Cash and the Sorority Girl

by Ashley Bartlett

  “Go ahead.” Laurel said it softly.

  They sized each other up. Lance seemed to realize at the same moment I did that Laurel desperately wanted to trade places with him. She lacked the capacity to wait for Lane and deal with the aftermath. But she knew Lance was even less equipped. So she had chosen to stay and let him charge off. At some point, each of them would realize he was getting a bum deal. If no one caught the perp that night, it would forever be Lance’s fault.

  “We’ll help too.” Seth stood.

  Laurel nodded. The four uniforms awkwardly made their way back to the doors. The mass was quieter this time but pervasive. When the doors slid shut behind them, Laurel slumped slightly. There was nothing to say, so I said nothing.

  Laurel didn’t last long before she got up and started pacing. I wanted to go and wrap her in my arms. I wanted to take her back home and throw our phones out the window. I wanted to break Lane out of that sad, institutional room and undo the night. I wanted Lance to catch the perp in an epic, painful flying tackle and march him to the courthouse. But that wasn’t how nights like this ended. All I could do was hug Laurel and try not to lie to her.

  She slowed when I stepped into her path, then she altered her course to go around me.

  “If you don’t want me to touch you, tell me now,” I said.

  She stopped walking away and fell into me. Her arms went around my shoulders. She tucked her head low and pressed her forehead to my neck. I pulled her close. My arms felt too long for her narrow waist. Her body fit against mine. The warmth and comfort and impotent strength were perfect and familiar. She breathed deeply, which turned into a shuddering sob. Her breathing evened out. The muscles in her arms tightened. She mumbled something into my shoulder.

  “I can’t hear you,” I said.

  Laurel leaned back a little so my body wasn’t muffling her. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

  I shrugged. “Just be there. You don’t have to say anything.”

  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

  “Don’t blame her. That’s the only wrong thing.”

  “Are you sure?” She blinked at me. Her eyes were dry but rimmed in deep pink.

  I thought back to the few times Shelby and I had talked about her assault. Like really talked about it. That was my only frame of reference. “Don’t make it about you.”

  “What does that mean?” Laurel asked.

  “You will be traumatized. Just knowing your sister was assaulted is traumatic, or it will be when you start to think about it.”

  She went through a full range of emotion in an instant. Confusion played across her face, then comprehension and fear. She looked at me, stricken. “Okay.”

  “And you’re going to have questions about what happened and how she’s doing and what to do. But don’t put that burden on her.”

  “What does that mean?” She started to trace the seam of my sweatshirt. Her fingers dragged along the back of my neck.

  “Just that you’re not entitled to her experience,” I said. She nodded but dropped her eyes to my chin. “If she wants to share, that’s good. But she doesn’t owe you anything.”

  “So basically, I shouldn’t bombard her?” She made eye contact again and almost immediately dropped it.

  I shrugged and attempted a smile. “Yeah. And if you need to yell or rail against someone, tell me.”

  “How will she know I care?”

  I sighed. The simplicity of her question was heartbreaking. “Say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Say ‘I love you and I’m here for you.’”

  “Just like that?”

  “I mean, you can write it in a card if you want, but that seems unnecessary.” I succeeded at smiling finally.

  Laurel smiled too. “Yeah, okay.”

  We sat back down to wait. I thought waiting was the worst, but then I remembered Lane was getting a rape kit.

  The woman who had kicked Laurel out finally entered the waiting room. I waited a moment for Lane to follow, but she wasn’t there.

  “Detective Kallen, I’m sorry for the abrupt response earlier.” She held out her hand. “My name is Neeru. I’m a counselor with WEAVE.”

  Laurel shook her hand. “Thank you for being here. This is Cash.” Neeru smiled kindly at me. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier,” Laurel said.

  “Your reaction is understandable.” Neeru gestured at the chairs. “Can we talk for a moment?”

