Conflict of Interest

Chapter Twenty Eight

Jenn

"We should get a dog," I mused lazily in bed that night, now that it was nearing two in the morning and we both had to be up in just a few hours.

"Don't lesbians usually live together before they consider adoption?" Carrie criticized dryly, never willing to indulge in my fantasies for just a moment.

"We could get a lab," I tried anyway.

"Too much energy."

"A spaniel?" I threw out.

"Too messy." Should have seen that coming.

"A retreiver."

"Ugh," she shuddered. "Too friendly."

"A chihuahua?"

"Do you know how much I spend on my furniture?" she critiqued. "It's not dog friendly. And I don't like to picture an animal servicing itself on my Bernhardt."

"Once a rich girl, always a rich girl," I decried, and she shrugged.

"Guilty as charged," she admitted.

"I think I'll get a dog," I decided, reclining my head onto her chest and silently becoming excited when she allowed it. How sad that was.

"Congratulations," she said absently.

"You can name it," I invited.

She laughed slightly before giving her answer without missing a beat. "Grace."

"You're heartless. The girl was kidnapped."

"Was she? You said it yourself. She and Saenz were playing house."

"I think it's a Stockholm kind of thing," I considered. "Why don't you like her, anyway?"

"Why don't you like her?"

"I never said I didn't."

"Do you?"

I considered it. "She's okay."

"Well, your okay is my abhorrent. You just have a higher tolerance for situations such as these."

"What do you mean? Situations such as what?"

"I mean, situations in which one's closest friend thinks she's in love with a twelve year old albatross."

"Kim's your closest friend?"

"Really, Jenn? Missing the point."

"I thought I was your closest friend."

I wasn't looking at her, but I could tell she was doing that derisive eye roll she always did when I was being trivially insecure. "You're my closest more-than-friend. Okay? I don't have friends, anyway. I have coworkers."

"So Kim's your closest coworker."

"Oh my God," she laughed mirthlessly. "Are you jealous?"

"Oh, yeah," I agreed, laying the sarcasm on thickly to provide the illusion that no, I wasn't. "Of a decorated white collar detective. Real dangerous."

"She used to do homicide, too," Carrie added quietly in Kim's defense.

"Can you just let me have this?"

"I'm just saying," she continued. "She got shot."

"And as I lay here, with four broken ribs and a possible concussion, I repeat: Can you just let me have this?"

"Sure," she finally conceded. "You brave hero, you."

"I'm not jealous," I said again.

"I didn't say that you were."