Chapitre 27: An Olive Branch
Allie and Bruss watched him walk out of the bureau. She started flipping through the coroner's report. They sat there in silence for over an hour. He finally decided to break the silence.
"Are you really just going to sit there?" he said.
"Yeah, I'm working. I know you may not recognize it because you never do any."
"It takes me a lot of effort to smile while you're around. Do you know that?"
"What am I supposed to be doing besides just sitting here?" she asked.
"You're going to pick up that phone and call Dean already. You've been tearing to pieces today, weeks for that matter. I have never seen you be so cruel and crass to someone! What is your deal?"
Her deal is she likes him. Her deal is way back in the recesses of her mind; she remembers them spending an incredible night together. Her deal is she's self-sabotaging. Hurt or be hurt.
"You hear that? It's the sound of me not caring, and I don't need to be psychoanalyzed. I passed my yearly evaluation."
As you're talking to a being that no one else can see or hear.
"He just rubs me the wrong way."
You didn't mind him rubbing you in any way that night in his truck or that day you interviewed that Crawford fellow. Not that I was watching.
She put her head in her hands and sighed deeply.
"The number of mental backflips I have to do to try to understand your logic should have broken my neck by now," Bruss said.
She looked up.
"And what am I supposed to say? Sorry, I'm such a cold-hearted bitch?"
"That would be a great segway after. Hi Carron, it's Kingston. Just open your mouth and let some double-filtered words fall out. Triple if necessary."
"Fine," she said.
She hastily dialed the phone. "He's probably not even there any...."
"S.A. Carron," he said.
"Hey... How ya doin?"
"How ya doin?" Bruss whispered. "That's the best you got?"
"Allie?"
"Yeah, this is Allie... Kingston," she said.
She was getting flustered. Why was she getting flustered? She knows him, biblically speaking. A picture of him carrying her to her bedroom and playfully pushing her on the bed flashed through her mind.
"How are you?"
"I'm... fine..." he said.
His tone had him sounding very confused.
"That's good."
"Are you purposely fucking this up, or have you genuinely lost the ability to form complete and competent sentences?" He spoke into her other ear.
Allie just looked at Bruss. He had never seen her look panicked before.
Bruss spoke faintly, "This is the part when you apologize."
"Bruss was talking about my attitude towards you today, and he pointed out that I have been less than polite to you these last few weeks."
"A lot less," Dean said. "I don't understand precisely what I did to make you dislike me so much. I said I was sorry about the interview, and you know how embarrassed and regretful I am about the conversation in my truck after the Crawford interview.
"No. You didn't do anything. It's me."
"Are you really using the, it's not you it's me defense?"
"OK," Dean said. "Is there an actual purpose you called? Or are you trying to apologize to me? Because you have yet to apologize."
"I'm sorry for how I behaved, and I would like to apologize for how I have been speaking to you."
"OK. Thanks for calling me and letting me know. I'll see you when I need to. Bye, Kingston."
He hung up the phone.
She just sat there looking dumbfounded at the receiver.
"Well, that went about as well as expected," she said.
"He just hung up on you?"
"No. Not technically. He said goodbye first."
"Did he accept your apology?"
"I don't think he did. Well, I tried. Wacha gonna do?"
Bruss hung his head. "Are you allergic to people or something? You seem to possess no social graces."
She needs the 36-count box of Benadryl, and her middle name is the only grace she possesses.
"I'm just not good with people."
"Sober. You're not good with people, sober."
He put his feet on the corner of her desk, peacocking.
"Okay, watch this." She picked the phone back up. "I'm going to do this, sober," she declared.
"Sober? Who the hell said anything about being sober?" Bruss asked.
She dialed his number. It rang once, twice, three, four times. She was just about to hang up. She pulled the phone away from her ear.
"S.A. Carron."
She looked at the phone.
Put it back up to your ear. She had yet to speak.
"Hello? This is S.A. Carron."
Malibu snapped his fingers in front of her. Speak, Allie, speak!
"Cowboy, this is Allie again."
Holy shit, she called me Cowboy. I guess she really is sorry. Score one for me! "Did something happen with the case in the last ninety seconds?"
"No. I am truly sorry for the way I was with you. You really are a great guy. I was grossly out of line," she said. "I am who I am, little crass, big smartass, completely unfiltered at times. So, Dean, I am sorry. I hope we can continue to work with each other. If you asked to be reassigned, I can understand that too."
