negative thinking?” Sharon adamantly tried to ignore the way Brenda’s hair smelled like vanilla. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Are you just sayin’ that so I’ll stop worryin’?”
“That depends,” Sharon said, unable to resist stroking back the blonde curls from Brenda’s face, “is it working?”
Brenda lifted her head and looked at her, piercing brown eyes scanning her face as if she hadn’t already memorized its features. “Maybe a little...” She smiled and, as if it were inevitable, her gaze dropped to Sharon’s lips.
Sharon’s pulse quickened. She resisted the urge to lick her lips, knowing it would only be perceived as an invitation, and she wasn’t entirely sure that it was an invitation she wished to extend. Only Brenda’s lips were curved in a serene grin, and Sharon wondered if her mouth had always been so sensual and inviting. She licked her lips and held her breath.
The shrill sound of the buzzer echoed throughout the apartment. The noise drew on, as if Willie Rae were unsure of how long to hold the button and had decided that a full thirty seconds was adequate. Sharon immediately straightened her back and Brenda gave a frustrated sigh as she got to her feet to unlock the main door.
“I’m gonna go down to meet her and help her with her bags. Will you keep an eye on Sugar for me and let us in when we get up here?”
“Of course.”
When Sharon was alone, she closed her eyes impatiently and scolded herself. What kind of person was she to be thinking about kissing Brenda Leigh when her mother was right outside? And yet, despite the firm talking-to’s she’d given herself about reinforcing the platonic side of their friendship, Sharon had wanted to kiss her. Badly. She had wanted to feel the slow, wet slide of Brenda’s tongue against her own.
Arousal curled low in her belly. When she heard voices in the hall, she rubbed at the tense muscles of her neck. She checked to make sure that Sugar was keeping herself busy in the kitchen with a crumpled up piece of paper and then she opened her door to greet her best friend’s mother.
“Mrs. Johnson,” Sharon said with that practiced, poised smile that made Brenda think she would’ve been an excellent spokesmodel. Toothpaste, hand lotion, wooden nickels -- if Sharon was selling, Brenda figured people would buy. “How nice to see you.” She stepped aside so the diminutive woman could enter the apartment, looking beyond her to a red-faced Brenda struggling up the last steps with her mother’s luggage. “Oh, my. That is a large suitcase.”
“I already told Brenda Leigh not to worry, dear. I’m not movin’ in; I just brought her a few things for her new apartment. And call me Willie Rae, Sharon.” She enthusiastically gripped Sharon’s elbows and gave them a little shake, as if they were already old friends. “I’m so glad to see you again, here keepin’ my daughter company.”
Sharon’s cheeks felt hot, and she knew her eyes were a little too bright as she smiled back, assaulted by images of just how she might have been keeping the woman’s precious only daughter company right that very minute had Willie Rae’s timing been better. Or worse; surely she meant worse.
The brunette darted a furtive glance at Brenda’s mouth. No, she’d definitely meant better.
This was ridiculous, the captain scolded herself with a firm shake of her head. She couldn’t just go around kissing her best friend! And she couldn’t dwell on the thought of it while she was attempting to help entertain said best friend’s sweet, elderly, Southern, no-doubt-right-wing mother.
Willie Rae was turning in a circle, a delighted smile on her comfortably lined face. “Why, Brenda Leigh! This place is just darlin’. And so bright and cheerful --”
Brenda smiled, pleased by the approbation. “Sharon helped me pick the colors,” she proclaimed proudly. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest, and we can put your suitcase in the bedroom.”
“Mrs. -- Willie Rae, have you eaten?”
When she answered that she hadn’t, Brenda chimed in, “You must be tired after your flight. We can order in. Come on, Mama.”
As Brenda showed off her abode, Sharon went into the kitchen and began a brisk survey. By the time Brenda and Willie Rae returned, she was defrosting a bag of frozen shrimp and chopping an onion.
“Oh, Sharon, you don’t have to do that,” Brenda fussed, watching intently.
“You can’t feed your mother an exclusive diet of Chinese take-out, Brenda.” She looked up from her chopping with a one-sided smirk. “Besides, I’m starving.”
“Can I help?”
“You can put water on to boil for pasta, and then go visit with your mother.”
Brenda bent and rummaged through the cabinet that housed the large saucepan, managing to make an inordinate amount of noise in the process. “I’m gonna have plenty of time to visit with my mother,” she muttered. “She’s stayin’ a week.”
