Candyland & Fairy Tales
©2005 MaddyLA27
Part 5
This follows
Part
4 – and won't make sense
unless you read that first!
I am so sorry it has taken me so long to
finally post this, and sorrier still that I am still working on Part 6, which
should be the conclusion so I can't post it yet. I am back to writing again
after a hiatus, so I will go as fast as I can.
USA Networks, Stu Segall, Stephen J Cannell…I know I
don't own Chris, Rita, Cap or any of the characters that pop up through the
references to the show. I wish I did, because Christopher would never have been
allowed to…well, I won't mention it. I do own Calhoun, who I am starting to
like. I also own Beauregard, and unfortunately Brodie
– but I'll offer him to anyone willing to give him a proper send off into the
abyss.
I am so motivated by feedback, I am starting
to think of myself as a highly in need of attention. You'd be surprised how a
quick comment good or bad gets me writing a few pages, even when I shouldn't be.
Even flames are welcome, just let me know someone out
there may be reading it! I am at
Maddyla27@aol.com. If you are on
That being said – read on!
Part 5
The air conditioning hummed to life
again, the sound followed by a cool shaft of air that immediately wafted over
the king-size bed. The sound broke the thick silence of night, the stillness of
the heavy air broken again for the ten minutes or so it would take the apartment
to cool down again.
Rita pulled up the covers she had
kicked off only moments before and rolled over staring at the clock.
A soft sound escaped her throat. She
missed him, and he was only thirty feet away sleeping on the couch. She
missed him. No, it was more than that. To miss someone seemed too benign.
This ache for him was a raw, searing, soul-shattering fire that threatened to
eat her alive if she let it. She wanted him so bad she was shaking from it.
She wanted Chris. Oh God, she wanted Chris.
Rita rolled again, the covers
tangling in her legs. She wanted him back in this bed, wanted to feel him
against her body. She longed to run her fingers over his jaw, see the beautiful
light of his eyes when she surprised him. Rita wanted to feel the corded muscles
of his arms hold her close, and hear the soft words of reassurance that he had
whispered in her ear as she had shattered around his body. Her heart slammed
painfully against her ribcage as she closed her eyes, trying to will the feeling
away. He was only a few feet away, all she would have to do is go to him, slide
her fingers through the short crop of dark hair and he would be awake, those
clear blue eyes would focus on her and…
Rita moaned aloud, startling her
eyes open again. What in the hell was happening? Last night had just been one
night; she couldn't let it consume her this way. It had just been one out of
control, mind-numbing night of incredible, outrageous, insane sex with Chris.
Sex with Chris. Sex. With. Chris.
Sure, that was something she could
just set aside, why not? After all the years of being
partners, after all of the years when he had held her steady and been there for
her. For all the things he had righted in her world, for all the times he
had carried her through, she had to just go and blow it all by jumping into bed
with him.
Nice going Rita, she lectured herself silently.
You deserve to not be able to think about anything else. Did you think it would
be any different?
No, she had known. Deep in her heart
she had known that experiencing what she had last night with Chris would change
her forever. Everything inside her ached when she looked at him, and this need to crawl into him to just get somehow
closer was only growing. Her life was so intertwined with his that she didn't
know how she had existed before he had filled her heart.
She was in love with him.
Oh no. No, she wasn't. She couldn't
be. They were friends who had let things go too far one night,
that was it. But the words sounded hollow even as they echoed in her
head. She blew out a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the
panic at bay. She couldn't lose this friendship with him because it was the only
real thing that she had. Love, at least the kind Chris was talking about, would
only ruin everything with their combined track records. Chris thought he was in
love at least three times a year, and everyone she had ever loved had left one
way or another. Love meant losing
him eventually, and that wouldn't be worth the short term bliss.
Bliss. Yeah, being loved by Christopher
Lorenzo would be bliss, that much she knew already. He
threw himself into relationships, no holds barred, with all of the fanfare and
hoopla that went with it. He was cards and candles, hot sex and long nights,
secret smiles and intimate surprises. She ignored the part of her that also
screamed he was trust, security, safety…everything.
Rita rolled back over. “Dammit all to hell,” she whispered.
“That good huh?”
Rita jumped, her gaze flying to the
source, who was now leaning lazily against the doorframe to the bedroom, his
arms crossed against his chest. He had mercifully pulled on a pair of cotton
shorts over his boxers, but the light from the patio reflected off of the hard
planes and lines of his muscled torso. Her body reacted instinctively, flooding
with warmth as she pulled the covers up onto her. “What are you doing awake?”
Chris pushed himself off the door
and came to sit at the edge of the bed. His finger instinctively brushed a stray
curl off of her face before he realized what he was doing and abruptly stopped.
“Same thing as you, can't sleep.”
In the pale moonlight, she could see
that his playful demeanor of earlier had vanished, and he looked both exhausted
and…haunted? Oh no, the nightmares again, they wouldn't let up. Her heart
twisted painfully as she sat up,
thankful she had had the urge to sleep in the decency of a t-shirt earlier. “Nightmares again?”
He barely cracked a wry smile. “Amongst other things.”
Rita's eyes met his and she ignored
what he was insinuating. She saw the fear he was trying to mask with the
innuendo. “You have to talk to someone about this, Chris. It's eating you up
inside.”