  Laurel nodded and sat. Neeru began to explain what Laurel could expect from Lane. She used very careful language. The cadence of her speech was soothing and practiced. That more than anything saddened me. This woman’s job was literally to come sit with sexual assault victims and hold their hand. When she finished with that, she came out and patiently explained to their families how to not hurt them further. What conviction did that require?

  Neeru slowly transitioned the conversation into an explanation of familial trauma. She handed Laurel pamphlets with highlighted phone numbers for the family members of survivors. Laurel stared fiercely at the thick paper as she agreed to bring her brothers, her parents to counseling.

  The conversation circled back to Lane—as though they hadn’t been speaking around her for the last fifteen minutes. As I watched, Laurel fractured. Each splintered piece seemed to only be held in place by the need to lie to Lane, the need to be whole enough to carry her home.

  Eventually, Neeru went to retrieve Lane. They returned moments later. I finally realized that we weren’t in the normal waiting room. This one was reserved for the family members of assault survivors. Laurel had known exactly where to go.

  Lane stopped in the doorway and looked around. When she saw it was only the two of us, her shoulders relaxed. She stepped forward—the echo of her cheap flip-flops deafening in the empty room. She was wearing a set of shapeless gray sweats. I imagined her clothes and shoes were in evidence bags. Laurel hesitated until Lane moved to hug her, then pulled her in tight.

  “Thanks for coming,” Lane said.

  “Yeah. Of course.” Laurel released her.

  Lane hesitated, then hugged me as well. I’d been expecting fragility, but I should have known better. We’d only met a handful of times, but Lane was not fragile.

  “Do you want to go to your dorm or my place?” Laurel asked.

  Lane slid her arm around Laurel’s waist. “Your place.”

  “I’ll get the car and meet you guys out front,” I said.

  Laurel thanked me with a glance. I nodded and rushed outside. When I pulled up at the doors, Laurel had her arm slung around Lane’s shoulders. For sisters, they really looked nothing alike. Both were brunettes, but that was about all they had in common.

  I got out and opened doors for them. It had less to do with chivalry and more a need to do something. Neeru waited until Lane was in the car, then stepped back.

  “Are you parked close by?” I asked.

  “Close enough, thank you.” Neeru smiled. “I need to go back inside, but security will escort me to my car when it’s time to leave.”

  “All right. Thank you.” I tried to imbue as much appreciation as I could, but there was no way to thank her for such service.

  She nodded again and went back inside. We were on our own.

  Chapter Two

  Laurel’s couch was not comfortable. Or I was too old to sleep on couches. When I heard Laurel moving around in the kitchen, I figured that was enough of an excuse to get up.

  “Please tell me you’re making coffee,” I said.

  Laurel looked up from the coffee grounds she was pouring into the gold basket. “Nope. I’m actually doing my taxes.”

  I rolled my eyes. “She still asleep?”

  “Yeah.” Laurel nodded in the general direction of her bedroom. We hadn’t discussed it the night before. It was just obvious that Lane needed to sleep next to Laurel.

  “Did you guys sleep okay?”

  Laurel shrugged, nodded. “She tossed and turned a bit, but then she w
as out.” She smiled to herself. “She still sleeps diagonal with her arms splayed.” She spread her arms to demonstrate.

  I chuckled. “Sounds comfortable for you.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Laurel started the coffee. She looked at me and sighed. I stepped into her space and hugged her. We breathed each other in. Her phone chimed and she sighed again. I let go so she could check it. “The guys want to come over.”

  “Which guys?”

  “Lance, Seth, maybe their partners. They are all off shift.”

  “That sounds like a terrible idea,” I said.

  Laurel shook her head at her phone, which was an effective communication method. “I agree, but I think Lance is going to show up anyway.”

  “It’s fine,” Lane said from behind us.

  “Hey, baby sis. You’re up.” Laurel tucked her phone away.

  “I heard the coffee grinder.”

  “I can tell them you’re not up for it,” Laurel said.

  “Let’s just get it over with. He won’t give up. If I do this now, I’ll get two or three days of peace.” Lane grimaced.

