Language: We're potty mouths, all of us.
Sex Disclaimer: subtext, innuendo, a nudge and a wink, but nothing graphic.
Location: Washington, D.C., the nation's capital. Some places are real, some (sadly) are now closed, some are made up.
Part 5
I stepped out of the smoky pool hall into the chilly autumn air, shivering at a sudden gust of wind. "Where to now?"
"It's still a bit early for dancing," Gabrielle checked the bank clock across the street, then added, "but that means we might not have to stand in line if you wanted to go to Polly Esther's or something."
"You up for that, Scully? I think it's trash disco night." I laughed at the FBI agent's pained expression. "Not a Bee Gees fan, I take it?"
She smiled.
"We don't have to go to a dance club, you know, Dana." Gabrielle said, looking around the Circle. "There are lots of other places around here."
"How about the 15 Minute club?" I looked from Gabrielle to Scully. "It's pretty low-key and it's not that far away."
Gabrielle hesitated, then nodded. "Have you been there, Dana?"
Scully shook her head. "No, I haven't. I've never heard of it, actually."
"What do you think?" Gabrielle looked at me.
"Why do I have to make the decision?" We all shivered as a cold wind swirled along the street. "15 Minutes it is."
"Here we are." The sidewalk in front of the bar was nearly empty as our cab pulled up.
Gabrielle immediately got out and walked up to the door. I paid the driver as Scully looked doubtfully at the run-down building. "Are we in the right place?"
"Mmm-hmm. Wait until you see the inside." I slid across the back seat and climbed out of the cab.
We hurried over to the doorway where Gabrielle stood, fumbling with her purse, her eyes scanning the room.
"IDs, please." Bored, the bouncer clicked his studded tongue against his bottom teeth.
Scully's hand flew to the inside pocket of her trenchcoat, hesitated, then dropped back to her side. "Why do you need to see my ID?"
Gabrielle rolled her eyes as she handed over her driver's license. "Because you're with me. I always get carded."
"Me too," I sighed as the large man compared me to the photograph on the license. "Give me a break, ok? I had to stand in line outside the DMV for 30 minutes in July." With a smile, he stamped the back of my hand.
"Oh, right," Scully said, producing her license. "It's been a while."
Gabrielle was already inside, moving in the direction of the coatroom. Scully and I quickly followed her.
"What were you reaching for, anyway?" I indicated Scully's coat.
"My badge." At my blank expression, Scully reached into the pocket and displayed her FBI credentials.
"Oh my god. Oh, why didn't you flash it at him?" I started to laugh. "That would have been priceless! Can you imagine his face?"
"Before or after he yelled 'Raid'?" Scully asked dryly.
We reached the coatroom window as Gabrielle was checking her leather jacket. Scully motioned for me to go ahead of her then pulled several items, including her badge, from her coat pockets before looking down at her clothing and back up at me. "I hate to impose, but do you think you could maybe..." She gestured at my small purse.
I shrugged out of my jacket and passed it to the attendant. "No problem." I handed her my purse and took my claim ticket. "We're over there." I pointed to Gabrielle, who stood at the end of the bar. Scully nodded.
I walked over to Gabrielle and watched as she looked carefully around the room. I couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed by what she saw. "Afraid you'll run into an ex?"
She looked down and smoothed her skirt. "Something like that."
"We don't have to stay. If you're not comfortable here-"
Gabrielle waved off my concerns. "I'll be all right. Let's get some drinks and find a table, ok?" She looked up with a tight smile.
I nodded, unsure of what to say next. Gabrielle turned around looked up at the colorful rows of liquor bottles arranged on shelves above the bar. I wasn't sure she even saw them. Something was obviously bothering her, but she'd made it clear that she didn't want to talk about it, at least not with me. I tried not to feel shut out; after all, we hardly knew each other.
"What can I get you ladies?" The bartender's eyes lingered on Gabrielle's cleavage as he dropped two cocktail napkins on the wood in front of us. "Red Stripe's on special, $2.00 a bottle, well drinks are $2.50."
"Sea breeze, please." Gabrielle settled herself on a stool and rested her chin on one hand.
"Red Stripe for me." I toyed with my napkin.
"Sure thing, ladies." He winked at Gabrielle and, picking up a bottle of Smirnoff, began mixing her drink.
"Stacia." I felt something poke me in the side.