His face darkened. “It should. I
have to live with what I did,” he said softly.
She tried to temper the anger that
flared at his comment. “What exactly did you do, Chris? Besides catch a
homicidal maniac that would have killed again if you hadn't stopped him?”
There was a mix of desperation and
the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes when he looked at her. “Katie should be
alive, Rita. If I had been there sooner, if I had…”
Rita cut him off as she shoved the
covers off angrily and scooted off the other side of the bed, facing him
mutinously across a space of rumpled sheets. “You're right Sam. Katie should be
alive. But it wasn't your choices that got her killed. It was Chastain. He
killed her. Chastain killed her.”
Chris visibly flinched at the sound
of his name. “Rita, I…”
“No, you listen to me. Chastain
killed Katie!” She would hammer it into his head a thousand times if need
be. This ended tonight.
“Sam -” His eyes revealed all of the
fears and self-doubt.
Her voice rose. “Chastain killed
Katie.”
“But -”
“No. I'm sick of the way you are beating
yourself up on this. Turn the tables, Sam. What if this had been me? What if the
killer got a kick out of screwing with my head? Would you blame me
for how this turned out?” She saw him silently grasping what she was saying. He
was barely with her on this, but he was listening finally, in a way that she
knew he hadn't listened before. Maybe he needed some sort of absolution. She had
to use the strength of his belief in her to give him that and she prayed it
would be enough. Rita walked around to where he was still sitting and stood in
front of him. “You wouldn't. You'd be proud of me for finally catching him Sam,”
she said softly.
Chris's head dropped. “I wanted to
catch him sooner, Sammy.” His voice was strangled.
Rita heard the break in his voice,
knew he was close to letting go. “I know you did.” She cupped his face in her
hands and lifted his chin. “I know, Chris. But it's ok to move on, too.
You're not letting Katie down if you stop blaming yourself. You can't avenge her
death anymore than you already have. You have to let her go. Let her finally
rest.”
Chris shuddered as he took a deep
breath, blinking back unshed tears. “I don't know how.”
She gave him a small smile, her
heart aching at the implicit faith in her that was written all over his face.
“You trust me, right?” She knew the answer, she just
needed to hear him say it. He needed to hear himself say it if he was
going to believe anything she told him.
He nodded. “Yeah,
Sam. Yeah I trust you.”
The impact of the whispered words
echoed in the stillness of the room. Rita crouched down, meeting him at eye
level while her fingers brushed at the sheen of moisture on his cheeks and her
thumb rubbed absently at his lower lip. She leaned over and kissed his forehead
then before pulling back and forcing his gaze to hers. “Then you have to believe
me when I tell you that you are the best damned homicide cop that I know. Anywhere. And I thank God every day that you are my partner,
and I know that no one, and I mean no one Sam, could possibly back me up
and save my ass the way that you do. And out there somewhere is a girl who is
home safe in her bed tonight. She's home sleeping Sam, dreaming of
her life, still hoping for something and having the possibility of it actually
coming true because of you. Because you got there and stopped him from
taking another life that night.” She took a deep breath and stood, recognizing
the tentative way the horrors were retreating in his eyes. Hope bloomed within
her as she continued, dropping her voice. “Chris, you have the most intense,
honorable sense of justice that lives deep within you and I am so damned lucky
to get the chance to see it every day. And it's not jaded or twisted either.
With you it's breathtakingly pure. So please, please
don't let some monster take away your faith in your ability to right the wrongs,
Sammy. People don't die because of you, they are
safe because of you.” She took a ragged breath. “I'm safe because of you.”
Chris's closed his eyes, and head
fell forward against her. Rita wrapped her arms around him as she felt the
moisture against her shirt though he hadn't made a sound. He was finally letting
go. Here, in the same dark room where he had held her through her fear last
night, he was letting go of the demons that lived in him. She had to keep
pushing him. “Katie needs to rest peacefully now, Sammy. You can't keep bringing
her back in your dreams. You have to let her go.” She stroked her fingers
through his hair. “Just let her go. She's ok now, she's at peace.”
Chris made a small sound against
her, pulling her against him. His voice was barely discernable. “I wanted her to
be safe, Sam. The whole time he had her, I just wanted to bring her home. I
wanted so fucking bad to just bring her home. She belonged at home, with her
parents, with her brother. She didn't belong in his hands and he just
goddamn took her. I should have known where she was, what he was thinking.” His
voice was hoarse.
“You got farther into his mind than
anyone else possibly could, and look what it did to you. You put the pieces
together, you figured out what made him tick and that's what made you his
target. He didn't want me, or Cap or anyone else. He knew that your driving need
to right the wrongs would consume you. That was obvious, even to Chastain!
You're such a good man, Chris, a good cop.” Her voice dropped. “And you have to let her rest now,”
Rita's throat locked up. “Let her go Sammy, and stay here with me. I'm
the one who needs you now.”
Chris was silent as he lifted his
head again to look at her. He blinked, as if seeing her for the first time. He
nodded slowly. “Ok,” he said, his voice barely more
than a cracked whisper. “Ok Sammy.”