"Reassigned? The thought never crossed my mind," he said. "Thank you for the sincere apology. It really does mean a lot to me. Tell Bruss Ted said hi, and I am sure I will see him soon. Thanks again for the apology, Allie. We're square."
"Cowboy, wait! I was just wondering if maybe... well, I mean, if you want to, maybe you would like to go to the range or something sometime?"
The range? Good thing you only do one-nighters that turn into long-term relationships because your dating game sucks!
"Stifle it. I am doing the best I can."
Dean almost didn't know what to say. Her offer took him aback.
"Cowboy, are you there? I think he hung up on me again."
"NO! I didn't hang up. I'm here. I would love to do that sometime," he said. "When were you thinking?"
"Anytime, I guess. Besides work, my schedule is pretty open."
"How about now? I'm just getting off. We have a really nice range in the basement here. Unless you can't leave right now."
She covered the receiver, "He wants to go to the range like right now. Would you be mad if I left? If you need me to stay, I will stay."
"No, go. I've got this, not much left to do tonight anyway."
"Are you sure? Because I can stay."
"Allie, I am not going to be your excuse. You asked him out. Granted, I would have gone for coffee or a drink, but the range works too," Bruss said. It suits your personality."
"Sure, now is a good time," she said.
"I can come up and get you."
"No, it's a nice day, I can walk."
Maybe he should come to get you. You're bound to run away and never get there.
"How about we meet in the middle? I need to get you inside anyway. It's after hours the front lobby is closed," he said.
"I'll leave now," she said.
"See you soon," he said with a giant smile.
The weather was beautiful. He saw her first. She had taken her hair down, and it was moving with the breeze. The sun was low behind her, making her hair look like spun gold. She walked gracefully like a dancer with her Glock 22 on her hip, making her twice as sexy.
He was walking towards her. He had taken his suit coat and tie off. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the neck. He looked comfortable. She could see how tiny his waist was. His shoulders and arms were filling out his shirt. His black dress shoes had a shine like they teach you to in the military. When he was about ten feet away, she caught the scent of his cologne. It was more potent than it was when he had been in the office. She wondered if he had applied more just for her. She once told him how much she loved how it smelled on him.
"Hi there," she greeted him. She was doing the best that she could to convince herself that she wasn't nervous.
Why would you be nervous? Remember the amazing sex you had with him? Both times, you were drunk. Wouldn't you like to have sex with him while you are sober?
"Hey." He hugged her. Then, he realized he had hugged her. He pulled away quickly.
"Is there anything I can say that could totally make you forget I just did that?" he asked.
She gave him a small chuckle and a smile. "It was weird, but I won't shoot you for it. It was kind of nice. I don't get very many hugs."
He put his arm around her shoulder.
"OK, now you're pushing it, Cowboy."
He laughed and removed his arm.
"I know, but you can't blame a guy for trying."
"I am glad we could do this," she said. "And I am sorry."
"You already apologized."
She stopped him and looked at him.
"I said it over the phone. You deserve a face to face. And I will admit I do like your face."
"Yours isn't so bad either."
Her hair swirled around her shoulders. She tucked it behind her ears. He saw that she was wearing a pair of emerald earrings, which matched his eyes.
"Nice earrings," he complimented.
"I forgot I had these in. I got them a couple of months ago. I saw them, and I was drawn to them. Two more payments and they are all mine," she said.
She gave him a toothy smile.
"But you seem to have your emeralds."
"What? Oh, my eyes. Yeah, I guess they are pretty green. They seem to draw a little more attention than I would like."
"Cowboy, it's not your eyes that draw people's attention. Your eyes are just a bonus."
"Your attention is the only person's attention I need, he mumbled.
They walked to a door at the side of the building. He swiped his access card, and the door popped open. They rode the elevator down to the sub-basement. Calling it a basement, though, really wasn't the right word. It looked like a secret underground lab you see in movies. He was right. The range was really nice. Nothing like the chipped concrete floors, cinder blocks, and cheap wooden dividers that she was used to.
"Wow. This place is nice," she said.
"Your taxpayer dollars at work," he said. "Earmuffs or plugs?"
"Muffs."
He handed her a pair of earmuffs and walked her into the range. He set up each lane with a paper target, and with the push of a button, they went flying backward.
"Is 25 yards OK?" he asked.
"It doesn't matter. I can hit it no matter what the range."
"I have no doubt."
He put the earmuffs on and stepped into his cubicle. She did the same. Then she heard his voice boom in the wide-open area.
"Shooter ready?"
