Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Chapter 7

The knock on the door was too soft to be any of the guy's. It was unmistakable.

Rivers turned off the iron and dashed to open up.

"Your TLC fairy is here." Leah stood in front of him with a tempting smirk, a giant pizza box in her hand and two large sodas balanced on top of it.

"Get in." Rivers shot her a smile, shaking his head as he took the cups and walked back inside with her.

Leah placed the pizza on the desk and slumped on the bed. "So, how's Rivers? I missed him..."

"He's squeezed in here with Senior DI Mason." He tapped his temple. "He misses you, too."

Kurt Cobain's face wrinkled when Leah crossed her arms over her chest. "And is he eating enough?"

"I won't incriminate myself by replying to this question." He took a sip of what turned out to be a full-sugar Sprite.

A chuckle came from behind him, then the thud of shoes against the carpet.

"Well, I got you pepperoni. You better finish it."

"Yes, mam." Rivers let the soda on the desk and draped his shirt on the hanger.

On the radio, Everybody faded into the eight-thirty news jingle of 93.3.

Former president George Bush has come out in opposition to forcing secret service agents to testify about whether they saw president Clinton with former White House intern Monica Lewinsky–

"Of course he would," Rivers said, returning the shirt on the rack.

Leah shrugged through the closet mirror. "Well, at least someone is having fun."

Rivers turned around, frowning. "I thought you had a date with that Chad."

No guy named Chad could ever stand a chance, but Leah had seemed psyched about the idea of a new affair.

The sigh that her Leah's lips promised gossip. She stood and took the other cup. "I did." The soda rambled as she sucked on the straw.

"And?"

They returned to the bed and sat crossed legged with the pizza box between them.

Leah picked up a slice that rested in front of her mouth, a pepper dangerously balanced on the floppy end. "He was a decent guy–"

"Was? What did he do?"

Rivers snatched a couple of Kleenexes from the nightstand and passed them to her.

Another sigh escaped her. "Nothing." She grabbed the tissues, crumpled them, and tossed them to the side. Rivers' gaze refused to leave the wobbly dough. "Just bad luck, I guess." The pepper disappeared in her mouth, ending Rivers' misery.

"Elaborate, please." Now he could finally take a bite.

Lean nodded, chewing. "So,"–she took a sip– "the date was going great, you know? He's witty, charming, quite the gentleman. So I asked him back to my place."

"As you do."

"As I do." She wiped her hands and leaned her elbows on her knees. "I told him to make himself comfortable while I fixed us a drink, then I hear 'Jacobs?'. He'd found my work ID on the coffee table. I tell him 'yeah, why?' He squares me up and down, then scoffs and goes, 'Nothing. It reminded me of my DI in boot camp. I'll never forget the motherfucker...'"

Rivers bust into a chuckle that almost choked him. He swallowed the pizza, banging his fist against his chest. "Shit. Did you tell him?"

Leah slapped his thigh. "It's not funny! And my face must have spoken a thousand words, cause he goes, 'Are you related?' So I had to confess." She sat straight. "Rivs, I swear, he had the most devilish look in his eyes. I could see the gears turning, like all the super-naughty things he wanted to do to me..." Her gaze shot to the side. "Which could have worked in my favor, to be honest. But then I could also see him bragging to his entire platoon that he'd fucked DI Sergeant Jacobs' sister." She mocked a male voice. "Gave it to her real good."