Relief flooded her, nearly painful
with its intensity. He'd let go of his fears and doubt somewhere in that moment,
somehow he had just needed permission to move on. Rita was innately thankful
that he had believed in her enough to accept that permission from her. She
wanted to hold him so badly that she ached from it. She leaned over, and before
she knew it she had kissed him softly on his lips. He reached for her, letting
the kiss linger for a moment or two before she pulled back. There was some
unspoken understanding in the kiss that there would be no sex tonight, instead
there was something more necessary that she could give him.
Comfort. Acceptance.
Rita slid onto the bed around him
and gently tugged at the back of his shoulders. “Come on, Chris, lie down.”
He nodded again, barely moving of
his own volition. She laid him down onto the pillow and pulled the covers up
over them, his back to her. Rita wrapped her arms around him and kissed his
shoulder. “Sleep, Sammy.”
Chris's hand reached up and his
fingers intertwined with hers as he held her hand against his chest. “Thank
you.”
Rita bit back the small sound that
threatened to escape her at the simplicity of that statement. She took a deep
breath to try and steady her voice. “You're welcome, Sam.” She closed her eyes
and snuggled closer to the smooth skin of his back, reveling in the safety of
his warmth. After a few minutes, she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest,
and heard his breathing settle into an even rhythm. He was finally, mercifully
deep asleep and Rita knew he would likely sleep straight through the night for
the first time in weeks.
Rita pressed her cheek against his
back, feeling fiercely protective of the gentle soul sleeping next to her.
Someone had been saved from hell tonight.
She just didn't know who had saved
whom.
+ + +
Chris stood on the balcony of the
Presidential Suite of the L'Ermitage Hotel and looked
out at the expensive cars that cruised by on the carefully manicured street
below. Only miles south of the hotel would be some of the most dangerous places
in the country,
They had chosen this hotel because
it was being bought from Raffle's by Lewis Machado in the next few weeks, and
therefore would be highly appropriate for ‘his daughter' to be staying there.
Lewis had arranged the suite for them, blustering about how it would be the last
thing that he did for the department, but Chris knew better. Lewis would do
whatever the department asked, anything to avoid bad publicity.
Rita was showering in her bathroom,
across the wide expanse of living area from his bedroom and bath. He dreaded the
next few days, but knew they were necessary. Rita had to prove to Brodie that she was capable of setting in motion all of the
logistics and high-profile players of a party worthy of his plans, and that she
had the connections to make it happen. Brodie had
seemed pleased she was already heading to LA when he had called her yesterday
while they were at the airport, and he was likely keeping tabs on her, even now.
Chris's presence would be easily explained by the fact that Samantha Machado
still was indulging in her fling with ‘Sam'. They had agreed that it was likely
that this silent partner Brodie had mentioned may have
had something to do with Maritz's
death, and that the seeming presence of a “clean-up” hit on
Maritz
didn't bode well for the state of Brodie's and the
silent partner's relationship. Tension was brewing, and Chris and Rita intended
to be there when it boiled over.
Chris rolled his shoulders, his
stomach tight with apprehension. Two nights ago, Rita had exorcised the demons
from the Ross case. He didn't know how she did it, but somehow the sound of her
voice, her relentless faith and her unwavering support of him had pulled him out
of the abyss. He still felt guilt, but he had actually slept last night, even if
it was on the couch of their cover apartment. The pain of losing Katie was
starting to settle into something manageable, and he didn't feel the
overwhelming urge to force Rita into a new partnership with someone else. He
still was terrified of losing her, but his confidence in his ability to protect
her was growing ever so slowly.
No, the tension today had nothing to
do with the Ross case, with his inability to get Rita to admit how she felt
about him or the need he battled to physically haul her up against him and kiss
her hard every four and a half seconds. Although all of those things had been
causing enough stress over the last two days to last a lifetime.
No. Today was about Anna Alexis. His mother.
Rita had been right about the need
to ask for Anna's help, though Chris had nearly given her the silent treatment
for the entire morning when she had mentioned it. She had been patient with him
once again, her unfailing logic ultimately prevailing. Anna could be an ideal
resource, and they could use her contacts and know-how to arrange an event,
funded by seized cash from a joint Vice/DEA bust a few months ago, that would
secure Brodie's confidence in her. They had no
intention of ever letting the drugs hit the actual event,
Brodie
would be arrested en route long before that, but hopefully in the course of this
endeavor Rita would earn enough insight into Brodie's
operation that they would be able to pin both the murders on him.
Chris gritted his jaw as he heard
the shower turn off. Rita was meeting Anna at the Ivy today for lunch, so that
if Brodie's people really were watching, the
see-and-be-seen atmosphere of the luxe outdoor
restaurant would no doubt offer the best glimpse of Samantha Machado lunching
with a famous actress. It would be the exact sort of luncheon expected of a
socialite of Samantha's caliber, although Brodie
would never know that the meeting was really to discuss the logistics of
something that would ultimately bring about his arrest. Chris was grateful he
didn't have to see Anna yet today, but just knowing the meeting would come no
later than dinner tonight had already set his nerves on edge.
Anna Alexis. He couldn't remember
the last time he had thought of her as his mother. He had tried to let some of
the past go when he had seen her a few years ago on a case, but the distance
between them since then had only damaged the fragile relationship again. She
hadn't ever really been a mother, his grandmother had wonderfully filled that
role in his life, instead Anna had been more of a…figurehead.
