TITLE: A Conversation with Cindy about Tomfoolery with a Twist Ending
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. (Well, not anymore. Jackasses.) I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

“Hey,” Cindy looked up from her computer and greeted Lindsay at a distance.

“Hey,” Lindsay returned more quietly, glancing around at Cindy’s coworkers, still hard-at-work despite the fact that it was after quittin’ time.

“What are you doing here?” Cindy asked. “Is something wrong?”

Lindsay stopped cold at the question. Did she really show so little interest in their friendship that every time Cindy saw her she was expecting a dire situation?

“Nothing’s wrong,” Lindsay answered, shaking her head and nibbling her lower lip raw. “I just wanted to see what you were up to.”

“Really?” Cindy returned, her little disbelieving snarl turning her lip up.

So apparently the answer was yes. Lindsay had shown that little interest. Well, she couldn’t undo. She could only move at a forward march.

“Yeah, really. So… what are you up to?”

Still looking rather shocked at the notion that Lindsay was standing there for some other reason than needing assistance with a homicide, Cindy gestured around at her desk. “Just finishing up. I was planning to be out of here in like ten minutes.”

“Good,” Lindsay said casually. “So, do you have… plans… for tonight?”

“No,” Cindy instantly answered. “I was actually going to stop by the hall. I figured you’d all still be at work.”

“I cut out a little early.”

And now Cindy looked downright worried about her mental state.

“What? I do that sometimes.”

Cindy’s concern didn’t lessen.

“I’ve got some stuff I needed to take care of,” Lindsay finally said, fighting the fidget that really wanted to happen. Cindy didn’t need to know that stuff was her. “So do you want to get something to eat?”

“So you’ve already taken care of your stuff?”

“What stuff?” Lindsay responded at once, grimacing at her inability to hold up a half-truth for more than five seconds. “I mean, yeah. I’m good. So dinner? Do you want to eat… some… of that?”

Oh my God. At what point in her journey from her desk to Cindy’s did she turn into a bumbling idiot?

“Sure, yeah,” Cindy responded, getting up.

“You can finish -”

Cindy waved at her desk, and all its contents, in a dismissive gesture. “It’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Lindsay watched Cindy put on her coat, jerking her eyes away when they were drawn to all of the most inappropriate places.

“Are we meeting Jill and Claire?”

“Uh, no,” Lindsay fumbled. “I just thought we’d get something close by… just the two of us… if that’s okay with you.”

She would swear that the two emotions she saw flit over Cindy’s face were panic and discomfort, and her responding nod was jerky and hesitant. “Yeah, of course. That sounds great.”

So she said, but her tone proclaimed it was anything but.

And Lindsay wondered how exactly Cindy had become the nervous party.

They didn’t talk again until they reached the street, and mostly out of necessity.

“So what’s around here?” Lindsay asked, hands fisted deep in her pockets.

“There’s a great Italian place just a couple of blocks,” Cindy said, motioning in that direction.

“Perfect,” Lindsay nodded, tacking on a smile too late for Cindy to see it.

Cindy had wasted no time in turning away to start walking. In three long strides, Lindsay caught up and matched Cindy’s pace. It was nice to have someone to follow when she felt so completely lost.

“So what’s really going on?” Cindy asked. The anxiety in her voice was palpable, and when Lindsay looked over at her, she refused to look back.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the only time we have these private conversations seems to be when I’m in trouble for something, and while I am normally pretty aware that it’s coming, I really don’t remember doing anything this time,” Cindy stated.

“You didn’t,” Lindsay hastily replied.

“So, what are we doing then?” Cindy seemed doubtful and even more confused.

Lindsay swallowed and watched a car drive past, thinking about jumping on the roof and letting it carry her off to safer territory. “I just want to hang out with you,” she said quietly. “Is that really so strange?”

The look Cindy shot her way said that it was, and Lindsay felt in serious need of berating. Clearly, Cindy had no idea that she was more than a club member. Stopping suddenly, Lindsay grabbed Cindy’s wrist, pulling her to a stop and coaxed Cindy toward her.

She just wanted her attention. But when Cindy’s eyes swung to her, brimming with unanswered questions and lingering concern, Lindsay became that much more aware of the soft skin beneath her fingers and just how closely they were standing. It was as if someone threw a live wire at their feet, the moment was so electric.

Other people’s words, all of those conversations she’d been a reluctant participant in, could be rejected as false. But there was no denying whatever this was. Gulping air, Lindsay looked away and dropped Cindy’s wrist.

“You want to hear something ridiculous?” she asked, staring off down the street.

“I’m always up for ridiculous.” Cindy’s soft response made Lindsay’s knees turn to mush, and she felt as if she instantaneously shrank two inches.

“Denise is planning to ask you out.”

“Denise?” Cindy’s voice lost its otherworldly quality in the face of her shock.

“Yeah,” Lindsay returned, finally in control of herself enough to look at Cindy. “She asked me about chocolate and flowers for you.”

“Seriously?” Cindy queried, pausing for a moment. “You’re right. Denise asking me out… that’s totally ridiculous.”

There was something in her voice. Some subconscious tell that made Lindsay’s stomach ache.

“Not because of you,” Lindsay amended. “It’s Denise. You would never go out with her.”

It was more bothersome than she ever could have imagined that the seconds ticked by without Cindy wholeheartedly agreeing.

“Would you?” Lindsay quietly questioned.

“No. But…”

“But what?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Cindy shook her head.

“Why not? Of course she would want to ask you out. Who wouldn’t want to ask you out?”

Cindy stood stock still, just staring at her, but Lindsay couldn’t bring herself to rephrase. It was too true.

“Denise is dating Jill,” Cindy said.

“What?!?”

“They’ve only been out a couple of times I think,” Cindy responded. “I’m sure Jill was planning to tell you. She probably thought you would overreact.”

“Jill is dating Satan. How can you overreact to that?” Lindsay countered. “When did this happen?”

“Sometime after Tom’s wedding. You know, Denise started being nice to her, and then, I don’t know, I guess one thing led to another,” Cindy shrugged as if it was no big thing. “God, she’s so going to kill me for telling you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. She’ll have to come through me first.”

Cindy smiled a little and dropped her gaze to the sidewalk.

“But wait,” Lindsay rubbed between her eyes, trying to force out the thoughts. “If Denise is dating Jill, why would she…”

Motive suddenly crystallizing, Lindsay broke off in a knowing laugh.

“I think you’ve been had, Linds. I have no idea why.”

Oh, Lindsay knew why. It all made perfect sense now.

“So,” Cindy asked, “are we still eating?”

“Yeah,” Lindsay responded, coming back to the conversation. “But when we get there, do you mind going on in and getting a table? I just need to give Jill a quick call.”