"Hmm? Oh, thanks, Scully." I took my purse from her and slung it over my shoulder.
Setting our drinks down, the bartender turned his attention to Scully. "And what can I get for you?"
"Gin and tonic. With lime." Her no-nonsense tone discouraged any further attempts at flirtation.
The 15 Minute club was by day a small cafeteria, which explained its unique layout - two long, thin rooms connected by two doorways. At night, men in business suits sat beside college students in jeans on the long, thin metal tubing designed to accommodate lunch trays. The front room was packed with small tables and booths; the back room, which housed the dance floor, had fewer seats and tended to fill up quickly. We'd gone through the back doorway, then snagged a small table against the wall with easy access to the bar, dance area, and, most important, the ladies' room.
Beer in hand, I sat back in my chair and listened to Scully who, having sensed the change in mood, was telling a wildly improbable story about a case involving a clan of vampires living in a trailer park outside of Dallas. Gabrielle was totally absorbed in the story; though she was still, her body showed none of the tension I noticed earlier. Way to go, Scully. Why on earth did you decide to cut up dead people when you have such an amazing rapport with the living? Filing that thought away, I let my eyes wander around the smoky room.
As always, there was an odd mixture of people in the bar - the after-work crowd, loosening their ties and enjoying an extended happy hour; college kids, barely old enough to drink, looking for cheap beer and good music; even the occasional tourist in search of a meal, led astray by an out-of-date guidebook. The atmosphere was friendly, closer to a neighborhood pub than a playground for the beautiful people.
"What do you think, Staesh?" Gabrielle's face was flushed with laughter.
"Sorry, what was that? I zoned out for a second there." My head turned as I watched a tall, attractive man move toward the bar.
"I guess so." Gabrielle said, amused. "Trying to find your own Sheriff Hartwell?"
"Hey, I'm just admiring the scenery," I protested.
Scully craned her neck for a better view of the man in question. "Hoo boy. That's worth a second look."
"Well, here's your chance," Gabrielle put her empty glass beside Scully's. "You ready for another one, Staesh?"
"No, I'm fine." I took a hasty swig of my beer, which was still more than half full. "Have fun, Scully."
"You two are impossible." Scully stood up and straightened her cardigan before picking up the empty glasses and heading over to the bar, where the tall man moved over slightly to make room for her. She ordered the drinks, then gave him a discreet once-over. Although her expression was subtle, she clearly liked what she saw.
The tall, dark-haired man put a foot up on the railing and leaned against the bar, his gaze coming to rest on Scully's profile.
Just then I remembered that her things were in my purse. Not wanting to interrupt, I strolled over to the bar and handed the bartender a five-dollar bill, quietly explaining that I wanted to pay for Scully's drinks.
"Very smooth. That could have been embarrassing," Gabrielle said when I returned. "I wonder what he just said?"
I looked up. A rattled Scully was walking back to our table.
"Are you all right? What did that guy say to you?" Gabrielle took the drinks from Scully's hands.
Scully snorted. "He wanted to know if Stacia and I were together."
A moment of stunned silence passed before I burst out laughing. "Sorry, Scully, you're not my type."
"You just can't win tonight, can you, Dana?" Gabrielle quipped.
Scully looked from Gabrielle to me and back again, then picked up her drink.
"I can go explain things to him, if you'd like." Gabrielle was the picture of wide-eyed innocence.
Scully choked.
"Gabrielle, you are amazing." I handed Scully a napkin. "Always ready to jump in there and clear up any misunderstandings."
"Yeah. At my expense," Scully muttered darkly.
"Wait a minute here," said Gabrielle. "It's a problem if I go and explain to this guy that you are both straight and interested?"
Scully flushed and mumbled something into her drink.
"What was that? I didn't quite hear you," I looked over at Gabrielle, who was laughing.
Scully put down her drink and carefully enunciated, "It is for him. He asked if he could watch."
My eyes widened when I caught on, which made Gabrielle laugh even harder.
Scully just sat quietly, looking at the fingernails on her right hand. "You done?"
Gabrielle nodded as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.
"Good, 'cause I told him she was with you." Scully stood up and headed toward the ladies' room.
Gabrielle and I stared after her in disbelief.
"You don't think..." Gabrielle tilted her head toward Scully.
"No. She wouldn't." I picked up my beer.
Scully turned around and mouthed "Gotcha."