There had always been a movie shoot, a press junket, or an awards ceremony in
some far off place that prevented her from being with him as a child. With how
press-worthy it seemed to be in
Chris took a deep breath and turned
back into the modern suite, his eyes adjusting from the sun to take in the cool
cucumber greens and light oaks of the room décor. The suite may have been
ridiculously priced at thousands of dollars a night, but at least it was
soothing. Though he bet he needed more than some hotel's version of feng-shui to settle the rising distaste in his gut for the
events of the next few days in
He had nearly been killed back then
and his mother had sent flowers.
He sighed and went to the small bar
and mini kitchen, looking for a soda. Anna had called back then, day after day,
but he had refused to speak with her until Rita had forced him to take at least
one of her calls. He had nodded and muttered a few acknowledgements of her
concern, but he couldn't stomach more than that so Rita had dutifully answered
Anna's subsequent calls until they too tapered as he recovered. Rita had been
the bridge for them over the last few years, and she had been the one to send
Anna cards at the holidays from him. He doubted Anna had ever even realized it
wasn't his handwriting.
The room phone rang, and Chris
reached for it instinctively, hoping it wasn't the room service he had ordered
for lunch being delayed. He was beyond hungry, because the healthy rabbit food
concoction they had sent to the room this morning under the pretense of it being
an ‘omelet' had been paltry at best. Nothing like making him
hungry to add to his already sour mood.
“L-“ he
realized just in time about their cover and caught himself before saying his
name. “'Lo?”
“Christopher –
darling! My
love, how are you?”
He closed his eyes and pinched the
bridge of his nose between two fingers, cursing the absence of caller ID on the
hotel phone.
“Fine, mother. And you?”
She laughed, the sound high pitched
and a little forced. “I'm doing great, and so looking forward to seeing you
tonight. What a fabulous surprise this has been to have Rita call!”
Chris counted silently to ten.
“Mother, you can't call her Rita when you are out over the next few days. She
talked to you about that. You'll get her killed.”
Anna laughed again. “You're so
melodramatic, Chris. You take after your mother.”
Chris couldn't be patient when she
was seemingly taking Rita's safety so lightly. “I'm not kidding, mother. Don't
mess this up. I already don't want you involved because I don't trust you to get
this right and so help me God if you even so much as…” the phone was
yanked out of his hand from behind by Rita, who was standing there in her robe,
her wet hair falling around her shoulders.
She gave him a stern glance as she
put the phone to her ear. “Hi Anna! How are you?”
Chris could hear the grating noise
of his mother's laugh filter through the phone as she talked to Rita, confirming
the lunch appointment in an hour. He shrugged his shoulders and tried to give
Rita a look of innocence but she wasn't having it. She shook her head and tried
to silently admonish his bad attitude, but he caught the small hint of a smile
playing at her lips.
He grinned
right back, suddenly feeling lighter. Her green eyes met his and the impish,
conspiratorial look she flashed him brought about a wave of emotion so strong it
nearly took his breath away. He didn't know how she did it, but she always made
everything difficult somehow more tolerable. Even the thought of having to see
his mother seemed bearable. He brushed a wet lock of hair from her face and
kissed her forehead before moving to answer the knock on the door, which was
likely, thankfully, from room service.
The food on this go-round smelled a
lot better. He had ordered very specifically this time, letting them know in no
uncertain terms that he wanted a beef burger, not tofu or veggie or any of that
other crap, and he wanted real, honest to goodness potato French fries. He
didn't think that left it up to interpretation and was pleasantly surprised that
he was right.
Rita hung up the phone as he sat at
the table. “She's sending a car in forty-five minutes.”
Chris offered a non-committal grunt
in response, and then focused on the burger to try and avoid what he knew was
coming.
Rita's voice softened. “Sam, I know
this is hard for you, but you can't go antagonizing your mother every chance you
get.”
His posture stiffened. “She wasn't
taking your cover seriously, Sammy.”
“Please give her a chance on this
Chris.” Rita came over and grabbed a French fry off his plate and stuffed it
into her mouth. “Maybe, I mean maybe…” She struggled to find the words.
Chris knew what she was trying to
say. “No, Rita. This isn't even worth a discussion.” He took another bite of the
burger, trying to close the topic by pulling over the sports section and opening
it up to read while he was eating.
She absently ran her hand through
his hair. “I know how much she hurt you Sam. God knows I don't want her to be
able to hurt you anymore than you already have been, and if she does I am going
to be the one you need to hold back. But just maybe it's not too late to know
her. She tried Chris, after you were shot, but I think she's scared of how much
she has already screwed up with you and is afraid she'll do it even more.”
“Sam, I appreciate what you are
trying to do, but,” he swallowed, “it's too little too late.”
She trailed her finger along his ear
while she absorbed what he was saying; ultimately realizing she needed to drop
the subject for the time being. She leaned down and pulled his face to look at
her, resting her forehead against his. “Have you ever heard of ‘better late than
never', Sam?” She smiled and tweaked his nose before turning and disappearing
into her bathroom.
