The Heat

3. Womanizer

Debbie used to love planes. She liked the steady rumble of the air, the chill that clung to her skin, the silence and the dim light, the soft voices of the flight attendants offering a drink or snack. She liked closing off from the world just by slipping on her headphones and shifting to a reverie of her own for a few hours.

But this ride was different; this ride was besieged by memories of Danny, and on this ride there was a silent blue-eyed cop next to her instead of her brother, a cop who was as unreadable as a foreign criminal file.

Debbie looked over at Lou. Her eyes were closed, and Debbie would have thought she was asleep if she didn't occasionally tap her foot against the edge of the seat in front of her. She didn't seem as pale as she was at the beginning of the flight. Debbie was thankful she at least didn't throw up or have an epileptic seizure.

Lou sensed her staring, and opened her eyes. "How much longer?"

Debbie smiled at the nervous tone in her voice. "Just a few minutes."

Lou closed her eyes again. Debbie couldn't help wondering if there had been something that happened to Lou in the past, something traumatic, or if Lou simply had a fear of heights. Lots of people were scared of heights. Debbie's aunt Ida was. It was just that Lou...the shift was so sudden, so drastic, like a personality switch. The vulnerability in her eyes, which seconds ago were full of arrogance and nonchalance. The way she gripped Debbie's hand so tight. Could she possibly have been faking it? But for what?

"Hey," Lou said, breaking her out of her thoughts. "What're you gonna wear to the nightclub?"

Debbie looked at her in surprise. "Just this. We won't have time to change. Why?"

Lou opened her eyes again and regarded her with distaste. "Are you serious?"

"What's wrong with this?" Debbie looked down at her suit and blouse. It was practical. Professional. Maybe not as stylish as Lou's silver bomber jacket and leather pants, but it wasn't awful.

"This--" Lou shook her head. "You think you could slide up to our guy in a nightclub and he won't think something's up?"

Grudgingly, Debbie realized Lou was right. She was dressed as a federal agent, and looked every bit like one. She would stick out like a sore thumb in the nightclub.

"Well, what am I gonna do?"

"Just wait till we land, and I'll do my best to fix you up," Lou said.

Two hours later Debbie found herself in her hotel room and Lou looking at her thoughtfully, holding a large pair of fabric scissors. Debbie eyed the blades warily. "You'd better know what you're doing."

"Relax, Ocean. I'm thinking your face and everything beneath it is maybe...not terrible. It's just when that mouth starts running, and then you put that outfit over it..." Lou shook her head sympathetically. "It's an absolute turn-off."

Debbie felt a blush creep up her neck. "Excuse me, but not everyone can look like a womanizer like you."

Lou raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so you like women?"

"That's not the point!" Debbie snapped, humiliation mounting her voice. Womanizer? Why had she even said that?

Because of course that was exactly what Lou was. And that was what drove Debbie insane--Lou's confidence that she could fluster Debbie, dominate her, control her like she did with probably every woman she met. And while a reluctant part of Debbie was flattered Lou would take an interest in her, a greater part of her was determined not to let Lou win her over.