  The irony of their brother’s entitlement did not seem to be lost on them.

  “Okay. After that, you want to swing by your dorm for some clothes?” Laurel asked.

  Lane nodded. “Please. I need my meds too. You sure you’re okay with me crashing?”

  “Yeah. I’m glad you want to stay here.”

  They held eye contact until I was uncomfortable watching. But it seemed to comfort them.

  “Do I have time for a shower before they show up?” Lane asked. She’d showered the night before, but as far as I was concerned she could have all the showers she wanted.

  “Definitely. I’ll grab some clothes for you,” Laurel said.

  Lane looked down at the boxers and baggy T-shirt she’d borrowed the night before. “You don’t think this is a good look?”

  “It’s a super look. It’s just, you know, fifty degrees out.”

  “That’s bullshit. I blame the patriarchy,” Lane said with conviction.

  “I’ll write the patriarchy a note on your behalf.”

  “Make it angry.”

  Laurel scoffed. “That’s the only way to write a note to the patriarchy. Especially notes about the weather.”

  Lane turned to me. “My big sister is smart.”

  “It’s one of her better qualities,” I said. Lane and I nodded at each other.

  Laurel shook her head as if she was irritated, but she wasn’t. They left the kitchen together, Lane muttering something disparaging about Laurel’s fashion choices. A few minutes later, the shower turned on. I poured a cup of coffee and folded the blankets I’d used. Laurel came back as I was tucking away the linens. She had changed into pale blue chinos and a vaguely nautical crewneck sweatshirt. She sat on the very edge of the couch, her fight-or-flight instincts still riding high, apparently. I brought her a fresh cup of coffee from the kitchen. She wrapped her hands around the mug and breathed in the warm steam. Her shoulders dropped a scant half inch.

  “How long until they get here?” I asked.

  Laurel shrugged. “Fifteen, twenty minutes.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “It’s a terrible idea.” She shook her head. “But baby sis is right. If Lance sees her, he will leave her alone. If she avoids him, he will get real annoying, real quick.”

  “I want to say that’s sweet, but it isn’t.”

  “Nope. It’s obnoxious. But that’s Lance.” She took a sip of her coffee and groaned. “It’s only ten and I’m already done with today.”

  I leaned down to kiss her. “I know.”

  When I started to stand back up, Laurel cupped the back of my neck and pulled me in for another kiss. The press of her lips was hard. I kissed her back, conscious that her coffee mug was tilting precariously and her brother would arrive soon with a cadre of off-duty cops and her vulnerable sister was only a few walls away, but not caring because Laurel needed me. I’d never felt needed quite the way she made me feel in that moment.

  She drew back slowly. “If you don’t want to be wearing sweatpants when they get here, you might want to go change.”

  “Maybe I don’t care.” I did care.

  “There are fewer than ten people in this world who have seen you in your pj’s. Somehow I doubt you are interested in expanding that number.”

  “Your attention to detail is disgusting.”

  “I’m a cop.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I grinned.

  Laurel pushed me away. Since she was sitting and I wasn’t, her leverage was nonexistent. “Go.” She was trying for stern, but I could hear the hint of mirth in her tone. It was enough.

  In Laurel’s bedroom, I rooted through my drawer until I had underwear, socks, a T-shirt. With the shift in weather, I was going to need to add some long sleeve shirts to my collection at her place. In the meantime, I snagged a flannel from her closet. It smelled faintly of cedar and salt when I pulled it on.

  “You can borrow a flannel if you want,” Laurel said.

  I stuck my head out of her closet. “You’re hilarious.”

  “I know. Toss me my Clarks.”

  I looked at the shoe rack along the wall. “You have three pairs of Clarks.”

  “I only have one pair that goes with what I’m wearing.”

  I grabbed the tan pair and hoped they were the right ones. Laurel was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling on her socks. I held up the shoes and she nodded.