Chris groaned, knowing she hadn't
realized what leaning over had done to the front of her robe. He shifted
uncomfortably in the chair, once again counting to ten to calm down, though this
time it was to control his raging libido. This patience he was trying so hard to
hold onto wasn't going to last, not for his mother's antics and definitely not
for Rita's denial of their newfound relationship. He was going to need her
beneath him awfully damned soon.
Better late than
never? Yeah, maybe so. But five years had been a pretty long time to
wait for the first time.
He figured he'd qualify for
sainthood if he had to wait too much longer to have Rita again.
+ + +
Rita shifted on the cushioned chair,
glancing at the arriving cars at the valet for any sign of Chris's mother. Anna
was nearly twenty minutes late, but her recognizable name on the reservation had
afforded Rita the most private outdoor table, one in the far corner, and a
gimlet was sent to her table as soon as she was settled. Rita took another sip
of the drink, enjoying the crushed ice as the dry heat settled upon the bare
skin on her back that the halter dress left exposed.
Rita didn't necessarily mind the
wait. The weather was hot, but not humid like it was in
“Darling, how are you?”
Rita looked up against the sun,
trying to make out Anna's smiling slender form. She stood, hugging the older
woman. “Anna, it's good to see you,” Rita smiled. “Thank you so much for sending
the car, it wasn't necessary but I appreciate it.”
Anna kissed both of Rita's cheeks
before sitting, depositing her Chanel handbag and
sunglasses on the table. Within seconds a waiter appeared, and Anna ordered a
gimlet as well as she got settled into her seat. “You look amazing, sweetheart.
Truly wonderful. I'm so glad you called.” Anna smiled
at Rita, her blue eyes sparkling.
Rita returned the smile, noting how
beautiful Anna looked herself. She had always looked ten years younger though
Rita guessed her to be in her late fifties. Anna's hair was longer than when she
had last seen her, and it now fell into a sleek blonde pageboy cut just past her
ears. Anna wore a richly printed silk shawl and designer jeans, and had sailed
in on shoes two inches higher than anything Rita would ever attempt to walk in.
“We appreciate the help, Anna. I know your schedule must be very busy and it was
great that you could accommodate us last minute like this.”
Anna's smile faltered slightly
before reappearing. “He's my son, Rita. At times, both he and I have chosen to
ignore that fact, but it doesn't mean I don't love him.” Anna twisted a ring on
her finger nervously. “And you have been such a wonderful presence in his life.
I was surprised you called, but thrilled to be able to help in any way I can. Though I doubt that Chris was too happy about my involvement.”
Rita felt bad for the older woman,
but her guard was still up. This was a woman that had unwittingly broken the
heart of a little boy, and that little boy had grown up to be the most important
person in the world to Rita. She couldn't forgive that easily, and yet she knew
that there was still a bond here that Chris needed in his life. Somewhere, deep
down he was still hurting from Anna's neglect of him as
a child. “He's wary, Anna. He miraculously trusts easily, but once that trust is
broken he doesn't give it again very often.” Rita said quietly.
Anna accepted the drink from the
waiter, and settled the menu he handed her off to her right as she nodded. She
raised the glass to her lips and glanced at Rita hesitantly. “I'm glad he has
you, Rita. From even the little time I have spent with both of you, I know that
you mean the world to him.”
Rita grinned openly. “Well, that's
mutual.”
Anna finally relaxed too and settled
back into her seat. “So have you two decided to get it on yet?” Pure
mischievousness glinted in her eyes.
Rita nearly choked on the ice,
startled both by the frank question and the resemblance that look had to a
hundred she had seen on Chris over the years. Chris always asked her questions
like that too. Did enjoying shock value run in the family? “What?”
Anna didn't miss a beat. She laughed
as she noted the immediate color on Rita's face. “You have!” She sighed
dramatically. “Finally, I was wondering when you two might finally figure it out
and do the deed.”
“Anna, I don't think...”
Anna leaned over the table. “That's
just it sweetheart, don't think. Thinking wastes so much time when it comes to
love. What's the point, when your heart is going to feel what it wants to
anyway? ”
Rita shifted in her seat and reached
for the menu. “We aren't in love, Anna; it's not like that with Chris and
I.”
Anna smiled patiently. “I may have
been absent much of Chris's life, but it doesn't take a whole lot of insight to
see how you two feel about each other. I also know how he reacted this morning
when he was worried for your safety. That sort of protectiveness goes far beyond
the job, Rita.”
Rita didn't want to tell Anna just
how close to the truth she was, or explain any of the recent developments
between her and Chris, despite the growing connection she had felt with Chris's
mother over the years. “We care a lot for each other, Anna. No one is denying
that.”
“You're just denying how far it
goes. Just don't deny yourself out of some happiness, sweetheart.” Anna reached
across the table and covered Rita's hand with her own. “I've been scared too,
Rita. I expected the worst out of people and I thought my career would be the
only stable thing in my life. But in the end it wasn't the people who hurt me, it was the limits that my expectations of them created in
my life that have me alone again.”
Rita was silent, struck by how much
Anna had actually recognized about not only her and Chris, but her own life as
well. Chris would have never believed that his mother could have offered up such
heartfelt sincerity. “I thought you were happy Anna, weren't you madly in love
with an artist the last we spoke?” Rita tried to change the subject.