“Yes, you do have plenty of time,” Sharon agreed pleasantly. “Starting now.” She made a little shooing motion. “Go on.”
“Be careful with that knife,” Brenda cautioned, earning herself a fierce glare.
The two Johnson women were cooing over Sugar’s antics in identical tones of besotted adoration when Sharon peeked out of the kitchen twenty minutes later. “Dinner’s ready, ladies.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Brenda sprang to her feet with a quick, eager smile. “I’ve had the hardest time keepin’ Mama out of the kitchen. I don’t think she would’ve lasted another ten minutes.”
“It just doesn’t seem right to let your guest do the cookin’,” Willie Rae returned in a tone of mild disapproval as they all moved toward the dining table.
“You’re a guest,” the blonde pointed out to her mother, her eyes meeting Sharon’s. “I did offer to help.”
The warmth in those soft green eyes soothed Brenda’s mildly ruffled feathers, reassuring her that she and Sharon understood one another and her friend didn’t fault her for her lack of skills in the culinary department. “It’s just pasta, nothing fancy,” Sharon interjected mildly, pulling her chair up to the table. “And no trouble at all.”
“We’ll go out somewhere nice tomorrow night,” Brenda said. She smoothed her napkin over her lap. “You too, Sharon.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Sharon murmured rather awkwardly.
“It wouldn’t be an intrusion at all, dear,” Willie Rae insisted as she served herself, her quick, light movements making Sharon think of a bird -- something light and sleek and colorful, in a summer garden. “It would be a pleasure. I haven’t really gotten to know any of Brenda’s friends since she was in high school. But if you have plans --”
“Of course she doesn’t,” Brenda interrupted grumpily, with a distinctly proprietary air.
Sharon raised her eyebrows. “I could have plans,” she countered.
Brown eyes widened. “But you don’t, do you?”
The captain’s answering smile was rueful. “No, of course not. I’d love to join you.”
“Invite Daniel,” Brenda chimed in recklessly, and looked to Willie Rae. “Sharon’s son. He’s in medical school,” she explained. “You’ll like him.”
“I’m sure I will, sweetheart, but I know who Daniel is. Sharon and I got to have a nice long talk when she helped me with the dinner last Christmas,” Willie Rae reminded, and Sharon was gratified to see Brenda pale slightly, no doubt wondering what mortifying anecdotes her mother might have shared with the other woman. The captain smiled slightly and Willie Rae’s warm gaze settled on her. “Now, how are both of your children, Sharon?”
Sharon’s stomach clenched, but she merely looked down at her plate for a second. When she looked back up, she met Brenda’s stricken stare.
Willie Rae frowned, her pride at having remembered that there were two Raydor offspring quickly replaced by concerned confusion.
“Mama--” Brenda began, but Sharon gently cleared her throat.
“It’s all right, Brenda.” It never got any easier telling people that her daughter was dead, and this occasion was no different. Despite the hollow-sounding words and the bitter taste they left in her mouth once they had been spoken, Sharon knew that she could not defer to her friend whenever the question arose. “My daughter passed away.”
“Oh.” Willie Rae’s slender hand clutched her throat, and Sharon could tell by the ashen hue of the older woman’s cheeks that she was imagining the pain a mother must feel at the loss of her child. “Oh Sharon, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been just horrible for you and your family.”
“It was.” She looked away, uncomfortable at the twin pairs of pitying glances from the Johnson women, and rose gracefully to her feet. “What can I get you to drink, Willie Rae?”
“You don’t have to wait on me!” Willie Rae swatted at Brenda’s arm, tactfully taking Sharon’s cue to change the subject. “Brenda Leigh, don’t be rude! Sharon here cooked us a lovely dinner--don’t make her serve the drinks too.”
“Oww,” Brenda whined, ruefully rubbing her forearm. “Sit, Sharon. I’ll get it. What would you like? I’ve got a pitcher of tea in the fridge.”
“That would be just fine,” Willie Rae replied, and Sharon nodded in agreement. She sat dutifully by her plate, waiting for Brenda to return before she began to eat. “Sharon, Brenda Leigh was tellin’ me all about the case you helped her solve.