  The click of the bathroom door opening echoed down the hallway. Lane appeared in the doorway, towel-drying her hair. She was wearing a tank top with an open lightweight shirt over it. Her chinos were a little loose, but she’d cuffed them to mid-calf which made the cut look intentional.

  The doorbell rang. Lane froze, then started breathing hard. Laurel immediately went to her. She took her hands and made her sit on the floor.

  “Cash, get the door, will you?” Laurel asked without breaking eye contact with Lane.

  “On it.” I stepped past them.

  Granted, I didn’t have much experience in the whole sibling dynamics thing, but I truly couldn’t understand why they were so resigned to Lance’s invasion. He had a tendency to take over rooms, but he also appeared to respect his sisters.

  I opened the door to a dude who was definitely not Lance. Same forgettable white boy face, but not Lance. He was built more proportionally, as if he worked out more than just his arms at the gym. He was wearing bland khakis with a bland cream colored cashmere sweater.

  “Logan?” I asked.

  “Yes. Who are you? Where is my sister?” He stepped inside without being asked. Laurel’s front door opened into a smaller room that contained Laurel’s office. An open double doorway led to the larger, central room of the apartment. Logan got as far as the living room before I managed to move or respond.

  “I’m Cash.”

  “Cash?”

  “Yes.” I barely stopped myself from making it a question.

  “Okay, Cash. Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of Laurel’s.”

  “Fine. That’s fine.”

  So glad I had his support in existing. He continued toward the back of the apartment. Short of physically stopping him, I didn’t see a way to keep him from walking away. So I followed him down the hallway to Laurel’s bedroom.

  Laurel looked up when she heard him coming. “Fuck.”

  Lane looked over her shoulder. “You came.”

  “You asked me to.” Logan stopped next to Lane and glared at Laurel until she moved. He sat where she had been.

  Laurel stood and left the room in a huff. I followed her.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Fucking Logan.”

  “Yeah, I figured that part out.”

  “She told him,” Laurel said.

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  The doorbell rang again. Laurel answered it. Lance, Seth, and Seth’s partner fro
m the night before filed in. They had changed out of their uniforms, but doing so didn’t make them look any less like cops. They wore their jeans and field jackets like uniforms. Their boots were shined. Their hair was slicked. Even Seth’s partner had her long hair pulled back in a wet ponytail. The only mild improvement from the night before was the lack of obvious weaponry on their hips.

  Laurel hugged Lance and said, “She called him.”

  “Fuck.”

  Seth sighed. “She didn’t.”

  “Of course she did. He’s her big brother,” Lance said in a tone that was decidedly acerbic.

  “Who?” Seth’s partner asked.

  They all turned to her. “Logan.”

  She looked at me, but I didn’t know what was going on so I shrugged. Logan and Lane chose that moment to enter the central living room. The room felt very full. The three older Kallens glared at each other.

  “It was good of you all to come, but I think it’s best for Lane and me to leave now,” Logan said.

  His proclamation was met with a lot of shouting from his siblings. Laurel’s response consisted of a lot of big words designed to make Logan feel very small. Lance was focused pretty solidly on profanity. Lane began to claim that she wasn’t a kid anymore, which kind of made her sound like a kid.

  Seth waited a minute, then joined the fun. After he had shouted “hey” about ten times, they all stopped and stared at him.

  “I don’t actually have anything to say. I just don’t think yelling is helping anyone,” Seth said.

  Laurel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Lane sat on the couch. Logan checked his watch. There was a beep and everyone checked their phone. It was Laurel’s.

  “You fucking asshole.” She looked at Logan. I’d seen varying levels of anger and hatred from her, but this brand was new and scary. “You called them.”

  Logan clenched his jaw and looked away from her. He sat next to Lane. “Listen. I know you asked me not to, but they only want to help. You have to trust me.”

  Lane stared at him. She drew into herself. There was a long period where she breathed deeply and blinked back tears. “I didn’t ask. I told you not to.” She stood and stepped away from him. “This is why they think you’re a dick.” She wrapped her arms around herself.