Anna shook her head and gave Rita a
tentative smile. “Dating him yes. In
love with him, no. I loved once, and lost it when I went chasing after my
career. In my pursuit of stability, I lost the two men who would have actually
been able to give that to me.”
Rita's gaze lifted, her heart
aching. “Benny and Chris.”
Anna nodded and smiled. “Yes.”
“But what about Benny, he's single
again, there's no chance…?”
Anna laughed again, the years of
dreaming and running echoing in the sound. “No, there's no chance. We have both
changed too much since then. But with Chris, maybe one day if he is ready. It's
up to him to decide if he needs me.”
Rita could feel the tightness in her
chest thinking of a little boy with dark hair and blue eyes who needed his
mother so desperately. He still did, even if that need was hidden under layers
of hurt and anger. “I think he does Anna. But don't wait for him to tell you
that, ok?”
Anna's eyes filled. “I don't want to
hurt him anymore, Rita.”
It was Rita's turn to offer the
advice. “Then don't wait for him to make the first move. And if you decide you
want to be in his life, then don't back down and please, please don't
walk away again if he allows you in.”
The older woman took a deep breath
before offering a shaky smile.
“You're as protective of him as he is of you.”
Rita nodded. “Yeah, you could say
that.” She saw the waiter heading their way and knew that this conversation had
gone as far as it should. She still had to fill Anna in on the details of their
visit to
Anna realized that part of the
conversation was over for now, and was relieved. The emotions had been brewing
until she was afraid that she would break down here in public. “The chopped
salad is wonderful. And you must save room for dessert. The Key lime pie is to
die for, even with it being made in
Rita laughed out loud. “How very un-LA of me to want dessert! But it's perfect. I'll
take it.”
Anna ordered the same and the waiter
left, leaving the two women to discuss the logistics of the next two days. Rita
felt that bond with Anna growing the more time they spent together, and she
enjoyed the presence the older woman brought to her life. Anna may not have been
much of a mother, but maybe there was still hope for her to be a friend to Rita
and Chris. Eventually, maybe Chris could even learn to trust her again.
Maybe. It was still Chris's decision to make.
Rita settled into her seat,
determined to enjoy her lunch with Anna. She briefly felt uneasy, a stray
thought creeping up into her awareness before she quelled it.
But the truth of that thought had
already taken hold of her. She realized that the two women who loved Christopher
Lorenzo most in the world were sitting together, both having run from loving him
at some point because they were both scared of losing something.
In the end, Rita wondered, would it
be the running or the loving that would hurt them all?
+ + +
Chris stood at the barred window,
once again watching the city of Los Angeles twenty floors beneath him, only this
time the view was vastly different from the one afforded by their luxurious
hotel suite. Here, in the middle of downtown, office workers, migrant workers
and courthouse employees mixed at the street corner, waiting to cross at the
light. This was an industrial part of the city, where the day ended with the
close of business and the sidewalks emptied before dusk. No one lived near this
area, it was just a mass of concrete buildings where little thought had
been given towards aesthetics. It was only ten miles east of
He didn't much care for the feds in
general, but with reciprocity being such a bureaucratic nightmare to coordinate
between local police departments, Beauregard had suggested working through the
Palm Beach joint task force and letting the Drug Enforcement Administration
handle it in LA. Being a national agency, there would be little paperwork to get
the two regions to work together if they went through the task force. So here he
was making arrangements with the LA DEA offices, giving them the opportunity to
intercept the shipment of drugs that would likely be en route to the event that
Rita was currently spending the afternoon coordinating through his mother's
contacts.
Chris blew out a deep breath,
watching the light change and the horde of people cross. He was trying to forget
the idea that his mother was actually involved, and was dreading the evening
dinner with her. He rolled his neck again, trying to work out the growing ache
and wishing desperately for a run on the beach. Anything to
work some of this tension off.
“Lorenzo?”
Chris turned at the voice, hearing
the door slam behind him as his contact entered the small conference room. The
man was nothing like Chris had expected. He had been prepared for an older
agent, someone who had the stress of the job etched into the hard planes of his
face, who looked as weary and cynical as only this particular job could imprint
upon a face. Special Agent Jason Calhoun was none of those things. Instead, he
vaguely reminded Chris of a modern day version of a young Marlon Brando. He couldn't have been more than thirty, and was
about Chris's height, and surprisingly he had that clean cut polish made famous
by the FBI instead of the disheveled street grit typical of the DEA.
Chris extended a hand. “Calhoun.”
The man grinned amicably and
indicated the table. “Have a seat, I have the files the sent in from
Chris nodded and took the seat
Calhoun indicated. “First, let's get something clear – we're focusing on
the murder rap.”
Calhoun glanced up from the file. “Your partner and you?”
The thought of Rita sent a wave of
possessiveness crashing through him. “Yeah. You can
have the possession and intent to distribute, as well as pull in whoever Brodie's silent partner is, but we want him on murder one
first for the Muldoon case, and possibly the Maritz
shooting.”
Calhoun gave Chris a short nod. “How
do you expect to get that?”
“Rita's working on that now. Likely
a confession if she gets close enough to him.”
The agent's eyebrow lifted
quizzically. “You think she can actually get that close?”
“She already has.” Chris's eyes slitted. “He has her
out here setting up his next party, doesn't he?”
