Jasmine made another mark on her napkin. They were neck in neck in the contest to see who could distract more passersby until they crashed into something. “Are you sure she was offended? It sounds like she may have just been put on her guard.” Jasmine traced her long, beautiful neck with a bit of ice before sucking the cube between her perfect lips, and a jogger ran into an open taxi door. Jasmine quickly marked her score down.
“I don’t know. Bobby . . . I mean Detective Jones . . . talked to me yesterday. Apparently they’ve already wrapped this case up to the point that the public defender is looking to make some sort of deal. So I don’t think she refused for business reasons.”
“But it doesn’t sound like she actually refused the offer of drinks. She just . . . panicked. Maybe if you let her know specifically that you want to go on a date . . .”
“Who said anything about a date? I just wanted to apologize to her!” Sandra unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse, exposing a generous amount of cleavage. She took another napkin and fanned the generous expanse of dark cleavage that was suddenly available for viewing, and two businessmen walked straight into the hotdog vendor on the corner.
Jasmine scowled and put two tics down in Sandra’s column. “You apologized! If that was all you cared about, you wouldn’t be worrying about it still. Okay, now you might want to thank her for saving your cute butt from that man at the police station, but don’t try and tell me that you’re not interested. Crap!” she muttered. “It seems that we have a lull in our pedestrian flow. I guess that means you win, and I have to pick up the tab.” She looked across the table at Sandra, staring directly into her eyes. “I know you think she’s pretty and you now have some respect for her . . .”
“Especially after reading that article,” Sandra said softly. “I can’t imagine putting yourself in the line of fire like that.”
“And I know that you consider her a mystery,” Jasmine said a little smugly. “You’re captivated by her. So why not find out if there’s something more there? What could it hurt?”
Sandra grinned. Jasmine was still very good at what she did. “So what do you think I should do?”
—————– ————–
That evening . . .
—————– ————–
Shannon arrived for work right on time, just like she did every day. She had gotten up several hours earlier, eaten, read the paper, fed her pet turtle (whose name was Mr. Ages), worked out, jogged a couple of miles, showered and dressed. Just like she did every day. But that night was going to be a bit different.
When she checked in at the front desk, the secretary said that something had been delivered for her. It was a bouquet of flowers. Shannon had no idea what they were for. Things like birthdays and random presents from family members didn’t apply to her. She really didn’t have friends, so . . .
“Maybe you should read the card?” the secretary suggested with a smile.
“Cuh-… card?” Sure enough, there was a card stuck in the middle of the whole thing. It read, “Thanks for your hard work on my case and for saving my tush the other day. That offer of drinks still stands. Call me at (555) 555-5309. Sincerely, Sandra Lopez.”
Shannon was so swept up in reading the card that she almost walked headlong into two detectives, a street cop, a sergeant and a K9 unit. She took the flowers and put them on the desk in her office and just stared at them for a moment. Other CSI personnel would wander by and see her in her office, just staring at some very pretty flowers. They kept walking. They all actually liked her quite a bit, but she was rather peculiar. ‘What does this mean?’ she thought to herself. ‘Is this just a continuation of the apology? I told her I was fine. Is this about what happened in the lobby the other day? I don’t get it.’
Bobby wandered in. “Hey, we’ve got a smash-and-grab job over at Victoria’s Mall. All the day shift is out on stuff and, as usual, you’re the only one of the night crew who showed up right on time. The Big Guy wants you to take lead CSI on this one. Shannon?” He waved his hand in front of her face. “Anyone home?”
Shannon shook her head, freeing herself from her flower-induced stupor. “Yeah . . . smash-and-grab . . . mall . . . CSI. Cuh-… cuh-… can you guh-… give me a lift?” she asked.
“You really need to get a car. No one walks around as much as you do. Not in California. So, who are the flowers from?”