The brunette resisted raising an eyebrow, wondering which details the blonde had squeamishly omitted. She doubted, for instance, that Brenda mentioned the part where they made out in the bedroom they shared. She smirked. “Actually, Willie Rae, Brenda spent most of her time in the pool while I did all of the grunt work.”
“Hey!” Brenda shrieked. “It was a team effort...and don’t you forget that I saved your life!” She set down two glasses of iced tea and went back for the third.
“I was the lucky one on the ground floor when our friendly neighborhood sociopath paid us a visit,” Sharon explained, grinning at the sight of Willie Rae’s captivated expression. “Your daughter was kind enough to stop her before she did any real damage.”
“To think they had you both sittin’ around, waitin’ for a killer to show up!” Willie Rae exclaimed, blanching slightly at the image. “As if you were human bait! I can’t believe the LAPD would put you in that position!”
Brenda caught Sharon’s eye, and she knew better than to explain that it had, in fact, been Brenda’s idea. “Dangers aside, I think we managed okay. Besides, it was nice to work with Brenda and be on the same team for once.”
The blonde nearly choked on her shrimp. She coughed, cheeks growing pink, and then smiled awkwardly at her mother’s concerned stare. “Sorry. Shar, this is so yummy. You’ll have to teach me how to make it sometime.”
Willie Rae furrowed her brow and frowned disapprovingly. “I should think Sharon wouldn’t want anythin’ to do with teachin’ you to cook after that accident you two had!”
Sharon laughed. “It was my own fault.”
Brenda grimaced. “I still feel so bad about that. You’ve got that nasty scar on your hand to mark the occasion.”
Sharon looked down at the scar in question. “It’s not like anyone’s staring at my hands, Brenda.”
Brenda’s cheeks remained flushed as she attacked her pasta with fervor.
“Well, it sure is nice to know that Brenda’s got a friend out here,” Willie Rae added, oblivious to her daughter’s reddened face. “I was so worried about her after the...” she lowered her voice “...the divorce and all.”
“I’ve been fine, Mama. I’ve got my friend and my cat. What more does a single girl need?”
“At your age?” Willie Rae asked, pointing her fork at her daughter. “Companionship. A nice, well-mannered man to spend your life with.”
“Oh, Mama,” Brenda moaned, drawing the syllables out and sounding for all the world like a put-upon teenager. “Please don’t start that. I’ve already been divorced twice. I’d think you and Daddy would be about ready for me to hang up my datin’ hat for good.”
Sharon smirked into her tea glass as she realized Willie Rae was poised to launch into essentially the same speech she got from Daniel on a regular basis. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to introduce her son to Brenda Leigh’s mother.
“Don’t you agree, now, Sharon?”
Sharon’s attention was yanked back to the present by the older woman’s question, and she found the eyes of the two Johnson women fixed attentively on her. “Ah --”
Brenda’s expression plainly telegraphed that whatever Willie Rae had said, Sharon’s life wouldn’t be safe if she agreed.
“It would be a cryin’ shame for Brenda resign herself to spendin’ the rest of her life alone. Sometimes a woman just needs the companionship of a good man. There are some things in life you aren’t meant to do by yourself.”
The captain hoped she didn’t look as shell-shocked as she felt. Had Willie Rae Johnson just made an oblique reference to sexual satisfaction? You don’t need a man for that, honey, Sharon thought before she could stop herself, and then felt her face flame. No. Brenda’s mother had probably just meant you needed a man around to fix the faucet when it leaked and program the VCR. Brenda was her mother’s daughter, after all.
Remembering their conversation about VCRs and vibrators, Sharon tittered. Brenda looked at her like she’d clearly lost her mind, and then the blonde’s eyes widened in horror, and she blushed too. She was remembering Sharon’s threat to tattle to Willie Rae.
Unfortunately, the deputy chief was completely safe on that front, which she ought to know. If Sharon brought up the notorious Rabbit, Brenda Leigh now had plenty of material to retaliate. Oh, Mama, did I tell you about the time Sharon stuck her tongue down my throat?
More awkward than she had felt any time in recent memory, Sharon sat frozen to her chair, fork poised in midair, unable to think of a single thing to say.
“Don’t ask Sharon, Mama,” Brenda piped up cheerily. “She doesn’t date.”
That’s right, the dark-haired woman reminded herself. I don’t date, and there are reasons for that.