"Ready," she said.
They each shot an entire magazine into the targets. When they were down, they ejected the empty magazines and put the Glocks on the counter. He pushed the button, and the targets flew back towards them like ghosts swooping in. They each took their target off. He put his earmuffs next to his Glock. She did the same. They stepped back and swapped targets.
"Holy shit! Look at the accuracy and the precision. You are an amazing shot."
She put her hand on the top of her target and pulled it down a little. He looked at her.
"Hello? My Corp. Your Corps. Our Corps. Marine Corps."
"Yeah.... I forgot about that," he said.
She looked at him.
"Yours isn't too bad."
"Really?"
"It could be better. Want me to show you?" she asked.
"Sure."
"Load your mag. Put up a new target and put on the muffs."
He complied.
"Show me your stance."
He took his stance.
"How did you ever qualify?" she asked.
She let out a little laugh.
"Hey! We can't all be experts. Some of us are just good," he said.
"Good? Eh, maybe good, but I am not sure about perfect," she said with a smile. "I'm just kidding. It's not bad, but there is always room for improvement."
She came up behind him. She could barely see around him.
She kicked his feet open a little more.
"Your feet should be shoulder-width apart," she said.
"The foot opposite your shooting hand should be about a step past the other foot. Now, lean forward slightly with your knees bent, ensuring you're firmly balanced."
She had her body pressed firmly against his back.
"The elbow of your shooting arm should be almost straight, and your other elbow should be a bit flexed at a slightly obtuse angle."
She moved his arms slightly to fix the positioning,
"Now, just ensure your shooting arm is aligned with the gun and pointed at the target."
She stayed pressed up against him.
They both put the muffs back on. He took the stance she had shown him.
She pressed against him again.
"Shooter ready?" she asked.
He nodded slightly.
"Fire," she said in her best D.I. voice.
He unloaded on the target. He ejected the magazine, laid it in front of him, and they both took the earmuffs off. He pushed the button, and the target came back. He took it off. She stepped back from him, and they both looked at the target.
"Accuracy AND precision. Nice shootin' Cowboy."
"Yee Haw," he said with a smile.
She patted him on the butt like football players tend to do.
There she was, the authentic Allie—the sober Allie who was sweet, kind, gentle, and caring. He knew she existed somewhere within her.
They stayed for another hour, with her helping him. After a while, she was fairly sure he knew exactly what he needed to do, but he just wanted her pressed up against him. And she didn't mind.
"That was fun," she said as they started down the hallway.
"I have to say that was the weirdest first date I ever had," he said. "That was a date, wasn't it? Or was it just two co-workers practicing their aim?"
"Do we have to put a label on it? I would call it something that I would like to do again."
"Yeah, me too," he said.
"Dean?"
"Yes."
"You can put your arm around me if you want," she offered.
His heart leaped. He smiled and put his arm around her shoulder.
She smiled, moved it off her shoulder, and put it around her waist.
She followed him outside.
"Yeah. You know I don't want this to end yet. Why don't we go get a drink?" She thought about it for a minute. "Meet me at Jake's in an hour. I have to take my car home and take a Lyft back. How does that sound?"
"I'll be there. Please don't stand me up." He winced.
"Are you kidding? You owe me for the shooting lessons. You can pay me in shots."
He stopped walking and turned to face her.
"Allie, I like you. I have for a while. You are--"
"I like you too. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
"What I mean is that I like this, Allie. Who you are right now," he said.
"You mean sober, Allie."
"I work with sober Allie, and she can be a little mean sometimes. So, I wouldn't say it's sober, Allie."
She put her hands on his chest. "I think this Allie is going to stick around for the rest of the night."
"I would love to spend some more time with her."
"You know, I bet she will let you kiss her if you want to," she said.
"She will? Are you sure? You don't have to." His heart banged hard against his chest. He had yearned to feel her lips again. What happened in the truck seems like it was forever ago.
Well? Are you going to kiss her or not?
He put his hands on her hips and gently pulled her into him. Their lips touched softly. He had his hands on her back, pulling her closer to him. She put her hand on his jaw and caressed his face.
It took a while, but they finally separated.
"I should get going. Take my car back, change my clothes."
"Yeah, I think I need to change into something a little less FBI," he said.
"I will see you at Jake's, okay?" she asked.
"Come hell or high water, I will be there."
He watched her walk away. She had a spring in her step. He could still feel the warmth of her body against his. He smiled to himself.
Maybe I should have stood up for myself weeks ago.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone