by Robin Roseau
My Soul to Play
Robin Roseau
Table of Contents
About Games People Play
Beth
Unexpected
Investigation
Breadcrumbs
Club
Off-Duty
Repeat
More Dreams
A Game
Answers
Conflicted
One Kiss
Dance
Date Night
Rachel
Explanations
Feeding
The Ex
And Again
Soul
Angels and Demons
Revisit
Time
A Trade
About the Author
About Games People Play
This was actually the first of the Games People Play series that I wrote but it has become the second to be published.
My writing frequently shares some common elements. Amongst those elements are the games. The wolves like their games. The idea that grew into Fitting In began with a softball game and the attendant trash talking (but then became something very different). And from time to time, someone writes me and says she enjoys reading the games.
The Games People Play series centers around a simple question.
Do you want to play a game?
Of course, a story about a game might not be interesting in itself, and so the games are an important theme, but they aren't the story itself. This story is about far more than that. It's about morality and casting judgment. It's about coming to conclusions about who people are based on labels. It's about black and white and shades of grey.
I hope you enjoy.
Beth
"Oh, Baby," she said. "Long day?"
It had been, and I nodded.
"You left so early," she added. "I rolled over, and you were gone."
"I'm sorry. We got a tip." It had been a good tip, although a too-late tip. Why was it the tips always seemed to arrive too late? Beth saw it in my eyes, in my posture. It wasn't the first time I'd come home like this. Beth began moving towards me, but I held up a hand, warding her off.
"Baby?"
I opened my suit jacket enough she could see my service weapon. Beth hated guns. She hated, hated, hated guns. The rule was simple: the moment I walked in the house, the gun went into the safe. I'd bypassed the safe today, but now I had to backtrack. And doing so would let me put a little distance between my girlfriend and me.
"Go put that thing away," she said. "And I'll fix you something to drink. Let me take care of you."
"I'm going to shower," I said. "I kind of stink."
She nodded, and I turned back to entryway. The safe was built into the back of the coat closet. "I'll be down in a bit."
I slipped into the closet, shoving the coats aside, and opened the small safe. In went the gun, my badge following it. I closed the door, and the light on the lock went from green to red. There wasn't a dial to spin; it was a biometric lock with a touchpad for the code. Beth and I were the only people who could open it, but she had opened it once, and exactly once, the day I showed her how to use it.
We'd actually fought about something so simple. "I'm never going to need to do that. I'm never going to touch one of those... things."
But I had insisted she be able to open the safe, and so after emptying it of everything she found objectionable, she'd finally relented.
I slipped out of the jacket then the sling for the holster, hanging that from a hook in the closet. Then, the jacket draped over an arm, I made my way upstairs.
My window of danger was small now. I needed to get out of the slacks and blouse. Stuff both with the jacket into a dry cleaner bag and make sure I remembered to bring it to the cleaner tomorrow. Hop in the shower and go straight for the shampoo. If Beth tried to surprise me in the shower after that, I'd be safe, the evidence washed away.
My house was small, although I'd managed to fit a lot into such a tight space. Two floors plus a rather unpleasant basement. The main floor held a living room, kitchen with informal dining, half bath, and a room Beth used for her home office. Upstairs were three bedrooms, a public three-quarters bath, and a private full bath accessed from the master bedroom. It had taken some creativity to fit all that in, and none of the rooms were large. But why did someone need a big bedroom? They were only used for sleeping, after all.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I was sure I was safe. I was half out of the blouse by the time I entered the bedroom, and I successfully got the jacket, slacks, and blouse into a zippered garment bag, ready to take to the cleaners tomorrow. I stepped out of the closet when I heard the water turn on.
Beth was already in the bathroom, filling the tub.
I panicked. I wasn't normally one to panic. I was a cop, after all. A good cop. I was accustomed to stress, day in and day out. I panicked and froze.
Beth appeared in the doorway from the bathroom. "I thought a soak would do you good." She gazed at my body. I was down to bra and undies. They were safe. She wouldn't find any evidence in them. But if she got too close to my hair... At least I wore it short. I wasn't spreading scent from my hair everywhere I went.
"Let me get you out of those," she said, stepping closer.
"I've got it," I said. I moved to put the bed between us, then reached around for the bra.
Beth began moving around the bed towards me, wearing a smile. "It's more fun if you let me."
"I stink, honey," I said. "You don't want to get too close."
"I can smell you from here," she said. She sniffed heavily. "You smell luscious."
I had no doubt she could smell me. Beth wasn't entirely human, after all, and her sense of smell was uncanny.
My fingers fumbled at the snap. I was usually much smoother at this. Beth moved closer, and I rolled across the bed, moving to the other side. Now I was closer to the bathroom door than she was.
Her eyes narrowed. She sniffed pointedly. My eyes darted to the bathroom door, but she dashed, and when she wanted to, she could really move. She cut me off, and I was cornered.
"Beth-"
"Why won't you let me get close to you, Teigan?" Yeah, that's me. Teigan St. Claire. Great name for a cop, hmm? What kind of name is Teigan for a cop? Officer St. Claire hadn't been bad. Detective St. Claire was even better. But Teigan? Seriously? Whatever were my parents thinking?