Fortunately, before the two Johnsons could begin dissecting all the gory details of her nonexistent love life, Sharon’s phone rang. She excused herself in a flash and fumbled to extract it from her handbag. She glanced at the screen, hesitated for a split second, and then brusquely answered, “Raydor.”
“Ooh, the captain is in. You’re not back at work, are you, Mom?”
“All right, I’m on my way,” Sharon said, rising from her seat and shooting her dinner companions a quick, apologetic glance.
“Mom, what’s going on? Are you drunk?”
“Just text me the address. How many shots fired?”
“Oh-ho. You owe me big time. I may not have a clue what you’re up to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fully intend to collect. You remember those sunglasses you insisted were obscenely expensive?”
“I see. Thank you, officer.”
Daniel snickered. “You’re such a wimp, Mom. G’night.”
Sharon slipped her phone back into the side pocket of her bag, but before she could even utter a word of apology, Willie Rae was waving her off. “That’s all right, dear. I know how it is: duty calls. We’ll see you tomorrow, though.”
“I’ll call you,” Brenda promised, following her to the door.
The captain fluttered her fingers at both of them in a little wave. She only felt a tiny bit guilty. “See you tomorrow,” she offered insouciantly, “unless I get all wrapped up in this case.” She pursed her lips regretfully, suggesting that her phantom case promised to be a complicated one and it was all too likely that she’d spend her weekend slaving away.
The blonde leaned in the doorway, pouting. The expression did absurd things to her mouth, and Sharon forced herself to look away. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
Just like that, those icy-hot tingles were back again, starting at the back of her neck and on the soles of her feet and working their way to meet in the middle. She suddenly felt like a teenager after a first date, standing hesitantly on someone’s front porch in the glaring puddle cast by the inevitable outdoor light. Instead of an anxious father glaring through the curtains, there was Willie Rae at the table, smiling benevolently; but the effect was the same. No matter how dangerously tempting the prospect, there was no power in heaven or on earth that would make Sharon even consider kissing Brenda Leigh good night. It wasn’t even an option.
Distinctly relieved and feeling suddenly lighter, she managed a weak smile. “You know how it is,” she said. “Night, Brenda. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
As Sharon crossed the courtyard, she heard Brenda’s door close, and realized that she was already breathing easier, tension ebbing from her tight shoulders. That had gone well enough, she reassured herself. Thanks to Willie Rae’s presence, nothing the slightest bit inappropriate had happened tonight.
As she slid behind the wheel of her car, Sharon Raydor decided that, no matter how Brenda Leigh might feel about it, for her part she was very glad Willie Rae had come to visit.
**
While sitting in the backseat of Brenda’s car that was headed in the direction of the nearest shopping mall, Sharon decided that she was not, in fact, glad that Willie Rae had visited. What she had hoped would be a quiet morning of yoga, CNN, and lounging with her cat had gone up in smoke as soon as she received Brenda’s call. The blonde had locked herself in the bathroom, muffling the sound of her voice with the spray of the shower, and had chastised Sharon for using a made-up crime scene as an excuse to leave. When Sharon had feigned ignorance, Brenda coolly informed her that, while she had been unable to check up on her husband’s fake cases that fell under the purview of the FBI, she could check up on Sharon’s. The tone of her voice implied that Sharon would indeed be spending the day traipsing around Macy’s with the deputy chief and her mother, or else.
Sharon wasn’t particularly keen on finding out just what “or else” entailed.
The fact of the matter was that Sharon simply wanted to stay far, far away from situations that included Brenda removing articles of clothing. Except, of course, for the fact that she didn’t want to avoid them at all. She vividly remembered Brenda’s tiny black bikini and shuddered.
“Brenda Leigh, turn down the air conditionin’. Sharon’s practically shiverin’ back there,” Willie Rae implored, giving the captain a sympathetic look. Sharon smiled politely and screamed internally.
“I can’t remember the last time Brenda Leigh took me shoppin’,” Willie Rae said, punctuating her remark with an excited wiggle. “It’s been so long since we had a girls’ day out, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has, Mama,” Brenda agreed, her eyes flicking up to catch Sharon’s in the rear-view mirror.
“And I’m so glad that you were able to come along,” the older woman continued, turning back to smile warmly at Sharon. “Isn’t it lucky that you were able to wrap up your case so quickly? Why--you should teach Brenda Leigh a thing or two about that. I swear, this girl takes days on her work. We hardly ever see her when we visit!”