Calhoun smiled warily and backed
off, seeing the obvious defensiveness Chris had where his partner was concerned.
“That he does. Where is she setting this up? We need to go over locations with
her to make sure we have the best access routes to the site once the bust goes
live.”
Chris didn't like Calhoun's constant
questioning of Rita's ability. It was the holier-than-thou attitude of the feds
across the board that had created his dislike of them in the first place. As
much as he had tried to move past it, FBI Agent Shelby Kellman's's casual willingness to sacrifice Cotton and Rita
in their case years ago had sealed his impression of the how the government
agencies worked and he didn't like it one bit.
Chris leaned over the table, his
eyes narrowed and his language heading south the more irritated he got. He
rarely swore in front of Rita, but without her around his temper flared
unchecked. “I think she has it
handled, Calhoun. Don't forget this is our case, you got that? You wouldn't have
jack squat here without us. And don't think for one fucking second that
Rita wouldn't consider every possibility when she picks a location.”
Calhoun's smile faded fast as he
held up a hand. “Hold on a second. No one was questioning her ability, Lorenzo.
But when we go in, my agents will be there – with their lives on the goddamned
line too - so excuse-fucking-me if I would like to offer some input as to
a location that offers the most advantages for us as well. You got that,
Lorenzo?”
Chris gritted his jaw, liking
Calhoun's fierce loyalty to his team despite himself. He relented a little.
“She's looking at a warehouse downtown here. She was told that the downtown
lofts have become popular with the
Calhoun gave a short nod. “She's
right, and it would save us the complications of trying to access some remote
rental house in the Hollywood Hills. Where'd she get her contact and how is she
setting this up? I don't expect that she is planning on coordinating the actual
event herself?”
“No. She's using some
“How are you getting the invitees to
pay to attend?”
Chris laughed bitterly. “Our contact
is indirectly putting Rita in touch with a producer who has a heavy coke
problem. It's likely he'll get the word out if we promise him a percentage of
the supply. Also keeps Rita out of the loop, so they can't nail us on
entrapment.”
“No one else knows the premise of
the event? About the narcotics?”
Chris blew out a breath. “Our
contact knows the real story and the producer knows about the drugs, though he
doesn't know it's getting shut down.
The event planner expects we are collecting money at the door for a charity and
isn't involved with the guest list. Though with her connections in this town,
she may hear rumors of what the party is actually about, though I doubt she'll
give a fuck if the right crowd attends.” Chris's stomach rolled again as he
thought of his mother's involvement. No one could know she was helping, or it
would ruin her contacts and her reputation. For a brief moment he wondered why
Anna was willing with the risks involved. Then he remembered Anna, and knew
there had to be something in it for her, he just couldn't put his finger on it
yet.
“Who is your contact?”
Chris's reaction was swift and
furious. “None of your goddamned business, Calhoun.”
“You want to dance around like this
all day, Lorenzo? You think I like this either?” Calhoun stood, shoving his
chair back as he did. “My ASAC walks in yesterday and throws this on my desk,
like I don't have enough other cases I am working on. But my fucking luck, my
biggest one broke open last week so now the ASAC thinks he'd like to drop this
on my plate. Some reward this is. You think I like working with two cops from
Palm-fucking-Beach on a case when I know damned well that they don't give a shit
about the drugs?”
Chris vaguely realized how abrasive
he had been. “We care about the drugs, but we also care about a young girl that
was shot in the head,” he said calmly.
“So we might have a common motive
here, huh? Bring in this bastard?” Calhoun countered sarcastically.
“Yeah, we do. You made your point.
Now sit the fuck down Calhoun, you're making me nervous.” Chris muttered.
Calhoun sat, rubbing his hand
through his short brown hair. “I worked Vice with LAPD right out of college,
Lorenzo. I know the distrust that the locals have for us. Give it a chance.” He
said quietly.
Chris nodded and met Calhoun's eyes.
Despite his best efforts to dislike the guy, his instincts actually placed a
significant level of trust in him. “You look like a fucking feeb, Calhoun.”
“I was a
feeb, Lorenzo. Until last year.” Calhoun smiled
patiently again.
“Just can't find anything you like
to do long enough to stick with it?” Chris challenged.
“You know Lorenzo,
I can't wait to meet your partner. Does it say ‘ability to deal with excessive
bullshit' in her job requirements?”
Chris's lips twisted in a half smile
as he ran a hand over his face, realizing what a jerk he was being. They had
logistics to work out, and the sooner it got done the sooner he could meet Rita
back at the hotel. “Yeah, that it does. Right next to where it says ‘must also
deal with partner's unhealthy eating habits and obsessive need to watch
“Wolverines?”
“Yeah – and you better watch it
Calhoun, because I can put up with your DEA ego-driven crap, but if you're a
Calhoun just laughed. “
Chris barely smiled back at him.
“You're damned right about that. Now as long as we've got that straight, lets
get to work so I can get the hell out of this concrete monstrosity you call an
office and get back to my partner.”
“You miss her, Lorenzo? You'd think
that you had the fucking hots for her. I saw her
picture in her file and she's sexy as hell, so I wouldn't blame you if you did.
I know that I am really looking forward to meeting her.” Calhoun laid the
bait before sitting back in his chair, his amusement not enough to hide a hint
of speculation.
