DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
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SERIES: Out! Series
If I Stay Here, Won't You Listen To My Heart?
If there's something like emotional whiplash, Cindy Thomas is feeling it now, her brain processing the information in somewhat slow-motion as she watches the blonde woman come out of Lindsay's bedroom.
"Have a good night," the woman says.
Lindsay smiles at her in a way that tells Cindy clearly she is not the younger sister Cindy hasn't met yet. "You too. Be careful."
"Always am." They kiss goodbye, and Cindy watches the carpet pattern with great concentration in order to suppress the impulse to stare, feeling betrayed beyond imagination and reason.
"And you must be Ms... Thomas, right?"
Cindy jumps to her feet, remembering her manners for long enough to shake the woman's hand even if she could easily come up with a different kind of fantasy.
"Nice to meet you. Katrina Davidson."
And that's enough indeed, like she told Lindsay during one of the first times they'd met. Cindy's brain is one of those that have a hard time forgetting things, so she remembers Narcotics' hotshot out'n'proud detective. It wasn't important at the time. The name has shot to the top of the priority list in a matter of seconds.
After Katrina has left and Cindy sinks back onto the couch, Lindsay asks, "It's a bit early still. Would you like a drink?"
Could you give me your gun instead?
"You have a girlfriend." It sounds like the accusation it is. Cindy is not sorry.
"It's not like-- well, maybe it is. I guess I do." When Lindsay smiles, she seems just so damn happy. It makes Cindy's feelings look a lot more like heresy. So, Lindsay has a girlfriend, and that is wrong on so many levels.
Not as in morally wrong, of course, Cindy has passionately rallied against Prop 8. Wrong as in if Lindsay Boxer finally dragged her gorgeous self out of her shell and decided to date a woman, then it should be Cindy Thomas.
Otherwise all those looks shared, the ones that made her flustered and fidgeting when sober, and much too hopeful when not, didn't mean anything.
Cindy sighs heart-wrenchingly, causing Lindsay to cast her a worried glance. "Are you okay?"
That moment, the doorbell rings; Jill and Claire most likely. "I'm fine," she lies. "I could use that drink now, though."
"Of course." Lindsay smiles at her affectionately before she gets up to answer the door, having obviously no clue how she is turning the knife. All else would be just too cruel.
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