“It is just so lucky,” Brenda echoed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
Sharon smirked at the blonde’s evident annoyance, her guilt absolved as soon as she realized that she had played the work card just as Brenda had time and time again. “I’d love to get my hands on Major Crimes,” she teased. “They’d certainly benefit from a lesson or two in efficiency and time management.”
Brenda snorted. “And have you standin’ in my murder room with your little watch? Nooo, thank you. We do just fine on our own.” She navigated the car into the busy parking lot and found a spot not too far from the entrance.
“Well, thank the Lord the two of you managed to get the mornin’ off.” Willie Rae unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. Her bright red vest, which displayed a vibrant array of cross-stitched birds, gleamed brightly in the sunlight. “The pair of you really need a heavy dose of retail therapy.”
Sharon raised an eyebrow at Brenda, who gaped. “What do you mean?”
“Brenda Leigh, I bought you that skirt five years ago. You need to spruce up your wardrobe, especially if you’re gonna catch the eye of a good man.”
Sharon snorted as the trio made their way toward Macy’s, unable to bite back her laughter. “I’ve been itching to take her shopping for ages, Willie Rae.”
“You could use a few new items yourself,” the older woman added, wiping the smirk from Sharon’s face. Brenda practically hooted with giggles. “Everythin’ I’ve ever seen you wear is black or gray or navy. A pretty girl like you needs a little color.”
“Don’t worry, Mama,” Brenda replied, eyes gleaming. “We’ll find her somethin’ nice and pink.”
The glare Sharon sent Brenda’s way was murderous. The blonde merely smirked malevolently in return.
No. Sharon was not glad that Willie Rae had come to town.
**
“Mama, I’m never gonna wear this dress,” Brenda whined, holding out a hideous frock that had more flowers and bows than her childhood Sunday school dresses. Sharon would mock her into eternity if she so much as tried it on. Before her mother could protest, she set it back on the rack. “Let’s keep lookin’. Why don’t we find somethin’ nice for you to wear when you go home?”
“A goin’ away outfit, Brenda Leigh? Already?” Her mother raised an eyebrow.
“I was thinkin’ along the lines of somethin’ pretty for you to wear for Daddy when he picks you up from the airport,” she amended, her eyes casually scanning the Women’s department for sign of her elusive friend. “Don’t you think he’d like that?”
“After all these years, Brenda Leigh, your father is happy to see me in whatever I’m wearin’. I don’t need to impress him. You, on the other hand...”
Brenda scowled and rolled her eyes, spying the captain beside a display of cardigans. Willie Rae looked in the same direction and her eyes lit up. “Oh look, twin sets in every color of the rainbow!” she exclaimed, hastening over to join the dark-haired woman. “You just wouldn’t believe how hard these are to come by in Atlanta. The selection’s always picked over, but here, it looks like they’ve got just everything.” Sharon smiled tolerantly, the tolerance turning into a deadly smirk when the silver-haired woman continued, “Brenda Leigh, do you need any new ones? It looked to me like your yellow one’s startin’ to ball up. And look at these adorable little pearl buttons.”
The chief looked down at her mother’s frail but capable hands playing among the folded garments, and Sharon knew her friend was tempted, but didn’t want to risk a display of enthusiasm in front of her. “No, Mama, I think I’m good.”
“How ‘bout you, Sharon?” Willie Rae held a pale pink sweater up next to the captain’s cheek, and Brenda watched her friend’s green eyes turn glassy.
“That’s really not my color,” she managed.
“You should branch out, honey. Take a chance! Look at all these beautiful colors. Now, what on earth a pretty girl like you is doin’ in all those drab grays --” Willie Rae gestured toward Sharon, who smiled tightly, her eyes meeting Brenda’s. Brown eyes flashed back the younger woman’s sympathy. In her black jeans and boots and a slinky gray sweater that had probably cost at least a week’s pay, Sharon looked effortlessly elegant, perfect for Los Angeles; but she clearly fell short of Willie Rae’s standards.
“Those buttons,” Sharon tried again, tentatively, thinking she should be applauded for managing not to grimace.
“Mama, that’s not Sharon at all,” Brenda decreed, swooping down to rescue the captain and tucking her mother’s hand through the crook of her elbow. “We’ll find her somethin’ bright and colorful that she’ll actually wear, I promise.” The blonde patted her mother’s hand, but it was Sharon’s gaze she met with an ominous twinkle of mischief as she added, “You just wait and see.”