“Ms. Lopez, it woo-… would seem,” Shannon said, putting the card back on the desk, then staring at the arrangement a moment longer. On the way out to the car, she told him about what the card had said. It still felt a little strange, telling Bobby about that sort of thing. He had become a friend over the last several years, but there had been a time when things had been very tense between them, mostly due to Shannon’s sexual orientation. But they had gotten over that, and he had proven to be a true comrade when she badly needed one.
“Sounds like she’s asking you out, though I am a little bit out of the dating scene,” he added.
“Or at luh-… least thuh-… that’s what you teh-… tell your wife.”
He grinned at her. She didn’t make jokes often. “I mean, if she just wanted to thank you, she didn’t need to leave her number. She wants you to call her. So . . . why not? You’ve been moping around the office for years now,” he said, but wished he hadn’t. Shannon glanced down at her hands. The girl was shy, but for what reason he still wasn’t clear. She was smart, nice and had a smile that could really light up the room when she let it creep out. And whether you approved of her sexual orientation or not, everyone had to acknowledge that at least her face was very pleasing to look at. No one knew what the rest of her looked like except the department physician, and he wasn’t saying anything.
“Buh-… but what would I say?”
‘Good,’ Bobby thought. ‘The stutter’s getting better. Means she’s calming down.’ “Say anything! Don’t be so self-conscious. I mean, you DO want to date don’t you? You didn’t secretly trade your badge for a nun’s habit, did you?”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Nuh-… not that I’m aware of.”
“So call her. If things don’t work out, I’ll let you mope all you want,” he said with a grin.
She tried to fight it, but she smiled back. It didn’t stop her from slapping her friend in the arm, but she did smile.
————— —————-
The next evening . . .
————— —————-
Sandra pulled up to the address she had gotten. There were a series of unimpressive apartment complexes in front of her, filled with unimpressive apartments. She had been surprised that she had actually received a phone call from the young woman after one try. The girl had sounded confused as to why Sandra had left her number. Was the concept of getting hit on such a foreign one to the redheaded police officer? Sandra walked up to the apartment and rang the doorbell. She wondered if she might have overdressed. She was wearing a stunning, low-cut white blouse and a black, knee-length skirt. She had put on some of her nicer earrings, a pair of stiletto heels and a spritz of her favorite perfume. She heard someone fumbling with the bolt-lock. Then a door-chain. Then another door chain. Then there was the door-lock itself. Finally the door opened and Shannon was standing there . . . wearing black sweatpants, a black sweatshirt, white tennis shoes and a CSI baseball cap. And she had a completely baffled look on her face.
“I’m suh-… suh-… sorry. I thuh-… thought thah-… that things wuh-… would buh-… be more cuh-… casual.”
“That’s okay. I hadn’t even thought of where we might go yet. Did you want to change or . . .?” Shannon appeared to be staring at her feet and blushing.
“Thuh-… this is all I’ve guh-… got to wear.”
“You only have one pair of clothes?”
Shannon shook her head. She explained that she actually had nine identical outfits: one for each day of the week, and two extras. One of the extra pairs was worn on Sunday, which was laundry day. Besides that, all she had was her police dress uniform, which was reserved for special occasions, court appearances and funerals. “I’m suh-. . . sorry,” she whispered. “If you’d rather cuh-. . . cancel and . . .”
“Oh nonsense!” Sandra said. This girl was becoming increasingly interesting. And her apartment was so . . . bare. A card table, a single chair, a small television, a weight set, a self-standing punching dummy . . . surely this woman earned enough money to buy nicer things. She didn’t even own a car! “Are you hungry, just thirsty, or . . .”
“Thuh-… thirsty,” Shannon replied. “I juh-… just ate.” Sandra saw her take an empty yogurt container and put it in one of three, nicely ordered and labeled recycling boxes.
Sandra wanted to make a comment about Shannon’s idea of food, but held her tongue. She didn’t want the woman to bolt again. Besides, she could bring it up later. “I’ve got a place we can go!” Sandra indeed had thought of a place. People could dress however they wanted, the lights were always low and the music was always good. She hadn’t been there in a while.
———— ———————
A little while later . . .
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