Chris's eyes narrowed dangerously as
he leaned over the desk. “I'm not against shooting you, Calhoun. You touch her,
and I'm getting trigger happy, you got that? Now you want to get this shit
finished so I can be done putting up with your uptight federal ass?”
“You're the one getting all bent out
of shape.” Calhoun smiled. “And you're the one who is supposed to be filling me
in, Crockett.”
Chris shook his head at Calhoun's
reference to his crème linen jacket and his
“I wouldn't go that far Lorenzo. Now
can we go over this goddamned schedule?”
Chris finally grinned. “Bring it
on.”
+ + +
The suite was quiet except for noise
from the occasional car that sped by that filtered up into the room through the
open patio doors. Rita belted her light robe closed as she made her way in the
shadows to the small kitchen for some water. It was then that she noticed the
figure on the balcony. Chris was sitting on the concrete floor, his arms resting
on his knees and holding a beer as he rested his head back against the wall with
his eyes closed.
Her heart contracted, knowing what a
difficult day it had been for him because of Anna's involvement. As much as she
was beginning to like his mother, she also fought the urge to yell at her
sometimes for the hurt she had caused the man that Rita cared about the most in
the world. She made her way to the patio silently, just wanting to watch him for
awhile without startling him. Rita leaned against the doorframe; her hands
shoved in the robe pockets, and just took in the way the moonlight settled over
his skin and the muscles in the strong column of his neck. For all the strength
and openness Chris coaxed into her life, he still managed to hold all of his
fears and insecurities within him. She had been so glad he seemed to be letting
go of the Ross case and was finally getting back to normal, but now this trip to
LA had him unsettled again.
After lunch, Anna had introduced her
to Ophelia Hall, a trendy, young Hollywood event planner with a highly
questionable reputation and luxurious offices on Sunset, who for twenty percent
of the budget would put together a party for them next weekend. Of course,
Ophelia didn't know the event's purpose was the distribution of narcotics, but
from the planner's track record of throwing music industry events, Rita didn't
think that even that information would have fazed her had she known, as long as
she made her money and the status afforded by her wild persona was upheld by the
turnout at the party. Then again the drugs would never make the event, so
Ophelia's party would go off without a hitch, and Brodie
would be satisfied with the plans she had put into place.
After Chris had made contact with
DEA and Anna had dropped her back at the hotel, she and Chris had headed for the
hotel gym, both needing to work off some of the stress the day had brought. For
Rita, the run on the treadmill had worked wonders, but Chris's pummeling of the
heavy bag hadn't eased his apprehension towards spending time with Anna that
evening, even after Rita had recounted Anna's attempts during the day to be as
careful, helpful and as unobtrusive as possible. The dinner at Mr. Chow had been
stilted, with Anna over-compensating for Chris's lack of participation by
regaling them with over the top tales from the entertainment industry that Chris
had obviously not been interested in whatsoever. The pain and awkwardness had
been evident in both of them, and Rita's heart had broken at the faraway look on
Chris's face as Anna had hugged him goodnight.
“Hey Sam, you having nightmares
again?” she finally asked softly, breaking the silence.
His head jolted up as he opened his
eyes and smiled, though she was well aware of the hint of sadness in his eyes.
“No. It's not that. What are you
doing up?”
“Just tossing a
little. Want
company?”
Chris patted the ground next to him.
“Always.”
Rita nearly shivered with the utter
security that shot through her at his raspy invitation. She sat next to him, and
his arm leaned out to pull her close. She tilted her head to rest on his
shoulder as they looked out over
Chris didn't respond right away, but
when he did his voice had dropped to a bare whisper. “I want to believe her,
Sam. Every time I see her, I want to believe her.” He shook his head as he
reached for the beer bottle in her hands, and he began peeling the label off. “I
don't know how she can make me want that even after all these years.”
Rita smiled ruefully in the
darkness. “She's your mother Chris; I think it's a rule somewhere that she has
to have an effect on you for the rest of your life.”
He tilted his head in reluctant
acceptance. “When she hugged me tonight, she told me that she wanted to be my
mother if I would give her a chance again. Ha.” Chris's fist clenched and
opened, as if he was trying to hold onto something. “I don't need a mother, Sam.
Not anymore.”
Rita reached out and slid her left
hand on top of his, until his closed around hers. “We all need a mother. Even you.” Her voice caught at how close to home that hit for
her.
His eyes flew to hers, realizing how
callous he was being. “Sam, I'm sorry, I didn't realize how...”
She stopped him with a slow lift of
her eyes to his. “I know.”
He nodded, accepting that she did
with just those simple words. “What do I do?”
Rita tightened her hand around his.
“You try and remember what we see at work every day. It's always a life
interrupted, Chris. And the ones left behind always cry about what they should
have said or done, but didn't because they didn't know that it was their last
chance.” Rita kissed Chris's arm. “What if tonight was your only chance to make
this better with her? Would you take it then?”
Chris's eyes locked on hers and he
didn't respond for a few moments, absorbing what she had said. When he finally
spoke, it wasn't what she had expected. “And what if tonight were your last
chance with me?”
She sucked in a breath. “This wasn't
about me.”
“Now it is.”