When Sharon realized Brenda’s strategy was to distract her mother from her mission to revolutionize the wardrobes of her daughter and her daughter’s best friend, she eagerly jumped on board. As much as Sharon herself would’ve loved to see some alterations in Brenda Leigh’s clothing choices, she wasn’t willing to risk getting stuck with a complete Liz Claiborne suit and fake pearls; some prices were just too high to pay, even for friendship. They’d managed to tempt the older woman with a pale pink suit that, even Sharon had to admit, set off her delicate complexion and her twinkling eyes, because, as the captain had pointed out when Willie Rae had again trotted out her line about not needing to impress Clay, “But isn’t it nice to be able to once in a while anyway?”
Poor Sharon, Brenda would think later, feeling mildly apologetic. She hadn’t even seen it coming. One minute she’d been standing there listening to Brenda’s mother extol the virtues of synthetic fabrics (“They just never wrinkle, and you can wash them out in the sink and have ‘em dry in a jiffy!”), and the next Willie Rae had shanghaied her into a dressing room with a hideous fuchsia sweater dress.
Smiling that same self-satisfied smile that Brenda remembered seeing grace her lips every summer when her mama won the strawberry-pie-baking contest at the First Methodist, Willie Rae patted Brenda’s hand. “Now, you stay right here, and don’t let her take it off until I see,” she instructed, indicating the area where they stood right outside the door of the dressing room Sharon occupied. “I’m gonna gather up a few more things that caught my eye.”
After a moment the blonde heard an unmistakable hiss: “Brendaaa!”
She swallowed a laugh. “It’s okay, Sharon, she’s gone.”
“Brenda, this dress is made from substances that do not occur in nature,” Sharon continued, her clipped words agonized.
“You don’t have to buy it; just twirl for Mama and she’ll be happy,” Brenda soothed. “Trust me, this day is my entire childhood and adolescence.” Maybe, she thought with faint hope, after this little outing Sharon would have a smidge more respect for her friend’s sense of personal style, given this insight into her disadvantaged upbringing.
“It has appliques!” Sharon wailed, sounding as if she were smothering, and Brenda just managed to turn her hysterical laughter into a cough when her mother reappeared.
“Do you have it on, dear? Let me see.”
Several seconds of silence followed. “I’d rather not,” Sharon finally responded in her cool Captain Raydor tone.
It worked on legions of police officers and perps, but it didn’t faze Brenda’s mother. “Come on, now. Open that door and don’t be silly.”
Brenda distinctly heard a sigh before the door opened just enough to reveal her friend, whose lovely curves had been swallowed by a hideous pinkish-purple shroud. It was so bad that, after a couple of seconds of stunned silence, Brenda couldn’t hold back her giggles. “Oh, Lord, Sharon --”
The brunette pressed her lips very firmly together. “I know,” she said flatly. “I told you. I look like I’ve been attacked by The Blob.”
Willie Rae looked alarmed. “Maybe in another size,” she suggested doubtfully, and was answered by the quick shutting of the dressing room door as Sharon stepped back inside.
“No!” the two younger women exclaimed in unison.
As Brenda wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, she took in her mother’s crestfallen countenance and made a split-second decision. “Don’t go anywhere, Shar,” she called. “We’ll be back in a tick.” She grabbed Willie Rae’s hand and led her back out onto the sales floor.
Despite the glare of the hideously unflattering overhead fluorescent lights, ubiquitous in dressing rooms, Sharon had begun to shiver and was extremely tired of standing around in her socks and underwear when her friend’s voice rang out: “Knock knock!”
“I’m not dressed,” the captain replied, resigned to her fate. “Whatever it is, just pass it over the top.”
“No, you’re gonna like these,” Brenda returned confidently, stretching up on tiptoe to hand over several hangers. “And you have to let us see.”
“You too, Brenda Leigh. This’ll be just darlin’ on you,” Sharon heard vaguely from outside as she contemplated the garments Brenda had handed her. No fake pearls, no appliques, no sequins, and nary a Liz label in sight -- but certainly nothing she would ever pick out for herself.
The blonde was saying something about there not being any free dressing rooms. Skeptically eyeing a vee-neck sweater in deep rose, Sharon heard Willie Rae respond, but all she clearly made out was her own name.