"I just stink," I said. "I know you're sensitive-"
She stepped closer, and I stepped back.
"You're looking awfully guilty, Teigan," she said. There was nothing but steel in her voice now. Beth was normally the sweetest, gentlest woman on the planet, and my entire soul ached for her, ached to protect her from all the darkness in the world.
Ached to protect her from me, sometimes, anyway.
"It was a bad day, Beth," I said. "I had to... see things. Deal with things. You know how it is some days."
"Actually," she said, taking another step closer. She sniffed again, leaning forward when she did it. "I don't. You never tell me."
I backed away, coming against the wall. I glanced to my right, wondering if I could make it, but she'd cut me off again.
"I'm just protecting you, honey. You don't need to know about the darkness in the world."
"I'm quite familiar with the darkness, Teigan," she said. She moved closer, and I had nowhere to go. I glanced at the possible escape, but she whispered, "Take a step, and you're a dead woman."
I froze. I didn't think she'd actually do it. I wasn't sure if she could, but I wasn't sure she couldn't, either.
"Tell me what you're hiding."
"I'm not hiding a thing
, Beth."
"Then when I give you a thorough sniff, I won't find anything."
"Beth," I whimpered. God, I was such a pansy.
She finished closing the distance. I thought at first she was going to hug me. If it weren't for the lingering scents in my hair, hugging me wouldn't have been that bad. She'd spread some of her own scent over me, helping to further hide the traces. Instead, she bent double and inhaled deeply, her nose practically buried in my crotch.
She actually wouldn't find anything there.
"Fear," she said. She looked up. "It's fresh. Fear of me?" She shook her head. "No. Fear of what I might find." She sniffed again. "Pain. Emotional pain. Anger." She looked up again. "Despair. For the girl?"
I nodded.
She sniffed once more. "And something else. Something subtle."
Her hands darted out, and before I could move, she captured my wrists. She surprised me. I knew she was fast, but I'd never seen how fast. She stood, lifting my hands away from my sides and pressing them to the wall behind me. We stood like that, both of us with our arms spread, and she held me easily, almost casually.
I had no idea she was that strong, either.
"How angry am I going to be?"
"I haven't done anything, Beth."
"And yet, you are acting as guilty as the people you usually catch, and not half as good at hiding it. Last chance to tell the truth."
"I haven't done anything wrong, Beth. I swear."
"We'll see," she said. She lowered her nose again, pressing her face against the cleft of my left shoulder, her nose practically buried in my armpit. She sniffed then pulled away. I stifled an inappropriate laugh as she curled her nose. "You were right about the shower," she said. "But I don't think that's why you're so anxious." She stepped closer, pressing her body against mine, and then sniffed at my neck. She froze, the sniffed again. And again, pushing my head to the side with her own. And then she buried her nose in my hair and inhaled deeply.
I was dead. I knew I was dead.
She shoved away from me, suddenly halfway to the door, staring at me. Then she dashed to the closet. I tried to get there first, but it wasn't even close.
"Please, Beth!" I said. "I didn't do anything! Let me explain."
"You had your chance to tell me the truth," she snarled. She tore the closet door open, nearly ripping it from the hinges, and went digging through the clothes. "Where is it?"
"There's nothing to find."
"Where's your suit from today?" Clothes began flying over her shoulder as she discarded them, one by one, then in clumps. "Where is it?"
She emptied the closet, leaving nothing on the hangers, then spun to face me. "Where is it?" She eyed the clothes spread all over the floor then looked at me. She froze, then spun to the closet. Moments later, she came out, holding the garment bag with the suit and blouse. She advanced on me, shaking it.
"You went to her, didn't you?"
"I didn't do anything, Beth. I didn't. You would have smelled if I had."
"You went to her!" she screamed. "Her!" She tore the zipper open.
"No!" I screamed back. "Beth, no!"
She pulled the bag to her face and inhaled deeply, and I knew it was over. It only took a moment, and the garment bag with its contents hit the far wall with a loud thud. "You cheated on me!"
"No, Beth. No. I didn't cheat. I didn't cheat. I went to her. You're right. But I didn't cheat. I didn't. You know I didn't."
"Seeing her is cheating on me, Teigan. You promised you would never go to her again, and then you did."
She stepped closer. "Her scent is in your hair. It's all over your clothes. Don't tell me you didn't touch her."
"A hug. Just an innocent hug."
"She's all over your clothes! It wasn't an innocent hug."
"A long hug, but you let me hug people. You've never minded if I hug people."
"Not her," she said, growling the last word. "Not her." She advanced again. "Tell me, Teigan, if I kiss you, will I taste her on your mouth."
"No. Absolutely not. A hug. That's it."
"I don't think so," she said. She stepped closer. "Open your mouth."
"Beth."
"Open your god damned mouth!"
I did what she said, opening widely, and then held my breath. She moved up to me, sticking her nose right in front of my mouth, and sniffed.
"Breathe," she said.
