I remember the real war wages on the inside.
—Naj Nauf,
Silent Dawn
Being a cop, I’m always first up—my body’s attuned to a different rhythm. Truth is, I like silence—it gives me time to think.
The sun’s red at the horizon and the sky’s peach and purple—kinda somber and kinda quiet—sorta like me.
I light a fire against the March chill and lean back in the sofa—the quietness of the creaking house, the smell of coffee and the scent of burning wood lulls me—slows me down enough to take stock of who I am and where I’ve been.
It hasn’t been easy and hasn’t been pretty—it’s not always been like this. Jill and I struggled through the first five years and now it’s paying off.
"I hate you and I hate this. What kind of a life is this for us, when you gotta bury your best friend?"
She pounds at my chest with her fists. I let her. The tears I cried earlier still haven’t dried—new trails are starting. I let grief pound me too.
That was four years ago when we buried Danny—he took a slug pushing me out of harm’s way.
Now, I’ve got a new partner—Carol Baker, but the pain’s back again in a different way—last night, she told me she loved me.
We were working a sting operation and it was tricky—frankly, I was worried about her—she hasn’t been at this as long as me, and she’s a woman. Turns out, I had nothing to worry about.
The Latino informant turned on us and was about to pull the trigger. She fired right through the satchel she was carrying.
“I never trusted the bastard,” was all she said. I was still trembling when we booked off for the night.
As we’re leaving the precinct—she pushes me into a photocopy room and kisses me so hard, I almost faint. “I’m in love with you, Michael,” she says.
“No, you’re not,” I tell her. “We almost bought it tonight—it messes with your head—but thanks to you, I get to go home and sleep in my own bed.”
“Or, in my mine.”
She turns her huge, black eyes on me and whenever she does that, I feel like the plug’s pulled on my reason.
“Naw, Carol—go home, get some sleep. Get some of your own pain—you don’t need mine.”
The bravado’s about all I can muster—I don’t think she buys it, but she leaves. Another two minutes, I might have changed my mind.
When she crushed me in that embrace, I felt the firmness of her body—no baby bump like Jilly Bean—no stretch marks from two previous childbirths either.
She’s only twenty-seven—I’m eight years older, but more settled. Jilly’s settled too— but hell, I’m no prize either.
I don’t know what Carol sees in me—I know what I see in her. I’m playing out this fantasy and it’s a lot more pleasant with her than the other slobs.
The sun’s up now and I hear Lily upstairs talking to her dolly. I push the garbage to the curb, along with the job stuff, and then head upstairs to see if she wants pancakes.
The Sarge wants Carol to go undercover as a streetwalker tonight—thinks he can get this John who’s beating up local prostitutes.
The catcalls and hooting start, with Wilson leading the way. He’s a porcine version of a Tennessee Williams nightmare.
“Yeah, don’t know if you can pull it off, Baker—you can’t wear cop boots.”
She bats her eyes seductively. “Ah jes don know if I can, Sugar.”
The men roar—I feel the colour creeping up my neck—I feel like slamming my fist into Wilson’s leering face.
“Browning,” the Sarge addresses me, “You watch Baker’s back.”
The men roar again. Carol spins to show me her backside. I’ve seen her in uniform, but not in civvies—certainly not the way she’s gonna look tonight.
Am I up for this? I don’t think so, and I've got a sinking felling about how this will play out.
Thank you!
Delegate Tokens and HP to Fallen Angels to earn weekly rewards!
Delegate | Join to the guildThis post has been supported by @fallen.angels guild!
Thank you!
Congratulations @johnjgeddes! You have completed the following achievement on the Hive blockchain And have been rewarded with New badge(s)
You can view your badges on your board and compare yourself to others in the Ranking
If you no longer want to receive notifications, reply to this comment with the word
STOP