“Try on the sweater first,” Brenda called, and with a roll of her eyes, Sharon resolved to get this over with as quickly as possible. She yanked her jeans back on, double-checked that her bra was properly adjusted, and stripped the sweater from the hanger. It was a damn sight better than that awful dress, but it was still pink, Sharon thought, and then hesitated as she glimpsed her own reflection. The material hugged her curves, the neckline plunging more daringly than anything she’d wear to work. It sort of looked... not terrible.
When she opened the door, Willie Rae beamed, and Brenda clasped her hands in front of her chest. “I knew that would look great on you,” Brenda declared happily. “That rose color, with your beautiful brown hair --”
She should have known. Sharon’s eyebrows crept toward her hairline. “You picked this out?”
“I helped,” Brenda responded in a tone that plainly telegraphed that yes, she’d picked it out. “You’re buyin’ that, captain, and that is a direct order. Now the dress.”
“Do you think my clothes are boring?” Sharon heard herself ask, thinking of the night they’d gone out dancing with Morales, and feeling a ridiculous twinge of hurt.
“I think your clothes are beautiful.” Brenda’s eyes seemed to caress Sharon, lingering on her prominently-displayed chest, and the captain hoped that neither of the Johnsons had noticed her quickly indrawn breath. Brenda Leigh had intentionally selected a sweater that would show off her breasts? Well, well. That put a different complexion on things. Maybe she’d be taking this sweater home with her after all. “But it’d be nice to see you in bright colors sometimes. Now try the dress.”
“Did you choose it too?” Sharon asked in a low tone, her pulse still not recovered from the way Brenda had looked at her.
Those brown eyes were soft as they sparkled back at her. “I told you, I helped,” she replied in the same low tone.
“You go on in there with her, honey; it’ll save time. That line’s a mile long.” Willie Rae’s voice made Sharon jump -- for a few seconds she’d all but forgotten the elderly woman was there. Brenda’s mother shoved a long dress at Brenda and then shoved Brenda at Sharon. “There’s plenty of space.”
“Mama, Sharon might not want to share,” Brenda protested, turning to look over her shoulder at Willie Rae. The captain realized that was what she’d heard Mrs. Johnson say a moment before: not Sharon, but “You can just share.”
“Don’t be silly. Sharon’s had two children; I’m sure she’s not a prude. Besides, neither of you has got anything the other one hasn’t got,” Willie Rae retorted, giggling at her mild version of ribaldry. Then, having heard enough excuses, she efficiently closed the cubicle door in her daughter’s face.
Brenda stared at the door for a few counts, and then slowly turned around to face the other woman. “Mama’s right,” she said, striving for normality. “There’s no reason to be silly.” But she heard the high, nervous tremor in her voice, and she knew Sharon heard it too.
Unsurprisingly, the captain decided to brazen it out. “Right,” she agreed. “Did they still have co-ed locker rooms when you went through the academy?” As she spoke, Sharon turned her back and smoothly whipped the sweater over her head. Brenda stared unabashedly at the creamy skin of her back, the curve of her spine against the stark contrast of her black bra.
The blonde didn’t realize that she was staring until Sharon’s arm reached in front of her to drape the sweater back on its hanger. She blinked, heat rising in her cheeks as she found herself with an eyeful of Sharon’s breasts. She caught her own gaping reflection in the mirror and the sight of her desire-laden eyes was enough motivation to turn around. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, beating so rapidly that Brenda wondered if Sharon might actually be able to hear it. With trembling fingers she worked the buttons of her pale orange cardigan through their holes, shrugging it off her shoulders before setting it down on the bench.
Don’t turn around, Brenda told herself. She pulled her white tank top over her head, piling it on top of her sweater. As she reached for the zipper of her flowery skirt, Sharon’s hip nudged her own. Despite the warning voice in her head, Brenda looked over her shoulder. The brunette was shimmying her jeans back down her legs, her backside covered in a set of low-rise black panties. When Sharon straightened her back, she cast a glance over her shoulder.
Their eyes met. Lips parted in a simultaneous acknowledgment: we are in a small, enclosed space, we are half-naked, and Willie Rae is just outside.
Still, Brenda let out a shaky breath as she turned around, her fingers deftly unzipping her skirt before she let it pool around her feet. She had no way of knowing if the other woman was still looking and hoped that she was.