I let out my breath, then I gasped more than breathed. I knew she wouldn't find anything there. We hadn't kissed. We hadn't. I hadn't cheated.
But I'd needed her.
Beth stepped back. "Tell my why you cheated on me."
"I didn't cheat."
"Tell me why you went to her."
"The girl," I said. "God, Beth, it was bad. It was really, really bad. Please don't make me tell you how bad. Closed casket bad. Worse than that. Bad."
"And after that, you are supposed to come to me! To me! Why her? Why?"
"I can't bring something like that to you, Beth. You're too sweet. Too innocent. I'd sully you. I'm supposed to protect you. It's my job to protect you. I can't bring that kind of shit home to you."
She stepped back, her expression cold. "You let her feed off you, didn't you?"
"Beth-"
"Didn't you!" she screamed.
"Only a little. Only the bad parts. She promised she'd take the edge off, that's all. Just enough I could come home. Just enough, Beth. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't let you taste that... that..."
"You went to her instead of coming to me," Beth said coldly. "We had agreements, Teigan. Not that many, but we had them. You were never to see her again. You promised me. You stood in this room and promised me, you would never see her again! And you promised me other times you would come to me. You would let me hold you."
"I needed to talk about it, Beth. I needed to talk while she fed. I can't talk about it to you. You suffer for days when I talk about the ones we save. Ones like that? I couldn't do that to you!"
"So you cheated instead, and then you tried to cover it up. I thought we were in this together. I thought we were partners. What you should have done, at the very least, is call me. Tell me you needed help. We would have solved this together."
"How could I-"
"I would have gone with you!" she screamed. "You're right. I can't listen. I can't watch. But I would have gone with you. Instead, you cheated. And then you lied to me about it. You tried to hide it from me. Three strikes, Teigan. One, I could have forgiven. Two, I might have forgiven. But not three. We're through. I'll send movers for my things."
"Beth, no!" I said.
It was as if she didn't hear me. She turned her back. I ran after her then stepped in front of her. "Please, Beth. I'm sorry."
She swept me aside as if I was nothing, and I slammed into the wall and slumped to the floor. By the time I was back on my feet and ran down the stairs, she was out the door. I heard a car door slam, and then, before I could grab something to wrap around me, a roaring engine. I made it out the door to see her car disappear around the corner.
That was three years ago.
I haven't loved again, and I didn't think I ever would.
Unexpected
Working the white-collar crimes unit wasn't as prestigious as the crimes against children unit, and the personal rewards weren't as high as returning a missing child to a distraught parent. On the other hand, it wasn't emotionally taxing, and I never needed a visit to her after a hard day at the office.
I hadn't seen her since Beth walked out. I had hardened my heart and managed to avoid too heavy a reliance on alcohol to do it. A string of one-night stands had helped, and I didn't mind my growing reputation as a player. I didn't mind that at all. That's what I was: a player.
Chicks dig the steely gaze and shiny handcuffs.
My M.O. was simple. Find a group of women. Arrange an introduction and join the conversation. Eventually it came out I was a cop, and I didn't necessarily need to be the one to mention it. Eventua
lly, people would ask from the same list of questions. Have I ever drawn my gun? Yes. Shot anyone with it? No. Do you have it with you now? I don't answer questions like that. Could I see it? No. The list was long, but it was rare a new question appeared.
But eventually, someone would ask about handcuffs. The other questions didn't necessarily arrive to every conversation, but the handcuffs did. And then I'd watch to see who was interested but trying to hide her interest.
And she'd be the one with cold steel around her wrists when I drove her home.
Oh, not every time. I wasn't that good. But often enough to get those urges scratched.
Often enough, I represented her first lesbian encounter, or at least that's what she'd tell me. I suspected a few of them had been lying -- they'd been far, far too good with their tongues.
There were clichés, so many clichés. If they wanted a cliché, I was fine with that. I'd be what they wanted, and I'd take what I wanted.
Oh, I had rules. She must be single. She must be reasonably sober and entirely willing. And I didn't do violence and I didn't let her play with my gun. And the handcuffs went around her wrists, not mine.
Life was pretty good, wasn't it?
* * * *
White-collar wasn't a prestigious posting. Sure, there were the big cases, the cases that make the papers, sometimes even the front page. Those kinds of cases came along rarely, exceedingly rarely, and I'd never had one. I'd made minor news a few times, a two-paragraph column now and then. Well, I hadn't made the news; some of my cases had. To date, my name had never appeared in the papers.
But it was satisfying work. White-collar crime is a drain on society, and if it wasn't as dramatic as catching a murderer -- or preventing a murder -- I didn't care. I did my time; I collected my pay. I caught the bad guys often enough to receive the occasional commendation. I was fine with that. I was just fine with that. It was easy. The hours were predictable.
And I didn't need to visit her afterwards.
Now, this is the point in the story where I should talk about my cases, about what I'd been working on recently. This is where I should insert a difficult case followed by an arrest. But frankly, no one cares. Even I don't care. So I'm just going to skip all that. No one minds. Trust me, no one cares.