“C’mon, you two,” Willie Rae impatiently called from outside the dressing room. “I’m on pins and needles out here!”
“This dressin’ room’s a little smaller than I thought,” Brenda mentioned for lack of better things to say as she gathered the fabric of the dress in her hands. The unzipped top of the dress fell forward, allowing her to step inside and pull it up around her waist. Behind her, she heard Sharon adjusting her own dress in a rustle of fabric.
“Are you claustrophobic, Brenda Leigh?” Sharon asked, turning around to raise a curious eyebrow at the blonde.
Brenda looked back over her shoulder. “No. Just...aware.” She licked her lips, her eyes darting from the alluring shape of Sharon’s mouth to the inviting display of cleavage. “Can, um, you zip me up?”
Sharon observed her for a long moment, her eyes dark and filled with something urgent, before she reached forward and brushed Brenda’s hair to the side. She took a step forward, her breath warm on Brenda’s back, as she peered down at the spattering of freckles on the blonde’s pale shoulders. There were goosebumps on her skin and as Sharon slowly worked the zipper up her spine, she allowed her knuckles to graze against her flesh. Brenda shivered violently, her breath coming in heavy gasps. When Sharon’s hands reached the nape of her neck Brenda spun around.
The captain nearly groaned at the unbearably tortured expression on Brenda’s face. She could see it in her eyes, in the way her lips parted, that Brenda wanted to kiss her. No--Brenda would kiss her and Sharon was going to let her.
A sharp knock on the door forced them to jump apart. Releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Sharon quickly unlocked the door and looked upon the elder woman with an expression that rivaled that of a deer in the headlights.
“Oh don’t you two look just beautiful!” Willie Rae exclaimed, grabbing their hands as she drew them out of the dressing room. No longer distracted by close quarters, Sharon allowed herself to look at what Brenda was wearing. The dress was a deep eggplant color and clung to Brenda’s slender body as if it had been painted on. It reminded Sharon of the blue dress that Brenda owned, slinking against her curves. Sharon loved purple and, she realized, she loved the way the younger woman looked in it, her creamy pale skin nearly glowing against the vibrant tone.
Brenda, for her part, was distracted by the dress she had chosen for Sharon. It was an olive green wrap, the color enhancing the emerald of her eyes. She bit her lip, proud of her success in selecting a garment that flattered every aspect of her friend’s body. She would buy it for Sharon herself if the captain refused.
“You look lovely,” Sharon said lamely. She schooled her expression, forcing herself to look away from the shape of Brenda’s hips.
“Sharon’s right.” Willie Rae directed Brenda to stand right in front of the mirror, turning her daughter’s body as if she were a doll. “This color’s a little dark though, don’t you think?”
“No,” Brenda answered at once. “I love this color.” In the mirror, her eyes found Sharon’s.
“If you insist.” Willie Rae heaved the burdensome sigh of a mother dealing with her impertinent child. “I hope you’ll get that dress, Sharon. We saw that one and just knew you’d love it.”
“I...might. It’s a very nice dress.”
“You will and that’s all there is to it,” Brenda declared. “Let’s hurry up and change...there’s a Cinnabon outside callin’ my name.”
“I thought you were cuttin’ down on sugar?” Willie Rae raised a disapproving eyebrow.
Brenda lied, “I’m always cuttin’ down.” She swept back into the dressing room, Sharon following closely behind.
When the door was locked and Brenda’s dress unzipped, Sharon turned away and stared intently at the wall. “You need to stop looking at me like that,” she whispered, pulling her dress over her head.
“Huh?” Brenda spun around, the top of her dress draping loosely over her torso.
Sharon felt the other woman’s movement, felt those eyes again boring into her bare back, and refused to turn. She removed her own sweater from its peg on the wall and pulled it over her head, her movements measured. Like I’m your damned Cinnabon, she thought. Like I’m your damned sickly sweet, double-chocolate, chocolate-dipped dessert with an extra side of chocolate sauce. She huffed out a quick breath. “We’ve already had this conversation,” she said instead. “There’s no reason to have it again, especially not with your mother three feet away.”
Wisely, Brenda Leigh said nothing; and after changing back into her jeans and slipping her boots on, Sharon tossed both the rose-colored sweater and the green dress across the dressing room’s single stool. She certainly had no reason to purchase either.
**